Ben's Room , livre ebook

Ransom Publishing Limited - Barbara Catchpole

Découvre YouScribe en t'inscrivant gratuitement

Je m'inscris

Obtenez un accès à la bibliothèque pour le consulter en ligne
En savoir plus

20 pages

English

Vous pourrez modifier la taille du texte de cet ouvrage

Obtenez un accès à la bibliothèque pour le consulter en ligne
En savoir plus

A propos
Informations
Extrait

Description

Ben's parents treat him like a kid - so after a huge argument, he decides to leave home. He moves into a very cheap old flat that smells of damp and cabbage. Soon Ben and his two flatmates find hidden terrors inside the flat: rooms that shrink, giant cockroaches and jellyfish with eyes. It's as if their worst fears have come to life ... literally. Part of the new Fresh Shades series, this book is exciting and fast-paced, keeping within the style of the Shades 2.0 series. It is perfect for reluctant teens who still want an exciting, unpatronising read that is relevant to their interests and concerns, but who don't want to read a longer novel. With a length of only 6,000 words, and filled with drama, this story will appeal to all reluctant teen readers.

Informations

Publié par	Ransom Publishing Limited
Date de parution	28 août 2014
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781781276501
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0300€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

“ Thud! Thud! Thud! We looked at the flat door. There was a noise that sounded like a giant person was ramming it. Or maybe a giant insect. Or a jellyfish. Or a huge but pretty girl?
Darren went white. Tim caught him as he collapsed. I pulled him away. The noise got worse.
‘That old bloke has some explaining to do,’ Tim said. ”

CONTENTS

Title Page One Two Three Four Five Six More Shades 2.0 titles Copyright
ONE
I could hear them up there. They shouldn’t go in my room!
I got home from my job at the record shop at about four o’clock – a bit early.
Mum and Dad were up in my room.
Now I hate that! It wasn’t right. They treat me like a kid. It had my private stuff in it. They should ask before they go in. It’s mine! I rushed up the stairs.
‘Get out of my room!’ I shouted, taking the stairs three at a time.
‘Look at this room – it’s a tip,’ my dad said loudly.
‘I hate you guys! All you do is nag on and on at me. You can’t tell me what to do. I hate it here!’ I yelled.
My dad stood looking at the room.
There was a sock hanging from the light. There was a cold pizza under the bed. My dirty clothes were in a heap on my desk.
I don’t make my bed – I just crawl under the duvet at the end of the day.
Waste of time clearing up – it just gets dirty again.
I noticed there was a smell. A horrible smell. It smelled a bit like feet and a bit like drains. I keep spraying Lynx about, but it keeps coming back.
‘I’ll keep my own room as I like, or I’ll just go!’ I shouted at my dad.
‘I’ll tell you what – go then! My house – my rules, young man,’ he shouted back. ‘Get out, Sam.’
He was red with anger and he spat as he shouted. My dad was in the army once. He knows how to shout.
My mum stood there. She was as white as a sheet and there were tears in her eyes.
She held out her hands to me, but said nothing. Not a word. She could have said something . Nothing.
She always takes his side in things, I thought.
In a temper, I threw some things in a big sports bag and I left. I slammed the front door.

Huge grey clouds were racing across the sky and the trees stood out against them like skeletons.
I walked down the road to the bus stop. It started raining, a misty, cold rain which settled on my face.
I got the first bus that came, because I didn’t know where I wanted to go.
I sat down next to a little old lady. She did not smile at me. She looked a bit grumpy really.
I sat on the bus and thought about what I had done.
I felt really angry – it was sort of bubbling about in my stomach and I felt like I wanted to punch something again and again. I wanted to keep punching out.
I had forty pounds in my pocket, which was my wages.
I work in a shop in the town centre. It is a small music shop. It doesn’t open all that often, and it isn’t very busy when it is open. I’m not very busy when it is open. I get very little money, but then, to be fair, I do very little.
Jess, who owns the shop, says I am just right for the job.
‘What am I going to do?’
‘Get off?’ asked the little old lady next to me, moving away a bit and looking out of the window.
Did I say that out loud?