My Best Friend’s Life. Shari Low

Чтение книги онлайн.

       Summary:

      Roxanne shows a keen interest in all areas of the expressive arts. She is currently a member of the netball team, the hockey team and the athletics team and is especially committed to her roles in the Lower School Mixed Volleyball Team and the Lower School Mixed Swimming Team. It was regrettable that Roxanne’s positions in the latter two teams came under threat due to the breach of school rules that was brought to your attention last month. This has, as advised, been noted on her school record, and she will in future be supervised when travelling to outside events with male members of any sporting squad.

      She continues to excel in Drama and will play the role of Mary Magdalene in the forthcoming production of Jesus Christ Superstar.

       Personal Skills:

      Roxanne continues to be a challenge in areas of discipline, structure and responsiveness to authority. Her attendance score was 72 per cent this year, although that is expected to improve after our joint discussions with the amusement arcade and village café. She is, as agreed, now barred from both within school hours.

      She is often resistant to direction and is easily distracted when charged with using her own initiative. She is prone to rambunctious behaviour and often displays a tendency to manipulate her peers and defy school rules and regulations.

      However, it should be noted that, as her superior grades demonstrate, Roxanne is capable of achievement, especially in the subjects that she enjoys. It is perhaps unfortunate that she achieves these grades without any discernible effort or endeavour. Needless to say, should Roxanne apply herself to her schoolwork, it is the opinion of the teaching staff that she would excel in all subjects.

       Challenges/Development Needs:

      As discussed during our frequent contact this year, Roxanne must improve her general conduct and commitment within the school. She continues to flout authority, often initiating forbidden activities–as witnessed by the smoking incident earlier in the year. Her behaviour must improve if she wishes to remain at Farnham Hills High School.

      Signed:

THREE Don’t Go Changing

      Roxy. Day One, Sunday, 11 p.m.

      Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

      Roxy stared at the ceiling as the hands ticked round on Ginny’s alarm clock. Her anxiety levels rose with every sound. It was bloody ridiculous–I mean, who even had ticking bloody clocks these days? Hadn’t Ginny realised that Europe now imported almost the whole of the national export quota of LCD tat from China? Well, at least now Roxy knew what to buy her for Christmas.

      Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

      Urgh! She put her head under the pillow. After a few seconds she realised that this caused a slight problem with the respiratory functions necessary for maintaining life. She stuffed the alarm clock under the pillow instead. Finally, silence! She heard a creaking coming from further down the hall and her eyes widened. She bloody knew it! Her mother was sneaking into Auntie Violet’s room for some naked duvet wrestling. She should have known when her mother joined Weight Watchers that she was up to no good. Why was the thought of middle-aged parents having sex so hard to deal with? Still, she supposed she should be grateful–her mother and Auntie Vi having a tickle she could just about cope with, but the mental image of her mother being rogered over the sofa by some burly, hairy bloke would traumatise her for life.

      Her ears strained as she craned to hear the Marks & Spencer’s thermal slippers padding along the Axminster.

      Nope, it was too much–there were some times in life that oblivion was the preferred option. She needed a diversion and fast. She pulled the clock back out from under the pillow.

      Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

      This was a living hell. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t on the same scale as, say, civil war, famine or disease, but then, at least there was official aid for those situations. Who did she have to help her? Bloody no one. Her one stalwart, the only person she could depend on, had buggered off on the last train to London.

      If it weren’t for the fact that the only things that could make this situation worse were puffy eyes, she’d have cried.

      She missed Felix. She’d given him the best two years of her life, and how had he repaid her? With a betrayal that had devastated her to the very soul.

      The lying bastard. The cheating, lying, arrogant, cold, condescending, mendacious scumbag. God, how she missed him.

      She clenched her teeth to stop the tears. If she succumbed to a full-blown sobbing session she’d have to go to the bathroom for tissues, and the risk of what she’d meet on the way there was enough to quell the waterworks.

      She had a sudden feeling of almighty dread. Didn’t her mother tell her that she’d been to an Ann Summers party in the village hall last month? A mental picture of two middle-aged women in PVC bondage gear only six inches away through a plasterboard wall flooded into her head. She pulled the alarm clock closer to her ears to drown out any sound effects. If she heard a buzzing noise coming from the next room the therapist bills would leave her bankrupt.

      This wasn’t supposed to happen to her. She’d had her whole life planned out. Go to London. Fall in love with wealthy bloke. Marry in big castle with Mariah Carey singing ‘Ave Maria’ as she swept up the aisle.

      Oh, she knew she was being unrealistic. Mariah didn’t do private functions–she’d have to settle for Charlotte Church.

      But she’d really thought Felix was the one, because here was the thing: she really had loved him. After a lifetime of dispensing her love and affection towards the opposite sex in direct proportion to their wealth/status/power/generosity (if she ever met Bill Gates, he was in for the time of his life), Felix had totally ambushed her in the emotional department. They’d met in the underwear section of the gents’ floor in Harvey Nicks. He was stocking up on new Prada pants, while she was searching for trendy boxers for her latest fling: a fifty-five-year-old with a saggy arse and a penchant for thongs that was putting her off her food. Although the fact that he owned half of Buckinghamshire was a huge consolation (and, in all honesty, her very favourite thing about him).

      But despite her devotion to her current man’s portfolio, she couldn’t help but admire Felix’s merchandise. He was over six foot (she checked out his shoes–nope, СКАЧАТЬ