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Copyright Holly Smale 2013
ISBN 978-0-00-748944-2
Holly Smale asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of the work.
All rights reserved.
Printed and bound in England by Clays Ltd, St Ives plc
Conditions of Sale
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade
or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated without
the publishers prior consent in any form, binding or cover other than that
in which it is published and without a similar condition including this
condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
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M y name is Harriet Manners, and I am a geek.
I know Im a geek because Ive just looked it up in
the Oxford English Dictionary. I drew a little tick next
to all the symptoms I recognise, and I appear to have
them all. Which and I should be perfectly honest
here hasnt come as an enormous surprise. The fact
that I have an Oxford English Dictionary on my bedside
table anyway should have been one clue. That I keep
a Natural History Museum pencil and ruler next to it so
that I can neatly underline interesting entries should
have been another.
Oh, and then theres the word GEEK, drawn in red
marker pen on the outside pocket of my school satchel.
That was done yesterday.
I didnt do it, obviously. If I did decide to deface my
own property, Id choose a poignant line from a really
good book, or an interesting fact not many people
know. And I definitely wouldnt do it in red. Id do it in
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Now that you know who I am, youre going to want
to know where I am and what Im doing, right?
Character, action and location: thats what makes a
story. I read it in a book called What Makes a Story,
written by a man who hasnt got any stories at the
moment, but knows exactly how hell tell them when
he eventually does.
So.
Its currently December, Im in bed tucked under
about fourteen covers and Im not doing anything at
all apart from getting warmer by the second. In fact, I
dont want to alarm you or anything, but I think I might
be really sick. My hands are clammy, my stomachs
churning and Im significantly paler than I was ten
minutes ago. Plus, theres what can only be described
as a sort of rash on my face. Little red spots scattered
at totally random and not at all symmetrical points on
my cheeks and forehead. With a big one on my chin.
And one just next to my left ear.
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OK, so I lied a little bit.
Twice, actually.
Nat and I are not in perfect harmony at all. Were
definitely close, and we definitely spend all of our time
together, and we definitely adore each other very much,
but there are moments now weve almost grown up
where our interests and passions divide a teensy bit.
Or you know a lot.
It doesnt stop us being inseparable, obviously.
Were Best Friends because we frequently make each
other laugh, so much so that I once made orange juice
come out of her nose (on to her mums white rug
we stopped laughing pretty shortly afterwards). And
also because I remember when she peed on the balletroom floor, aged six, and she is the only person in the
entire world who knows I still have a dinosaur poster
taped to the inside of my wardrobe.
But over the last few years, there have definitely
been minuscule points where our desires and needs
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So, before we get on the bus, you might want to
know a little more about me.
You might not, obviously. You might be thinking,
Just get on with it, Harriet, because I havent got all
day, which is what Annabel says all the time. Adults
rarely have all day, from what I can tell. However, if
like me you read cereal boxes at the breakfast table
and shampoo bottles in the bath and bus timetables
when you already know what bus youre getting, heres
a little more information:
1.
My mother is dead. Thats usually the bit
where people look awkward and start talking
about how rainy the sky looks, but she died
when I was three days old so missing her is a
bit like loving a character from a book. The
only stories I have of her belong to other
people.
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2.
3.
4.
5.
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7.
8.
9.
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Anyway.
What all this means is: Im not thrilled to be here.
Ive stopped whining, but lets just say Im not spinning
round and round in circles, farting at intervals, like my
dog Hugo does when hes excited. In fact, I did two
years of doing woodwork specifically so I didnt have
to come on this textiles trip. Two years of accidentally
sanding down my thumbs and cringing to the sound
of metal on metal, purely to get out of today. And then
Jo eats prawns and does a little vomiting and BAM:
here I am.
The first step on to the coach is uneventful, just one
step, directly behind Nats. The second step is slightly
less successful. The coach starts before weve sat down
and Im thrown sideways, in the process kicking a nice
fluffy green bag the way Ive never, ever managed to
kick a football in my entire life.
Moron, Chloe hisses as she retrieves it.
