My Dating Disasters Diary (2 page)

I put them on and teetered outside with Chris. It was
cold but at least it had stopped raining – though the pavement
was still soaking wet so there was no way I could
take off the four-inch heels and walk in just thick black
tights. Had to hold onto Chris's arm for support, which
annoyed me but Chris didn't seem bothered and later put
his arm around my waist to steady me further. I was
almost starting to get the hang of balancing in the things
with his help when we arrived at the bottom of the road,
only to find it flooded right across from a blocked drain.
Damn. Why hadn't Chris mentioned this to me?

'It's not deep, Kelly Ann. Just an inch or two at most on
this side.'

I looked down at my feet in the stupid heels. It might
have been OK if Mum had bought me wedges. Glanced
over at Chris's footwear. Sturdy thick-soled leather boots.
All right for some.

Chris glanced at my feet too, then back at me. 'No
problem, Kelly Ann. I'll carry you.'

Considered this. Chris
had
got a lot taller, as Dad had
said. It's odd to think that just two years ago we were
around the same height but now he's nearly six inches
taller even in heels – well, with me in heels, I mean.
Unlike other boys in my year who'd grown suddenly, he
wasn't spindly and was quite sturdily built, maybe
because of all the football training he does. Since I'm
skinny he could probably manage to carry me quite easily
without dropping me but I decided against it. Seemed too
pathetically girly. Besides, the narrowest bit of water was
less than two metres across. I was sure I could clear it
easily.

I said, 'No, it's fine. I can jump it.'

'Kelly Ann, I really don't think that's a good idea.'

'Rubbish! I came second in the long jump in the whole
of our year last summer. Honestly, this will be easy.'

I squirmed free of Chris and took a few steps back to
get a bit of a run at it.

Chris tried to stop me. 'No, Kelly Ann, don't! You
weren't wearing heels when you—'

Too late. I'd tried to launch myself across but tripped
and ended up face down in the cold, dirty water. At least
it wasn't sewage water – or I hoped not anyway.

'– came second in the long jump,' Chris finished.

He helped me up and handed me my right shoe,
which had come off. I squelched miserably back home
with Chris in tow. Of course Mum got on at me for
'ruining' my outfit. I think she suspected I'd done it on
purpose or something.

Changed into my comfy jeans in my room, then put on
my new PlayStation game and shouted downstairs to
Chris to come up and join me. A few moments later he
knocked on my door then came in. I patted the space on
my bed beside me and continued with my game but he
didn't join me right away. Instead he stood by the door
and said, 'Are you sure you're OK with me being here,
Kelly Ann? Maybe you'd be more comfortable if we went
downstairs.'

'Don't be stupid. Why would I feel uncomfortable? I
never have before. Don't let that idiot sister of mine
bother you. It's not like you're a normal boy to me, anyway.
More like a brother.'

'Yeah.' Chris smiled, relieved. 'We're just good friends,
right?'

'Course, I said, handing him his controller. 'The best.
But I'm still gonna enjoy ripping you apart.'

'You wish! Prepare to die at the hands of Hawkeye.'

Although Chris had never played this particular game
before he still beat me, which was annoying but he
is
probably one of the best in our school at this kind of stuff.

Still, I'm no newbie and got pretty close. Took out
three of his men in a single grenade attack and successfully
carjacked another. But when I hurtled down the hill
in my jeep to splatter Chris, he killed me with a single
sniper shot to the head. He's ace at these – that's why he's
called Hawkeye. I was down to my last life and couldn't
respawn, so that was that.

'Never mind, Kelly Ann. What about a game of
Monopoly? You always win at that. Only because you
cheat, of course.'

I kicked him playfully on the shin and got out the
Monopoly board. We played for hours but eventually I
bankrupted him and it was time for him to go home. God,
how I loved Chris being around. Just hoped he would
never change.

Before he left I said, 'We'll always be friends, Chris,
won't we?'

'Sure. Why? What's the matter?'

'Nothing . . . It's just that, well, everyone seems to be
changing this year. Practically all my friends have got
obsessed with make-up and boys now.'

Chris smiled. 'Not likely to happen to me.'

'Suppose.' I smiled back. 'But you seemed a bit weird
earlier. Different.'

