My Dating Disasters Diary (17 page)

Stephanie stared hard at her creation, pretending she
was trying but failing to make out what on earth Miss
McElwee was talking about.

'No, miss. I've no idea. Really.' She stared hard again,
then her expression changed to one of pretend shock. 'Oh
my God.
Now
I see what you mean. You think it looks like
. . . Oh God, you didn't think that I would ever . . .? I
mean, if you hadn't said, I'd never have imagined it could
look like a boy's—'

'Right,' Miss McElwee interrupted. 'That's enough. It's
time to clear up, everyone. We'll just forget all about this
nonsense.'

Miss McElwee hurried back to her desk, red-faced, and
tried to look very busy with paperwork, but we all knew
she was mortified: Stephanie had made it look as though
she
was the one with the dirty mind. Oh yes. School was
much more fun now that Stephanie was here.

Chris caught up with me as I was walking home from
school today.

'Hi, Kelly Ann. Just wondered if you're coming to the
match tomorrow. We're playing St Mungo's. Should be a
close thing.'

'No, it's too far away and no one else I know is going.'

'That's OK. My dad will give us both a lift. And we
could maybe go for a pizza or burger afterwards.'

Thought about it. We've been a bit friendlier recently
and sometimes hang out together at break, but things
aren't the same. Having said that, I did let him share his
lunch with me today when I forgot my money as there's
no point in being stupid about things. Mmmm – turkey
and bacon panini with guacamole and mozzarella.
Delicious. And I accepted his offer to do my maths homework
for me at break yesterday as I was busy copying my
history homework from Liz (who was copying my
biology, so it's fair) and I know Chris can forge my handwriting.
Wasn't pleased when he deliberately put some
mistakes in so I didn't get full marks like him, but
eventually accepted his explanation that our teacher
would have been suspicious as I'm rubbish at maths. Or
'not always one hundred per cent accurate', as Chris put
it.

So yeah, sharing lunch or help with homework is OK.
We're both mature teenagers after all. But accepting a lift
from his dad and spending nearly a whole day with him?
No way. Not after being treated as a nuisance when he
had a girlfriend.

Eventually I said, 'Nah, don't think so. I'm kinda
busy.'

'You always used to come. To the important ones anyway.
This is our last chance to get into the schools
semi-final.'

'Yeah, well, I used to do a lot of things, but that was
before you got fed up with me hanging round you.'

'
I
got fed up?' Chris said. '
You
're the one who told
me—'

'Only after
you
told Emily to tell
me
to shove off. You
might at least have talked to me yourself.'

'Kelly Ann, listen to me. I never said that. Never. Not
to anyone. Because it's not true.'

I looked at his earnest, sincere face. Bloody Emily.

Stupid little liar.

Didn't punch Emily as Chris asked me not to. Also, have
decided to be more mature and feminine. Though I did
confront her at break today – told her I knew what she'd
done and warned her not to stick her nose in my business
again.

But she didn't even apologize. Just said, 'It's not fair.
You don't want him but you won't let anyone else have
him either.'

Honestly. Some people would never be mature enough
to understand that boys and girls can just be really good
friends without either of them wanting to play tonsil
tennis.

Wished now I hadn't promised Chris not to hit her.
However, I did manage to sneak a fake dog turd into her
packed lunch box. It was made of brown-coloured damp
clay borrowed from the art department and so realistic
looking it totally put her off her sandwiches.

They were chocolate peanut butter sandwiches too.
Serves her right.

Stephanie has found a boyfriend already, which doesn't
really surprise me. He's not at our school though as he's
seventeen and has a job. She won't tell us what he
actually does. Just says we'll find out when we meet him
sometime soon.

Liz has also started going out with a boy in our maths
class. I'm really happy for my friends of course, but
honestly, did they both have to start dating at the same
time? Couldn't they take it in turns or something so I'd
have someone to hang out with at the weekend?

'What's the matter, Kelly Ann?' Stephanie said at
break, sounding puzzled. 'You look miserable.'

'Nothing. I'm fine. Perfectly happy.'

Liz glanced at me. 'Yeah, right. About as happy as a
turkey who knows it's coming up for Christmas. C'mon,
Kelly Ann. Just because we've met some boys doesn't
mean we're going to abandon you.'

'Yeah, I know, but I'll have nothing to do at the
weekend.'

Stephanie said, 'Why don't you pick up some boy if
you're bored? There's plenty of them about.'

'It's not that easy,' I moaned. 'I've tried but no one
seems to fancy me. I've never had a boyfriend.'

Stephanie was shocked. 'Never! Oh my God. I mean,
what have you been doing for the last five years? Knitting?'

