My Dating Disasters Diary (9 page)

I've told Liz I'll save up from my allowance to pay back Chris,
then she can give me the money when she starts getting pocket money again.

Was feeling bored today so when Rebecca invited me
over to her house after school, I agreed. Her two best
friends, Debbie and Nicola, came too.

Rebecca's got a really cute hamster called Ben. Found
myself spending most of the time playing with Ben as all
Rebecca and her friends wanted to do was talk about
make-up and boys.

In an effort to change the subject I asked if anyone had
heard Smashed to Pieces' latest album. They all had –
though instead of talking about the music, which was
really good, they all started on about the boys in the band
and which one was the hottest. There's a new guy now
called Jason Donnelly and he's got a fantastic voice, but
all they could talk about was how he looked and whether
he was fitter than Zach the drummer and Matt the lead
guitarist. They agreed he was – except for Debbie, who is
'in love' with Matt.

No, really, she's totally obsessed with him –
even knows his shoe size, birth weight and rising
sign. All her school books are covered with pictures of
him and she's had his face lasered onto her knickers.
Mental.

Oh God – except for Liz, can't help finding girls'
company boring now. I mean, for God's sake, what did it
matter what these guys in the band looked like? It wasn't
as though any of us would ever have a chance of meeting
them, never mind dating them. Most girls my age are just
so stupid.

Liz's dad has told my dad that I was Liz's alibi with that
'wee shite' Peter so Dad has grounded me and docked my
pocket money for a month, which I think is totally over
the top and completely unfair. I wasn't the one having
any fun after all. Honestly, parents are such copycats
sometimes.

Looks like Angela and Graham are going to have the
pleasure of my company again on Saturday. Also looks
like Chris is going to have to wait a while for his football
boots. Just as well he's patient.

Liz's mum says it's all very well Liz's dad saying she's
grounded for a month but he's off to London with his
work for the next fortnight and won't have to share the
house with a moaning teenager 24/7 so her grounding is
lifted. But if Liz so much as speaks to a boy without
getting her parents' written permission first she'll be sent
to a nunnery for the rest of her life whether she's Catholic
or not.

Mum says there's no way she's putting up with a
weekend of me moping around the house with a face like
a buffalo with piles so my grounding's lifted but I'd better
not tell any more lies or she'd batter me up and down the
house.

She did seem pretty desperate to get rid of me so I
decided to push it a bit. 'Thanks, Mum, but I'll just be
staying in tonight all the same as I've no money to do
anything.'

Mum threw a tenner at me. 'Away to the pictures or
something and take your moaning face out of my sight.'

Really, sometimes my mum isn't too bad. Called Liz
telling her that Mum had given me money to go out – did
she want to come with me? At first, instead of being
pleased, she went on about how bad it was for me that
my mum was not consistent about sanctions (yeah, like
her mum was) and how this would negatively affect my
psychological development, but when I told her I'd
enough for both of us she quickly changed her mind.
After all, as she said, adult human beings' behaviour was
not always fair, consistent or rational so this would help
me learn to deal with the flawed nature of humanity and
so really Mum was teaching me a valuable lesson. Liz
would be ready in half an hour.

As it turned out though, Liz's mum had also given in
over pocket money withdrawal when she heard mine had
caved in (sometimes the copycat behaviour works to our
advantage) so as well as going to the pictures we were
able to afford a bucket of toffee popcorn, a pound of
pick-'n'-mix plus a hot dog and two large Cokes,
although Liz had Diet Coke as she is trying to lose
weight.

Liz and I were talking to Gary about the film we'd seen
last night. Gary said he'd wanted to see that film too and
had suggested it to Chris but he'd been broke and
Gary hadn't wanted to go by himself. We should have
called him.

Gary looked at us. 'Why have your faces gone all red?
It isn't a dirty film, is it? Bloody hell, if I'd known that I'd
have loaned Chris the money to go with me.'

Oh God, felt so guilty. So did Liz, though she later
pretended she didn't.

'Of course I don't feel guilty,' she said. 'Guilt is a
negative, useless emotion. Well, not totally useless, I
suppose. Without it we'd be psychopaths and cool about
slaughtering innocent people, then eating pizza and
watching
Doctor Who
straight after. But we've not done
anything like that. Slaughtering people, I mean.'

'We should have paid some money back to Chris, Liz,'
I said miserably. 'How much have you got left?'

'Twenty-six p,' Liz replied, flushing.
Knew she felt
guilty
. 'You?'

I looked in my purse and checked my pockets but I
knew the answer anyway. 'Twelve p. That makes, um,
thirty-eight p. Not much point in giving that to Chris
now.'

'Hmm, no. But we could donate it to charity.'

'How does that help Chris?'

'It doesn't, but doing a selfless good deed will help us
feel better – er, less guilty.'

