just getting to know each other.”
Almost bouncing into Louise, Colleen stumbled in. “Anything wrong?” she asked.
“No,” I said. “I just wondered if it’s all right me having a telly in my room.”
Colleen and Tony swapped glances. Tony shook his head and dropped my bags on the floor. He smiled and said under his breath, “We have one of those.”
“Er, yes, the spare TV’s in my room,” said Colleen.
Tony shook his head again. Louise glanced at him. “I’ll get the telly,” he offered.
I dropped my attitude. “I want a DVD player too,” I said. “I’ve got nuff DVDs in my bag. I’d love to watch ’em. Sometimes I can’t sleep. I get nightmares.”
I wasn’t lying. I had issues with my sleeping as long as I could remember. Tony smiled a funny smile.
“Attitude, Naomi,” said Louise. “Remember we talked about the right tone when we’re talking to people? And I think we’re missing a word.”
Louise keeps playing that same tune. I’m not a frucking idiot. I get it. I clutched my meerkat even tighter and rolled my eyes. “Pretty please with bells on wrapped in a pink envelope.”
“Yes, you may,” replied Tony with a posh voice. I flung him an evil look.
Tony left the room. Colleen smiled nervously. “Do I need to wash any of your clothes tonight?” she asked. “Maybe a school uniform?”
“She’s not attending school until next Monday,” explained Louise. “She has Thursday and Friday off to help her adjust to her new surroundings and to give her time to bond with her new family.”
“So you’ll be with me during the day,” said Colleen. “We can get to know each other.”
“Woo hoo!” I mocked. “This is all a bit too much.”
That wasn’t called for. She’s only trying to be nice. Allow her.
Returning with a portable TV, Tony waited until I cleared the books from the desk. He dropped his posh voice. “Thank you,” he said.
“Where’s the . . . ?”
Sharyna entered carrying a DVD player. She placed it beside the television and gave me a gorgylicious smile. How can I carry on spitting attitude after that?
“Thanks,” I said. “What’s your name again?”
“Sharyna.”
“Maybe when they leave us alone we can watch some spine curlers.”
“That would be so—”
Louise cut off Sharyna’s excited response. “She’s only eleven,” she warned.
“I watched horror films when I was six,” I said. I wasn’t lying. Mum used to love ’em too. We’d sit down in our raggedy sofa munching Haribos. “The new Evil Dead’s the gorilla’s knuckles.”
“Sharyna, would you like to show Naomi the rest of the house?”
“Yeah,” Sharyna smiled. “I’ll show her my room first.”
* * *
Half an hour later, I was in my room running my fingers through Sharyna’s braids. She didn’t mind. We were getting on neatly.
Louise popped her head around the door. “Can I have a minute?” she asked.
“Sure,” replied Sharyna.
Louise waited until Sharyna closed the door. “Will you be all right here?”
“As long as he doesn’t prick fiddle around me.”
“I think you’re getting a bit paranoid.”
“They’re all alike,” I argued. “Kim warned me about men who foster kids. Loads of ’em tried it on with her. She told me not to trust ’em. You see it all the time in the papers and on the news.”
Louise gave me her top-ranking really look. “Not all men are like the ones in the news,” she said. “And Kim doesn’t know everyone. She’s not the oracle on everything.”
“Oracle? Stop talking foreign. If he tries game on me I’ll stab him in his prick. I’m not playing!”
Louise patted me on the shoulder. “I don’t think that’ll be necessary. You must stop thinking that everything Kim says is true. She sometimes . . . stretches the truth.”
“So do social wankers.”
Louise shook her head.
“Don’t blame me if you get a 9-9-9 later tonight,” I added.
“Stop worrying. Mr. Golding’s one of the good guys.”
“There ain’t no good men who foster kids. They’ve all got . . . what d’you call it . . . an agenda.”
Louise placed her hands on her hips. “You think I’d put you with someone inappropriate?”
“You put me with the Holmans. He was the ultimate prick fiddler and I could tell on my first day with them that she was all wrong by her purple leggings and pink plimsolls.”
“Hmmm.”
“Don’t hmmm me,” I said. “I know that means you think I’m talking shit.”
Louise couldn’t help busting out a smile.
“When are you coming again?” I wanted to know.
“Let me see. It’s Wednesday today. I’ll see how you are on Friday morning.”
“Don’t I get pocket money?” I asked. “These Golding peeps might not give me squiddly jack. Look how he munched his boxers about the telly.”
“I’m sure they will.”
I held out my hand. “Say they don’t? I don’t wanna be part of no Austria program.”
“Austerity program,” Louise corrected me. “They’ll give you what they think is appropriate.”
“Say they don’t?” I repeated. “And your appropriate is not on the same level as my appropriate.”
Louise gave me another really look, shook her head, and took out her purse. It had nuff cards in it. I wonder how much they pay social wankers. She handed me a ten-pound note. “Don’t spend it on cigarettes,” she said. “Some of this can go toward the chocolate biscuits you want.”
I placed the note in a zip compartment of my backpack.
“The Goldings