Five years? Bloody hell. Does Stephanie think people
should have boyfriends the moment they hit double
figures? Hmm, she probably does.

I felt more miserable than ever. Maybe now that
Stephanie realized what a sad loser I was she wouldn't
want anything to do with me.

She must have noticed my grim face as she said, 'God,
I'm sorry, Kelly Ann. I was just so, um, amazed that anyone
could, well, survive like that. But it's rubbish that no
one fancies you. I'm sure loads of guys do. You're just not
giving out the right signals.'

'What signals?'

Stephanie laughed. 'The ones that say you might be a
lot of fun if they're ever lucky enough to find out.'

I wasn't convinced it was as simple as that and tried to
change the subject but Stephanie has decided she's going
to sort out my 'ridiculous boy problem'.

'No really, Kelly Ann, you have potential.' She gazed
at my face and nodded. 'Great bone structure. You could
be a model.'

'Really?'

'Well, no, not really. You're not tall enough. Still,
you've got a nice face. Hmm, of course we'll have to do
something about the spots. A good foundation and extrathick
concealer perhaps. And the hair. Nothing a top-class
stylist can't sort though.'

'Oh,' I said, wondering if maybe a burka was the
answer.

'And you've got a fabulous figure.'

'I have?' I said, smiling.

'God, yeah. Well, except for those.' She eyed my chest
area. 'Still, you can always pad up, then I'll show you
how to use highlighter and shaders to fake a cleavage.'

'I don't know. I don't think—'

'Rubbish,' Stephanie said. 'Trust me, no one knows as
much about make-up and fashion as me. Or boys. We'll
start next week.'

It was true. If Stephanie couldn't show me how to get
a boyfriend, no one could. Next month might just be a lot
more exciting than I could ever have thought.

Mrs Conner is back. Knew she'd been on compassionate
leave since the holidays so I thought at first that someone
in her family had died. Was gobsmacked to learn the
truth. Her devoted husband has chucked her and run off
with his secretary.

Mrs Conner is furious. She used her 'compassionate
leave' to cut up all her ex-husband's expensive Italian
suits and silk shirts, burn his entire CD and DVD
collection along with his golf clubs, and sell his Mercedes
to his business rival. We know all this as she's posted all
the details with pictures on the Internet, along with a
100,000-word blog saying some very unflattering things
about him.

At least we think they are very unflattering things but since
Mrs Conner rarely uses words with less than four syllables it's difficult
to be sure. However, we're pretty certain calling her husband a
mendacious
dissembling
canker of putrescent crapulence
wasn't meant as a compliment.
She also posted a video clip (called Adonis Slumbers) of him sleeping starkers
except for a pair of yellow and black Homer Simpson underpants and red fluffy
Santa Claus socks with bells on. His mouth was wide open and slightly drooling,
plus he snored loudly the whole time except when he belched or worse. Gross.

We had English last period today. Mrs Conner was in a foul mood and gave half
the class punishment exercises, but fortunately only the boy half. She has
also said that this term we are going to focus, not on love and passion, but
on the truly great themes of fine literature: betrayal, revenge and death.
Cool. Sounds like English might be a lot more fun now. Unless you're a boy.

Went to Liz's with Stephanie after school. Liz agrees with
Stephanie about my need to get a boyfriend. Or, as she
put it, at this stage in my psychosocial development it's
time to stop sublimating my sexual urges and start
gratifying them.

Told Liz I wasn't a slapper and there was no way I was
doing it with anybody yet.

'I'm not talking about actual sex, Kelly Ann, but
maybe at least some snogging. You can't stay a virgin lips
for ever.'

Stephanie told me I'd have to get an entire new
wardrobe and a mobile. I was pretty sure I could
persuade Mum to give me some money for clothes,
especially if I tell her I'm going to buy a skirt or dress, but
didn't know about the mobile.

'Anyway, why do I need a mobile?' I asked.

Stephanie looked at me incredulously. 'How can you
possibly have a social life or a boyfriend without one?'

It was true. Not having a mobile is like a social death
sentence: how am I ever supposed to get a boyfriend if no
one can call me without running the risk of having to
speak to one of my parents first?

But my parents have always refused to buy me one.
Well, not quite true. They've refused to buy me a mobile
again
. Two years ago they bought me one for my birthday
but I lost it the same day. Not really sure where I lost it, but
I think it was probably at the billboards near my house – I
climbed them that afternoon, then practised my new trick
of hanging upside on them. Quite safe really, so long as you
hook your hands and feet around the beams.