Im n-n-not, I stutter, cheeks lighting up. A
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People Who Hate Harriet Manners
1. Alexa Roberts
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Imagine youre a polar bear and you find yourself in
the middle of a rainforest. There are flying squirrels,
and monkeys, and bright green frogs, and you have
no idea how you got there or what youre supposed
to do next. Youre lonely, youre lost, youre frightened
and all you know for absolute certain is that you
shouldnt be there.
Now imagine you find another polar bear. Youre so
happy to see another polar bear any polar bear that
it doesnt matter what kind it is. You follow that polar
bear around, just because its not a monkey. Or a flying
squirrel. Because its the only thing that makes it OK to
be a polar bear in the middle of a rainforest.
Well, thats how it is with Toby. One geek,
incoherently happy to find another geek in the middle
of a world full of normal people. Thrilled to discover
that there is someone else like him. Its not me he
wants. Its my social standing. Or lack thereof.
And let me get something straight: Im not going
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In case you were wondering, thats what Toby did on
the ride-on lawnmower in Year One too. Except this
time he manages to broaden his horizons in the most
literal sense and hit Nat too.
Shes not happy about it. I mean, Im not happy
about it either. I dont relish being hit by the contents
of other peoples digestive tracts. But Nats really not
happy about it.
Shes so unhappy about it that when the coach finally
pulls up to The Clothes Show at the NEC, Birmingham
two and a half hours later shes still shouting at him.
And Tobys telling both of us how much better he feels
now because, Isnt it funny how it feels OK when all
the vomits gone?
I dont believe this, Nat is still snapping, stomping
across the carpark. Were both now wearing PE kit:
luckily two of the boys had football practice straight
after the trip, so after a lot of whining Miss Fletcher
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We were seven when Nat decided that she wanted to
be a model.
Gosh, somebodys mum said at a school disco.
Natalie. Youre getting gorgeous. Maybe you could
be a model when you grow up.
I paused from filling my party dress pockets with
chocolate cake and jelly sweets. A model of what?
I asked curiously. And then my greedy little hand went
out to grab a mini jam roll. I have a model airplane,
I added proudly.
The mum gave me the look that I was already used
to by then.
A model, she explained, looking at Nat, is
a girl or a boy who gets paid ridiculous quantities
of money to wear clothes they dont own and have
their photo taken. I looked at Nat and already I
could see her eyes starting to glow: the seed of
the dream being planted. Just hope you grow tall
and thin, the mum added bitterly, because if you
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Is she kidding me? In spirit?
I could have done in spirit quite happily from my
bedroom, thank you very much. I could have texted Nat
support from my own fake deathbed. I pick up another
hat crossly. Next time Nat wants me to go shopping, I
am so throwing myself down the stairs.
Excuse me? a voice interrupts, and when I turn
around, theres a lady staring at me with a deep crease
between her eyebrows. Can you read?
Umm, I reply in surprise. Yes. Very well, actually.
My reading age is over twenty. But thank you for
asking.
Really? Can you read that sign there? Read it out
loud.
Poor lady. Maybe she didnt go to all of her English
lessons at school. Of course, I say in a friendly and
I hope not patronising tone. Not everyone benefits
equally from a full education system. It says, Dont
Touch The Hats.
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People Who Hate Harriet Manners
Alexa Roberts
Hat Lady
Owners of stalls 24D 24E 24F 24G 24H
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This is what happens when Im forced to go out in
public.
I didnt do it! I gasp as the man pulls me through
the crowds. Hes holding my hand and I have to be
honest with you Im not sure hes allowed. I think it
might be against the law or something. I mean, I
clarify, I did do it. But I didnt mean to. Im just
How can I put it? Socially disadvantaged.
And just so you know thats what Im going to
plead in court as well.
Cherub-cheeks, that sounds so fun, the man says
over his shoulder in a high voice that doesnt seem to
fit him properly. Society is tedious, dont you think?
Sooo much better to be pushed out of it.
What did he just call me?
I havent been pushed out of it, I tell him
indignantly. I just dont seem to be able to get in it in
the first place. Anyway, I add as firmly as I can, you
should know Im only fifteen. Too young to go to jail,
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