Free Inside the Worm by Robert Swindells Page A

monster slunk away.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
    SATURDAY MORNING, FLISS left the house at eight forty-five. It was day one of the Festival, and walking home together Friday afternoon she and Vicky had arranged to meet in Butterfield’s diner to drink Coke and watch the procession with which the Festival was to open. Somebody at school had suggested putting the worm in the procession but Gary had dismissed the idea. He said it would spoil the surprise.
    Elsworth was a small town and Butterfield’s was its only supermarket. The diner which was tacked on its side was a favourite meeting place for kids. As she turned on to the road which dropped down into town, Fliss was thinking about the bridesmaid dress. Dry and ironed, it bore an indistinct mark where theedge of the stain had been, but this mark was so faint you’d have to know it was there before you’d see it. It certainly wasn’t going to stop her wearing it for the play next weekend, so Gary Bazzard’s dirty trick didn’t matter any more. And, she told herself, since I’ve found a brand-new friend, Lisa Watmough doesn’t matter either.
    It was five past nine when Fliss reached Butterfield’s, and Vicky was already there. She’d bagged a table by the window so they could watch the parade in luxury and pull faces at any boys who might go by. She had a can already, so Fliss got a Coke from the cabinet and paid at the counter before sliding in beside her.
    â€˜Hi, Vicky. Been here long?’
    Vicky shook her head. ‘Three, four minutes. Grant Cooper and Michael Tostevin just went by. They’ve gone to McDonald’s.’
    â€˜How d’you know?’
    â€˜They mouthed it through the window. Probably hoped we’d join them.’
    â€˜No chance.’
    â€˜What’ll we do after the procession?’
    Fliss shrugged. ‘Whatever you like, as long as it doesn’t involve Grant and Michael. I see enough of them at school.’
    They lingered over their drinks, turning and giggling when a knot of older boys looked in the window.One of them was tall and lean, with thick black hair and a cheeky grin, and Fliss wished he’d come in and whisk her away to somewhere romantic, but he only stretched his mouth with his forefingers till it looked like a letterbox and wiggled his tongue at them. As he was doing this, the Mayor’s limousine came cruising by at the head of the procession and the boy moved away, looking abashed. The girls’ vantage point turned out not to be so great after all, because their view was partly blocked as shoppers lined the pavement to watch the floats. As soon as the last float had passed, Fliss and Vicky slurped up the dregs of their Cokes and went outside.
    They strolled through the town. The spectators were dispersing, leaving crisp packets and bits of torn streamer on the ground. When they came to where the Odeon used to be, there was just a gap with bits of smashed masonry and the marks of heavy tyres. They stood for a while gazing at the gap, and Fliss told Vicky about the demolition man and the fabric he’d given to Lisa and herself.
    They walked on, through the shopping centre and into the square. The parish church – St Ceridwen’s – overlooked the square, and as the girls approached they saw that somebody had stuck a colourful poster on the notice board. They stopped to read it.
ONE THOUSAND YEARS IN ELSWORTH
    it began. ‘What a thought,’ groaned Fliss. ‘One Saturday morning’s bad enough.’
    â€˜Yes, but look,’ cried Vicky. ‘It mentions our play.’
    â€˜Where?’
    The poster listed a whole lot of things which would happen during the coming week. Fliss’s eyes slid down the list. There was the procession they’d just watched, with a prize for the best float; a Festival Queen, whom they’d glimpsed enthroned on the back of a lorry; a knockout quiz competition; a prize for the most original shop