Anyway, the result was that my parents have refused
ever since to buy me another so now I'm just about the
only girl in my year who hasn't got a mobile. It's so
embarrassing.

I asked Dad again for a new mobile. Told him I was a lot
older and more responsible now and that everyone else
on the planet had a mobile. Even ancient nomadic tribes
in Outer Mongolia had mobiles these days. Wasn't sure
that was really true, but it probably was. However, Dad
wouldn't budge.

He just said that a mobile would probably be useful for
nomadic tribes in Outer Mongolia to keep in touch over
long distances, where there weren't any telephone lines,
and that if we lived in such a tribe he'd be sure and get
me one. However, he wasn't going to spend a fortune on
me just so I could send daft texts about sod all to pals I'd
been talking to all day anyway, then lose the bloody
thing. And besides, it was bad for my health. Might give
me brain cancer.

'Yes, Kelly Ann, love, that's the real reason your mum
and me don't want you to have one. We're only thinking
of your welfare.'

I'd heard this stupid excuse before and hadn't known
how to get round this supposed concern for my welfare
but now I was ready for it.

'Oh,' I said, 'in that case why did you let me have one
in the first place?'

Dad had no answer to that one but typically Mum did.

She laughed and said, 'Truth is, we used not to like you
much but you've grown on us since. Now go make us a
cup of tea and shut your moaning face.'

Charming. But Mum said she'd think about the mobile
thing although I wasn't to nag her meantime.

Mum said, 'You can have the mobile I bought a while
back but never use. You'll have to pay for all your calls
though. Don't ask me to bail you out.'

Mum had bought a mobile and never used it? I didn't
know that. She probably couldn't handle the modern
technology. She can barely manage the TV remote control
and still doesn't know what most of the buttons are for.
But anyway, this was fabulous news for me.

Dad smiled. 'I'll away upstairs and get it for you, love.
I charged it up last night so you'll be able to use it right
away.'

Oh God, I so love my parents sometimes.

Dad returned and, still smiling, handed me a large
black block that was so heavy it could have been used by
a mafia hitman to weigh down a corpse before dumping
it into the river, ensuring it would sink for all eternity.

I screamed, 'I can't use this . . . this monster.'

'What's the matter, love? Your mum bought it second
hand a good few years ago but I tested it this morning
and it works fine. You wanted a mobile, didn't you?'

'Yeah,' I said. 'I wanted a MOBILE! The only way this
. . . this
thing
could be called mobile is if you dragged it
into your garage and fitted it with four wheels and an
engine. Mobile my arse!'

Then I stomped off to my room and slammed the door.

My parents are hopeless. Totally. I'd be a laughing
stock if I was ever spotted with something like that. Why
can't they see that?

Mum is still refusing to buy me a phone but did give me
thirty pounds for new clothes when I complained about
having sod all to wear. Stephanie said she'd come
shopping with me: she didn't look for anything for herself
and spent the whole time picking out stuff she
thought I'd suit then marching me to the changing rooms
with armfuls of clothing.

Unfortunately nearly everything Stephanie liked
was way too dear but eventually she found a short
denim skirt in TopShop and a deep pink T-shirt
in H&M which I could afford and looked really nice on
me.

When I got home I tried on my purchases again, this
time with my high heels, and inspected myself in
Angela's full-length mirror. Yeah, Stephanie was right.
The outfit did look much better with heels. Decided to
keep it on.

Was still wearing it when Chris came over later to
watch Man U versus Chelsea.

He looked at me, surprised. 'You look nice, Kelly Ann.'

'Thanks. Stephanie helped me pick the outfit.'

'It suits you. You look, well, um, very pretty.'

'Good. Maybe Stephanie's plan to get me a boyfriend
will work then.'

'Thought you weren't interested in boyfriends.'

'Well, I am now. And I'm totally fed up being the only
one of my friends without one.'

Chris frowned. 'I don't think you should date someone
just because your friends are, Kelly Ann. You should only
go out with a boy because you really want to. Because
you think they're special.'

Typical Chris answer but he doesn't understand. None
of his friends are dating anyone right now. Hmm, good
point. Maybe Chris could help me find a boyfriend.

'Chris, do you think you could find out if any of your
friends fancy me? Or maybe the boys from other schools
you play football with? It would be great if you could ask
around and—'

'I can't believe you're asking me this!'

Bloody hell. Chris looked really pissed off. 'What's up
with—?'

'What do you think I am? A dating agency?' he
raged on. 'Find your own boyfriend. Shouldn't be too
hard as you seem to have absolutely no standards
whatsoever.'

Then he shoved on his jacket and marched out, banging
the door shut behind him. And the game hadn't even
started.

