17th March
I’ve been far too devastated to explain what’s been happening in my life. It’s taken me weeks to come to terms with being thrown out of the band! Because I’m having trouble with A flat diminished or because Mum thinks I need to concentrate on my AS levels or because I’m just too damn awkward. No-one would tell me why.
If I’m not in the band then I’m not anything. Being a quarter of Mellowstar made me a whole person instead of this vague shadowy girl who floated around the edges and never got to matter. Boys would speak to me and want to pull me and people at college didn’t mind that I was quiet because I was in the band. They thought that I was being enigmatic and cool, which not even. But now I’ve been sacked and everyone will just know that I’m a total loser.
19th March
Jack broke his month long silence to sidle over after French class to ask if I was OK. ‘I’m so far from OK, that I’d need a map and a compass to ever find my way back to the vicinity of OK,’ is what I should have said. But I just looked at my shoes and muttered, ‘Go away’.
‘Jesse told me that you were out of the band,’ Jack persisted, absolutely refusing to read anything into my hostile body language.
‘I don’t care,’ I tried to say but instead of sounding all nonchalant, my voice went hiccuppy and high. I pushed past him but he called my name and hurried after me.
It was a relief to bump into Marianne. Jack wouldn’t come near me if I was with Marianne because no-one can get a word in when she starts talking. I saw him shrug and raise his eyebrows at me but I pretended to be really engrossed in nodding and smiling at all the stupid things Marianne was saying about Taylor Swift. She’s a big Swiftie. Not that I hold that against her, but I don’t think Taylor Swift invented making a heart shape with your thumbs and forefingers, I really don’t. Anyway, Marianne talked and talked until we were halfway across the college grounds and Jack was long gone and then she said that she knew I had this whole different music thing going on, but did I want to go and see this singer who wasn’t half as amazing as Taylor Swift but she was still quite good.
Whatever, Marianne. Whatever. As long as it gets you to stop making words come out of your mouth.
22nd March
I’m still not talking to Poppy or Mum. Mum’s really upset about it but I heard Poppy saying to Jesse that it didn’t really make much difference ’cause I never say anything interesting anyway. Poppy is so up herself these days. More than she used to be, which is unbelievable. She thinks she’s going to be really famous one day. Famous for being a complete bitch.
Once again, I was relieved to see Marianne when she turned up to take me to see this singer who wasn’t as good as Taylor Swift.
23rd March
‘This is Grace, she’s in Mellowstar,’ said Marianne when we bumped into her old grammar school friends who cooed and looked impressed so I didn’t tell them that I’d had to hang up my guitar strap.
Jack was there and so was Darby. Like, together, but hanging out, rather than indulging in puke inducing PDAs. All I knew was that I felt full of hate and it seemed like a really good idea to drink a pint of cider in about 8 seconds and then follow Marianne backstage to meet the singer who really wasn’t as amazing as Taylor Swift. In fact, she was awful.
But she had a backing band and one of them gave me a bottle of beer and I drank it all. Then he handed me another. When I stumbled back into the club, band boy had to take my arm to stop me from falling over. And there was Darby and Jack who weren’t hanging out any more, instead they were investigating each other’s back molars so I grabbed band boy and shoved my tongue down his throat. I might just as well wear a T-shirt that says, ‘Wanna be a skanky ho? Ask me how.’
Band boy was really into the snogging, which quickly turned into pressing me against a wall and trying to persuade me to ‘come into the van for five minutes’ and before I could cut and run I realised that Darby and Jack were standing there, though I wasn’t focussing too well by that point.
Band boy told them to go away (f-word an’ all), and then I threw up. All over band boy and anyone else standing within a ten foot radius.
Oh no, it got worse. Jack phoned my mum and she came to pick me up and grounded me ‘for so long that your grandchildren will be getting married before I let you out of the house on your own’.
My life is officially over. Forget you ever knew me.
15th April
It’s been nearly a month and I’m still grounded. I can’t believe that Mum’s been so unforgiving. I mean, OK, drinking, puking and kissing strange boys are not valid lifestyle choices but it’s obviously just a phase I’m going through. Why can’t she just let me go through it with minimum interference from her? It’s all college and study and more study and the odd meal break. She’s even done something to the TV in my room so I can only get the Freeview channels.
Weirdly for the original ‘French ’em and forget ’em’ girl, Darby and Jack are still together. I know they’re just doing it to spite me. I mean, he’s younger than her and crap at making conversation and stuff. What can she possibly see in him?
18th April
Still grounded but aceing all my pre-AS level mock tests. It comes to something when making a revision schedule becomes the highlight of my week.
26th April
Mum’s finally relented and I’m so not grounded. Praise be! Going out with Marianne tomorrow but had to tell her that I wasn’t in the band any more. I was very vague about the reasons for my sacking and now she thinks I did something really heinous to get thrown out. Not sure if that’s good or bad.
