by Rae Earl
FRIDAY 17TH APRIL
4.27 p.m.
NOW my mum has joined Facebook. This proves that she actually is a complete MENTAL. No, Mum, I will not be your friend! I am NOT giving you a licence to stalk me under any circumstances!
8.38 p.m.
FarmVille?! No time to put a face on or tell me who my dad is but you have got time to look for a golden sugar cane on FarmVille!
I have a gran with a flat screen and a mum on Facebook. This has to stop.
SATURDAY 18TH APRIL
7.46 p.m.
I was hunting around today in the “important drawer” to have a look at the Carlo note again. IT’S GONE!!! Anyway I ended up raiding Mum’s make-up bag and found the following:
• 1 eyeshadow in “Ocean Breeze”
• 1 lipstick in “Tanzanian Sunrise”
• 1 cover-up stick marked 95p from the Body Shop. Now I know for a fact that the same thing today would cost her £4.50. My mum has make-up that is older than me – VOM!
SUNDAY 19TH APRIL
7.34 p.m.
Mum asked me if I had been going through her personal things. I denied it, but then she said she knew I had as she leaves things in very specific places.
She asked me what I was looking for. When I said “stuff”, she said, “Hattie, I’ve noticed you are starting to get an attitude. I don’t want it. Sort it out. While you’re under this roof you respect my privacy – I am your mother.”
Yes, Mum, but I want the truth. I want to find out who the hell I am and where the hell I come from. No, I didn’t say that – but I thought it.
I am OWED the truth.
MONDAY 20TH APRIL
4.23 p.m.
We had a discussion today at school – “What do you hope to be doing in 20 years’ time?” Weirdo Jen said she just wanted to be “staining the white radiance of eternity”.
Jen is not called Weirdo Jen for nothing.
TUESDAY 21ST APRIL
5.36 p.m.
Florence Morse – TOTAL REBEL – wrote on her exercise book: “Virginity is like a balloon… One pop and it’s gone for ever!” Instead of going mental Mrs Cob kept her after class and gave her the most embarrassing sex talk ever. We were listening at the door.
Mrs Cob was saying stuff like: “Making love is actually a beautiful thing”, and “It’s the ultimate expression of devotion that shouldn’t be cheapened by graffiti…”
Florence was DYING. Worst punishment in history!
6.12 p.m.
Sorry – that should have been “One prick and it’s gone for ever!”
6.45 p.m.
Just want to say I do actually know how sex works.
WEDNESDAY 22ND APRIL
5.35 p.m.
Just picked up a message from the Citizens’ Advice Bureau. I missed ANOTHER appointment. WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?!
Now they can’t see me till the 8th of June. THAT’S 7 WEEKS AWAY!!! I asked Rob why again. He thinks it’s because everyone is still having problems with bankruptcy, getting divorced and anti-social behaviour, OR they are thinking of going abroad for cheaper dental care and want to know if Thailand is “good for teeth”.
OMG – why didn’t I think of THAT? I could have got invisible braces AND a holiday.
7.35 p.m.
Suddenly Goose out of nowhere has invited me to watch him play football. He is in goal. I have nothing else to do so I might as well go along. At least there might be some fit boys there.
I invited Dimple too but she has got a Bollywood dance class. Weirdo Jen refused to come as she and her family think all sport is pointless and that it has “undermined British culture”(???). Though this has not stopped her mum using a key ring that says “Mrs David Beckham”.
THURSDAY 23RD APRIL
7.37 a.m.
I wish Rob wouldn’t do his crap driving instructor jokes – like when I bump into him on the landing he always says, “Mirror, signal, manoeuvre, Hattie.” This is not funny and totally annoying as is the way he always says, “Hattie, make me a cup of tea, would you? Proceed to the hallway and then take your first available exit.”
I wonder what kind of funny my real dad is. Hope he is Russell Brand funny.
5.34 p.m.
Mr Halston has given us a “special” History project – we have to write a poem about Joan of Arc. It’s ridiculous – we are 14, not 6! In some countries we could be married with 3 children by now.
I am glad we’re not in those countries, but that is not the point!!!
FRIDAY 24TH APRIL
6.36 p.m.
Have to write this STUPID poem – but I am craptacular at writing stuff. Texted Goose. He is coming round to help.
8.27 p.m.
Goose has helped me write the poem. I think I may get heavily told off for it but I am still handing it in.
Joan was in a field
It all happened quite by chance
A voice came out of nowhere
And said, “Go and fight for France!”
Joan dressed up like a boy
It wasn’t accidental
People wouldn’t listen to a girl
They would just think she was a mental
Joan fought many battles
She beat off all the rest
But then she was captured by the English
’Cos we are the best
The English said, “Joan – you are the enemy
And you are a liar
You dress up like a man
It’s time for death by fire.”
Joan on the wooden stake
The flames oh they did dazzle
And when they finally did die down
Joan was just a frazzle
SATURDAY 25TH APRIL
9.25 a.m.
