Free Lia's Guide to Winning the Lottery by Keren David Page B

You’ll be carrying my sister’s bag. Shaz, Daisy, Jasmine, Roo, Mimi . . . you can all get your bags carried too,’ I said, eyes raking the crowd, desperate not to miss out anyone crucial.
    â€˜So, for one measly designer tee we have to act as personal slaves to losers like Shaz and Roo?’ said Georgia. Bitch. I’d have said she was a racist bitch if she wasn’t actually black. Although, I wouldn’t have actually said it at all, because she would have beaten me up.
    I opened my eyes wide. ‘I don’t see you offering to buy me anything, George. Fair’s fair. . . And I won’tget you one at all if you diss my friends. Piss off.’
    But she was already on her way. ‘Forget it, rich girl,’ she flung over her shoulder. A chorus of
oooohs
followed her – but quite a few girls did as well.
    In the end, there were twenty-one of us waiting for the bus – me, my twelve designated True Friends and eight bag-carriers. Three buses came and went, too full to squeeze us on. Girls were muttering. Girls were texting.
    â€˜It’s not my fault,’ I pointed out. ‘I suppose we could get the Tube.’
    Roo shivered. ‘Oooh. Creepy.’
    Getting the Tube meant walking through the old cemetery. The dark, overgrown, scary old cemetery, full of tumbledown grey headstones, ivy and rats. Sure, the path was lit, and well-used, and there was no need to explore further into the wild tangle of bushes and brambles. But we tended to avoid walking there alone. We knew there were ghosts lurking in the green shadows – not to mention perverts.
    We’d be fine all in a big group, though, and I was turning towards the iron gates when Natasha pointed across the road. ‘Look – a taxi firm. We can go in style.’
    â€˜Oh,
brilliant
idea, Nat,’ I sighed – bloody hell, howmuch would a fleet of taxis cost? – but she charged across the road and started interrogating Reza, the taxi company’s owner.
    â€˜Four to a car . . . we’ll need six cars. . .’
    â€˜No, we won’t,’ I said, and randomly picked out Lindsay Abbott, shouldering Roo’s rucksack. ‘Look, Lins, why don’t you come shopping another time? I’ll get you a T-shirt, OK?’
    Lindsay looked pretty upset, but walked off anyway.
    It still took about twenty minutes for Reza to summon five cars, by which time I was regretting ever agreeing to the whole trip. Plus Mum had texted me three times. Of course I didn’t bother to find out what she was moaning about.
    Out of the corner of my eye I noticed Raf trudging along the road, pale-faced, head down, still in human form, obviously. He passed the internet café without a glance at me, reached the iron gates of the cemetery and disappeared. Huh. We could’ve bumped into him at the Tube station. Stupid Natasha.
    Reza made me pay up before we set off. Ninety pounds. He raised his eyebrows when I pulled out a brand new cheque book from the same bank that the Queen uses. Then Shazia picked up an old copyof the
Daily Mirror
and showed him my picture.
    â€˜Oh yes! Lottery Girl!’ he said, gold teeth gleaming. ‘At your service! You want regular taxi?’
    â€˜Maybe. . .’ said Shaz. ‘If you give her a discount now, she’ll think about it.’ And so he knocked ten pounds off the price.
    â€˜What a bargain!’ said Shazia, squeezing into the back of a Ford Focus with Daisy and Roo, leaving the front seat free for me. It was nice of her, but I felt a bit like I was the mum and they were the kids, especially when I heard them giggling in the back.
    I’d planned a quick swoop on Hollister and then maybe a slower stroll around Top Shop . . . New Look . . . Gap . . . H&M. But when we got to the mall, the crowd headed for the big department store. I tried to veer off into H&M but they all groaned.
    â€˜It’s a bit boring in there,’ said Shaz.
    â€˜We want to