by Liz Rettig
Liz argued with him. ‘Holiday weps are shupposed to be extwoverts, not misherable shocks and snicker ironin’ intwoverts.’
But the guy didn’t seem to understand her. You’d think they’d hire reps with better English, for God’s sake.
Still, getting back on the floor allowed me to try out some break dancing. I’ve never tried it before as I always thought it looked a bit difficult, but it turned out to be a lot easier than I’d imagined. Everyone watched and applauded wildly as I spun round on just one elbow, then jumped up and did a couple of forward rolls followed by two backward flips and a cartwheel.
Some people took photographs; others whistled. Only the rep and Liz seemed to be trying to stop me. Wondered what was the matter with Liz. Maybe she was jealous of all the attention I was getting. Not like her though. Anyway, I was having way too much fun, so I ignored them, concentrating instead on the roars of approval from the rest of my audience.
After dancing on my hands I tried a double forward flip but unfortunately didn’t quite make it and fell, bumping my head. Surprisingly it wasn’t painful, and though I was now feeling a bit dizzy, I thought I’d give it another try. However, Liz had got hold of me and hissed in my ear, ‘Kelly Ann, you’re wearing a shirt. Member.’
Shirtmember? What was Liz on about? She must be drunk.
Tried to shake her off but she clutched at me desperately, then pointed to my skirt. Oh my God, I was wearing a skirt. And I’d been dancing upside down.
Pants!
FRIDAY JULY 30TH
Woke up this morning feeling awful. Had a sore head, felt sick, and my tongue seemed to be stuck to the roof of my mouth. Also my whole body felt as though someone had battered me with a baseball bat. Obviously I was seriously ill and someone would have to call for an ambulance.
I opened my eyes but instantly closed them again, drawing the sheet back over my head. The room was bathed in sunlight so bright it hurt my eyes. Must have forgotten to close the blinds last night. And, oh yes, bright sunlight, so I was still in Spain and not back home in Glasgow. Wonder what the Spanish for ambulance is. Wish I’d done Spanish instead of French at school, then I would be able to call for help. Strange to think I might die just because of choosing the wrong subjects in second year.
I twisted round in my sweaty sheets to lie face down on my pillow, but that just made me feel more nauseous so I turned onto my back again, which made my head throb.
Well, I didn’t care about dying any more. I can totally see why euthanasia is a really good thing. What is the point of my continued existence when I feel this bad? My quality of life is rubbish and I’d be better off dead.
I suppose my parents would have to fly my body back home but how would they get my coffin onto the plane? There was hardly room for me sitting on my seat, never mind lying out in a large wooden box. Maybe if they laid it across their knees? But no, a coffin on the plane would freak people out. There must be somewhere else to put them.
I stretched over and nudged Liz awake. ‘Liz, where do coffins go on planes?’
Liz said, ‘Leavemelonengoway.’
Hmm. Maybe they’d put my body in the same place as the luggage, though I’ve heard it gets very cold there. Also they’d probably lose the coffin and I’d end up in, like, Guatemala, alone and frozen like a large fish finger.
I prodded Liz awake again. ‘I don’t want to die, Liz. Have you got a Spanish phrase book?’
She groaned and sat up. ‘You’re not going to die, you idiot. You’re just hung over. From the sangria.’
This was a hangover? Oh my God. Maybe I should have been nicer to Mum and Dad in the mornings.
At last we were on the plane back to Glasgow. Am feeling a bit better now but can’t wait to get home to dull grey skies and cans of Irn Bru, which I’d had a craving for all day. Fortunately Mum and Dad didn’t notice that anything was wrong with Liz or me. Mum just said we were a pair of grumpy buggers today. Dad laughed and said, ‘No change there then.’ He was a bit suspicious when we kept our sunglasses on inside the airport though.
Now that I was feeling a bit better I started to think about what an idiot I’d made of myself last night.
‘Oh God, Liz,’ I whispered. ‘I suppose everyone must have seen my knickers.’
Liz nodded. ‘Yeah. Everyone. Still, at least they were the same colour as your skirt.’
‘What difference does that make?’
‘Hmm. None really, except that you looked sort of coordinated. Unlike your dancing.’
