Angela Nicely Read online

  For Mum, with love ~ A M

  For Susie Barrie ~ D R

  Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  1 Miss Skinner’s Wig!

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  2 Supermodel!

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  3 Healthy Holiday!

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  It was nine o’clock on Monday morning. Angela sat in the hall next to Laura and Maisie. They were waiting for assembly to start.

  “Good morning, children,” said Miss Skinner.

  “GOOD MOR-NING, MISS SKIN-NER!” chanted the children.

  Miss Skinner’s gaze swept over the rows of faces like a cold wind.

  “Jemma Bumford, stop fidgeting. Jimmy Wallop, turn round. Bertie, wipe your nose … not on Darren!”

  Angela sat up straight and gazed at Miss Skinner. Her mouth fell open. There was something different about the Head Teacher today. Her hair! She always wore her hair in a bun that looked like a brown ring doughnut. But today her hair hung loose in frizzy curls. RED curls! Angela stared. How could it have grown longer and curlier? And changed colour? It was impossible. Unless… Angela’s eyes almost popped out of her head. MISS SKINNER WAS WEARING A WIG!

  Angela nudged Laura. “Look what she’s wearing!” she whispered.

  Laura looked. “Sandals,” she said.

  “No, on her head!” hissed Angela.

  Laura looked again. Miss Skinner wasn’t wearing anything on her head except…

  “OH!” gasped Laura. Miss Skinner’s hair had had some sort of makeover.

  “See?” hissed Angela. “It’s a—”

  “ANGELA NICELY!” Miss Skinner’s voice made Angela jump. “Is there something you want to share with us?”

  Angela gulped. “No, Miss,” she mumbled.

  “Speak up,” said Miss Skinner. “It’s obviously important.”

  Angela shook her head, her cheeks burning. She could feel everyone staring at her. Luckily, Miss Skinner went back to what she was saying.

  After assembly Angela and her friends headed back to class.

  “How come it’s always me that gets in trouble?” grumbled Angela.

  “You were talking,” said Laura.

  “So were you,” argued Angela.

  “Anyway, what were you whispering about?” asked Maisie.

  Angela stopped dead. “You mean you didn’t notice?” she said.

  Maisie looked at her blankly.

  “Miss Skinner IS WEARING A WIG,” said Angela, spelling it out.

  Maisie snorted. “She’s not!”

  “SHE IS! It’s so obvious!”

  Maisie looked at her. “Angela! You are such a fibber!”

  “It’s a wig!” insisted Angela.

  “It isn’t!”

  “Is!” said Angela, throwing up her hands in despair. “Look,” she said, “before her hair was short and brown, and she had it in a bun. Now it’s long, curly and RED! It has to be a wig.”

  Maisie rolled her eyes. “Angela, you are raving barmy bonkers!”

  Angela sighed. Maisie was her second best friend, but she could be really annoying sometimes.

  “It definitely is,” said Angela.

  Maisie gave her a look. “Okay,” she said. “Prove it.”

  “Right, I will!” said Angela.

  Laura frowned. “How? How can you prove it?”

  Angela hadn’t thought about that. She couldn’t exactly go up to Miss Skinner and say, “Please, Miss, can you show us your wig?” Teachers went mad when you said things like that. Even if you were just helpfully pointing out a spot on their nose. No, she would have to think of a plan. Maisie always thought she knew best, but this time Angela would prove her wrong.

  Chapter 2

  By lunchtime, Angela had the perfect plan. Miss Skinner spent most of the time in her office, so all they had to do was keep watch. Sooner or later they’d catch her without her wig. Angela explained her plan to Laura and Maisie as they headed outside after lunch.

  “Keep watch?” said Laura. “How?”

  “Through her window,” said Angela.

  Laura looked worried. “But what if we get caught?”

  “We won’t,” said Angela. She never got caught – well, almost never.

  “And how will we catch her without her wig?” objected Maisie.

