Free Dear Scarlett by Sarah J; Fleur; Coleman Hitchcock

“Freeze!”
    â€œWhat’s black and white and red all over?” asks Melissa.
    â€œA sunburned penguin!” shouts Jessica.
    â€œWhy did two penguins jump when they first met?” asks Sam Lewis.
    â€œDon’t know,” says Amber.
    â€œThey were trying to break the ice,” says Sam. “Get it?”
    Ellie and I walk quickly into class. Mrs Gayton’s sitting with a smug smile on her potato face.
    â€œCops and robbers,” she says. “Fancy.”
    I go over and sharpen some pencils.
    Ellie shuffles in her book bag.
    â€œWell, it’s just what I’ve come to expect of a child like you, Scarlett McNally. Thoughtless behaviour that’s caused Lord knows how much trouble.” Mrs Gayton leans back on her chair. “When I was in the paratroopers, we had an insolent little private like you. Came to a sticky end. Breaking rocks at Her Majesty’s Pleasure, these days.”
    I stare hard at the pencils.
    I could throttle her.

    Ellie and I separate on the way home. She lives in a very clean white house on an estate of clean white houses. Inside, everything has somewhere to live. Uncle Derek never buys a box of cereal that won’t fit in the cupboard, or a milk container that won’t fit in the door of the fridge. Ellie’s never missed a single lunch payment, or brought the wrong pair of socks for PE.
    At home we get everything wrong and I’m always late with things, but Uncle Derek is scarily organised.
    He’s looked after Ellie since her mum walked outon them, although I don’t know when that was, and he’s been helping Mum out since she sent Syd’s dad to South America. Now I’m wondering how much that’s because he’s been paid to hang around, and how much it’s because he wants to.
    It’s been about a year now.
    I suppose Uncle Derek’s all right really, it’s just he’s such an alien. All that soap powder and fabric conditioner and things that smell of supermarkets.
    Ellie loves him to bits, even though he’s a dad, not a mum. I guess she’s making the best of it; after all, you can live perfectly well without a dad.
    Mums are much more important.
    I can’t imagine life without Mum.
    I don’t go straight home; instead, I pass the back of the zoo. There are these tall concrete walls all around it. I could probably climb over them, but I’ve got some coins and after four o’clock, you can get through the turnstiles for fifty pence.
    Anyway, I think I’ve done enough in the way of breaking in. I don’t want to draw any attention to myself; although I don’t suppose the zoo keepers would recognise me in my school uniform.
    Outside the front is the long black car again. I stop to look at the little flag, sticking out ofthe end of the bonnet. It’s got the three royal starfish of Dampmouth Bay Council, the same as all the wheelie bins, so it’s definitely the mayoress’s car.
    Weird. Funny how you never see something then you come across it twice in one week.
    Inside, I ignore the grubby undersized panda, and the stinky stick-insect house. I pass the flamingos and the screaming monkeys and head straight for the back.
    The penguins are there. The three of them. One standing, two lying in their little pond. It’s honestly no bigger than Syd’s paddling pool. There’s a big notice in front of them and this time I read it. Mum was right, they are trying to send them to some grand zoo in Canada.
    Ellie and I should have looked.
    We were so stupid. We’ll never live it down.
    I lean on the railings round the enclosure and stare, and feel sad for them. I feel sad for me and Ellie too, although I’d swear the little one smiles at me, which makes me feel less sad.
    â€œAwful, innit,” says a man’s voice next to me.
    â€œMm,” I say, watching the smallest penguin try to swim.
    â€œLike theft,” he says.
    â€œAh,” I