Jas looked in the mirror—she couldn’t help it, it was about three centimeters away from her nose. She was almost sick. “Uuurggghhhh, I look hideous.”
She wasn’t really getting it. I said, “Jas, Jas, love yourself, love the beauty that is there, look at that lovely face, look at that lovely mouth. The mouth that your friend marked eight out of ten. Think of that, Jas. Think of all the poor people who only got six and a third . . . and you have an eight for a mouth. . . .” (I can be like an elephant for remembering things that annoy me—sadly I can remember nothing to do with French, history, maths or biology.)
Jas was definitely perking up. She was puckering her mouth and trying for a half smile. “Do you really think I have got a nice mouth?”
“Yes, yes, but look at the rest of you, look at those eyes, look at the spot-free skin. . . .”
Jas sat up. “I know, it’s good, isn’t it? I’ve been drinking lemon and hot water first thing.”
monday january 4th
7:00 a.m.
Woke up and felt happy for a minute until I realized I had to go back to loony headquarters (school) today.
2:30 p.m.
Gym. Discovered Angus had stored his afternoon snack in my rucksack. There are hedgehog quills in my sports knickers.
tuesday january 12th
noon
Victory. Victory.
Madame Slack has been on my case about being lazy in French and I have just got eighty-five percent in a test. Hahahaha. Fermez Ia bouche, Madame Slack. I did it by learning twenty-five words and then making sure I answered every question by using only those words. So to question one—”In French, what is your favorite food?” my answer was “Lapin” (rabbit).
For my essay, “What did you do on a sunny day?” I made sure I played with a rabbit.
Describe a favorite book—Watership Down— lots of lapins in that.
1:00 p.m.
In line with my new resolution to concentrate on school and not boys I went to do my yoga in the gym at lunchtime. My yoga routine is called The Sun Salute and you stretch up to welcome the sun and then you bend down as if to say “I am not worthy.” Then you do cobra pose and dog pose... it’s all very flowing and soothing.
1:15 p.m.
Miss Stamp came in just as I was doing dog pose. She said, “Oh, don’t let me disturb you. I’m glad you’re taking an interest in yoga, it’s one of the best exercises for the body. It will be really good for your tennis in summer. Don’t mind me, I’m just getting ready for this afternoon.” Well, I was upside down with my bottom sticking up in the air. Not something you want to do in front of a lesbian. So I quickly went into cobra but that made it look like I was sticking my breasts out at her. I think she may now be growing a beard as well as a mustache.
Honestly, there is no bloody peace in this place.
1:30 p.m.
I tried my yoga outside, even though it was hard to do it with my gloves and coat on. Again I’d just got into dog pose when Elvis appeared round the corner. He’s a grumpy old nutcase. “What are you up to?” he shouted at me.
I said, from upside down, “Nnn doing nmy nyoga.”
He pulled down his cap. “I don’t care if you’re doing nuclear physics, you’re not doing it in my yard. Clear off before I report you.”
As I went, I said, “Did you know that Elvis is dead?”
4:30 p.m.
Saw Mark on my way home. I smiled in a mature way at him. He just said, “All right?”
6:00 p.m.
Mum has gone mental in Vati’s absence. When I asked Mum if she would pay for my nose reduction surgery she came out with the old “We can barely afford to feed Angus” line. As if he needs feeding anyway. There’s never a day goes by that I don’t find something decomposing in the linen closet. Anyway, she can’t afford to invest in the happiness of her daughter but she can afford to have the living room decorated, apparently, because the decorator is coming next week.
9:30 p.m.
Watching TV Mum said, “Do you miss your dad?” and I said, “Who?”
monday january 18th
biology
2:40 p.m.
I can do a great impression of a lockjaw germ. Rosie passed me a note: Dear G. You know we have a double free period on Thursday? Well, do you fancy bunking off and going downtown? Rrrrrrrrrxxxxx
4:30 p.m.
