The Worry Web Site Read Free Page A

Bye.”
    So I put the phone down. I stopped feeling I loved her and hated her for a bit. She said “see you” but shedoesn't want to. She doesn't even like talking to me on the phone much now.
    Dad says it's because she feels bad about leaving us. I think maybe
she's
bad.
    I take after her now.
    I went back to school the next day because it was dead depressing staying at home. My nose was sniffier than ever and so was I. Samantha was showing off her new barrettes, which were like little butterflies, but I simply yawned and said they looked stupid. Samantha said I was just jealous because she had long fair curls and I didn't. I said I didn't care one bit about having long fair curls. (
Big
lie.) Greg said he didn't think long fair curls were all that great and he much preferred
my
hair! Old Greg is going as daft as poor William if you ask me.
    Mr. Speed told me to hand the marked homework out and asked me to read aloud to the others and sent me with a message to the headmaster. I bashed the homework books bang on the desks, I read aloud in a bored, flat, can't-be-bothered voice, and I dawdled down the corridor so slowly after giving my message I missed half the lesson.
    “I wonder why you're in such a bad mood today, Holly?” said Mr. Speed.
    I shrugged and pouted. Mr. Speed imitated me.He looked so funny I very nearly gave in and giggled.
    “Maybe you need a bit of peace and quiet? I know! How about a little computer practice?”
    I knew this was a Crafty Ploy. Mr. Speed wanted me to access his Worry Web Site. And I couldn't resist. I typed it in. Remember?
    I think I'm going to get a stepmother.
    I wish she was wicked.
    Comments:
    You're nuts!
    What is she on about?
    How do you know the person with the worry is a girl?
    Because it's such a silly girly thing.
    You're being dead sexist.
    Look, what about his/her PROBLEM?
    What problem? Heaps of kids get stepmothers. I've got one and she's OK.
    I've got a mum and a dad and a stepmum and a stepdad and it's great at Christmas and birthdays because you get two lots of presents.
    Why do you want a WICKED stepmother???
    I've GOT a wicked stepmother. You can have mine!
    I didn't think these comments particularly kind. Or constructive. There were other even more useless suggestions that I deleted. I sat staring at the screen,wishing I could delete myself. Mr. Speed saw me and whizzed right over before I could quit the Web site.
    “Aha! So you're having a peep at the Worry Web Site, Holly. Hmm. Interesting worry! Have you typed in your comment for this poor soul who wants a wicked stepmother?”
    He was trying to kid me that the Web site is ultra-anonymous. But I'm not daft. I gave him a long hard look.
    “I'm the poor soul, Mr. Speed. You know it's me.”
    “Yes, that's very true, Holly. You've caught me out.”
    “
You
haven't put a comment.”
    “That's also true. OK.” He leaned over me and typed.
    I don't know WHY you want a wicked stepmother. Perhaps you can elaborate?
    He waited. I fidgeted.
    “
Elaborate
means tell me more,” said Mr. Speed.
    “I know. I don't know
how
, though. It's all muddly. It's my dad—and Miss Morgan.”
    Mr. Speed's eyes opened wide.
    “
Our
Miss Morgan?”
    “This is highly confidential, Mr. Speed,” I said hurriedly.
    “Mum's the word,” said Mr. Speed, finger on his lips.
    So I told him. His eyes got wider and wider, like the dog in the fairy tale with eyes as big as dinner plates.
    “Your dad's a very lucky man,” he said eventually. “And I should imagine young Hannah's thrilled. So — how do you feel, Holly?”
    “I feel bad,” I said. “And I keep acting bad and then I feel even worse. And Miss Morgan is always so nicey-nicey-nice about it. I want
her
to be bad. If she was really wicked like Snow White's stepmother then I could hate her and be horrid to her and it would be perfectly OK.”
    “I can't
quite
imagine Miss Morgan trying to force you to eat poisoned apples,” said Mr. Speed. “Let alone hiring an axman to