Just woke up. Had a dream about Mrs Matfield putting me in a toaster. Joan of Arc has given me nightmares so deserves a craptacular poem.
Football today. Goose is coming round at 1.30.
10.10 a.m.
OMG – does this make me a WAG?
7.01 p.m.
That football match was as boring as hell BUT I have seen my destiny. I have seen the man that I want to BE with and kiss and EVERYTHING.
Basically on Goose’s team was a load of Toky-OK-ers except for this just perfect man. He was utterly perfectamundo – his eyes were LUSH.
And his bum was like chiselled marble. He IS the Taylor Lautner of Derby. I am in love. Epic, pulsating, passionate love.
His name is Zachary and he is the most beautiful man I have ever seen. I don’t normally go for blonds but he is just MASTERCHEF YUMSTER! He is like a really young David Beckham. And HIS BODY – he must work on it because IT IS SEXUAL. Even at half-time he refused an orange segment and did press-ups instead.
At the end of the match Goose came over and said, “Did you enjoy it?” I said, “Not the match, Goose, but the talent. TELL ME ABOUT ZACH!”
Goose looked a bit pissed off (probably because he was covered in mud). He said, “Yeah, Zach is OK – bit in love with himself, but he’s OK.” Goose reckons he plays every week, and some league clubs have been interested in him. LEAGUE CLUBS!!! He is going to be famous. Right, I am coming to football every week.
10.56 p.m.
Forgot to say Goose saved about 17 goals and was man of the match. He gave me his prize, a tin of Roses, which was nice of him!
I saw a sign on the clubhouse:
TRAIN WITH THE FOOTBALL SQUAD EVERY WEDNESDAY – CALL STAN
I think I might give it a try. Mum will let me because it is exercise and she will never guess I am doing it for full-on LOVE ACTION.
SUNDAY 26TH APRIL
4.56 p.m.
Apparently girls are not welcome at football training! Stan the coach said he is with Ron Atkinson (whoever he is). He thinks that “Women belong in the discotheque and the boutique but not on the football pitch”.
I told Stan that I was a member of a group that was dedicated to making unfair things fair. Stan said, “Listen, Love – wome
n can’t keep up with men on the pitch and no bird I’ve ever known wants to do a header. It’s got nothing to do with fair – it’s just a fact of life.”
Are men like this actually allowed to breathe? The Not Fair Protest Group needs to STAMP OUT STAN. OMG – that is actually a brilliant phrase.
5.24 p.m.
Rang Dimple – she agreed that it was wrong but her Bollywood dance class is just for girls so she can’t really complain.
6.34 p.m.
Texted Jen – she replied by saying that all sport should be banned.
Sometimes I think I am the only one who really cares about our group. I am basically a lone crusader for JUSTICE and LOVE.
I’m training on Wednesday. NOTHING will stop me. Not even Stan.
7.01 p.m.
Just realized I don’t have a sports bra.
7.03 p.m.
Just realized I don’t need a sports bra.
MONDAY 27TH APRIL
6.36 p.m.
NIGHTMARE at school.
Mr Halston in History said he found my Joan of Arc poem a “total disgrace”, and it was “inappropriate to mock the death of a saint and true feminist”. I now have a detention tomorrow where I have to write a proper essay about Joan of Arc’s achievements.
I don’t care – I am in love.
9.23 p.m.
Been praticising headers all night for football practice with a bathroom sponge. Now I’m worried. I look stupid trying to do it and Stan is right – it DOES hurt. Even with a sponge.
9.45 p.m.
Just tried a header with a loofah. That hurt too.
9.56 p.m.
My brother came in. He thinks I should try headers with a sharp knife.
10.02 p.m.
I will never take the pee out of Premiere League footballers again. They go through torture doing this with an actual ball. They definitely deserve £250K a week.
If they ask me to do headers on Wednesday I’ll just say I would like to be in goal. Then you basically just have to stand there.
TUESDAY 28TH APRIL
7.45 p.m.
Did detention. Actually Joan of Arc was quite cool. And she cropped her hair and had the pixie look YEARS before everyone else.
Been thinking all day about Zach. If we did get married I could help change the way WAGs are seen. Don’t get me wrong, I would always make sure I looked amazing, but I would also have my own career. Basically if I became a celebrity chef I could do TV with Jamie Oliver during the week and then still go and see Zach play at weekends. I am sure Jamie would be fine with that … especially if I brought more viewers in.
I’d be TOTALLY GORGEOUS just with a spatula.
WEDNESDAY 29TH APRIL
7.23 a.m.
Told Gran how much I hated the way I looked. Gran said I was pretty, and like a fine wine I will mature and grow more beautiful.
Gran thinks her perfect partner is Stephen Fry – she is not to be trusted.
7.34 a.m.
Actually Stephen Fry would be ace doing a speech at the wedding.
8.06 a.m.
