My Dating Disasters Diary (12 page)

'He's, um, called' – I glanced at the poster on the wall
showing a family of lions – 'Leo.'

'Leo? I don't know any Leos.'

'He's not at this school. He goes to, um, private school
actually. His parents are loaded but he's not a snob. He
says he doesn't care if mine are poor. He likes me
anyway.'

Oh God, this was getting complicated. What had I
done? Fortunately the biology teacher told us all to shut
up and get on with our work so I was saved from any
more interrogation by Shelly.

Of course word got round the school about the gorgeous
new boyfriend I'd been keeping secret, and practically
everyone wanted to know about Leo.

Found lies falling out of my mouth like the big ugly
toads in the cursed princess fairy tale.

Leo had black hair and deep blue eyes. He played
rugby and the electric guitar. We'd met in town when he
bumped into me, knocking over my ice-cream cone, so he
bought me another. We got talking, and he asked me out.

On and on.

On the way home from school Liz got at me. 'For
God's sake, Kelly Ann. What are you doing? You're
bound to get found out.'

'Oh God, Liz, I don't know. But I can't take it back now.
I'll just have to leave it a few days then say we fell out and
I dumped him or something. I'll sort something out.'

'Hmm.'

Our first date was to Pizza Hut. We had pepperoni and
spicy chicken pizza, with chocolate ice cream to follow.
Leo insisted on paying for both of us because he gets fifty
pounds pocket money a week and more if he needs it.

We didn't snog on our first date because Leo respects
me too much, but after our third date at a proper Italian
restaurant with tablecloths and candles, I let him kiss me.
Now he can't keep his hands off me he fancies me so
much.

The lies are getting easier – it's actually quite fun.
Some people are a bit jealous of course, but everyone
wants to hear about my perfect boyfriend. I'm starting to
really like him too.

'You've got to stop this stupid Leo thing, Kelly Ann,' Liz
said. 'You need to focus on finding a real boyfriend.'

'Why? Leo's much better than a real boyfriend.'

'That's mental. How can he be better than a real one?'

'Well, he never tells fart jokes for a start, his room
doesn't smell of sweaty socks and he wouldn't ever cheat
on me. Bet you don't know any boys like that.'

Liz sighed. 'OK, but there is just one tiny problem with
Leo.'

'What?'

'He doesn't exist.'

I shrugged. 'Nobody's perfect.'

Was dreaming about Leo when Liz called to see if I
wanted to watch a DVD at her house.

I said, 'Sorry, Liz, Leo and I are going to the pictures
tonight.'

'Right, that's it, Kelly Ann. This has gone too far. I'm coming
over to sort this out right now.'

'You have to stop this Leo thing, Kelly Ann. It's totally
insane.'

'Why? I'm really enjoying it. Leo's fun.'

'It's lying. Which is, well, immoral,' Liz said huffily.

I shrugged.

'It's not good for your psychological health. You could
totally lose touch with reality, then you'd turn psychotic
and have to be locked up like Hannibal Lecter.'

'Bloody hell, Liz, I'm just making up a few stories
about a boyfriend. That doesn't mean I'm going to start
slaughtering people then eating their livers with fava
beans.'

'You're bound to get found out,' Liz warned. 'Shelly's
already asking people how come no one has ever seen
this Leo and saying you're a liar. If this gets out then
you'll be the laughing stock of the whole school.'

Felt my face flush scarlet and my stomach twist at the
thought of it. It was true. Sooner or later people were
bound to get suspicious. If they ever found out I was a
sad person who'd invented a pretend boyfriend I'd die of
shame. Liz was right. I'd have to get rid of Leo.

Told everyone Leo had died suddenly in a tragic skiing
accident and I was too upset to talk about it. People were
really nice to me – except for Shelly, of course, who said,
'Skiing accident! In June? Yeah, right.'

I said, 'Water-skiing accident.'

Shelly still doesn't believe me but she can't prove anything.
As Liz said, 'It's difficult to prove someone never
existed after all. That's the problem with being an atheist
too.'

