There's nothing quite as good as folding up into a book and shutting the world outside.If I pick the right one I can be beautiful, or fall in love, or live happily ever after. Maybe even all three.
Bill CondonStichwörter: ya-lit
Tiff like in Breakfast at Tiffany's,' he says. 'Right?'
I couldn't be more shocked. 'Um... yes, that's right - it's an old movie.'
'Is it? Don't watch that much TV. I've only heard of the book - got it at home. I bought it 'cause Truman Capote wrote it. I was stoked by In Cold Blood. He wrote that, too. You read it?'
'No.'
'Aw, you gotta. It rocks.'
I look away as if I've been suddenly distracted by something out the window. It's my version of the pause button. There's a lot of information to process. Here's a boy my own age; he shakes my hand, he talks to me - not just to ask directions to the toilet - and he reads books.
Heathcliff?
She's an old, close-to-the-ground, jelly-belly woman with bald patches showing through her wispy grey hair. It doesn't seem like she's got a lot going for her, but she's still smiling. Been around the sunflowers too long, I'd say.
Bill CondonAnother voice rages.
I hate that boy! I hate me! I am so incredibly stupid!
A sunflower leans over the fence, smiling
How dare you!
I rip off its head and throw it in the gutter.
The smart thing to do is to keep going on. Walk away quickly and no one will know what I've done. But I can't move because my eyes are locked on the slowly opening front door - locked on Mrs Muir.
'I'm sorry.' My tiny voice sounds so pathetically lame, but I've still got more lameness for her. 'I never do this sort of thing. I like sunflowers. I was just angry about something - nothing to do with you or the flower. I'm really, really sorry.'
'Oh, you are upset! Well, never mind'. Mrs Muir comes closer to me. 'Goodness, we all get cross. The main thing is: did it make you feel any better?'
'No. Yes. Maybe. A little bit.'
'Would you like to do another one? There's more out the back, too. You go for your life dear. I don't mind at all - they need a good pruning.
I stroll into the kitchen. Bull's making lunch. He's actually no relation to me, though secretly I look on him as my big brother, sometimes even my dad. When I needed a father for parent-teacher nights, Bull was there; if I fell out of a tree he'd run to catch me. He usually dropped me, but at least he tried; he's my full time body guard and chauffer, and, when I was thirteen and feeling depressed after spending too long in front of a mirror, he was the one I asked - 'Do you think I'm pretty?'
'No, mate,' he said, 'I wouldn't call you pretty at all. No way. You're beautiful.'
It's still near the top of one of my all-time favourite lies.
I'll save me money, thanks. Already diagnosed meself, anyway. I'm a cactus.'
'Cactus? Right. Great work, there, Doc. I'm glad you're not my bloody doctor.
When are you gunna forget that? It was ages ago.'
Only last year, actually. Reggie was convinced he had cancer because he had a black pot on his tongue - he switched to tea bags after the doctor told him it was a tea leaf.
Bull stares into the hazy distance as though the right words are out there somewhere and all he has to do is claim them as his own. Sometimes it gets so quiet in Gungee you can hear conversations from a hundred years ago breathing on a gust of wind.
Bill CondonI wouldn't go against Reggie and actively encourage Zoe to move in, but I think she and I would do okay together. If nothing else she could help me in my never-ending campaign. Some people want to save the rivers or save the whales, even save the entire planet - I just want to keep the toilet seat down.
Bill CondonThat day I think we really saw each other for the first time. I mean, saw beyond the bag of bones on the outside. You take away her pretty and my plain and what you get underneath is about the same: a couple of lost girls looking to be found.
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