Free Zodiac Girls: Brat Princess by Cathy Hopkins Page B

he was
carrying a megaphone. He looked so totally ridiculous
that I burst out laughing, but the others stopped what
they were doing immediately.
    “STEP AWAY from the porridge,” said Mario
through the megaphone. “STEP away from the
porridge.”
    I couldn’t stop laughing, but the others didn’t seem
to find it as funny.
    “Mouldy bananas,” groaned Lynn. “There goes our
hot water for the next week.”
    “Yeah,” snarled Jake, then he looked in my
direction. “And it’s all your fault.”
    Marilyn pointed at me. “Yeah. She started it, sir.
She’s the troublemaker.”
    I gave a little curtsey and held up a handful of
gloop. “Yeah. Because I AM ZODIAC GIRL, don’t
you know? A rare honour I’m told. Anyone like to see
what I do as an ENCORE?”
    “Out,” commanded Mario. “ All of you. Assemble in
the hall.”
    Jake, Mark, Lynn and Marilyn filed out. I stood my
ground. I wasn’t going anywhere.
    “That means you too, missy.”
    “Since when did I take orders from you?”
    “Since I was told that you were this month’s Zodiac
Girl and I saw your chart...”
    I sighed. “Oh here we go again. I told you, I don’t
want to be a Zodiac Girl. I can assure it’s not the
honour you think it is. Least not so far… Are the
others Zodiac Girls and boys too?”
    “Nope. Just you.”
    “So why me?”
    “It’s in your stars. You got one month here. Make the
most of it. Now MOVE your sorry butt. We’re going
to hose you all down in the bathroom. With ice-COLD
water. That will show you.”
    “Not me. No way.” I decided to show him what I
could do if I had a tantrum. I could cause trouble. He’d
soon see it would be in his best interests not to get on
the wrong side of me. The others might be pussycats,
but not this girl. Not Zodiac Girl. Ooooh no. Not me.
I roared as loud as I could. Like a lion.
    “ReeeeOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAR!!!”
    Mr O popped his head around the door when I did
that and nodded as if he approved of what he heard.
“That’s my little Leo. Yes. Yes. Let it all out. Roar like
a lion, Leonora. All out. Yes. Good. Fine.” And then he
disappeared.
    I pushed the porridge pan over; I kicked the
table; I poured water out of all the cups. I hurled a
chair at the wall. Roaring all the time. “I DON’T
WANT TO BE HERE. YOU CAN’T MAKE ME
STAY. I WON’T EAT YOUR PORRIDGE. AND
I WON’T DO WHAT YOU TELL ME. AND I
DON’T WANT TO BE ZODIAAAAAAAAAAAC
GIRL.”
    At one point I glanced over at him to see how upset
Mario looked. He wasn’t even watching! He was
looking out the window as if there was something
more interesting going on out there! I. Could. Not.
Believe. It. So I picked up the nearest bowl and threw
it at him, being careful that it went over his shoulder
and hit the wall (I didn’t want to get him too angry),
but close enough to make him look. He did duck, but
he didn’t seem worried.
    I threw a few more bowls at the walls and being
plastic they bounced off, not that Mario cared. He was
looking out the window again. And then he got a
newspaper out from somewhere in his wet suit, sat
down, crossed his legs and began reading it like he was
sitting outside a café in the south of blooming France!
I looked around to see what else I could trash from the
mess in front of me, but I seemed to have thrown just
about everything I could.
    “Finished?” asked Mario after a while.
    I surveyed the destruction in front of me and felt
smug. Good job, I thought. That will show him not to mess
with me . “Yeah. I think I might have done. Now. Let that
be a lesson to you.”
    Mario pointed at a cupboard in the corner of the
room. “To me? Oh no. I don’t think so. Dr Cronus
definitely said that the lesson was yours this morning.
So. Mops in there. Buckets are in there, too. Washing-up
liquid, cleaning fluids are at the back of the kitchen
under the sinks. Now you clear up this mess and, when
the place is ship-shape, you can move