People seem to have forgotten all about me and Leo
already. No one mentions him any more or even gives me
sympathetic looks. Like he never existed or something,
which I know he didn't, but they don't know that, do
they?

Moaned to Liz, 'I really miss Leo, Liz.'

Liz sighed. 'Leo wasn't real, Kelly Ann. Tables and
chairs are real. You and I are real. Leo was a figment of
your imagination. Atotal fantasy, like pixies, leprechauns,
Santa and lipstick that stays on for sixteen hours without
smudging.'

'Yeah, I suppose so.'

'What you need is a real boyfriend.'

'No one seems to fancy me.'

'Rubbish. Somebody will. Even really ugly, stupid
people manage to find someone eventually.' I scowled at
her and she added hurriedly, 'Not that you are, of course.'

'Thanks, Liz.'

Liz wisely changed the subject: she started talking
about her birthday tomorrow and the iPod her mum had
promised her. I wasn't all that comfortable talking about
this in case I somehow let slip the secret celebration plans.

She's been told she won't be having the usual big
family party with all her aunts, uncles and cousins
coming round as everyone's too busy this year. However,
for her fifteenth I know her parents are actually planning
a surprise party bigger than all the rest but they have
sworn me to secrecy. Her mum has asked me to take her
to my house after school until six o'clock, then make our
way over. When we get into the living room everyone
will be hiding. I have to say, 'You must be disappointed
you're not getting a birthday party this year, Liz.'

After Liz answers, everyone will leap out from their
hiding places and shout, 'HAPPY BIRTHDAY!'

Sounds easy enough. And fun. Wish my parents
would bother to do something exciting like that for
me.

We arrived at Liz's at exactly ten past six. Liz wanted to
go straight upstairs to her room but I persuaded her to go
into the living room first to look for the TV guide.

When we went in I could see a man's shoes poking out
under the floor-length curtains and the tip of a yellow
party hat peeking over the sofa, but Liz didn't notice anything
– probably because she wasn't expecting anyone to
be there. I knew that some of the guests would be hiding
under the kitchen table but I couldn't see any of them.

I said loudly, 'You must be disappointed you're not
getting a birthday party this year.'

Liz shrugged. 'Not really. I think I'm getting too old for
that kind of stuff now. I'd rather spend my birthday
getting totally wasted at a club in town, then snogging the
face off some really hot guy.'

'You don't really mean that, Liz,' I said, desperately
pointing with my eyes to the feet under the curtains.

But Liz didn't notice my attempted warning. 'Yeah I
do. And anyway, I won't be sorry to be missing that awful
birthday cake Aunt Marian makes every year. About as
light and airy as a doorstep – don't know who ever told
her she could bake.'

'But you love Aunt Marian's birthday cake. You know
you do,' I said, frantically jerking my thumb in the
direction of the yellow party hat behind the sofa.

'Yeah, right,' Liz said sarcastically. 'About as much as I
like Aunt Grace's crap presents. Honestly, they get
cheaper and crappier every year. I mean, it's not as
though she's mean with her own kids. Total spoiled brats,
the pair of them. Thank God I won't have to put up with
those two toni—'

'HAPPY BIRTHDAY!' Liz's mum screamed, leaping
from behind the couch before Liz could say anything else.

Oh God.

Even though Liz pretended she'd noticed the hidden
guests and was just winding people up for a laugh, the
rest of the evening was pretty awkward. Liz forced herself
to eat four huge heavy slabs of birthday cake while
saying 'Mmm, delicious!' after practically every bite but I
don't think her Aunt Marian was fooled.

Liz also made a great fuss over the saucer-sized orange
plastic earrings her Aunt Grace had got her. 'These are
gorgeous. Thank you so much.' She put them on and
wore them all evening even though her earlobes turned
green. But it was no use and everyone left early looking
totally pissed off.

God, surprise birthday parties are an awful idea. Hope
I'm never, ever involved in one again.