28th April
Note to self: They call them alcopops because they have alcohol in them. I managed to lose several hours of my life last night. Marianne and I went to this club in Stockport ’cause I couldn’t bear to go out in Manchester where I’d have to watch Darby and Jack tonguing each other’s tonsils. And I had too much to drink and then we went to this house party and when I woke up this morning I was drooling on this boy’s shoulder and I’d lost one of my shoes. Not quite sure what happened in between but I had a hell of a time explaining the missing footwear to Mum.
4th May
I haven’t been out all week. Because I don’t want to turn into one of those binge drinkers that Mum is always telling me I’ll turn into. It’s just, well, college is so blah and I’m so sick of all my A-level subjects but mostly seeing Jack makes me… not sad, more like this feeling of white hot, incandescent rage. Because… because… because he’s seeing Darby and not me and she was the one who encouraged me to kiss loads of different boys which made him so angry that he went off me and onto her. Have to go, Poppy’s just crashed through the door.
5th May
I went out with Poppy and Jesse last night, which is never fun ’cause they’re like this two-headed sarcasm demon. The other guys from Jesse’s band turned up and one of them, Toph (rhymes with loaf) was really fine. Super, super, super fine. So I went and pulled some random boy who I bumped into at the bar after one drink too many. Because, hey, that’s a great tactic when you’ve just been introduced to someone that you actively fancy who isn’t Jack. I’m such a wreck of a girl. I got off with a boy wearing a Wanted T-shirt (was he being ironic or just idiotic?) while my sister and her boyfriend and his mates were forced to sit there and watch. I heard Poppy hiss at Jesse, ‘Well, at least she’s meeting new people’ before cackling evilly.
Then Jesse muttered, ‘You weren’t like this at her age, were you, Pops?’ Then Wanted boy slid off the chair because he’d had too much to drink too and pulled me with him, and Toph (I’m wincing as I write this) had to pick me up off Wanted boy and said to Poppy, ‘Er, I think you need to take her home.’ I had a skirt on. God, I hope he didn’t see my pants.
Poppy wasn’t very keen on the idea of leaving so she called me a cab and told Toph to put me in it. I think I might have tried to kiss him because I have a very distinct memory of him holding me at arm’s length while trying to persuade the
driver that I wouldn’t be sick over his upholstery. Someone just kill me now. Please. Make it swift, make it painless, but just kill me.
9th May
Text from Poppy:
‘Lil sis. Stp drnkng & suckng face wiv strangers. Not big or clver and u show me up. Will tell ma. Also ppl tlkng about u. repeat stop!’
10th May
That’s it. No drinking ever again because it’s bad and wrong and I saw Toph in town and he crossed over the road as soon as he clapped eyes on me. Like I even wanted to talk to him!
17th May
I know I should be conjugating French verbs and sticking to the elaborate revision schedule that took me the best part of a week to colour in but all I can think about is Toph. Short for Chris-toph-er. How could AS levels possibly compete? He looked so pissed off when he was trying to put drunk me into a taxi. I need to get a new rep and I need to get one fast.
21st May
Poppy absolutely refuses to be drawn in to any conversation about Jesse’s band and the boys in it and if I question her too closely then she’ll know that I kinda, sorta, maybe like Toph and make my life a living hell.
‘What do you want to know about them for?’ she demanded when I asked if they were rehearsing. ‘You’ve already been kicked out of one band and I don’t think they have any vacancies for guitarists who, y’know, can’t actually play the guitar.’ I hope she chokes on Jesse’s tongue next time they kiss.
25th May
Revision. Boring. Boring. Boring.
28th May
I saw Toph in town today as I was walking very slowly in the direction of the library. He was coming out of the indie coffee shop so I casually followed him (I was practically going in that direction anyway) and he went into this trendy building where all these web firms and design consultancies are. So I guess he, like, works there or something. He was wearing a khaki shirt and jeans and high tops and this cute little beanie, which probably meant that he hadn’t washed his hair but it was a good look.
30th May
I have to go out tonight because if I see one more mock exam question my head will implode. I could go out with Marianne but then I’ll end up drinking and getting off with someone. And if I go out with Atsuko I’ll get drunk and end up getting off with someone. I even thought about calling Darby and Jack who are still acting like some freaky version of love’s young dream but I wasn’t quite that desperate. So I phoned Dylan and although he sounded weirded out that I was calling him and managing to speak in whole sentences without getting tongue-tied, he said he was going to this art exhibition with some people from his course and I could tag along. He’s sweet. No wonder I used to have such a crush on him!
1st June
The whole point of going out with Dylan was so he’d act like a surrogate elder brother but it all went wrong. For starters, the art exhibition was really, really rude. I mean, post-watershed, strictly adult content, fullfrontal nudity rude. I didn’t know where to put myself. I was so embarrassed and Dylan was embarrassed and all like, ‘Maybe you should go and sit in the bar.’ So I went and sat in the bar and there was free wine and it tasted like a paintstripper but it was something to do that didn’t involve looking at people’s bare bits.
