BooksBarbecue
Back The Lollipop Shoes
Chapters (96)
  1. Cover
  2. About the Book
  3. The Lollipop Shoes
  4. Dedication
  5. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
  6. PART ONE
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. PART TWO
  13. 1
  14. 2
  15. 3
  16. 4
  17. 5
  18. 6
  19. 7
  20. 8
  21. PART THREE
  22. 1
  23. 2
  24. 3
  25. 4
  26. 5
  27. 6
  28. PART FOUR
  29. 1
  30. 2
  31. 3
  32. 4
  33. 5
  34. 6
  35. 7
  36. 8
  37. 9
  38. PART FIVE
  39. 1
  40. 2
  41. 3
  42. 4
  43. 5
  44. 6
  45. 7
  46. 8
  47. 9
  48. 10
  49. 11
  50. 12
  51. PART SIX
  52. 1
  53. 2
  54. 3
  55. 4
  56. 5
  57. 6
  58. 7
  59. 8
  60. 9
  61. 10
  62. 11
  63. 12
  64. PART SEVEN
  65. 1
  66. 2
  67. 3
  68. 4
  69. 5
  70. 6
  71. 7
  72. 8
  73. 9
  74. PART EIGHT
  75. 1
  76. 2
  77. 3
  78. 4
  79. 5
  80. 6
  81. 7
  82. 8
  83. 9
  84. 10
  85. 11
  86. 12
  87. 13
  88. 14
  89. 15
  90. 16
  91. 17
  92. 18
  93. 19
  94. Epilogue
  95. About the Author
  96. Also by Joanne Harris

And money, Vianne, don’t forget that, said the spiteful voice inside my head, but the voice was faint, and getting fainter as I gave myself to the small, sweet dream. Damn her, I thought, and damn the wind. This time it would not blow us away.

7

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Friday, 9th November

TODAY I QUARRELLED with Suze again. I don’t know why it happens so much; I want to be friends, but the more I try, the harder it gets. This time it was about my hair. Oh, boy. Suze thinks I should get it straightened.

I asked why.

Suzanne shrugged. We were alone in the library during Break – the others had gone to buy sweets at the shop, and I was trying to copy up some geography notes, but Suze wanted to talk, and there’s no stopping her when that happens.

‘Looks weird,’ she said. ‘Like Afro hair.’

I didn’t care, and told her so.

Suze made the fish-mouth face she always makes when someone contradicts her. ‘So – your dad wasn’t black, was he?’ she said.

I shook my head, feeling like a liar. Suzanne thinks my father’s dead. But he might have been black for all I know. For all I know he might have been a pirate, or a serial killer, or a king.

‘Because, you know, people might think—’

‘If by people, you mean Chantal—’

‘No,’ said Suzanne crossly, but her pink face went a shade pinker, and she didn’t quite meet my eyes as she said it. ‘Listen,’ she went on, putting her arm around my shoulders. ‘You’re new to this school. You’re new to us. The rest of us went to the primary school. We learnt to fit in.’

Learn to fit in. I had a teacher called Madame Drou, back in the days at Lansquenet, who used to say the exact same thing.

‘But you’re different,’ said Suze. ‘I’ve been trying to help—’

‘Help me how?’ I snapped, thinking of my geography notes and how I never, never get to do what I want when she’s around. It’s always her games, her problems and her Annie please stop following me around when somebody better comes along. She knew I didn’t mean to snap, but she looked hurt anyway, pushing back her (straightened) hair in what she thinks is a very adult fashion and saying, ‘Well, if you won’t even listen . . .’

‘All right,’ I said. ‘What’s wrong with me?’

She looked at me for a moment or two. Then the lesson bell rang, and she gave me a sudden, brilliant smile and handed me a folded piece of paper.

‘I made a list.’