  “She has to take it off sometime,” said Angela. “I bet it gets itchy. She probably takes it off when no one’s about and hangs it on the door.”

  Laura tried to imagine it. Maybe Miss Skinner had different wigs – one for each day of the week?

  Maisie shook her head. “It’ll never work.”

  “It will,” said Angela. “Come on!”

  A few minutes later they slipped past Mr Weakly, who was on duty, and headed round the back of the school. Miss Skinner’s office looked out over the playing field. Mr Grouch, the caretaker, kept his compost heap here and it was STRICTLY OUT OF BOUNDS. It was piled high with smelly slops and leftovers from lunch.

  “Pooh!” grumbled Laura. “It stinks!”

  Angela edged past the compost heap and stood on tiptoe.

  “Well? Can you see her?” whispered Maisie, hanging back.

  “The window ’s too high!” said Angela. “You’ll have to give me a lift.”

  Maisie crouched down and Angela clambered on to her shoulders. From there she had the perfect view. Miss Skinner was working at her desk, with her back towards the window.

  “She’s in there,” reported Angela.

  “What about her hair?” asked Laura.

  “She’s still wearing it.”

  “Told you,” said Maisie. “It’s not a wig!”

  She groaned. “Hurry up, Angela! You’re heavy!”

  “Keep still,” hissed Angela. “I can’t see if you keep wobbling.”

  It was just a matter of time. Any minute now Miss Skinner would remove her wig to scratch her head.

  Then it happened. Miss Skinner stood up, stretched and turned round. She caught sight of a pale face staring at her through the window.

  “ARGHHHHH!” she screamed.

  “WAAAAHHH!” yelled Angela, losing her balance.

  Miss Skinner saw the face vanish from sight and heard a thump. She hurried to the window and pulled it up. “ANGELA NICELY!” she thundered.

  Angela sat up. Luckily, something had broken her fall. Unluckily, it was Mr Grouch’s pongy compost heap. She was covered in lumpy custard and mouldy cabbage.

  “EWWWW!” she cried, crawling out.

  “It serves you right,” snapped Miss Skinner. “What were you doing?”

  “Just … erm … looking for something,” stammered Angela.

  “For what?”

  “My PE kit,” said Angela.

  “Don’t tell lies!” cried Miss Skinner. “You were spying on me! What for?”

  Angela looked at the ground. She didn’t have an explanation, at least not one she could tell Miss Skinner.

  “Very well,” said Miss Skinner. “Clean yourself up. Then you can stand outside my office for the rest of lunchtime.”

  She caught sight of Maisie and Laura trying to sneak away. “As for you two, I shall be speaking to your teacher.”

  WHAM! The window slammed shut.

  Maisie glared at Angela. “I told you it wouldn’t work. Now you’ve got us all in trouble.”

  “What about me? I’m all stinky,” moaned Angela. “What’s my mum going to say?”

  Chapter 3
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  Angela stood outside Miss Skinner’s office feeling sorry for herself. She was in big trouble with Miss Skinner and she was still no nearer to proving that the Head was wearing a wig. She’d done her best to wipe off the tomato and custard stains, but she couldn’t do anything about the smell.

  Tiffany Charmers walked past. “Oh dear, Angela. In trouble again?” she smiled.

  Angela stuck out her tongue.

  DRRRING!

  The bell went for the end of lunch

  Miss Skinner came out of her office. “Well, Angela,” she said. “I hope you’ve had time to think about your behaviour. It is very rude to spy on people.”

  “Yes, Miss. Sorry,” said Angela.

  “I don’t want to catch you at my window again, or near Mr Grouch’s compost heap. Is that clear?”

  “I promise,” said Angela. “It smells.”

  Miss Skinner sniffed. “So it would seem. Now get back to your class.”

  Angela hurried off. As she passed the staffroom, she saw Mr Grouch inside hoovering. The caretaker was as grumpy as an ogre and hated children bothering him. But Angela had seen something that had given her an idea.