An hour later and the art porn no longer posed a threat. I staggered around trying to find Dylan when I saw a beanie hat that looked vaguely familiar. It was attached to a Toph-shaped boy who was studying a photograph of a close-up of a nipple. At least I think it was a nipple. I could see Dylan bearing down on me with a dismayed expression on his face as I lurched into a sculpture but he was too slow. My feet were moving in the direction of Toph and there was nothing I could do about it.
‘Hi Toph,’ I said a touch too loudly and he looked at me and frowned. That should have been enough to stop me but the frown just made his nose wrinkle up in this cute way and then my voice was saying, ‘Cool nipple. I bet you have cool nipples ’cause you’re really cool so your body parts must be cool too even…’
And then Dylan was there and I never got to finish my sentence. Not that it would have made much difference. The start of the sentence was horrific enough. All the way home, Dylan lectured me about drinking and my immature behaviour but all I could think about was the withering look on Toph’s face as Dylan dragged me away.
2nd June
It’s all right. Everything is going to be all right. I’ve just managed to find Toph’s number on Poppy’s phone and I’m going to text him and apologise. It will be all right. ‘hi, it’s grace, poppys sis. sorry abt lst nite. my dog had died & I ws upset. u must fink im an idiot bt ws irrational wi grief.’ That should be OK. Please let it be all right.
2nd June (later)
Oh God. Just got a text message from Toph. Every time I read it my heart sinks. ‘Don’t ever contact me again, you silly little girl.’
1st July
I finished my last exams and what with being grounded and having no life, I think I might have actually done quite well. But I have this feeling of, like, utter despair. I can count the number of friends I have on one finger. Or no fingers. Edie and Dylan are spending the summer inter-railing so they can look at art in dusty museums and go to flea markets. Darby and Jack are still coupling (in every sense of the word apparently). Poppy is an accident of birth and I can’t hang out with Marianne because I turn into a drunken slut.
10th July
The time honoured tradition of getting a crappy summer job has been thrust upon me by my ’rents. Starting next week I get to wear a fun fur chicken costume (in the middle of summer!) and hand out fliers for a fried chicken emporium that is not KFC. I can see my life from here and it doesn’t look good.
15th July
I don’t know why I did it to myself but I went to see Mellowstar last night, though I should have known that I’d sit there on my own being all moody and depressed-y. That’s the band I used to be in and there were far too many boys there who I’ve snogged because I was drunk and then threw up on. It didn’t help that although nobody actually wanted to talk to me because I’m the queen of awkward silence, they were all surreptitiously watching me to make sure that I didn’t drink.
In the end I couldn’t stand it and sneaked out of the backstage door to get some fresh air. I sat on a wall, listlessly swinging my feet and feeling sorry for myself. And once you start feeling sorry for yourself the tears start prickling at the back of your eyelids and trickling down your face. I squeezed my eyes shut but it did no good. Those tears just kept coming faster and faster and then I was having a full-on weep complete with runny nose and hiccupy sobs. My face was all scrunched up so it took me a while to focus on the high tops standing in front of me. They seemed familiar. I looked upwards at the jeans-clad legs that they were attached to, then The National t-shirt and finally my gaze rested on the concerned expression on Toph’s face.
‘Are you OK?’ he said. It was the first time that he’d actually spoken to me.
I turned my head so I wouldn’t have to look at him. ‘Go ’way,’ I muttered in a low voice but he sat down on the wall next to me.
We sat there in silence for a while as I struggled to get myself under control. At last I managed to stop crying and wiped a sticky hand over my equally sticky face. I wished that Toph would leave. Why does he only see me when I’m making a complete twat of myself?
‘It’s hot isn’t it?’
‘I s’pose,’ I agreed after a pause.
‘So why were you crying?’ Toph turned to look at me but I ducked my head and stared at my feet. My nail polish was chipped.
I shrugged. ‘You don’t want to know why I was crying,’ I mumbled. ‘You’re pretending that you’re a genuinely nice person so I feel even more of an idiot.’
I know I’m not usually so wordy but I think the crying had lowered my defences.
‘Well, yeah, you do act like an idiot most of the time,’ Toph said casually and my heart sank even lower. It was currently somewhere around my knees. ‘But sitting out here on your own and cr
ying makes me feel sorry for you so I guess that does make me a genuinely nice person,’ he continued.
‘People aren’t nice,’ I spluttered, feeling the tears trying for a repeat performance. ‘They suck. Everything sucks. Everything in the whole world.’
‘Wow, I never had you down as a nihilist,’ drawled Toph. I was sure his eyes were twinkling in the dim glow of the streetlight.
‘What’s a nihilist?’
‘It’s someone who—’ Toph began.
‘I know what you’re doing, you’re trying to distract me so I forget that I feel so crappy,’ I said crossly. ‘Look, now that you’ve shown you’re a caring person and you’ve managed to make me feel even more humiliated about all the times you’ve seen me making a prat of myself, could you please leave me alone. Please.’ It came out all desperate and whiny.