Chris avoided me at school this morning so it seems he is
still in a mood. Told Liz about it and she agrees that Chris
was totally out of order yesterday. She cornered him at
lunch time to offer him 'anger management therapy'. He
told Liz he didn't need anger therapy and why didn't she
mind her own ******* business.

Hmm. Don't understand why he was so pissed off with me. Maybe
he thought I'd meant him to set me up with his best pals Gary or Ian, which
I definitely hadn't. But then again, why should Chris care who I dated? Hope
this doesn't mean Chris and I fall out for ages again.

I needn't have worried. Chris came over tonight and,
once we'd gone upstairs to my room, apologized for his
weird behaviour yesterday. He had calmed down a lot
and now seemed just embarrassed by the whole thing.

'Don't really know why I did that, Kelly Ann. Sorry.'

'Yeah, well, you were a bit mental but it's not like you
normally so let's just forget it.'

'Cool.'

We were quiet for a moment, then Chris said thoughtfully,
'Maybe it's because you seem to be changing
somehow.'

I shrugged. 'Everybody changes.'

'Yeah, I know, but, well . . . you won't change too
much, will you? You'll still be my Kelly Ann?'

'Course, don't be stupid,' I said, puzzled.

'Great.' He looked at my PlayStation console. 'So, do
you want a game?' He picked up a controller and held out
the other one to me.

'Yeah, but just wait a minute until my nail varnish
dries. I'd just put it on before you came and I don't want
it to smudge.'

Chris looked at me with raised eyebrows and smiled.

Hmm, maybe he's right and I am changing. But not so
much that I'll ever stop being friends with Chris. That
would never happen.

Mrs Conner was ranting on today about how us females
have been oppressed by males for centuries. Some people
say she's just got it in for men because her husband
dumped her but I'm not sure. I think she's dead right
about it being totally unfair that girls haven't always been
allowed to vote. And I was gobsmacked when she told us
that brave suffragettes had to chain themselves to railings
and throw themselves under carriages (although not at
the same time of course) to force selfish up-themselves
male politicians to give us the vote.

Yeah, maybe Mrs Conner is right and we need to keep
an eye on guys in case they try and oppress us.

Was talking about the voting thing with Mum at tea
tonight. Thought she'd be outraged like me, but instead
she just lit up a fag and said, 'Aye, well, they needn't have
bothered their arses. Look what clowns we've got to
choose from these days. Greedy, useless, lying buggers,
the whole sodding lot of them.'

Honestly, Mum is so cynical about everything. And
she didn't take my concern about the oppression of
females any more seriously. Just advised me that if any
guy ever tried to oppress me I was to knee him hard in the
you-know-whats. That's what she always did and it
worked for her.

Hmm.

Mrs Conner was still on about male oppression today and
asked if anyone had had any personal experience of
'gender-based discrimination'. There were some blank
faces so she sighed and said, 'That means boys being
unfair to girls.'

There were a flood of complaints after that.

'My boyfriend only bought me a card at Valentine's
and I got him a DVD and a box of chocolates.'

'My big brother always leaves the seat up in the toilet.'

'My dad won't let my boyfriend stay over but he's fine
about my brother having his girlfriend to stay. Well, since
they got married anyway.'

Mrs Conner wasn't interested in any of these but when
I told her that Ferguson wouldn't let me join the boys'
football team because I was a girl, she was outraged.

She was going to get to the bottom of this apparent
injustice. There was no way she was going to
countenance sex discrimination in her very own place of
work. She would be discussing this issue with Mr
Ferguson directly.

Mrs Conner arranged a meeting to discuss things with Mr
Ferguson and me in the English department in the second
half of the lunch-hour. I kept my mouth shut the entire
time but Mrs Conner had plenty to say as usual.

Mr Ferguson listened politely for a while but finally
interrupted her. 'No way!' Seeing Mrs Conner's shocked
look, he went on a bit more calmly, 'I'm sorry, Mrs
Conner, but that's just not an option. Out of the question,
I'm afraid.'

Mrs Conner smiled – a dangerous sign. 'Perhaps we
should discuss this later, Mr Ferguson.'

'Nothing to discuss, Mrs Conner. I've made my
decision as PE principal and I'm afraid it's nonnegotiable.'

Oh my God. Ferguson was either a lot braver or more
moronic than I thought.

'On the contrary, Mr Ferguson,' Mrs Conner said in a
menacingly polite tone. 'There is, in fact, a great deal to
discuss. Oh yes, a great deal.' She put her elbows on the
desk and brought her fingertips together in front of her.
This was almost always a sign that she intended to talk for
a very long time, sometimes for an entire double period.