Friends FOREVER

When the Thompsons moved in next door to us, my mum went over to welcome them to the neighbourhood and happily reported back.

‘They’re really nice, Emma,’ she said, ‘And they’ve got a son, Andrew. He’s a year younger than you, but he’s very bright because he’s in the same form as you. I told his mum I was sure you’d be friends.’

‘Mum! How could you?’

At 13, I didn’t want to be friends with anyone my mother approved of. Certainly not some clever little swot a year younger than me.

I’d already noticed that he was chubby, had curly red hair and wore braces on his teeth, so I was sure we wouldn’t have a thing in common.

But he spoke to me at the bus stop one morning.

‘You’re Emma Hadley, aren’t you?’ he said. ‘I’m Andrew Thompson, from next door.’

For such a funny-looking boy, he had a lot of self-possession. His teeth stuck out badly behind a fence of heavy metal, although he had beautiful dark brown eyes.

‘Hi,’ I said grudgingly.

‘You’ve got a puppy, haven’t you?’ he said. ‘I saw you playing with him yesterday.’

‘Yes, Buster. He was a birthday present last week.’

‘I’ve asked Mum and Dad for a dog too,’ he said. ‘My birthday’s next Friday. I’d love a Dalmatian, but any dog will do, I guess. I want to be a vet when I leave school.’

A dog-lover couldn’t be too bad. Actually, he turned out to be very nice, and over the next couple