Don't Ask Alice

Thanks to all my family and friends for their ongoing support.

Thanks to Ellen and Annie for their help with this book.

Thanks to everyone at The O'Brien Press, especially, once again, my editor Helen.

Thanks to Andrea and Robert for their hard work in the UK.

Thanks to all the schools, libraries and bookshops who invited me to read from the first two Alice books, and who unfailingly manage to round up groups of charming, interested children.

Thanks to everyone in third class in LSP who came up with such inventive book titles.

Thanks to all the kind children who have taken the trouble to let me know that they have enjoyed
Alice Next Door
and
Alice Again.
Special mention has to go to Sarah Holland who writes great letters.

B
reakfast seemed to go on for ever and ever. The porridge burned and stuck to the pot in a revolting, stinky, sticky mess while Mum was listening to a ‘really interesting' report about the environment on the radio.

‘I could get a breakfast roll on the way to school, if you like,' I said.

Mum looked at me like I'd threatened to murder someone.

‘Don't be ridiculous, Megan,' she said. ‘Do you have any idea what goes into those breakfast rolls?'

I pretended to think.

‘Rashers and sausages?' I suggested after a while.

Mum shook her head impatiently.

‘Now you're just being silly,' she said. ‘And it's so complicated, you'll be late for school if I try to explain. So you just sit there and I'll make some more porridge.'

I jiggled my spoon on the table impatiently while Mum slowly poured more oats and milk and water into a clean saucepan.

‘It would be much easier to make porridge in a microwave,' I said. ‘It only takes one minute, and it never gets burned.'

Mum stirred the porridge and ignored me.

‘Oh, I forgot,' I continued. ‘We can't make porridge in the microwave because we're the only people in the whole country who don't have one.'

Mum stopped what she was doing, and then there was a big row about all the possible ways microwaves might be rotting my brain. At that
moment, I didn't really care if I got a rotten brain, just as long as I could finish breakfast and get out of there.

In the end I had to agree with Mum, just to keep her quiet.

After ages and ages, Mum put the bowl of porridge in front of me.

‘One day you'll thank me,' she said.

I wasn't a bit sure about that, but I didn't want another argument, so I just smiled and said nothing. That seemed to suit Mum who hummed as she went back over to the sink and began to wash the porridge pots.

I ate the porridge so fast that I burned my tongue. Then I jumped up from the table, picked up my lunch and my schoolbag, kissed Mum and raced out the door before she knew what was happening.

For some people, this might have seemed like a normal day – a day just like any other old day. It was the first day after the Easter holidays, I was
going to call for my best friend Alice and we were going to walk to school together.

Big deal, you might think.

Walking to school with your friend?

What's so special about that?

But it
was
a big deal.

It was a very, very, very big deal.

You see, Alice had been away since September. She and her mum and her little brother Jamie had gone to live in Dublin, and for seven awful, never-ending months I'd had to walk to school on my own. Now Alice was back in Limerick, and I was so excited I could hardly breathe properly.

Luckily Alice had stayed with her dad that night, and he still lived next door to me. I don't think I'd have made it around the corner to her mum's fancy new apartment.

I knocked on her front door, and Alice strolled out, just like it was any old day.

‘Bye, Dad,' she called. ‘Have a nice day at work.'

‘Bye, Alice,' came her dad's voice from the kitchen.

Alice closed the front door behind her, and walked slowly down the path. Then all of a sudden she stopped, turned around, and raced back to where I was still standing on the doorstep. She gave me a huge hug.

‘I can't believe it,' she said. ‘I still can't really believe it. It is so, so, so, so, so,
so
fantastic to be back!'

I had to laugh. I knew Alice had missed me, but she would probably never have any idea just how much
I
had missed
her
.

And now that she was back, everything was going to be perfect.

Just like it used to be.

W
hen we got to school, our friends Grace and Louise were waiting for us in the playground. We all hugged each other and then we got into a huddle and talked about what we'd done for our holidays. Grace, whose parents are really rich, had been to Lanzarote, and Louise had been to visit her cousins in Galway. I'd spent most of my holidays helping Mum in the garden. Would my friends be impressed if I said
‘I planted six rows of carrots, and ten rows of cabbage and about a hundred rows of gross, disgusting parsnips?'

I don't
think
so.

So I stayed quiet, and no one noticed.

A few minutes later, Louise nudged the rest of us and hissed.

‘Don't look now, but guess who's just walked in the gate.'

I didn't have to look. There was only one person in the whole school who we all hated. It had to be Melissa, the meanest girl in the world. Grace and Louise used to be friendly with her, but last year they had got sense, and now beautiful, blonde, horrible Melissa had to manage with only four people who thought she was the greatest thing ever.

I turned around and watched as Melissa kind of glided across the yard. She was wearing a totally cool new denim jacket, and she kept tossing her hair like someone in an ad for shampoo. Already her four best friends were
fluttering around her like over-excited butterflies.

Alice laughed.

‘Same old Melissa. I bet she's really looking forward to seeing me again. What did she say when she heard I was coming back?'

Grace, Louise and I looked at each other and grinned. This was going to be
so
much fun.

‘We didn't tell her,' I said.

‘We thought we'd surprise her,' added Louise.

Alice grinned, and kind of slipped in behind Grace, who's really tall. I knew this was going to be great. Alice was always the only one in our class who could really stand up to Melissa and her mean ways, and Melissa was going to be
so
sorry to see her again.

Melissa was getting close. She looked at Louise first.

‘Ever hear of a hair-straightener?' she said.

That was really mean, because Louise
hates
her curly hair. Louise went red, but before she could say anything, Melissa turned to me.

‘Hi Megan, did you have a nice holiday? Or did you and your super-cool mum with the lovely
fashionable
clothes spend your time saving the planet for the rest of us?'

Melissa's friends giggled like this was the funniest thing they'd heard in their whole lives.

Usually it makes me really mad when Melissa mocks my mum, but this time I didn't care. I didn't reply. Nothing Melissa said could hurt me now.

Just then Alice stepped out from behind Grace.

‘Hi Melissa,' she said. ‘So nice to see you again. What did you do for your Easter holidays? Pick on people? Kick grannies in the shins? Steal sweets from babies?'

Melissa stopped her hand in the middle of a hair-flick.

‘Alice?' she whispered, like a character in a film who's just seen the person who has sworn to kill them.

Alice grinned cheerfully. ‘That's me – got it in
one.'

All the colour had drained from Melissa's face, making her even paler than usual.

‘What… what… what are you doing here?'

‘Same as you, I expect. I came to get an education,' said Alice.

‘But… but…'

Grace, Louise and I started to laugh. Melissa was always so cool and so confident; it was great to see her lost for words.

She tried again.

‘But… you… I … mean… don't you live in Dublin?'

Alice grinned again,

‘Well, I did move to Dublin, but I missed you so much I decided to come back.'

Suddenly Melissa relaxed a bit,

‘Oh, I see. You're just back for a visit.'

Alice thought for a second,

‘I suppose you could say that. It's just that it's going to be a very long visit. I plan to stay here in Limerick for the rest of my life.'

Melissa looked like she was going to throw up all over her fancy new pink sandals. Just then the bell rang, and the rest of us ran into school. Now that Alice was back, school was going to be fun again. I just knew it.