“Dear Dolly…” I don’t know what to put. There’s not much to say: I moved to an even bigger, fancier house than I lived in before I moved, with glossy floorboards and smooth white walls and huge shining staircases with long slippery banisters. If Dolly was in my new house she’d slide down the banisters again and again until they’d snap. Dolly’s very much like that. I have a huge dining room and enough food in one mealtime to feed the whole orphanage that Dolly lives in. I have a really huge, posh garden with flowers growing everywhere. If Dolly was here she’d run around my garden, picking and sniffing the flowers, fingering the weeds, climbing up to the top of the greenhouse roof. As I said, Dolly’s like that. Dolly isn’t rich like me. Dolly is a tall, skinny pale girl with long mousy plaits and pink cheeks. She lives in a filthy orphanage, where you eat gruel and the matrons whip you. Dolly doesn’t care. Dolly is a funny, giggly girl who makes everyone laugh and is always positive. Her favorite expression is “The glass is half full or it’s half empty” She’s adventurous and daring and doesn’t care if things are messy as long as they’re fun! She’s right too. Dolly’s always right. When i used to live near the orphanage I made friends with Dolly. We’re best friends now. Dolly was crying when she found out I had to move. I was crying once too. I’m Polly. I have long bouncy blonde curls and i wear fancy clothes made of velvet and silk and I have patent shoes. My family are rich. They expect me to have manners and always be clean and tidy. I can’t ever have fun. I used to be able to with Dolly but now that I’ve moved we can only write to each other and never meet up. I’m writing my first letter now. I’ve decided what I’m going to say.

“Dear Dolly,

It’s horrible here without you! I miss you so much. I can never have fun when your not here. I hope you’re having fun at the orphanage. Probably not though. I wish we could meet up and play together. I like writing to you very much but i wish i could see you. Will I ever see you again? You’d think my home was more of a playground than a house! You’d slide down the long banisters and run around the garden! I can imagine you climbing up to the top of the greenhouse in my garden. Mother and Father would die if they saw me doing anything like that! I can’t think of what else to say. Please write to me, Dolly! I have to go. I’ll write again soon!

Love,

Polly XXX”

I hope she’ll like my (very short) letter.

“What are you doing, Polly?” I jump and turn around. My horrid bratty little sister, Bernadette, is at my door, staring at me suspiciously, her eyes narrowed. “None of your business, Bernadette!” I snap. “And you shouldn’t be in my room!” “Why not?” asks Bernadette, smirking. “It’s my house as well as it is yours, Polly.” She tosses her gorgeous blonde curls. “Now tell me what your doing or I’ll tell Mother you’re up to something!” “But I’m not!” I say. “Well, nobody believes you, do they?” Bernadette’s smirk has stretched all the way across her face now. I hate her!

LOOK OUT FOR PART 2. AND AFTER THAT LOOK FOR THE SECOND BOOK, DEAR POLLY.