  “Hi, Mr Grouch!” she said, smiling up at him.

  The caretaker turned off the Hoover.

  “What do you want?” he glared.

  “I just wondered what you’re doing,” said Angela.

  “What does it look like?” snapped Mr Grouch.

  He went to turn the Hoover back on, but Angela was inspecting it.

  “What does this do?” she asked.

  Mr Grouch sighed. Schools would be much better without children, he thought, especially children who asked annoying questions. All the same, the Hoover was new and he enjoyed showing it off.

  “This is the Super Suction Arm,” he said. “Stand back.”

  He turned on the Hoover.

  VWOOOOOOM!

  A scrap of paper vanished inside.

  “See?” said Mr Grouch. “Dust, fluff, paper – it all gets sucked in here.”

  “Wow!” said Angela, impressed. “Can it pick up anything? Even hair?”

  “Hair? Yes, of course.”

  “Can I have a go?” asked Angela.

  “No, you can’t,” snapped the caretaker. “Now go and bother someone else.”

  Angela tripped off down the corridor, smiling to herself. A Super Suction Arm might be just what she needed…

  Back in class, everyone looked up when Angela came in.

  “Eww! What’s that smell?” chanted the Payne twins.

  “Pooh! Is that you, Angela?” mocked Tiffany Charmers, holding her nose.

  Angela ignored them and sat down.

  “What did Miss Skinner say?” whispered Laura.

  Angela shrugged. “She just told me not to spy on her.”

  “Well, I hope you’re satisfied,” said Maisie. “Now do you admit I’m right?”

  “No,” replied Angela. “It’s a wig and I know how to prove it.”

  Maisie groaned. The trouble with Angela was she never knew when she was beaten.

  Chapter 4

  At half past three, the bell went. Children hurried out of the classrooms and swarmed through the main door.

  Angela poked her head out of the cloakroom to check no one was about.

  “Can’t we go home?” whined Laura.

  “My mum will be cross if I’m late,” moaned Maisie.

  But Angela took no notice. She hurried over to Mr Grouch’s cleaning cupboard and dragged out the Hoover.

  “You can’t take that!” cried Laura.

  “I’m only borrowing it,” said Angela.

  “What for?” asked Maisie.

  “To prove I’m right,” said Angela.

  She dragged the Hoover down the corridor to Miss Skinner’s office and knocked on the door. There was no answer. She peeped in.

  “ANGELA!” wailed Laura.

  “It’s okay, she’s not there,” said Angela. “Come on!”

  They tiptoed inside. Laura looked around anxiously. They were definitely not meant to be in here. Angela had landed them in trouble once already today. Miss Skinner would go potty if she found them snooping in her room.

  “Let’s go!” begged Maisie. “I don’t care who was right.”

  “I’m right,” insisted Angela. “It’s a wig and this will prove it.”

  “A Hoover?” said Laura.

  “That’s right. Watch this,” said Angela, switching it on.

  Unfortunately, the Super Suction Arm was pointing at Miss Skinner’s desk.

  VWOOOOM!

  A pile of papers took off and were gobbled up in an instant. Paperclips, pencils and pens vanished into the Hoover with a rattle. Some yellow tulips shot out of a vase and were swallowed whole.

  “STOP!” cried Laura. “Turn it off!”

  Angela pressed the “OFF” button. She looked round the Head’s office. The room looked like it had been hit by a hurricane.

  “Ooops!” said Angela. “Quick, help me clear up.”

  But it was too late. Footsteps were coming down the corridor.

  “HIDE!” hissed Angela.

  The door opened and Miss Skinner walked in. She stood there for a moment, speechless. Then she caught sight of a pink bow behind her desk.

  “ANGELA!” she yelled.

  Three faces peeped into view.

  “It wasn’t my fault,” said Angela in a small voice.

  “Then whose fault was it?” stormed Miss Skinner.

  The three girls got to their feet.

  “It was Angela’s idea,” said Maisie.

  “We were only trying to help,” mumbled Laura.

