The Lottie Project - Softcover

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

JACQUELINE WILSON is an extremely well-known and hugely popular author. THE ILLUSTRATED MUM was chosen as British Children's Book of the Year in 1999 and was winner of the Guardian Children's Fiction Award 2000. Jacqueline has won the prestigious Smarties Prize and the Children's Book Award for DOUBLE ACT, which was also highly commended for the Carnegie Medal. Jacqueline was awarded an OBE in 2002.

* 'A brilliant young writer of wit and subtlety' THE TIMES

* 'Hugely popular with seven to ten year olds: she should be prescribed for all cases of reading reluctance' INDEPENDENT ON SUNDAY

* 'Has a rare gift for writing lightly and amusingly about emtional issues' BOOKSELLER

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I don't want to do a boring old project. Who wants to be like everyone else? I'm doing a diary...

Hi! I'm Charlie (DON'T call me Charlotte - ever!). History is boring, right? Wrong! The Victorians weren't all deadly dull and drippy. Lottie certainly isn't. She's eleven - like me - but she's left school and has a job as a nursery maid. Her life is really hard, just work work work, but I bet she'd know what to do about my mum's awful boyfriend and his wimpy little son. I bet she wouldn't mess it all up like I do...

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

I knew exactly who I was going to sit next to in class. Easy-peasy, simple-pimple. It was going to be Angela, with Lisa sitting at the nearest desk to us. I'm never quite sure if I like Lisa or Angela best, so it's only fair to take turns.

Jo said what if Angela and Lisa want to sit together with you behind or in front or at the side. I just smiled at her. I don't want to sound disgustingly boastful but I'm the one Angela and Lisa are desperate to sit next to. Lots of the girls want to be best friends with me, actually. I'm just best friends with Lisa and Angela, but anyone can be in our special girls' gang. Any girl. No boys allowed. That goes without saying. Even though I just did.

But guess what happened that first day of the term. We got this new teacher. We knew we wouldn't be getting Mrs. Thomas because when we broke up in the summer her tummy could barely fit behind her desk. Her tummy could barely fit behind her smock. You could see her tummy button through the material, like a giant snap fastener.

When I was a very little kid I used to think that's how babies were born. They grew inside the mother and then when they were ready the mom pressed her tummy button and out they popped. I told Jo how I'd got it all figured out. Don't laugh. I was very little. Jo laughed. "Dream on, Charlie," she said. "If only it were that easy."

That's my name, Charlie. Okay, my full name is Charlotte Alice Katherine Enright, but nobody ever calls me that. Jo and Lisa and Angela and all the kids at school call me Charlie. Some of the boys call me Cake or Carrot Cake, but they're just morons, though they think they're really original. (Note the initials of my name. Got it?) But ever since I was born, all the way through nursery and primary school, no one's ever called me Charlotte. Until this new teacher.

Miss Beckworth. She was new so I thought she'd be young. When you get a new young teacher they're often ever so strict the first few weeks just to show you who's boss, and then they relax and get all friendly. Then you can fool around and do whatever you want.

I love fooling around, doing crazy things and being a bit sassy and making everyone laugh. Even the teachers. But the moment I set eyes on Miss Beckworth I knew none of us were going to be laughing. She might be new but she certainly wasn't young. She had gray hair and gray eyes and a gray-and-white blouse and a gray skirt and laced-up shoes, with a laced-up expression on her face to match. When she spoke her teeth were quite big and stuck out a bit, but I put all thought of Bugs Bunny imitations right out of my head.

There are some teachers-just a few-who have you'd better not mess with me! tattooed right across their foreheads. She frowned at me with this incredibly fierce forehead and said, "Good morning. This isn't a very good start to the new school year."

I stared at her. What was she talking about? Why was she looking at her watch? I wasn't late. Okay, the school bell had rung as I was crossing the playground, but you always get five minutes to get to your classroom.

"It's three minutes past nine," Miss Beckworth announced. "You're late."

"No, I'm not," I said. "We're not counted late until it's five past."

I didn't say it rudely. I was perfectly polite. I was trying to be helpful, actually.

"You're certainly not off to a good start," she goes. "First you're late. And then you argue. My name's Miss Beckworth. What's your name?"

"Charlie, Miss Beckworth." (See, ever so polite-because I could see I had to proceed d-e-l-i-c-a-t-e-ly.)

"Your proper name?"

"Charlie Enright."

"We don't seem to be connecting correctly, Miss Enright. Charlie isn't a proper name. It's a diminutive."

She was trying to make me look pretty diminutive, obviously. I tried to act cool but I could feel my cheeks flushing. I have this very white skin that can be a real problem when I get mad or embarrassed. When you have a lot of long red hair and you get a red face too you start to look as if someone's put a match to you.

"Are you Charles Enright?"

I can't stand it when teachers go all sarcastic on you. A few of the kids tittered nervously. That snobby brat Jamie laughed out loud. Typical. Angela and Lisa were looking all anguished, dying for me.

"I'm Charlotte Enright, Miss Beckworth. But I've never been called Charlotte at this school, only Charlie."

"Well, I'm going to call you Charlotte, Charlotte. Because in my class we do things differently," said Miss Beckworth.

You're telling me we do things differently. (Well, I'm telling you, but you know what I mean!) I wasn't allowed to go and sit with Angela. She'd promised to get to school ever so early to grab the best desk (and the one next to it for Lisa) and she'd done well. The desk right next to the window, with the hot pipe to toast my toes on when it got chilly. But all in vain.

"No, don't go and sit down, Charlotte," said Miss Beckworth. "I was just about to explain to the whole class that while we get to know each other I'd like you all to sit in alphabetical order."

We stared at her, stunned.


From the Hardcover edition.