Leap of Faith by Candy Harper Page B

thought her mum might have had enough time to calm down so we went back.
    Mr J was preparing supper and Mrs J was nowhere to be seen. Josette was in her room looking a bit worn out.
    ‘They weren’t mine, honestly,’ I said.
    She grinned. ‘I know. You ‘ave been in my house all these days, but I have not seen you with the cigarette. Not one time. And I think you are a girl for trouble, but I’m thinking when you get trouble you do not tell lies.’
    Which seemed a pretty fair assessment of my personality.
    ‘You know it was Vicky, don’t you?’
    She smiled again. ‘I did not think it was Delphine.’
    ‘So why did you say they were yours?’
    She shrugged. ‘So you don’t get trouble from my mother.’
    ‘It sounded like she gave you a lot of trouble.’
    ‘I am used to it. I don’t want for her to say you are . . . how do you say? That your bad will make me bad. Then she will say I cannot go to your house.’
    ‘But she doesn’t mind if you make me bad?’
    ‘She says if I do that she will . . .’ she pulled a hooked finger across her throat.
    ‘Your mum reminds me of my mum sometimes.’
    Supper was a little bit quiet to begin with, but Delphine and I kept up a fairly cheerful conversation about whether French animals have a French accent. (They definitely do; I heard a hen yesterday that sounded just like Madame Badeau when I tell her that there may be a slight problem with my homework.) After a bit Josette and her mum joined in. Mr J never seems to have much to say, and Icky, for once, kept her trap shut.
    Afterwards, I volunteered me and Icky for the washing up and as soon as the others had left the kitchen I turned on the taps and started on her.
    ‘Putting those cigarettes in my bed was a new low, even for you, Icky. I suppose the only way you can get people to like you is to make everyone else look bad.’
    She pushed past me to dump a pile of plates in the sink. ‘You’re so ugly you always look bad, you don’t need my help.’
    ‘Yet, still you’re trying to get me into trouble with Josette’s parents. Why do you dislike me so much?’
    ‘I don’t dislike you.’ She turned her hard little eyes on me. ‘I hate your guts.’
    ‘I know that comprehension isn’t your strong point, but I was actually looking for something I don’t already know, like a real reason. Why do you hate me?’
    ‘Because you’re an idiot.’
    I scrubbed a cup vigorously and slapped it down on the draining board. She makes me so angry. ‘If you dislike stupidity it makes it all the more strange that you manage to love yourself so much. I suppose you couldn’t find anyone else for the job.’
    ‘I’ve got loads of friends and you know it.’
    ‘Ha! See, some people say that you’re a moron, but you’ve just proved what I’ve always said, which is that you’re a moron with a vivid imagination.’
    ‘You think you’re so clever.’
    ‘Don’t take my word for it – we’ll have the GCSE results to prove it next summer.’
    ‘Sucking up to teachers doesn’t make you a genius.’
    ‘Which is a shame otherwise you’d be getting some “A” stars.’
    ‘You do realise that people are laughing at you, don’t you?’
    I didn’t say anything but my stomach tightened.
    ‘You’re always making such a fool out of yourself. Slobbering all over Finn, getting stood up by poodle–boy Ethan.’
    I clenched my fists. ‘That’s not what happened!’
    ‘You might as well face up to the truth: you’re always throwing yourself at boys and trying to get everyone to look at you. It’s pathetic.’
    ‘Just shut up you pigging cow!’ And then I poured a glassful of soapy water all over her. It wasn’t very mature, but it felt really good. And then I fled before she had chance to retaliate. I sidestepped around Mr Josette in the hallway and ran up to Josette’s room. I was shaking; Icky is just vile. What the hell does she mean, throwing myself at boys?
    I lay on my bed for ten minutes taking deep