‘Thanks, Liz.’
Obviously I could never go to Spain again. Or (after Liz showed me the picture Charlie had taken on his mobile – and thoughtfully sent to Liz – of me doing a onehanded cartwheel) Liverpool.
SATURDAY JULY 31ST
Was awake for ages last night. Couldn’t stop thinking about the total embarrassment of my stupid dancing at the party. Eventually I decided that no one there knew me and I never needed to see any of them again.
Exhausted, I was almost drifting off to sleep when the Spanish boys at the beach popped into my head. They were just so gorgeous. Especially the tallest one. Mmmm – just remembering how his strong, tanned body looked as he dived off the rocks into the ocean made me feel all hot and sweaty. In a very nice way.
I really would love to have a boyfriend like that. And not just to shut Shelly up or so I can fit in with friends who’ve all dated someone by now. No. I wanted a boyfriend just for me. And if I had to wear make-up, fiveinch heels and a bikini that looked as though it had been made from three miniature post-it notes and some dental floss, then so be it.
I suppose, at last, I really am growing up. Maybe Mum would be pleased if she knew. Don’t think Dad would though.
SUNDAY AUGUST 1ST
Was passing my sister’s bedroom when I heard her sobbing. Bloody hell, what was up with her? She had seemed a bit quiet and moody yesterday but I thought she was just depressed that we were all back and she wouldn’t have the house to herself any more. Didn’t think she’d actually be crying about it this morning though – after all, she knew we would only be gone for two weeks.
I decided to find out what was up, so I knocked then went in. She was sitting on her bed snuffling into a damp tissue and her eyes were red. Noticed that the duvet cover was slightly rumpled, there was a used tissue lying on the floor by her feet and her T-shirt hadn’t been ironed. Things must be really serious.
‘What’s wrong?’ I asked.
‘Nothing,’ she sniffed, without looking up.
‘Oh great, I’ll be off then,’ I joked, trying to cheer her up.
She looked up at me. ‘It’s Graham. We’re … we’re finished.’
I put my hand over my mouth to disguise my relieved smile, then spoke through my fingers, trying to sound as sympathetic as possible. ‘Oh God, I’m sorry. What happened?’
‘I don’t want to talk about it,’ she said – then proceeded to tell me all about it of course. Every detail.
‘Graham was over here sometimes when you were all away on holiday. Not staying the night or anything—’
‘Course not.’ Yeah, right.
‘Just, um, to watch TV and, erm, chat. Anyway, last Saturday night he was reading the Metro while I ran a bath. I’d just added my peach and passion fruit Pamper Me bath bombs to the bath water and was ready to get in when Graham asked if he could pop into the toilet for a second, so I said OK.’
She started crying again so I sat down beside her and handed her another tissue from the box on the bedside table. Bloody hell, I wondered what Graham could have done to get her this upset. Maybe he attacked her in the bath – but no, though Graham is a tosser, I didn’t think he was a psycho and I couldn’t believe he’d do anything like that. More likely he’d just forgotten to fold the hand towel properly. You could never tell what stupid little thing might get to Angela.
After a few minutes she’d calmed down again and continued, ‘But Graham wasn’t in the toilet just for a second. He was in for quite
a long time. When I went in afterwards it was obvious he’d sat down on the toilet.’
‘Yuck, gross.’
‘The stench was awful, Kelly Ann. You couldn’t smell my peach and passion fruit Pamper Me bath bombs at all. Totally ruined my bath. And he didn’t even apologize.’
‘Tosser.’
‘I was so stupid. So naive. I should have realized what was going to happen when he took the newspaper in with him.’
She started to sob again, so I patted her hand and said, ‘Anyway, you did the right thing dumping him. That’ll teach him to crap in your bath.’
‘He didn’t actually cra—’
‘Good as,’ I said.
‘Anyway, I didn’t dump him right away. We … we had a row about it. Said terrible things to each other. I … I called him an inconsiderate pig.’
‘Too right.’
‘And he said … he said … I was a – a fusspot.’
‘No!’
