The Worry Web Site Read Free Page B

chop you into little bits in the middle of the forest.”
    “I think I've got a worry that can't be solved,” I said gloomily.
    “Well — we could just fiddle with the meaning of
wicked
. I've always thought Miss Morgan an ultra-lovely, delightful young woman—this is also highly confidential, Holly. I especially admire her amazing purple boots. We could well say she looks seriously wicked. Right?”
    I groaned.
    “Sorry!” Mr. Speed shook his head at me apologetically. “I'll work on it. But there aren't alwayseasy answers to worries. You know that. Tell you something, though. You're
not
bad. You're still my little star. You'll get your twinkle back soon, you'll see.”
    I kept out of Miss Morgan's way that week. I delivered Hannah off at the door of the preschool class but didn't go in myself. Dad went out with Miss Morgan on Friday night but he came home early when I was still sitting up in bed reading my fairy-tale book. He popped his head round the door to tell me to put the light off and go to sleep. He seemed all sad and scowly. Maybe he'd had a row with Miss Morgan!
    However, she came round to our house on Saturday looking extra-specially lovely in a long purple dress with little mirrors all round the hem.
    “Let me see if I can see my face,” said Hannah, kneeling down and peering into each mirror. “Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?”
    “Mirror, mirror on her skirt, who is acting like a stupid little squirt?” I said, yanking Hannah upright.
    “Ouch! You're so grumpy now, Holly. I don't want you to come round the town with us because you spoil everything,” said Hannah.
    “Good, I don't
want
to come,” I said, but I felt bad, bad, bad. My eyes went all watery because even Hannah didn't want me anymore.
    “I think we won't
all
go round the town today,” said Miss Morgan. Her eyes were as glittery as the little mirrors on her skirt. “Maybe Holly and I might just go shopping together?”
    “What about
me
?” said Hannah indignantly.
    “I'll take you to the library and the swings, Hannah, and then we'll have an ice cream or two—or three or four or five—in McDonald's, OK?” said Dad.
    Hannah had her mouth open to protest bitterly but she got sidetracked by the ice cream bribe. Maybe my mouth was open too. I didn't get what was going on.
    “I don't want to go shopping,” I said.
    “Yes, you do—if you've got money in your pocket,” said Dad, and he handed me a ten-pound note.
    I couldn't believe it. Ten pounds, all for me! So I sloped off with Miss Morgan. I decided I wasn't going to speak to her, though. Not one word, all the way into town. But the weird thing was, she didn't say one word to me either! She just strode along in her purple pointy boots and whenever I glanced at her she
glared
at me. I'd never seen her glare before, not even when Hannah's preschool class got really, really rowdy and started throwing powder paint about. (It might have been Hannah who started it because she ended up rainbow-colored right down to her knickers.)
    It's sort of scary when a smiley person goes all glarey. The silence was starting to get on my nerves so much that I blurted out, “I want to go to Claire's Accessories to get some of those little butterfly barrettes. And maybe one of those little lucky-bead bracelets.”
    Miss Morgan sniffed. “You're lucky, all right, Holly. Your dad spoils you so. And you've certainly been acting like a spoilt brat recently. I'm getting sick of it.”
    I stared at her. It was as if she'd suddenly started spitting toads.
    “You're not supposed to talk to me like that. You're a
teacher
!”
    “And I'm also your dad's girlfriend and if you'd only give us a chance I think we'd be really happy together. But you just want to muck everything up, don't you? Can't you see how unhappy you're making your dad?”
    “He's only unhappy because of
you
.
You've
mucked everything up. It was really great before, when it was just Hannah and Dad and