Chris shrugged. 'I was just surprised at the skirt. Don't
think I've ever seen you in a skirt. You looked, well' – he
paused, then put on a stupid high-pitched Pinocchio
voice – '
like a real girl
.'

'Idiot,' I laughed. But I repeated my question seriously,
just to be sure. 'So we'll always be friends then?'

'Yeah, definitely. Always.'

At last Liz called me. She'd been up in Aberdeen with her
mum and dad visiting relatives all over Christmas and
New Year and I hadn't seen her for nearly two weeks. I'd
been looking forward to catching up on all the gossip so I
was shocked when she interrupted my 'Hi, how are you
I've been just so unbelievably bored' with: 'Kelly Ann,
we've been burgled! Come on over, quick. Mum and Dad
are going mental and the police are here. The young one's
quite nice.'

Was going to go on my new skateboard but it didn't
seem respectful in the circumstances so I grabbed a box of
Celebrations instead (in case the burglars had stolen all
the food) and just ran over.

It wasn't until I got to the door that it occurred to me
the name of the chocolates wasn't too tactful. Liz didn't
seem to mind though: she took the box from me and
ushered me inside.

'Let's take these up to my room,' she whispered. 'The
police are checking the upstairs now with Dad so we
might catch a glimpse of the young one on the way. He's
got nice blue eyes and he's really tall.'

Just as we were about to go into Liz's room, her dad
and two policemen came out of her parents' bedroom.
Liz's dad looked grim, the policemen bored but trying to
hide it. The older one spoke to Liz. 'Anything taken from
your room, love?'

'Erm, I'm not sure actually.'

'Haven't you checked yet? Let's go in and have a look
now.'

Liz opened her door and we all went in. Or tried to
anyway. The door wouldn't open completely, but finally
we all managed to squeeze inside. The policemen looked
at the scene of devastation and shook their heads in
disgust.

Every drawer of Liz's chest was open and the contents
(T-shirts, bras, knickers and Kotex ultra-thin sanitary
pads with wings) lay scattered around it. Her wardrobe
was wide open but contained only hangers: jeans, skirts
and tops were strewn all over the floor, bed and bedside
table, along with piles of magazines, books, make-up and
shoes.

The older policeman spoke first. 'Makes me sick. The
dirty buggers have made a right mess in here. There's no
need for it. It's one thing thieving but this is uncalled for.
Just sheer bloody badness.' He paused for a moment
then, looking at Liz, who was trying to unobtrusively kick
her knickers under the bed while stuffing the Kotex in her
pocket, he continued thoughtfully, 'This seems to be the
only room in the house they've trashed though. Is there
anyone you know who's got a grudge against you? Have
you had a falling out with someone recently? Maybe
some dodgy boyfriend?'

Liz's dad, who was now picking up the stuff that had
been blocking the door, answered for her. 'No, Sergeant.
Her room's always like this. In fact' – he stood up and
scanned it briefly – 'yes, I'd say definitely a bit tidier than
usual. Maybe the burglars straightened the place up a bit
while they were looking for something to lift. Mind
you, they'd be lucky to find anything they were
looking for in my daughter's room. No one else has
managed it.'

The policeman laughed, then turned to Liz again. 'So
anything missing then?'

Liz reddened. 'Erm, I'm not quite sure . . . Oh yeah,
maybe my radio alarm clock.'

Her dad picked up a bundle of clothes from Liz's bedside
table to reveal the radio alarm clock underneath.
'This it by any chance?'

Liz flushed again. 'Yeah, erm, good, but I don't see my
jewellery box.'

I said, 'It was under your bed last time I saw it, Liz, but
your jewellery is in the pocket of your dressing gown, I
think. That's where you usually keep it anyway.'

A quick check proved me correct on both counts. In
fact it turned out that nothing was missing at all. Maybe,
like her dad said, the burglars couldn't find anything in
Liz's room.

We all went down to the kitchen, where Liz's mum
was sitting miserably. She looked up as we came in and I
could see that her eyes were red. 'They've taken everything.
The TV, video, microwave. Everything. I'd offer
you a cup of tea but they've even made off with the
sodding kettle.'

The young policeman nodded sympathetically. 'Yes,
they've really cleaned you out. You'll be able to claim on
insurance though. And there's one piece of good news.
Nothing's been taken from your daughter's room.'

