Withering Tights - By Louise Rennison Page 0,57
about the ‘qualities’ of owliness. My wise nature. Where my home might be. What I had for supper. Mouse, I thought. I began to only really think in hoots. I thought about my bottom being comfortable on a tree. And what I would do if I wanted a pee. I looked around to see how far I could twist my head. And how long I could stare.
No one came near, although Flossie did offer me a mime cheesy wotsit (I think). Then she and Vaisey went back to pretend conversation and mime snack eating.
Eventually I started waving my pretend wing.
Flossie came up, dabbing at the floor, like I had spilt my pretend drink.
This was hopeless.
I caught Vaisey’s eye and raised my lower eyelids slowly. Surely, that would do it.
It didn’t.
So then I laid an egg.
People can be very thick even when offered the best of mimes. Flossie said, “ Are you having a poo?”
Monty said, “I think we will leave it there.”
Then everyone had to guess what had gone on.
How on earth could anyone have thought that I was sitting on a spacehopper at a party?
What fool would do that?
Monty said, “So what was the mime all about? You seemed, somehow disturbed and angry. Was there some inner conflict expressed in your performance?”
I said, “Yes, there was, Sir, I was an owl laying an egg and…”
As we went out Blaise Fox said, “Come with me to the roof, Tallulah.”
Was I so bad that she was going to push me off?
We went up the windy stairs to the dorm, and then up some tiny narrow stone steps that led to the roof
I had never been up to Mrs Rochester land. You could walk along on the flat bits between the towering chimneys, and there was a parapet that went all the way round. And huge gargoyles on every corner of the roof. Blaise led the way and we went to lean on the stone balcony.
You could see for miles over the woods and moors, all the way to Grimbottom. There was a building to the left, beyond the woods, that looked a bit like Dother Hall…Ooh, that must be where Phil and Charlie and Jack were. The mysterious Woolfe Academy.
Ms Fox said, “Do you want to stay here, Tallulah Casey?”
I thought at first she meant ‘did I want to stay on the roof’, but then I realised she meant at Dother Hall.
So I said, “Oh, yes. I really do. But…you know, you’ve seen me, the bicycle thing and…It’s not enough to just think you want to do something, is it? You have to be able to do it.”
She said, “And do you know what I think you can do?”
I said, “Be an idiot?”
She smiled at me, “Yeah, you are quite good at that. But I believe you have a special quality.”
Blimey.
She went on. “It’s a mix of energy and, I think…a talent for comedy.”
Yippee. Maybe.
Blaise looked at me and said, “I’ve been thinking about our end of summer school Wuthering Heights. It’s going to be a musical. And I want you to be the lead.”
Crumbs.
Me?
Cathy?
I had the hair for it – I could swish it about. And I could sing my song:
I’m out on the moors, the windy moors,
Let’s roll about in mud pools,
Or sheep poo, I hate you, I love you tooooo.
Heathcliff, it’s me, tap-tapping on your windooooow.
Then I came out of my made-up world.
Wuthering Heights, the musical.
I said, “Um, the only thing is, I can’t sing.”
And she said, “I know, it’s a comedy version. And I want you to be Heathcliff.”
When I got back to Heckmondwhite, the whole village was in a state of high excitement as the skipping rope is finished. There is going to be a mass skipathon at nine o’clock with tuba playing. And the village shop is staying open half an hour later, just in case someone needs a bag of humbugs.
I had walked home from Dother Hall in a dream. I was so shocked that I didn’t tell the girls what had happened in Mrs Rochester land, I told them I was rushing off to see the owlets. They wanted to come and see them too, but they all had singing lessons.
As I tramped along the woodland path, I was confused.
What does Ms Fox mean, she wants me to play Heathcliff?
He’s a boy.
Does she mean I am like a boy?
I tried to ask her, but she said I have to figure it out for myself and to come back to her with my ideas,