At the last assembly before the summer holidays our
head teacher, Mr Menzies, told us we had won the prize
for the most environmentally aware school in Glasgow.
This is because we recycle nearly all our rubbish and last
year the biology department started an organic garden
project beside the football pitch. Our prize would be ten
sacks of organic compost.

This is going to be a pretty useless prize as Mr Smith is
having the garden concreted over because he got fed up
with boys peeing on the compost heap and pretending
they were recycling when they just couldn't be bothered
with the two-minute walk to the toilets.

Don't blame Mr Smith but I do think recycling (within
limits) to save the environment is so important. Unlike
Mum. Caught her this morning just shoving all the
rubbish into one bag. I had to fish it out again and put it
into separate paper, glass, plastic and metal containers.
When I complained about it she just said, 'I'm throwing
rubbish out, not sodding filing.'

Typical.

We finished at lunch time. Liz, Gary, Ian and I all went
to McDonald's to celebrate but Chris went to Pizza Hut
with Emily. Don't suppose I'll see him all summer now.
Wish he'd never met Emily, but I suppose if it wasn't her
it would have been some other stupid girl he'd dump all
his friends for.

The only thing worse than not going anywhere on
holiday is going on holiday with your embarrassing
parents, especially if you are the only daughter tagging
along behind like a totally sad teenager who has no life
and no friends.

Angela has refused to come this year, saying she is too old
to go on holiday with parents and can be depended on to look after the house
by herself while Mum and Dad are away. And they've agreed. I mean, what other
self respecting seventeen-year-old could be trusted to spend a fortnight in
a parentless house without hosting wild parties full of gatecrashers, traffic
cones and policemen's helmets?

Can't say I blame her for avoiding two weeks of trying
to pretend you are not remotely related to your drunken
parents, but what about me? Without anyone else there
it's going to be so much harder to convince people that
my parents don't belong to me. Who's going to think I'm
in Spain on my own?

My parents, as usual, have been totally unsympathetic.
My dad says I'll make friends my own age and have a
great time. Yeah, right. Like I'm three years old or something
and can bond with some other infant while playing
in the sandpit. Don't they realize I'm a teenager now?
What am I supposed to do? Saunter up to a crowd of
people I've never seen before and say casually, 'Hey, you
don't know me and I've absolutely no idea who you are,
or what you're like, but would you like to be my friends
please?' I mean,
as if
. I'd rather be a sad loner than a
laughing stock.

My mum, if anything, is worse than Dad. She says that
she and Dad work their fingers to the bone for me and
what thanks do they get? Then she tells me to shut my
moaning face or she'll shut it for me.

Really hate my parents sometimes: they just so totally
do
not
get it.

Moaned to Liz about it today, but she wasn't very
sympathetic: her parents have told her they're not going
on holiday this year because of having to replace everything
after the burglary.

'Honestly,' she grumbled, 'why can't they just get a
loan like everyone else? Their meanness is probably due
to being toilet-trained too early, but that's hardly my
fault, is it?'

Don't know what toilet training had to do with anything
but decided not to argue about it – Liz was in a
really bad mood, especially as she'd bought flip-flops and
sunglasses with her pocket money last week. 'And for
what?' she moaned. 'Like I'm going to get any use out of
them in Glasgow. I'd have been better off buying an
umbrella and wellies.'

We spent the rest of the afternoon slagging off our
parents, who we agreed were totally mean, insensitive
and uncaring. Wondered if we could put ourselves up for
adoption, hopefully to find parents who were never
embarrassing and always generous and let us do whatever
we liked.

My mum has been talking to Liz's mum, and guess what?
Liz can come on holiday with us!!

I was so excited when Mum told me that I actually
threw my arms around her and hugged her voluntarily
for the first time since my fourth birthday, when she
bought me a two-wheeler bike without stabilizers. Can
still remember how fantastic it felt riding a proper bike
for the first time. Just a pity it got trashed later that day
because I left it in the lane where the garbage truck was
reversing. But still, I'd had a whole morning riding a
proper bike without the shame of stabilizers (which I
so
never needed in the first place) and the bin men kindly
took it to the dump for me without telling Mum so I could
pretend someone had stolen it.