Walking home with Jas. I think she is well on the way to recovery. “What do you think of this lip gloss? Do you think it makes me look a bit like Claudia Schiffer? My mouth is the same shape, I think.” I wish I hadn’t started this. Still, if she wants to live in a fantasy wonderland and it cheers her up . . . We went to her house and up to her room. Oh, the bliss of a normal household, no mad mum, no strange sister, no wild animals. Jas’s mum asked us if we would like some Ribena and sandwiches. Imagine my mum doing that? . . .
Imagine my mum being in! I suppose she is a good role model . . . if you want to be a hospital administrator—but couldn’t she make the odd sandwich as well?
In Jas’s bedroom we did our vital statistics with her tape measure. I am thirty-two, twenty- three, thirty-two and Jas is thirty, twenty-three, thirty-three. I think she was breathing in for the twenty-three myself. Also my legs are two inches longer than hers. (I didn’t mention it to Jas but one of my legs is two inches longer and the other one is only one and a half inches longer. How can you develop a limp at my age? It might be because I carry my bag on one shoulder and it’s making that side longer. I must remember to swap sides. Nobody likes a lopsided girl.)
thursday january 28th
3:30 p.m.
Double free period. Rosie got up first and left the room. Miss Wilson came in as we were working, to “supervise,” but we asked her who invented God and she left pretty quickly. We were busy making a list of all the qualities we want in a boyfriend— sense of humor, good dancer, good kisser, nice smile, six-pack, etc. Rosie sent her list and it just said, HUGE. I wrote back, Huge what? and she wrote back, Huge everything. Then I wrote back, Huge teeth, you mean? and she replied, Yes. Sven has begun to infect her with his Danishness, I think.
Anyway, Rosie, Jools and Ellen went out first, and then me and Jas. We met up in the ground floor loo and put our boots and skinny tops and makeup on. We made sure the coast was clear and then went out of the back doors. We had to crouch down beneath the science block windows—Hawkeye was teaching in there and she could smell a girl at twenty paces. Once past the science block it was a quick dash behind Elvis’s hut. He was in there, reading his newspaper, and as we crept by we heard him fart loudly and say “Pardon.” I started giggling and then everyone caught it. We had to run like mad. All afternoon if anyone did anything we’d say “Pardon.”
Great in Boots. We tried all the testers, and this stuff that you put on your hair, like a wand and it puts a streak of color into your own hair. I tried all of them but blond looked really brilliant. Just a streak across the front, I knew it would look good. I’m going to get Mum to let me dye my hair blond now that Vati’s safely in Whangamata.
midnight
Brilliant day!!! Jas and I sang “Respect” by Aretha Franklin on the way home.
february
jas must die
saturday february 6th
11:00 a.m.
The doorbell rang. Mum was in the loo cleaning up Libby; it was not a pretty sight. At the weekend Mum wears these awful dungarees that only people from the sixties wear. Libby was singing “Three bag bears, three bag bears, see how they run, see how they run . . .” (“Three Blind Mice” to other people). Libby was as happy as a mad sandbag but Mum was all flustered. “Will you answer that, Georgie? It will be this builder called Jem I phoned up to look at the living room. Let him in and make a cup of coffee while I finish with this.”
When I opened the door I got an impression of blond hair and denims but then there was this awful squealing from next door’s garden. Mrs. Next Door was screeching, “Get him, get him! Oh oh oh!” She was dashing arou
nd the garden with a broom. I thought that Angus had got the poodle at last, but when I looked over the fence he had a little brown thing in his mouth.
Mrs. Next Door yelled at me, “I’m going to call the police! It’s my niece’s guinea pig, we’re looking after it. And now this, this . . . THING has got it.”
Angus crouched down not very far away. I said, in my sternest voice, “Drop it, now drop it, Angus.”
