Lucy’s mum is so out of date she’s practically mouldy. She’s super-strict, overprotective and won’t let Lucy go to the school ball! Lucy can’t believe she was EVER a teenager . . . until the morning her mum wakes up with no memory of the last thirty years – and thinks she’s a twelve year old time-travelling from the 1980s! All Lucy wants is for her mum to go back to being her old self – but how?
“You’ll laugh, you’ll cringe, you’ll never look at your mum in quite the same way again…” – Joanna Nadin, author of THE RACHEL RILEY DIARIES
“Mum minus memory = a whole lot of FUN!” – Tamsyn Murray, author of the COMPLETELY CASSIDY series
“Fast and funny; a Freaky Friday for the twenty-first century!” – Jo Cotterill, author of the SWEET HEARTS series, the ELECTRIGIRL series and A LIBRARY OF LEMONS
A blood-curdling scream rips from my throat. ‘What’s happened to me?’ I back away from the mirror in horror. ‘I’m OLD! Majorly old! Like, at least twenty-five!’
The girl snorts. ‘And the rest!’
‘I . . . I must’ve somehow transported into the body of my future self!’ I frown at my ancient reflection, then gasp in disgust as my forehead creases into a million lines. ‘Gross! I’ve got wrinkles!’ I wail, trying to smooth them out with my fingers. ‘And grey roots!’
The girl nods. ‘I’ve been telling you to dye them for ages.’
‘Why didn’t I?’
‘It’s like you stopped caring ever since D—’ She stops suddenly.
‘Since you dyed it the first time,’ she says quickly.
I shake my head, still struggling to take it all in. I can’t believe just yesterday I was twelve years old, totally flat-chested, praying for my spots to clear up, and now . . . well, now I’ve got boobs at least, and the spots are gone – but there are big bags under my eyes, wrinkles everywhere, and – ugh! – saggy skin beneath my chin. I prod it – and it wobbles! Gross!
‘This is so freaky.’ I squeal. ‘Like that movie – Freaky Friday!’
‘Yeah.’ The girl nods. ‘Except unlike Lindsay Lohan, I haven’t changed too, thank goodness!’
‘Who?’ I ask.
‘Lindsay Lohan,’ she repeats. ‘The daughter.’
‘You mean Jodie Foster!’
‘Who?’ she frowns, twirling a strand of hair around her finger – just like I do – and suddenly I can’t help but smile. She’s my future daughter. How incredible is that? It’s even more unbelievable than travelling through time!
‘So, like, what’s your name?’ I ask shyly. It seems like a crazy question to ask my own daughter, but . . . ‘Wait!’ I snap my fingers. ‘Lucy?’
She stares at me. Then nods. Then her eyes narrow. ‘Is this all fake, Mum?’
‘No!’ I insist. ‘I promise!’
‘Then how would you know—’
‘It’s my favourite girl’s name,’ I explain. ‘Ever since I read The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe.’
Lucy smiles nervously and sits down on the bed. ‘That’s my favourite book.’
‘Me too!’ I cry, plonking myself down next to her. ‘And, please, call me Shazza. Mum sounds so old!’
‘Shazza?’ she splutters.
I nod. ‘That’s what my friends call me. I hate the name Sharon!’
‘OK . . . Pleased to meet you . . . Shazza.’ Lucy smiles shyly.
‘Pleased to meet you too, Lucy.’ I beam.
‘I can’t believe we’re both twelve!’ Shazza cries, grabbing my hands excitedly. ‘That’s so weird!’
‘This is all uber-weird!’ I cry, staring at her as she jumps up to peer at the mirror again, as if gazing at a stranger. But it’s also pretty cool. I mean time travel? Wow!
‘Hey, look at my ears – they’re pierced!’ Shazza squeals. ‘Rad! Wonder when that happened. I’ve been begging Ma for ages but she always says I’m too young.’
‘Tell me about it,’ I mutter.
‘Yours won’t let you either?’
‘Uh, you won’t, no.’
She blinks. ‘Right. Me.’ She frowns. ‘Future-me.’
‘But you’d let me, wouldn’t you?’ I say quickly.
A slow smile spreads across my face. ‘You’d let me get my ears pierced, right, Shazza?’ I am overwhelmed by the geniusness of my plan – now I’ll definitely know if she’s putting on
She looks conflicted for a moment and I’m almost sure I’ve called her bluff . . . but then she shrugs. ‘Why not?’
‘Why not?’ I stare at her. ‘Seriously?’ I’m torn between being uber-thrilled and uber-freaked out.
‘Come on!’ She grabs my hand. ‘Let’s do it!’
OK, so freaked out beats thrilled. By a landslide. Especially when she asks me to fetch a needle and two ice cubes and says we should go into the bathroom ‘in case it gets messy’.
Messy how . . . ?
‘Relax!’ Shazza laughs as I perch on the side of the cold bathtub. ‘Stop shaking – I don’t want to stab you in the face!’
Funnily enough, this does not help me relax. ‘Um, have you done this before?’ I ask nervously as she squeezes my earlobe between the ice cubes.
‘Yep. Just last night actually.’
‘I mean – well, decades ago, I guess!’ She giggles. ‘I pierced my friend Kelly’s ears. Well, ear.’
‘She only had one done? Is that an eighties thing?’
‘Well, no, she was going to have both, but she fainted after the first one. Lame.’
‘She fainted?’ I gasp.
‘Kelly always freaks out at the sight of blood.’
My stomach lurches. ‘Blood?’
‘It was the same in biology when we dissected hearts,’ Shazza says, squinting with concentration as she lifts the needle to my very-cold-but-nowhere-near-numb-yet earlobe. ‘Now, just hold still—’
‘Wait!’ I cry, jumping up out of her reach.
‘What’s the matter?’
‘I . . . er . . .’ I search desperately for an excuse.
‘Have you changed your mind?’ she asks, the needle still glinting in her hand.
‘I . . .’ Hang on – is that her plan? Is she trying to scare me off getting my ears pierced? Is she really still Mum? Who’s bluffing who here . . . ?
‘It’ll only take a minute!’ She smiles encouragingly.
‘Is that the time? I’ve gotta go!’ I’m not taking any chances where needles are involved!
‘Go where?’ She frowns.
‘School?!’ Shazza grabs my arm. ‘No, no, no! You can’t leave me! Take the day off!’
#JawDrop. ‘You mean . . . skip school?’
‘Yes!’ she cries. ‘Say you’re ill! Stay home! Please, Lucy!’
‘Wow.’ I sink on to the toilet lid, dizzy with shock, all my doubts instantly skittering out the window. ‘Mum – the old Mum – would never in a million years let me bunk off. My school had to send me home when I had chickenpox!’ I look up. ‘You’re really not her, are you?’
She shakes her head. ‘Not yet!’
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