'So how is it selfless then?'

'You're right. Let's buy a Freddo to cheer ourselves up.
Chocolate contains mood-enhancing chemicals, you
know.'

'OK.'

Liz's gran has come down to stay over for the weekend
and as usual on these visits she gave Liz money to buy
herself 'something nice'. Normally Liz would have spent
all of it that day but this time, as we were walking home
from school, she held the thirty pounds out to me and
said, 'Take it quick, Kelly Ann, before I change my mind.
Don't want to feel guilty about Chris again. Guilt is a very
negative emotion, you know; it can lead to feelings of
self-hatred.'

I reached for the money but Liz was still holding it in
a tight grasp.

'I would probably try to blot out these feelings,' she
continued, 'by abusing alcohol and drugs. Of course, this
would eventually only make me feel worse and I would
be drawn into a vicious downward spiral of guilt, shame
and addiction so that finally the only way out was
suicide.

'Of course, if Chris found out he was responsible for
my death he'd feel guilty too, which would lead to feelings
of self-hatred and—'

I yanked the money from Liz's grasp. 'Thanks, Liz, I'll
see Chris gets this.'

Called Chris today with the good news that I could return
the money I borrowed. Then I said, 'How about we go
to the shops today and I'll help you choose a pair? Maybe
we could get a burger for lunch while we're there,
then—'

'Sorry, Kelly Ann, I can't today. I'm, erm, going to the
pictures. Maybe some other time.'

'Even better,' I said. 'Wasn't really in the mood
for shopping anyway. A movie's a much better
idea.'

'I'm, um, going with a friend.'

'Yeah, so? That's cool.' I laughed. 'I don't mind Gary or
Ian coming.'

'She's a girl.'

'Oh.'

I put the phone down. Don't know why I should feel
so surprised and depressed but I do somehow. Just wish
my friends wouldn't keep changing all the time and
would just stay like they've always been. It's annoying.
And scary.

Chris's girlfriend isn't Linda like I'd thought, but Emily, a
girl in Chris's geography class who lives near Liz. She's
small and slim like me but has bigger boobs (doesn't
everyone!). Unlike me she's a really girly type who wears
heart-shaped pink earrings, covers her jotters in shiny
lilac paper and brings her Tampax to school in a special
flowery silk bag that smells of lavender. I suppose she's
nice looking, but other than that I don't know what Chris
sees in her. Neither does Linda, who is rumoured to be
gutted, although she's pretending not to care. Not very
successfully.

I still find the idea of Chris having a girlfriend wrong
somehow. Maybe she isn't really a girlfriend but just a girl
who he's got friendly with.

Was skateboarding home from Liz's when I spotted Chris
snogging Emily on her doorstep. Surprised, I stopped
and gawped at them. It just looked so weird somehow. I
must have been staring at them for a while before Chris
noticed me and broke away from her, embarrassed. When
Emily saw me she looked annoyed and shouted over at
me, 'Hasn't anyone ever told you it's rude to stare?'

Felt my face flush as I hurriedly skateboarded off. Oh
God, I must have looked like a pervert or something but
it had just been so strange seeing Chris snog a girl like
that. I always kind of thought he would be too, well,
intelligent and serious to like snogging, but he must do. I
mean, she hadn't been forcing him and he hadn't looked
as though he was going to throw up exactly. No, he'd
been enjoying it.

I suppose she must be his girlfriend and not just a girl
who's a friend. Still seems so wrong somehow.

Haven't seen or even spoken to Chris all week. I suppose
he's too busy now he's got Emily. They seem to be superglued
to each other these days. So much for his promise
always to be friends no matter what.

Spotted Chris at break today as I was hurrying off to get
my Cadbury's Creme Egg from the newsagent's. For once
he wasn't with Emily. She probably had to go to the toilet
– the only place she can't take him along. He saw me too
and waved over to me but I pretended I hadn't noticed
and walked on.

'Wait, Kelly Ann!' he called.

I slowed down a bit and he caught up with me.

'I'm in a rush, Chris. What is it?'

'Nothing really, but yeah, I was just thinking, the thing
is, I haven't got my football boots yet. Been, um, too busy.'
He reddened. 'So maybe we could go into town and buy
them like we talked about. And, you know, go for pizza
afterwards or something.'

Was tempted. It would be so nice to meet up with
Chris again without his barnacle stuck to him. But no, he
was probably just being polite as he seems to want to be
with Emily all the time now, so I muttered a quick 'Yeah,
maybe,' then turned to go but he caught my arm.

'So is next Saturday OK for you? Say one o'clock?'

'No, look, it's OK. Emily can go with you. She seems to
do everything with you these days.'

'She doesn't know anything about football boots – or
football in fact. Besides I, er, I just want to see you. Spend
time with you again. We're still friends, aren't we?'

