Untitled Adam Baron 2. Adam Baron
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Название: Untitled Adam Baron 2
Автор: Adam Baron
Издательство: HarperCollins
isbn: 9780008267056
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‘Can I go down and see her?’
Veronique’s dad said better not, which was a shame. He was going to go with her to the hospital and Veronique’s mum was away playing music concerts, so Veronique was coming home with us.
‘For a sleepover?’
‘Yes,’ Mum said. ‘And she’s very welcome, isn’t she, Cymbeline?’
Welcome? A sleepover – ON A WEDNESDAY? And with Veronique, who I used to like so much I couldn’t even talk to her?
‘Suppose,’ I said.
‘Can I bring Kit-Kat?’
‘PLEASE!’ I bellowed, knowing I shouldn’t be too excited, because Nanai was ill. But I couldn’t help it.
‘Course,’ Mum said, ‘though I think we’ve got some Mars bars at home somewhere, so …’
Mum didn’t get to finish because Veronique ran off up the stairs, while we went out to the car with the bag her dad had packed for her.
Mum got in the car while I climbed in the back. Mum and Mr Chang chatted quietly through the window until Veronique came out. She was carrying a big plastic box, covered in a cloth, which she set on the seat between us. Mum was already getting the car started so she didn’t see it – not until we got back to our house. We parked opposite and Veronique lifted the box out.
‘Oh …’ Mum said, ‘Kit-Kat. Silly of me. I thought you meant … But what is that?’
‘He’s a—’
‘HAMSTER!’ I shouted, as we started to cross the road.
‘How sweet,’ Mum said, and then spent five minutes hunting in her bag for the house keys.
Now, what I’d just done is BAD, and I certainly don’t want you to think that fibbing to my mum is something I do very often. I was only trying to protect her, though, because Mum is afraid of EVERYTHING. Daddy-long-legs make her scream like that kid in Home Alone. If a wasp flies in the kitchen window, she makes me hide under the table with her until it’s gone. She asked Uncle Bill round for lunch last Sunday and I swear it was only because she’d seen a spider on the bathroom ceiling the night before. When he arrived, she shoved the sweeping brush in his hand and pushed him up the stairs.
‘And hurry up!’ she shouted. ‘I really need a wee!’
So, I did fib, but fibbing about Kit-Kat’s true identity was not as bad as you might think. Because he is not, as I told Mum, a hamster.
He’s a RAT.
And he is epic.
Kit-Kat can shake hands with you. He can fetch things. He loves the piano, climbing up on to Veronique’s shoulder whenever she practises. He’s a great tightrope walker, and can do the high jump, put a ring on your finger, recognise people, and even untie your shoelaces! He can’t tie them yet (but Lance can barely do that) and Veronique’s training him – and I know who I’d bet on to get there first. Veronique’s trained Kit-Kat a lot in fact, but he was like that even before, because Veronique’s dad’s a scientist and Kit-Kat came from his lab. He is in fact the Veronique of the rat world.
I have another confession too. Kit-Kat being there made me forget about Mrs Martin. I’d planned on spending the whole night thinking about what had happened, but once we were in the house I pulled Veronique up the stairs.
‘Supper in an hour,’ Mum said. ‘What would you like to do, Veronique?’
‘Don’t worry, Mum, we’re going to play Subbuteo.’
Mum wondered whether that was something Veronique would really like to do, but I didn’t listen. I dragged Veronique up to my room and pulled the Subbuteo box out from under my bed.
Now Subbuteo, which is a game with little plastic footballers that you flick at a ball, is excellent normally, and I knew Veronique would have enjoyed it – but teaching Kit-Kat to play was going to be even better! And, as expected, he was ACE. His dribbling was as good as Mo Salah’s and somehow he knew to stay on the pitch (though he trod on the players’ heads until I gave him a yellow card). Soon he was taking the ball round the players instead of over them and then slipping it past the keeper, all for the reward of a dried pea, which Veronique had brought and which he’s obsessed with. It was great, but at 5–0 to Kit-Kat I put the pitch away. Mum had been right: Veronique didn’t seem to be into it. I turned to her.
‘Is it Mrs Martin? That was totally weird, wasn’t it? But you shouldn’t be upset about it. No one thinks it was you, do they?’
‘It isn’t that,’ Veronique said.
I slapped my forehead. I’d got carried away with the Subbuteo – it was Nanai of course.
‘But it’s just a precaution,’ I said. ‘Your dad did say that, didn’t he?’
Veronique looked down at her lap. ‘Yes, but …’
‘What?’
‘He’s an adult.’
‘So?’
‘You can’t believe them when they talk about things like this.’
‘Can’t you?’
‘No,’ Veronique said, and I realised that she was right. There are pointless things that adults insist you DO know about (apostrophes, hello?) and then some really important stuff they keep from you, like news stories that make them dive forward and turn off the radio. Nanai was as bad. She refused to tell Veronique much about being on the boat from Vietnam. All Veronique knew was that Nanai’s family had been part of the Chinese Hoa people in Vietnam. When they had to leave Vietnam by boat, some of them ended up here. There had to be more to know than that, though. And now – was her dad doing the same thing? Was Nanai really ill?
I swallowed. I had an empty feeling in my stomach until I heard Mum climbing up the stairs. I got Kit-Kat back in his box in time but Mum still crouched down to him.
‘Let’s have a look, then,’ she said.
‘Sorry. It’s his bedtime.’
Mum frowned. ‘I thought gerbils slept in the daytime.’
‘Oh,’ said Veronique, ‘he’s not a gerbil. He’s a—’
‘HAMSTER!’ I shouted. ‘But he’s tired now, so …’
‘Oh, come on,’ Mum insisted. ‘Just a little peek.’ And I couldn’t stop her. She lifted the lid and I got my hands near my ears ready for the scream, shuffling aside so I didn’t get trampled on when Mum ran to the door. Fortunately, though, Kit-Kat was tucked up in his straw with just his little face poking out.
‘Sweet!’ Mum said СКАЧАТЬ