Read To Be Honest for Free Online Page B

never goes anywhere without a cashmere rug. It’ll be on her seat: brilliant.
    “No problem. Let’s get the show on the road.” I’m surprised to hear such authority from my mouth. Having good nails is wicked. “My ... your group’s all over the place.” I jab the clipboard she’s holding weakly in her lap. “You gather them up, I’ll get Rach ... el, Erin, Josh and Courtney to do theirs.”
    And I do: they believe me ‘cos they all line up, group leaders in front, and I lead a load of wet, sugar-loaded school kids through the capital.
    Journeying back, Mr Morlis pats the seat and I join him. I’ve given the blanket to Miss ... Lisi. Lisi. That’s what everyone’s calling her and it’s so weird but if they are then I must too.
    I can feel her behind me, settling next to Josh, her brain buzzing along with his earphones.
    “Lozenge?”
    I take one, crunch it and Mr Morlis looks surprised. “Forceful, Miss Mint,” he says with a sparkle, and although it normally makes me want to be sick in my hand when teachers call each other teacher names, it does make me feel a little tiny bit sexy to be honest.
    So I smile. Is he flirting? Do Phoebe and Mr Morlis fancy each other ? What about Taff? Wait. I’m literally winning prizes for weirdness of my life right now.
    “What’d you think, then?” Mr Morlis just sounds like normal and even if my skin feels funny; drier than normal, I touch it and it is. ‘Cos I’m grown up, I s’pose.
    “Orsino was hot.”
    He chuckles. “Very deep.” Then he yawns and turns to look where I already know:
Joe’s tickling Erin
Erin’s mum’s trying not to notice
Jenny’s reading the programme for like the millionth time
Courtney’s uploading pictures to Facebook
Rach is stressing about calories in her head
Josh’s talking to the person next to him who isn’t me but should be
    “Joe Brannigan, leave that girl alone,” he calls without standing and hysterics from the back seat stop.
    “Bit long for me,” he grins and takes out his phone. “But that storm, my god ...” he starts to scroll.
    “I love thunder,” I say on automatic.
    He studies me. “Strange, I thought you hated it.” He shrugs. “Thunder’s cool but those clouds ... wow. Once in a lifetime.”
    It’s good then, ‘cos we lapse into silence. The Houses of Parliament and other important stuff goes past but it’s dark now and I can’t really see, just lights. We jerk down Embankment, him on his phone, me on my guard. Shit. Of course: Miss Mint’s told people stuff I’ve no idea about. Miss Mint has history. Miss Mint has a life . Now it’s mine.
    This is harsh but thinking about it carries me all the way to Guildford and then Mr Morlis says fucking hell under his breath and I snap out of it ‘cos I’ve never heard a teacher drop an F-bomb, ever.
    “What’s up?”
    “Look at this.”
    On the screen’s a purpley, bobbly thingy. The wiki text says something to do with breasts. Breasts? Oh my god. Mr Morlis.
    Mammatus clouds , the description reads , are most often associated with severe thunderstorms.
    Oh.
    Then he starts going on using words like ‘stratosphere’ and ‘adiabatic’ and ‘sheared’ which make me think of sheep in hospital having their hair done but which I think he’s actually using to explain something. So I try to listen. Because, when it comes down to it, the important bits of what he’s saying are to do with magic and chemistry and what Miss Mint and I just did.
    “The mammatus phenomenon’s a very peculiar thing,” he says. “There’s never been proof but, scientifically, it should be possible for a form to dissolve and solidify, sometimes even in different places; different forms even, with these clouds,” he’s saying excitedly but it’s a bit fast for me and I’m trying to take it all in. Only the clouds bit’s sticking; I’m still thinking about breasts.
    “What?” I sound dozy.
    “I know this sounds odd but there have been stories about people