I looked up at his face. Earnest and familiar. Chris
was staring at me anxiously. 'I've missed you, Kelly Ann.'

'OK, next Saturday then,' I decided.

'Great. So, you want to come to the gym with me now?
They've got volleyball set up.'

'No, I gotta go now, Chris. Break's almost done and I
haven't had my Creme Egg yet. And you know how badtempered
I am when I don't get my Creme Egg.' I made a
scary, murderous face, then did an impression of the
Psycho
film's stabbing-in-the-shower scene by holding an
imaginary knife up high above him and bringing it
savagely down again and again while mimicking the
bloodcurdling, dramatic music – '
Hink! Hink! Hink!
'

Chris clutched himself, staggered about, then sank to
the ground, pretending to be the victim of my homicidal
assault. We were both doubled up, laughing helplessly,
when Emily crept up on us and looked at me like I was a
piece of dog turd attached to her shoe. Decided it was
time I went. Honestly, don't know what Chris sees in her.
Except that she's very nice looking when not scowling
like a vampire bat that's been force-fed lemons, I can't see
what the attraction is.

Was really looking forward to seeing Chris today. God, it
had been so long since we'd hung out together just
by ourselves without his stupid girlfriend trying to
snog his face off every time he opened his mouth.

But no such luck. When I met Chris at Central Station,
there she was standing with him.

'Oh, hi, Kelly Ann,' she said, all casual friendly even
though we've hardly spoken to each other before. 'Just
decided at the last minute I might as well tag along with
you two as I'd nothing planned for this afternoon. You
don't mind, do you?'

Yeah, right. Last minute my arse. It was obvious she
must have spent all morning getting ready. Her hair,
normally quite frizzy like mine, had been straightened so
that it was totally smooth and hung down to her
shoulders like a gleaming curtain. Plus she was wearing
full make-up, including foundation, three different
shades of eye shadow, mascara, lipstick, lip-liner and
gloss.

And she was dressed like she was going to a party or
something. Pink high-heeled shoes (for trailing round the
shops – I ask you!), a white crop top and a very short pink
skirt which sat low down on her hips so that you could
see she'd a matching thong. Don't know what Chris
thinks of short skirts, high heels and thongs, since it
wasn't the sort of thing we ever discussed, but I hoped
he'd be too intelligent to be impressed by them.

Really wished she wasn't here today, but what could I
say?
Yeah, actually, I do mind so just push off?
Or maybe,
If
it's all the same to you I'd prefer to talk to my friend without
someone trying to hoover his tonsils every five minutes
.
Instead I muttered, 'Yeah, no worries,' like the total
coward I am.

Chris said nothing but gave me an apologetic glance
when she wasn't looking, like the total coward
he
is. This
was going to be a long, dismal afternoon.

We went to the sports shop first. Couldn't help
noticing on the way, and in the shop, how loads of boys
looked at Emily admiringly and glanced at Chris
enviously. No one looked at me at all, like I was invisible
or something.

Stared at myself in the shop mirror. No, definitely not
invisible, but maybe it would be better if I were as I had
to admit I wasn't looking my best.

My trainers were old and grey. My jeans were frayed
at the bottom, which might have looked quite stylish if
most of the hem on the left leg hadn't worked its way off,
so that it trailed in a dirty rope along the floor. The slight
tear on both knees which had looked fine just a couple of
weeks ago had widened to two gaping holes through
which my bony knees poked unattractively.

At least my striped T-shirt looked OK – except that I
appeared only to have only one breast as the toilet paper
I'd stuffed down my left bra cup had fallen out sometime
when I wasn't looking. Might not have been quite so
noticeable if the stripes over my left breast weren't so
obviously straighter than the tissue-stuffed right one.
Wished now that I'd at least worn a plain top.

Fortunately I'd my baseball cap on, so although I
hadn't washed my hair this morning – it somehow
managed to be both greasy and frizzy at the same time –
only the bits that stuck out the bottom could be seen.

Still, yeah, maybe I should have made more of an
effort today.

When Chris tried on the football boots Emily went on
about how fabulous they looked on him. I mean, for
God's sake, they're football boots – i.e. boots to play football
in – not the latest 'must have' fashion statement.

Chris said, 'What do you think, Kelly Ann?'

'Ooooh,' I said, 'they're just sooo you, Chris. Totally
cool. But, erm, I'm not sure about the colour. I mean,
black is rather last season, don't you think?'

'Stop it, Kelly Ann,' Chris said, but he was smiling.
'What do you really think?'

I examined them seriously now. 'Yeah, looks like a
good fit.' I felt the material. 'Flexible but strong and water
resistant too. Go for it.'