Liz's mum stared at Liz in horror. 'You didn't let the
policemen see your room, did you? You didn't let
strangers see the pigsty you live in? Oh God, have you no
shame!'

'Now, now, missus, don't upset yourself,' the older
policeman soothed. 'In this business you see it all.

Nothing could shock or surprise us.' He turned to his
younger colleague. 'Isn't that right? There's no need for
embarrassment.'

'Too right, Sarge. Those crack dens we raided last year
were pretty nasty.'

'Aye, you're right. They were in a state. Nearly as bad
as the room upstairs.'

The sergeant laughed at his own joke before asking
Liz's mum and dad a few more questions then heading
off to the station.

After they'd gone Liz and I made tea for the four of us
by heating water in a pan on the cooker, which
fortunately the burglars hadn't managed or bothered to
make off with. As we sipped the tea Liz said solemnly
to her parents, 'Of course we will all have to have
extensive psychological counselling to help us cope with
this awful trauma because, you know, in a sense we've
been violated.'

Her dad looked at her. 'That's not how I see it. I think,
actually,
in a sense
we've been burgled. The only thing
that's been violated is my hard-earned bloody cash if I
can't persuade the sods at the insurance company to pay
up.'

'I was only trying to help,' Liz huffed. 'But OK, fine, if
you want us all to suffer post-traumatic stress disorder
with nightmares and flashbacks for years to come, then
go ahead and ignore me. See if I care.'

'I'll post-traumatic stress you. Now why don't you go
and tidy that shit heap you call a bedroom? Mind and
unpack your suitcase while you're at it.'

Liz and I made ourselves scarce. As I was helping her
lug her suitcase up the stairs Liz asked me, 'So what do
you think?'

I said, 'It's awful, Liz. I mean, strangers breaking into
your house, rummaging through all your personal things
and stealing anything they can find. It's gross. No wonder
your dad is mad.'

'Oh yeah, you're right, but, erm, what I meant was . . .
the young policeman? He was quite hot, don't you think?
Nice eyes.' Without giving me a chance to reply she
continued thoughtfully, 'Or maybe it's just the uniform
and I'm displaying the classic female attraction to male
authority figures. Do you think I'd still have fancied him
if he'd turned up without his uniform?'

I giggled. 'Starkers, you mean? Well, maybe, but I
think your mum and dad might have been a bit annoyed.'

Liz unpacked by emptying the contents of her suitcase
onto the floor then scooping armfuls of clothes into a
large laundry basket in the hall.

I removed her toilet bag, shoes, two paperbacks and a
half-eaten Twix from the basket while Liz, declaring herself
too traumatized for more tidying up, cleared a space
on her bed for us to sit down and opened the chocolates
I'd brought. As we munched our way through the box
Liz confided that she'd intended to start her watercresssoup-
and-grapefruit-juice-only-super-low-calorie-fatburner
New Year diet today, but of course, given
the emotional upset, it would be psychologically
unwise to deprive herself of comfort foods just
yet.

I nodded sympathetically but knew that Liz had never
kept to a diet for an entire day in her life. Don't know why
she bothered to diet anyway: most people think she looks
nice, particularly boys. I sighed. If I had Liz's bust I could
play football and wear jeans all the time and still no one
would think I was too boyish.

We'd finished off all our favourite Celebrations and
were making our way through a box of Quality Street,
which Liz produced from her underwear drawer, when
her parents checked in on us. Seeing the state of the room,
made worse by Liz having dropped the chocolate
wrappers on the floor beside her bed, they weren't too
pleased and suggested that I go home while Liz cleaned
up.

They looked pretty mad so I quickly got up to go.
Before I left, however, I offered them a Celebration and
said, 'Erm, almost forgot, Happy New Year.'

Liz's parents just
looked
at me.

Hmm, yeah, definitely time to go.

Liz started her watercress-soup-and-grapefruit-juice-only
super-low-calorie-fat-burner New Year diet this morning
but had abandoned it by lunch time. She told me she'd
just read that very low-calorie diets can actually make
you fat. This is because they panic your body into thinking
it's being starved so your body responds with trying
to make the most of every calorie and laying down fat
tissue for future emergencies.