OMG – I would LOVE Stephen Fry to be my dad. THAT WOULD BE MAGNIFICENT. EVERYBODY would want to come round my house. I would be the Queen of TOTALLY Popular. Plus we’d NEVER lose the PTA’s annual trivia quiz EVER again. He would know the capital of Uruguay and how to tell the sex of a budgie. Unlike Rob.
8.12 a.m.
I do love Rob though. He’ll just never be my real dad if you know what I mean.
Football training tonight. Can’t wait to show Zach how much I love football AND HIM.
4.53 p.m.
Got my outfit sorted for tonight’s training. I’ve borrowed Jen’s Hello Kitty shorts. I thought they looked like they were for 7-year-olds but Jen says they are “Japanese Harajuku fabulous”. I agreed but I’m going to have to google it later because I honestly don’t know what the hell she means. She also lent me a GORGEOUS yellow vest top that makes my breasts look slightly big.
I’m going to feel cold but look HOT.
Goose is picking me up at 7.
10.23 p.m.
Football training – the good things:
Zach looked AMAZING and before training smiled at me. Sort of half a smile. A flirting smile, I think!
I actually managed to join in a conversation about football. Goose asked everyone who they thought Chelsea’s new manager was going to be and I said, “Oh, it’s bound to be someone good.” I don’t know ANYTHING about it but it must have been right because no one argued. They all just went quiet and walked off! Result!
I managed to keep up mostly with the warm-up. I got a stitch on the second run down the pitch but I did the first one!
Football training – the bad things:
I can’t dribble.
I especially can’t dribble through traffic cones. Have you EVER seen David Beckham dribble through some traffic cones mid-game? No. It is POINTLESS.
I can’t shoot.
I can’t catch anything in goal. The balls come too fast and sting your fingers.
Stan didn’t use my name once – he just called me the “little lady”.
NO ONE would pass the ball to me.
I am still covered in mud.
There were NO refreshments.
I was so cold I got headlamp nipples.
NOT ONE of the boys looked at my headlamp nipples when I did have them.
I am not going again to train. Just to watch. At LEAST Zach noticed me tonight.
11.01 p.m.
Just googled Harajuku . Thanks, Jen. I looked like a massive doll dork. Who couldn’t dribble.
THURSDAY 30TH APRIL
6.36 p.m.
My brother caught me practising my celebrity chef-ing today. I was talking into Mum’s little mirror pretending it was a camera. He was standing at the door for ages. I told him if he told anyone I would tell everyone about the time I caught him singing to his Katy Perry poster in his underpants.
FRIDAY 1ST MAY
7.35 p.m.
Just asked Goose if I could come to football again. He looked really pleased and said, “Of course you can, Hats – love you to.”
TOMORROW IS TOTALLY ZACH DAY.
SATURDAY 2ND MAY
7.28 p.m.
MARVELLOUSNESS DAY BEYOND MARVELLOUSNESS.
Got up early and changed about 5 times. Went for skin-tight jeans and good Tesco’s top. Actually looked sort of good, I think.
Goose asked why I had dressed up so I told him about the Zach love. He must be going through a bad patch as he seemed a bit annoyed that I was coming just to see Zach.
ANYWAY I stood at the side of the pitch and it was a dead boring game, BUT THEN AT THE END – HEART ATTACK AND TOTALLY MIGHT VOM EVERYWHERE – Zach came over and said, “Do you want to go out for a pizza?” I said, “Love to,” I think. I can’t REALLY remember as I COULD NOT PHYSICALLY BREATHE WITH THE BRILLIANCE OF IT ALL. Then Zach said, “Give me your number and I’ll call you.”
10.45 p.m.
Can’t believe this has happened. Is this actually my life?
10.57 p.m.
I haven’t made it up. It IS my life. My life could be hotness.
SUNDAY 3RD MAY
7.24 a.m.
After a boy has asked you out, when should he call? Think it’s too early now.
9.34 a.m.
PLEASE call, ZACH. PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE CALL.
2.46 p.m.
It’s nearly been 24 hours. WHY HASN’T HE CALLLED?
5.36 p.m.
The Not Fair Protest Group will make it a crime for a boy to say he is going to call then NOT CALL.
6.14 p.m.
Or you HAVE to call within 12 hours. Or text to say you are not interested.
8.13 p.m.
I hate boys. ALL MEN in fact.
9.37 p.m.
Except for Stephen Fry.
10.12 p.m.
And Jeremy Kyle. And Rob. All other men are craptacular.
MONDAY 4TH MAY
7.32 p.m.
ZACH JUST RANG!
BUT disaster.
I left my mobile in the kitchen and ROB ANSWERED IT!!! AND HE ANSWERED IT BY SAYING, “Happy Dragon Takeaway” in a crap Chinese accent. Zach hung up and tried again and I got to the phone first this time. FULL epic conversation:
Z: Hello, Hattie – it’s Zach.
ME: Hi, Zach. Great day for football and doing your washing… (WHY DID I SAY THIS?!)