Due to my training he recognized my voice and let the guinea pig drop out of his mouth. I started to go over to get it and the guinea pig started scampering away. After it had got a few centimeters Angus put his huge paw out and just let it rest on the end of its bottom. It squiggled and squiggled and Angus yawned and took his paw off again. The guinea pig streaked off and Angus lumbered to his feet and ambled after it. He biffed it onto its back and then he sat on it and closed his eyes for a little doze. I said to Mrs. Next Door, “Sorry, he can be very annoying, he’s having a game with it.” She was very unreasonable. I managed to lure Angus away from his little playmate with a kipper. Mrs. N. D. says she is going to complain to someone official. I wonder who? Cat patrol, I suppose.
Jem had been watching from the doorstep. He had a nice, crinkly smile. He said, “He’s big for a cat, isn’t he?”
I sighed. “Come in, Mum’s in the bathroom, she’ll be out in a minute.” Jem came into the front room and I gave him some of my coffee. He’s quite good-looking for an older man.
Mum came rushing in in her dungarees. Then she saw Jem and went all weird and even redder. She said, “Nnnnghhhh!” and then just left the room.
I shrugged my shoulders at Jem. He said, “Are you doing your GCSEs?” (Good, he thought I was at least sixteen . . . hahahahaha) . . . I went “Nnngghhh” as well. Then Mum came back with LIPSTICK on and proper clothes. I left them to it.
sunday february 7th
11:00 a.m.
Got dressed in a short skirt, then me and Jas walked up and down to the main road. We wanted to see how many cars with boys in them hooted at US. Ten!! (We had to walk up and down for four hours . . . still, ten is ten!!!)
monday february 22nd
4:15 p.m.
Something really odd happened today when Jas and I left school. Robbie was at the school gate in his mini. He was leaning against it. I wish my legs didn’t go all jelloid when I see him. How do you make yourself not like someone? I think you’re supposed to concentrate on some of their bad points. Maybe he’s got horrible hands? I looked at his hands . . . they are lovely—all strong-looking but quite artistic too. Like he could put up a shelf and also take you to a plateau of sensual pleasure at the same time. I bet he doesn’t rest his hand on your breast . . . I wish he would. Shut up!!!!! Anyway, I was getting ready to put on my coolest look and he said, “Hello, Jas, how are you?”
Jas flushed and said, “Oh, hi, Robbie, yeah, fine thanks, and you?”
He said, “Cool.” Then he said, “Jas, could I have a . . . could I speak to you sometime? Maybe you would come for a coffee next Wednesday after school?”
And Jas went, “Er . . . well . . . er . . . yes. Fine. See you then.”
I was quite literally speechless.
When we got to Jas’s house I just walked in through the gate, through the door and straight up the stairs into her bedroom. It was like I had a fur ball in my throat. I thought I was going to choke and explode and poo myself all at the same time.
Jas sat down on her bed and just went “Foof.”
I said, “What do you mean by ‘Foof?”’
And she said, “Just that . . . ‘Foof.”’
I said, “Well, what does he want to see you about?”
And she looked at her nails in a very annoying way. “I don’t know.”
I said, “Well, you won’t go, will you?”
And she said, “He asked me to go for a coffee and I said I would.”
I went on, “Yes, but you won’t go, will you?”
She looked at me. “Why shouldn’t I go? He said he wanted to talk to me.”
I couldn’t believe it. “But you know he’s my sworn enemy.”
Jas went all reasonable. “Yes, but he’s not my sworn enemy, he seems to really like me.”
I was beyond the valley of the livid. “Jas, if you are my friend you will not go and meet Robbie.”
She just went silent and tight-lipped. I slammed out of her house.
tuesday february 23rd
11:00 p.m.
I left the house ten minutes early today and walked on the other side of the road. Jas usually hangs about outside her gate between eight thirty-five and eight forty-five and then she walks on if I don’t turn up. I ran like mad past her house, keeping to cover, and arrived ten minutes before assembly.
