My Dating Disasters Diary Read online

  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.’

  MONDAY JANUARY 4TH

  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 t
hen?’

  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.

  TUESDAY JANUARY 5TH

  Liz started her watercresssoup-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.

  This didn’t seem very likely to me – after all, pictures of famine victims don’t show enormously overweight people waddling about with fat wobbling everywhere – but I didn’t say anything as Liz can be quite touchy about stuff like that.

  SATURDAY JANUARY 9TH

  Went over to Liz’s around lunch time to find her miserably eating plain boiled rice and skinned chicken so I guessed she was on another diet.

  She left most of her lunch uneaten on the plate; opening a carton of natural yoghurt, she confided to me that she was on a ‘white’ diet. This meant that she could eat anything she liked, and as much as she liked, so long as it was white. That morning she’d had boiled eggs (yolks removed) with white bread (minus the crusts) and a glass of milk. Tonight she was going to have cod without batter, boiled, bleached potatoes and a skinned apple.

  I thought this diet might actually work as it sounded boring enough to put you off food altogether but then Liz produced two Milky Bars and an enormous bag of white chocolate buttons and I decided that, then again, maybe not.

  MONDAY JANUARY 11TH

  First day back at school. Of course I don’t walk to school with Angela, who says she wouldn’t be seen dead anywhere around school with me ‘cos I’m a complete embarrassment.

  Well, the feeling is totally mutual. I’m sorry to say it but my sister is a very sad person. She wears her school blouse buttoned up to the neck and – get this – tucks it into her skirt. I kid you not. Also she carries a leather satchel rather than a rucksack, which she keeps polished. No, really, I’ve seen her do it. Of course her shoes gleam like mirrors and the pleats on her skirt are always ironed so sharp you could practically cut yourself on them. (She irons her knickers and tights too, but since no one can see this is just pointless rather than embarrassing.)

  Naturally she wears the school tie and blazer, which might be OK if she wasn’t also the only person in the entire school with the regulation striped scarf. Even Mr Smith, our assistant head teacher, was surprised when he saw it and told her he didn’t know we had a school scarf. It’s so humiliating. If she ever wears the school beret (I’ve seen it in old pictures of school pupils in the 1950s) I’ll have to run away from home with the shame of it.

  Angela went off to school first to ensure she kept her record for perfect time-keeping and
attendance. Never mind that she has two free periods first thing, which I pointed out to her. She told me they were not free periods but study periods. Yeah, she’s a swot too. Might be understandable if she was super smart but she’s not. Despite all the studying, she’s a straight-C pupil, except in Office Studies, where she gets Bs and so will go to secretarial college next year. Can’t wait.

  After she left I had a good fifteen minutes before I needed to go, and as both my parents had already gone off to work I switched on my PlayStation. I would be able to play it loud for once without the usual ‘Turn that thing down/off for God’s sake before I throw it out the window.’

  Unfortunately I lost track of time a bit so was late on my first day of term. Not a good start, particularly as Mr Smith has said he will lock the gates at five past nine and latecomers will have to wait outside until twenty past, when he will personally issue everyone with a punishment exercise and detention.

  Got there at ten past to find I wasn’t the only latecomer: there was a small crowd of pupils plus two embarrassed and annoyed-looking teachers waiting outside the locked gates.

  Well, there was no way I was going to hang around in the freezing cold just because of a psycho assistant head teacher and locked school gates that were only about three metres high with plenty of footholds on the way up.

  First I threw my rucksack over, then quickly climbed up the gates. Getting down the other side was a little more difficult but I managed it without too much bother, dropping down the last bit and landing on my rucksack. I stood up and bowed to the small crowd on the other side, who applauded me admiringly – even the teachers – then went to sit in the toilets until registration was over. Our regy teacher is getting on a bit and retires next year so I’ll just tell the office he made a mistake not marking me present and they’ll put it down to senility. Sorted. Maybe the year wasn’t starting off too badly after all.

  Spoke too soon. At lunch break today spotted Shelly and her fan club outside the hall. Shelly is blonde and goodlooking (although I think she has a mean little mouth) and is usually surrounded by a group of admiring boys too stupid to see what nasty people she and her so-called friends (i.e. two scavenger girls who hope to pick up some of the boys Shelly rejects) really are.