Wild Child Page #4

Whoa. It's all right,

Cerberus. Only me.

- Who's Cerberus?

The dog that guards

the gates of hell.

- Go, go. Get away.

Hurry up. Or you'll

disturb my girls.

Sorry, terrible allergies.

Oh, sorry. Better

an empty house...

than an angry tenant, right?

I don't get it. It's like

you've got immunity.

Your dad's a Mafia

guy or something.

Yup. I'm the Goddaughter.

Whatever it is,

she's cutting you

a lot of slack.

We need to up the

ante. In fact,

we need to focus on

her big weakness.

Oh, my God. You have

to snog Freddie.

Snog? That sounds disgusting.

What is that?

- It's English for make out.

Mrs. Kingsley will

go ballistic.

- And Harriet would

have an absolute fit.

Well, that's a definite bonus.

- And he'll be at the social.

- Cool.

Just remember, the

point is to get caught.

All right, so, what's

the deal with the social?

It's the school dance

on Saturday night.

Traditionally,

it's fancy dress.

This year, it's Movie Magic.

But the only ones who

bother to dress up...

are teachers,

morons, and Harriet.

I say we dress up

fancy. Real fancy.

This mission needs to

be planned precisely.

- Kiki?

- Okay.

Operation Freedom,

part two, step one.

Attract Freddie.

Step one, subsection

A, look the part.

Kiki, you're actually

making something...

quite exciting sound

like physics homework.

Basically, we're

going into town,

and we're going to get

some killer outfits.

I want something

that says, 'Elegant,

'but at the same time...

incredibly slutty

and available.'

In fact, I'm not that

bothered about elegant.

So apparently, the

key is to hook up...

with the headmistress' son.

I'll do your trick, Rubes.

Swing my hips and giggle.

Oh, come on, Poppy.

We're going to miss the bus.

Don't forget to log

off now, you ninny.

Everyone, sign out.

Remember you are...

representatives of the school.

- Sign your own name. Come on.

Poppy Moore. What

are you wearing?

You are going into town,

not appearing in a

window in Amsterdam.

- Change immediately.

- I don't have anything else.

I thought you might

be quite concerned...

by that attire, Matron.

So we had a little look-see...

in lost property

on our way here.

- Didn't we?

- We did.

It'll suit you.

Promise.

Well, that's cute.

My grandma used to have

a dog just like it.

Poppy, I think your jumper

is the cat's pajamas.

Come on, girls.

In you go. Hurry up. Upstairs.

Don't push. Don't

push. Plenty of room.

Come on. Here we go.

- Come on, Poppy. Jump.

- Poppy. Jump.

I can't find my sanitizer.

I can't find my sanitizer.

- You left it in the dorm.

- Oh, my God, no.

Ew.

Ew.

Oh, my God, look.

- Oh, hello.

- Hi.

Ew. Gross.

- Where are we going?

- To our favorite shop.

Cancer research?

Girls, I'm all about

finding a cure,

but considering I

flunked chemistry.

I don't know how much

help I'm going to be.

And BTW, which, FYI,

means 'By the way,'

- this is supposed

to be shopping time.

We're not going to be

doing the research.

This is a charity shop.

The money goes to charity.

Oh, I just had a

heart palpitation.

You guys are so adorable,

but we need to look really

hot for the social.

- So let's go hit

Oxford Street.

I take it you flunked

geography, too.

Oxford Street is in

London, my friend.

This is your lot.

- Josie, take that

big bra off my head.

No.

- Hey, Kate. What

about this for Ascot?

Magnificent.

Is this too workaday?

Come on now, girls.

This is a serious

mission. Get a move on.

Now, Poppy, how

about something...

like this? Fifty pence.

It looks like

someone died in it.

I'd rather stay the

Yorkshire Terrier freak.

You're a Buddhist, right?

Think of it as clothing

reincarnation.

Honey, even Buddha wouldn't be...

caught dead in

half this stuff.

Still, I guess

anything's possible.

Come on. Let's do this.

Unbelievable. This

season Marni.

It's sophisticated,

it's elegant.

- Hot to trot?

- Check.

If we could just call

this stuff vintage...

and add three zeros

to the price tag.

I could totally get into it.

Perfection. Operation Freddie

is well and truly underway.

Malibu moment.

Remember what I

taught you guys?

- Who are we?

- Who are we?

I think he's down,

the Penny Black.

Yes, dated pre-war.

- Really stupid ones.

- Oh, my God. It's Tom Cruise.

Would you like to

say that any louder?

I need your help.

And I need a back wax...

and a night with

Michael Buble,

but we don't always

get what we want.

Trudy, attend to the brows.

Yorkie fan. It's a

nice dog, Yorkie.

I used to have one

once. Wee Phillippe.

Got savaged to

death by a badger.

- Aren't you the souffl

that didn't arise.

Tell me about it. Okay.

I need these

extensions taken out,

a seriously deep conditioning.

I'm thinking side bangs

with some buttery highlights,

and maybe a few honey tones.

And I'd like a night

on Fireman Island,

but I'm afraid I'm

whistling Dixie, okay?

So here's what's

on offer for you.

- A tight perm.

- No.

How about this? A wee bob.

That's fun, isn't it?

- No.

- Okay. What about this?

Oh, a pineapple.

- Oh, Hawaii.

- No.

What about something

a little bit more natural?

- Natural?

- Aye. The real you.

- Natural it is.

- Radical.

Okay. Ladies, let's do this.

Oh, right now,

we're gonna need...

that, that, that.

Oh, no, I... Don't look at...

That's not mine. Nope.

Hey, Mummy.

Two strong teas,

please, bella, pronto.

Don't you look

at me like that.

Nix that.

You ready? Okay.

- Et voil.

- Wow. Thank you.

You're welcome, darling.

I'm cream-crackered.

I'll lay down and

have a wee satsuma.

- You look so...

- English.

- I look like my mom.

- Is she beautiful, too?

- She was. Very.

Sorry. Foot-in-mouth disease.

- Okay. Time for the

juice. Any bright ideas?

Leave it to me.

I've got a plan.

So, Susan, do you

like your new office?

I don't know what's worse,

my job or that

husband of mine.

Keith from Accounts

is driving me crazy.

He wants that report

on his desk by Thursday.

What's the report about?

- Business.

- What?

Do you want to buy

a carpet tomorrow?

Yes. After I've dropped

the kids off at the pool.

In my saloon car.

Two bottles of Grizinski

and one of Donmatsa, please.

And two Creme Eggs, please.

Why did you order

the Creme Eggs,

you idiot?

Why did you only

get two, Drippy?

Now, we've got

to quarter them.

- He believed us till then.

- Oh, yeah, right.

Maybe if you hadn't

asked me what

Keith's report was

about. Where's Poppy?

- Are you okay?

- I'm furious. Stupid Drippy.

I know. Never mind. Let's go.

Would you boys like a drink?

Now, anybody here? Come on.

Hello, hello.

Name's Nellist. Roger Nellist.

License to deejay.

Gosh, you look

like James Bond.

I thought you might

like a fruit punch.

Oh, I'll have it shaken

and not stirred.

Why aren't you

dancing? They're...

all dressed up, waiting

for you over there.

Mr. Nellist.

- Harriet's coming.

- Harriet's coming.

Right, yes, yes, yes.

Mr. Darcy.

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