‘Yes. And so I told him, if he thought I was a fusspot maybe he should just shove off. And then … and then … he did.’ She started sniffling again. ‘It’s over, Kelly Ann. We haven’t spoken to each other for a week.’
‘You’re better off without him,’ I said sincerely.
‘Do you think so?’
‘Definitely. And you’ll soon meet someone else. Someone much better than him.’
‘Really?’
‘Yeah, well, probably. Maybe, anyway.’
Angela hugged me. ‘You’re the best sister I’ve ever had.’
Hmm.
‘And I think your boobs have grown a bit.’
I hugged her back. There are times when I really like my sister.
MONDAY AUGUST 2ND
Angela seemed in a better mood today, although now she’s decided to give up guys for good rather than try to find someone else.
‘You’re so right not to bother with boyfriends, Kelly Ann. Dirty, smelly, disgusting things. I never want to have anything to do with them ever again in my life.’
Weird that she’s given up on boys just as I’m starting to get interested in them.
Inspected myself in the full-length mirror in my bedroom. Baggy T-shirt, torn combats and greying trainers. And I knew, without looking, that all my other clothes were like that, barring the one skirt Aunt Kate bought me for Christmas. Obviously I was going to need an entire new wardrobe before I could hope to get a decent boyfriend.
Yeah, but with different clothes I would look nice, wouldn’t I? I examined my image again. Frizzy brown hair, flat chest and spotty face. Right, OK then, an entire new wardrobe, wig, implants and a face transplant. That should do it.
Trudged downstairs, depressed. Wondered if I’d still get spots after a face transplant. Probably.
Mum and Dad were at work and Angela had gone shopping for stuff she needs for starting college, so I’d the place to myself, which I’d normally enjoy, but not today. Today I felt ugly. Something had to be done.
Looked through the beauty sections of Mum’s old magazines but they were useless. Didn’t want to look ten years younger and lose a stone. I wanted to look older and grow breasts. Went up to Angela’s room. Found some teen mags – neatly bound and catalogued in date order of course – and flicked through them. These were more promising. Apparently you could change your whole image just by some clever application of the right makeup. And they had step-by-step guides which looked really easy. In just a few minutes each day I could create a whole new me. Sounds exactly what I needed. And the model certainly looked fabulous. Wouldn’t mind looking like her.
Decided to ‘borrow’ Angela’s make-up. Don’t suppose she’ll mind now that she’s given up on boys for good anyway. Didn’t take me long to find it. It was on top of her dressing table and labelled MAKE-UP, between the jewellery box labelled JEWELLERY and the scrapbook labelled … yeah, you guessed it.
I’d never used make-up before, or even played with it when I was a kid, but how hard could it be? After all, some girls at my school with IQs of pond plankton use make-up. If they could do it, so could I.
The magazine advised me to highlight my best features so I decided to do my eyes first as everyone says they’re nice. But trying to create a ‘dramatic sunset sensation’ by blending deep blue, purple and gold shades above and below my lids didn’t work out that well for me. I looked more like a victim of domestic abuse.
Washed it off and decided to concentrate on having ‘irresistibly kissable’ lips instead. Opted for ‘this season’s sexy scarlet shade’, adding a top coat of ‘juicy gloss to plump and shine’.
Unfortunately the gloss smudged some of the colour outside of my lips (maybe lipliner has some use after all) and I even managed to get some lipstick on my teeth. How did that happen? Hmm. Don’t know about being irresistibly kissable. Looked more like I’d just finished feasting on a raw, bloody carcass.
Maybe some boys liked that. Or maybe there was more to using make-up properly than I’d thought. The pond plankton girls can’t have been quite so dumb after all.
TUESDAY AUGUST 3RD
Not too many spots today, although the one on the end of my nose is getting bigger. And of course everyone knows that one spot on the end of your nose is equal to at least ten anywhere else. It seems to kind of scream, Hey, look at me, everybody! Here I am! Look, I’m right at the end of her nose, you can’t miss me.
Depressed, I flicked through Angela’s mags again but didn’t find any new cures for spots, though did see a feature that said boys love girls who have shiny, healthy hair. Examined my frizzy mop in the mirror. Maybe I should just give up now. Unless I dyed it blonde of course. Boys don’t seem to care if blonde hair is peroxided to a frazzle and sits on top of a gargoyle – they’ll ask it for a date. But Mum won’t let me.