Hawkeye stopped me. “I’ve never seen you early for anything, what’s going on? I’ll be keeping my eye on you.” Honestly, she is so suspicious. I don’t suppose she’s got anything else to do, no real life of her own. When I went into the assembly hall I didn’t stand in my usual place, I went and talked to Rosie. Jas came in to where we stand together, she caught my eye and gave a half smile but I gave her my worst look.
I didn’t see her again until lunch when she came into the loo. I was sort of trapped because I was drying my fringe under the hand dryer. I’d slept on it funny and it was all sticking up. My head was upside down and she said, “Look, this is really silly, we can’t fall out over some bloke.”
I said, “Nyot snum bluk.”
She said, “Pardon?”
I stood up and faced her. “Jas, you know what I’ve been through with Robbie, he is not just ‘some bloke.’”
She was being all Mrs. Reasonable Knickers. “What are you so bothered about? It’s just coffee . . . at the moment.”
I pounced on that like a rat on a biscuit. “What do you mean, ‘at the moment?’”
She was putting Chap Stick on, pouting in the mirror . . . she really has snapped, she thinks she looks like Claudia Schiffer. “I’m just saying, it’s only coffee at the moment. If anything else happens, of course I will let you know first.” That’s when I kicked her on the shin. HOW DARE SHE? That is it!!! I’m never speaking to her again.
saturday february 27th
10:00 a.m.
Mum up and humming in the kitchen like a happy person, whatever that is.
I’ve made a list of my friends:
I have 12 “close casuals,”
20 “social only” and
6 “inner circle” (you know, the kind of friends who would cry properly at your funeral).
Libby is too small to be a chum, although she’s a better chum than some, if you know what I mean. Jas is not on my list.
10:30 a.m.
I wonder if I have got enough friends? I worry that if British Telecom asks me for ten friends and family for my list of cheap calls, I would have to count the astrological phone line for Librans, which I ring more often than not.
11:00 am.
Doorbell went. Mum shouted, “Will you get that?” It was Jem, he really is quite cool and fit-looking. He was wearing a T-shirt and you could see his muscly arms. I smiled at him. Maybe I need an older man to teach me the ways of love. . . .
11:05 a.m.
Mum came rushing out of the bedroom with Libbs. “Take Libby for a walk, love, will you? Thanks. Now, Jem, would you like a cup of coffee?”
He said, “I wouldn’t say no, I’ve got a bit of a hangover.”
She giggled (yes, she giggled), and said, “You’re terrible! Did you have a good time?”
They went off into the kitchen. He said, “Yeah, we went to this club. It’s a laugh; you should come one night.”
She giggled and said, “Be careful; I might take you up on that.”
I couldn’t hear what happened after that because Libby hit me with her monkey. “Out now,” she said, so I had to go.
What next? My mum goes off with a builder while my vati is trying to build a new life for her in the Antipodes?
Actually, when put like that, it seems fair enough. . . .
Vati sent a letter and some photos from Whangamata. In his letter he said, The village has the most geothermal activity in the world. When I had lunch in the garden the other day, the table was heaving and lurching around. . . I could hardly eat my steak. The ground lurches and heaves around because underneath the earth’s crust thousands of billions of tons of molten steam is trying to get out. The trees go backwards and forwards, the sheep go up and down.. .
Oh, very good, Vati, I’ll be over there on the next flight. Not. And he sent some photos of his New Zealand mates . . . they were all heavily bearded like the Rolf Harris quadruplets.
Still, he is my vati. I will have to have a word with Mum in order to save the family.
12:05 p.m.
Can’t be bothered.
march
my dad has become
rolf harris
monday march 1st
10:30 a.m.
Still not speaking to Jas, but things have gone horribly wrong in that she is not speaking to me either. I don’t know how this has happened as I was supposed to be in charge. It’s bloody difficult coming to school because if she gets ahead of me I have to walk really, really slowly behind her because my legs are longer.