  “Yes,” nodded Angela. “I just wanted to clean your room to show I was sorry.”

  “Clean it? You’ve destroyed it!” cried Miss Skinner. “And where did you get that Hoover?”

  “I borrowed it,” said Angela. She glanced at Miss Skinner’s hair. If only she could get the Head to bend over the Super Suction Arm, her plan would work. But how? Then she had an idea.

  “I think it’s broken!” she said suddenly.

  “What?” said Miss Skinner.

  “The Hoover. I think there’s something’s stuck in here. Look.”

  “It better not be broken,” said Miss Skinner, peering into it. “It’s brand new.”

  Angela took a deep breath – it was now or never. She turned the Hoover on.

  VWOOOOM!

  “ARGHHH!” squawked Miss Skinner. The Super Suction Arm had got hold of her hair and was trying to eat it. Laura and Maisie watched in horror as the Head struggled to escape.

  “TURN IT OFF!” she screeched.

  Angela switched it off. There was a long silence, filled only by Miss Skinner’s heavy breathing. Her frazzled hair stood on end as if she’d had an electric shock. One thing was certain, though – it was definitely real.

  “Oh,” gulped Angela.

  “Told you,” muttered Maisie.

  Miss Skinner took a deep breath. She had spent a small fortune on her new hairstyle. “GET OUT!” she bellowed. “ALL OF YOU – OUT!”

  “Well?” said Maisie, when they’d finally stopped running. “Now do you admit it? I was right all along.”

  “Okay, okay,” sighed Angela. “You were right.” She lowered her voice. “But you know Mr Weakly?”

  “Yes?” said Laura and Maisie.

  “Now he definitely wears a wig.”

  Chapter 1

  Every Monday morning Miss Darling’s class met on the carpet for News Time. And this morning Angela had really exciting news: her family was getting a dog. It was a fact, although she hadn’t told her parents yet. But the trouble with News Time was that all the class wanted to speak. If you Every Monday morning Miss Darling’s class met on the carpet for News Time. And this morning Angela had really exciting news: her family was getting a dog. It was a fact, although she hadn’t told her parents yet. But the trouble with News Time was that all the class wanted to speak. If you
went, “Ooh, ooh, Miss,” or tugged at Miss Darling’s skirt, she wouldn’t pick you.

  “Well,” said their teacher, smiling. “Who has some news today?”

  Every hand shot in the air.

  “Laura, what’s your news?” asked Miss Darling.

  “I went to the park yesterday,” said Laura.

  “Did you? Lovely!” said Miss Darling.

  “William?”

  “I cut my knee and it bled on the carpet,” said William.

  “Oh, you poor thing! Who else?”

  Angela tried to catch Miss Darling’s eye. It had to be her turn next – if she didn’t speak soon she would burst.

  Miss Darling’s gaze rested on her for a moment, before moving on.

  “Tiffany, what’s your news?”

  Angela’s arm flopped down. Why did goody-goody Tiffany always get picked? Tiffany was top of the class and teacher’s pet.

  “I’m going to be a model,” she boasted, hugging herself.

  “A model?” said Miss Darling. “Really?”

  Tiffany nodded. “It’s for Poppets’ catalogue.”

  “How exciting!” said Miss Darling.

  “I know,” said Tiffany. “Mummy’s taking me to the casting on Saturday.”

  “Ah. So it isn’t definite yet?” said Miss Darling.

  “No, but they’re bound to pick me,” said Tiffany. “Mummy says I’d be perfect.”

  “Well, that is thrilling news!” said Miss Darling. “I think we should all give Tiffany a big clap.”

  Everyone clapped while Tiffany glowed with pride.

  “Right, back to your seats and get out your books,” said Miss Darling.

  Angela threw back her head. It was so unfair! She hadn’t said a word while Tiffany had hogged all the time. It was the same every week. Last Monday it was Tiffany’s ballet exam and the week before that she boasted she was getting a pony.