By the time we'd queued and paid I was starving but
Emily wanted to look in Accessorize for a bag. I waited
outside, thinking she couldn't take more than five
minutes to find something. After all, you don't have to try
on a bag to see if it fits or anything. All you really need to
decide is whether you want a big bag to carry lots of stuff
or a small bag to carry not very much. Then maybe pick
your favourite colour.

But no such luck. After fifteen minutes I was still waiting
so, fed up with standing, I hunkered down on the
pavement with my back leaning against the wall, which
was much more comfortable until a seagull shat on my
head. Fortunately most of it went on my cap, which I took
off and put on the ground in front of me while I tried to
wipe the bird mess off my hair and shoulder with a bit of
tissue I'd surreptitiously removed from my right bra cup.
At least I would be symmetrical if flat-chested again.

Had almost finished when an old lady with large thick
glasses approached me and dropped a 10p into my hat.
'Go get yourself a cup of tea, son.' Oh my God, I really
should have made more of an effort today. I was about to
return the money and explain I wasn't a homeless tramp
– or a boy, come to that – but just waiting for friends,
when Emily and Chris came out of the shop. Didn't want
them to know what had happened, especially not Emily,
so just mumbled a quick 'Thanks' and stood up. Felt bad
about practically stealing from an old lady, but it was
only 10p after all and not nearly enough for a cup of tea
anywhere. Don't old people know about inflation?

Finally we went for pizza but Emily chattered all the
way through the meal, mostly about her bag purchase
(very interesting – not) so I hardly got to talk to Chris at
all. Afterwards she wanted to do some more shopping
and told me I was welcome to tag along. So it's me
tagging along now, is it? Well, no thanks, especially as,
though her voice was all nice and friendly, her narrowed
eyes made it obvious my company was about as welcome
as a head-lice infestation.

Headed off home, depressed. On the way I passed a
beggar, so, feeling guilty about keeping the old lady's
donation, I dropped the 10p I'd been given earlier into his
outstretched torn polystyrene cup. Wish I hadn't
bothered as he slagged me off.

He said, 'Whit's this supposed to be fur, hen, if ye
don't mind me asking?'

Without thinking I just repeated what the old lady had
said: 'A cup of tea.'

'A cup of tea? Aye, right. This widnae buy me a
cigarette butt, never mind tea. Or the pint that I'm pure
dying fur by the way. Ye widnae happen to have the price
of a pint on ye by any chance?'

'I don't think alcohol is a good idea,' I replied, genuinely
concerned. 'It's very bad for your health.'

However, my advice just seemed to annoy him. He put
on a false snooty voice and said, 'Awctually, yir ladyship,
alkihole in modirition is viry good fir one's hilth.' Then he
laughed wheezily. 'No' that I've ever tried it, mind.
Moderation onyway.' He tossed the 10p coin back at me.
'Here, hen, ye look as though ye need this mair than
me. Away and buy yersel' a new pair o' troosers.'

Bloody nerve. Still, it has to be said he
was
probably
better dressed than me. Today anyway.

When I got back home I went to my room and
examined myself in the mirror again. Now, OK, I suppose
it could be said I needed some decent clothes, a top-class
hairdresser and possibly breast implants, but I wasn't
really ugly, was I? My face was OK. Definitely. And at
least I wasn't plagued by spots like some people in my
school. OK, sometimes I get a few but they usually clear
up pretty quickly if I zap them with Clearasil. Yeah, I'd
really nice skin actually. Well, except for that one tiny spot
on my forehead, but so what?

Correction. Six rather large spots on my forehead, two on
my chin and a pimple at the end of my nose. Brilliant. Just
when I'm starting to care how I look, I turn into
pizza-face.

Decided to have a rummage in my sister's room for
her Clearasil. She hasn't had any spots for ages now but I
know she's too mean to throw anything away. Sure
enough, I found the bottle in her make-up bag in her chest
of drawers. Also found condoms. Gross. I suppose this
must mean she does actually do it with her sad boyfriend
Graham – or at least intends to anyway.

I stared at the condom packet. Maybe there was some
other explanation. Perhaps she's keeping them for a
friend, but then why would she? Or maybe she planned
to use them for something other than having sex, like,
erm, a disposable shower hat for instance. Yeah, could
be.

Put this point to Liz later that night when she came
round, but she was sceptical.

'Honestly, Liz, I've heard there are loads of uses for
condoms other than sex.'

'Such as?'

'Such as, well, um, guerrilla fighters. Yeah, fighters in
places like the Amazon jungle use them to keep bandages
and rifle butts waterproof if they have to wade through
rivers and swamps and stuff.'

'Hmm, suppose so, but I can't see Angela wading
through the Amazonian jungle. It's too messy for her. She
won't even use the school swimming pool in case boys
have peed in it.'

'Yuck. Do boys pee in the swimming pool? No, don't
tell me, Liz.' I put my hands over my ears. 'I won the pool
bubble-blowing competition last year. I so don't want to
know.'