Free Bill's New Frock by Anne Fine Page B

didn’t say anything nice to
me
.’
    Philip just shrugged and said:
    ‘Well, girls are neater.’
    Bill felt so cross he had to sit on his hands to stop himself from thumping Philip.
    Up at her desk, Mrs Collins was leafing through the class reader:
Tales of Today and Yesterday
.
    ‘Where are we?’ she asked them. ‘Where did we finish last week? Did we get to the end of
Polly the Pilot
?’
    She turned the page.
    ‘Ah!’ she said. ‘Here’s a good old story you all know perfectly well, I’m sure. It’s
Rapunzel
. And today it’s table five’s turn to take the main parts.’
    Looking up, she eyed all six of them sitting there waiting.
    ‘You’ll be the farmer,’ she said to Nick. ‘You be the farmer’s wife,’ to Talilah. ‘Witch,’ she said to Flora. ‘Prince,’ she said to Philip. ‘Narrator,’ she said to Kirsty.
    Oh, no! Oh, no! Bill held his breath as Mrs Collins looked at him and said:
    ‘The Lovely Rapunzel.’
    Before Bill could protest, Talilah hadstarted reading aloud. She and the farmer began with a furious argument about whether or not it was safe to steal a lettuce from the garden of the wicked witch next door, to feed their precious daughter Rapunzel. Once they’d got going, Bill didn’t like to interrupt them, so he just sat and flicked over the pages, looking for his first speech.
    It was a long wait. The Lovely Rapunzel didn’t seem to
do
very much. She just got stolen out of spite by the Witch, and hidden away at the very top of a high stone tower which had no door. There she just sat quietly for about fifteen years, being no trouble and growing her hair.
    She didn’t try to escape. She didn’t complain. She didn’t even have any fights with the Witch.
    So far as Bill Simpson could make out, she wasn’t really worth rescuing. Hewasn’t at all sure why the Prince bothered. He certainly wouldn’t have made the effort himself.
    After three pages, there came a bit for Rapunzel.
    ‘Ooooooooh!’ Bill read out aloud. ‘Oooooooooh!’
    No, it wasn’t much of a part. Or much of a life, come to that, if you thought about it.
    Bill raised his hand. He couldn’t help it.
    ‘Yes?’ Mrs Collins said. ‘What’s the problem?’ She hated interruptions when they were reading.
    ‘I don’t see why Rapunzel just has to sit and wait for the Prince to come along and rescue her,’ Bill explained. ‘Why couldn’t she plan her own escape? Why didn’t she cut off all her lovely long hair herself, and braid it into a rope, and knot the rope to something, and then slide down it? Why didshe have to just sit there and waste fifteen years waiting for a Prince?’
    Mrs Collins narrowed her eyes at Bill Simpson.
    ‘You’re in a very funny mood today,’ she told him. ‘Are you sure that you’re feeling quite yourself?’
    Was he feeling quite himself? In this frock? Bill stared around the room. Everyone’s eyes were on him. They were allwaiting to hear what he said. What could he say?

    Mercifully, before he was forced to answer, the bell rang for playtime.

2
The wumpy choo

    Outside in the playground a few boys were already kicking a football about. Bill Simpson was just about to charge in and join them when he remembered what he was wearing. He’d look a bit daft if he took a tumble, he decided. Maybe just for once he’d try to think of something else to do during playtime.
    Each boy who ran out of the school joined the football game on one side oranother. What did the girls do? He looked around. Some perched along the nursery wall, chatting to one another. Others stood in the cloakroom porch, sharing secrets and giggling. There were a few more huddled in each corner of the playground. Each time the football came their way, one of them would give it a hefty boot back into the game. There were two girls trying to mark out a hopscotch frame; but every time the footballers ran over the lines they were drawing, they scuffed the chalk so badly that you couldn’t see the squares any