Went back to the hair article and read about solutions for ‘the dreaded frizz’. Didn’t have any of the products they suggested in the house, but then I saw a section that suggested I could use ‘cheap natural ingredients you can find in your own kitchen’. Like a hair rinse made with vinegar, and beer shampoo.
Decided to try the vinegar.
Don’t ask. All I’m saying is when the instructions say ‘one or two drops of vinegar’ they don’t mean half a bottle. Don’t know about attracting boys, but I’ve been followed around outside by every salivating stray dog in the place thinking I’m a fish and chip shop.
FRIDAY AUGUST 6TH
Decided to try the beer shampoo in the hope it might disguise the smell of vinegar, which I’ve been unable to get rid of completely, along with my canine followers.
But Dad is furious. He’s refusing to believe anyone would shampoo their hair with beer. ‘Pull the other one. Next you’ll be telling me you and your mum bathe in sodding ass’s milk.’
I’ve been grounded for a week for stealing and drinking alcohol. Bet he wouldn’t have been so mad if it hadn’t been his last ‘sodding can’. I smell like a brewery so I wouldn’t want to go out, but still, it’s just so unfair.
SATURDAY AUGUST 7TH
Mum has made me stand in the shower for nearly half an hour until I smelled ‘less like an alky and more like a normal moaning-faced teenager’. However, she’s also convinced Dad that I’m just a complete eejit and not a budding alky so my grounding has been lifted.
They’ve got a nerve talking about the misuse of alcohol, if you ask me, but no one does.
THURSDAY AUGUST 12TH
Went over to see Liz today. She’d bought a new DVD of Smashed to Pieces which she said was fantastic so we put it on.
Liz kept going on about Zach, who she fancies big time.
‘Mmm,’ she said dreamily, ‘he’s gorgeous, isn’t he? And so interesting. I mean, he’s just got out of rehab for the fourth time and has attempted suicide twice.’
Zach was OK looking but I hardly noticed him as I couldn’t take my eyes off Jason. Watching him somehow reminded me of those Spanish boys on holiday. Not sure why as he has sun-bleached blond hair and blue eyes. Maybe
it was because of how he made me feel. Sort of tingles in my tummy. Oh God, yes, Jason was hot. Must borrow this DVD from Liz sometime so I can watch it again just by myself.
FRIDAY AUGUST 13TH
Angela enrolled at college today. Feels a bit weird that she won’t be at school with me any more and will have no clue what I’m doing during the day. And she’ll have nothing to report back to my parents. Yeah, it will be weird but good weird. Finally I’m free of my nosy informer.
She came into my bedroom this morning and woke me up so I could wish her good luck. Told her to sod off but I don’t think she heard me properly as she just said, ‘Thanks, Kelly Ann. I’ll tell you all about it as soon as I get back. What do you think of my new outfit? I bought it especially for my first day.’
Was forced to open my eyes and look just to get rid of her. She was wearing a crisp white blouse buttoned to the neck and tucked into a navy blue pleated skirt. Add a tie and she could have been wearing her school uniform.
I mumbled, ‘Cool.’
She totally failed to notice any sarcasm in my voice and skipped out happily, swinging her new, polished briefcase beside her. It’s official. I really do have the saddest sister in the whole of Scotland. Maybe the planet.
SATURDAY AUGUST 14TH
Angela actually met some new people at college yesterday and she was invited to a party tonight. Maybe, at long last, she is turning into a normal teenage sister I don’t have to be ashamed of.
She didn’t look too naff going out either. OK, her jeans did have a sharp crease ironed into them and her T-shirt was kind of stiff, like she’d starched it or something, but she didn’t tuck it into her jeans. And she’d nice blue canvas wedge shoes with a matching bag so the leather briefcase would be left at home, thank God.
Was surprised when she set off at six thirty though – it seemed a bit early for a student party but, OK, maybe they would be going to a pub first. Maybe she’d even come back a bit wasted like other people’s big sisters do. I could only hope.