Pick ‘n’ Mix. Jean Ure

to strangers.”

      Dad ruffled my hair. “This is why I’m letting you off lightly. But please don’t go cutting any more carpets!”

      Jem and Skye were waiting for me as usual next morning, on the corner of Sunnybrook Gardens.

      “So what happened?” cried Jem. “Was your mum furious?”

      “You’d better believe it,” I said.

      “Not surprised.” Jem giggled. “Cutting holes in your carpet!”

      “Is she going to make you pay for it?” said Skye.

      “No.” I twirled, triumphantly. “She wanted to. She tried to get Dad to say he was going to stop my pocket money, but Dad just laughed. He thought it was funny.”

      “Funny?”

      “He said it showed logical thinking.” I didn’t add the bit about muddle-headed; it didn’t seem quite necessary. “He told Mum they just had to be grateful I hadn’t made a hole in the ceiling.”

      Jem crinkled her nose. “Why would you have done that?”

      “Cos of it being the other option?”

      Jem looked at me, doubtfully. She doesn’t have a logical brain like me.

      “If you can’t make the floor lower,” I said, “you make the ceiling higher. Right?”

      “How d’you make a ceiling higher?”

      “Dunno. With a drill, I s’ppose.”

      “I bet even your dad would get mad then!”

      “Maybe.”

      “I reckon he spoils you.” Skye said it rather sternly. “My dad wouldn’t let me get away with cutting holes in things.”

      Skye wouldn’t cut holes in things. She might have an enormous brain, but she is not in the least bit practical. I told her that Dad liked to encourage us to use our imagination, and to find ways round our problems.

      “Anyhow,” I said, “he’s pleased cos of me saying I’ll look after Emilia. She’s coming this afternoon, Mum’s going to pick her up.”

      “Ooh, can we come and see her?” said Jem.

      I hesitated.

      “Please, Frankee! Can we?”

      “It might p’raps be better if you waited till tomorrow.” I didn’t want to put her off, but I had this feeling Mum might accuse us of crowding if all three of us turned up. “She’ll probably be a bit, like, confused just at first?”

      “Exactly,” said Skye. She gave Jem a shove. “Stop being so pushy.”

      “Me being pushy? Huh! I like that,” said Jem.

      They bickered happily all the way to school. Normally I’d have joined in, but I was thinking about Emilia, wondering just how much looking after she was going to need. I didn’t really, properly know her; only just to say hello to when she’d come round with her mum. I couldn’t even have said how old she was, until Mum told me. I’d never have guessed she was thirteen. She was the right size for thirteen, but she didn’t look thirteen. She didn’t behave like thirteen. More like eight was what Mum had said. Thinking back to when I was eight, which was only quite a short time ago, I couldn’t remember that I’d needed any looking after. I’d gone to and from school by myself, I’d gone to the shops by myself, I’d even taken Rags up the park by myself. But both Mum and Dad seemed to think Emilia would need special treatment and that I would have to keep an eye on her.

      Well, that was all right! I could do that. ’Specially with Jem being so eager to help. Skye obviously wasn’t that keen. Unlike me and Jem, she is not really a people person. She can sometimes be a bit prickly and awkward. But I wasn’t too worried. After all, we were friends and friends do things together.

      I galloped home at the end of school to find that Mum and Emilia had just arrived. Mum said, “Emilia, this is Frankie. You know Frankie, don’t you?” Emilia gave a big banana beam and held out her hand.

      “I’m Melia,” she said.

      I shook her hand and said, “Hi, Melia.”

      Mum shot me a suspicious glance in case I was making fun, but I wasn’t! It just came out like that: Melia. It seemed more friendly than Emilia.