The exam was fine.
Polly (vaginal scroll in place) just grinned like an idiot, and I was like: “Did it go all right, then?” But she was just like: “It’s over, Phoebe, that’s all that matters right now. A dark cloud has shifted, a heavy weight has been lifted, oh, I’m such a poet.”
I never should have told her about the tilting of the pelvis, because quite frankly, she’s even more in love, a.k.a. insane now.
She asked me about Melanie, though, and wanted to know how I was doing, and I just shrugged, because sometimes things are what they are, and it sucks. So Polly gave me one finger of her Kit Kat and told me she loves me.
I’m sad about Melanie dying, but I’m mostly sad about Bill feeling sad.
Wednesday, June 13 #Chemistry
I was surprisingly motivated this morning, because I was like: Okay, superb knowledge of chemistry and chemistry-related problem solving is going to be vital when exploring outer space.
All last night I was willing my brain to take a mental photograph of the periodic table, but it never happened/developed, which is fine, because it wouldn’t actually have been helpful.
The exam went fine, and tonight we had Bill over for dinner.
I hadn’t seen him since the hospital.
It sounds like Pat has taken over his life, which is great, because there’s so much ridiculous stuff people want you to get on with, like death certificates, canceling bank cards, insurances, etc.
How awful having to deal with all that crap when all you really want to do is curl up in a ball and cry.
One of the nondesigner kittens loves Bill. It came over, licked his shoe for ages, then it clawed its way up his yellow corduroy trousers and went to sleep in his lap.
PS: I have concluded that emotional attachment is not a good thing.
I understand that through the history of evolution humans were better off in groups, and forming emotional bonds made sense, but we’re not exactly hunter-gatherers anymore.
I don’t ever want to be like Bill or Emma, so heartbroken and sad.
PPS: I have no exams tomorrow, so I am going to sleep until I’m no longer tired. Emma has Spanish.
Thursday, June 14 #DustToDust
So the one day I could sleep in I was up at seven. Life.
I studied for Physics 2 in the morning and went to the thrift shop in the afternoon.
It felt all wrong with one person now forever missing.
Emma came in after her Spanish exam. I hadn’t expected to see her, so that was nice. She now hugs me every time she sees me, and I’m wondering if that will stay the same once we stop being sad about Melanie.
Alex, as always, had all the answers to life’s greatest question, saying that we come from dust, and when we’re done living, we become dust again, and that even the Earth is going to crumble to dust one day.
I didn’t have the heart to tell him, mainly because Melanie is being cremated, that it’ll actually go up in flames first when our sun goes supernova.
I suppose he does have a point, though.
Kate’s picking me up after my exam tomorrow, and then we’re getting Emma. The funeral is at two thirty.
I don’t want to go.
PS: My stomachache is back.
I swear it’s psychosomatic.
Friday, June 15 #Funerals
Emma and I held hands today.
At the funeral.
Which means that I don’t know what that means.
Before we went into the little chapel at the crematorium, I was like: “I really don’t want to go,” but Emma was just like: “Phoebe, unlike at the hospital, this isn’t about you. This is about Bill, so you need to get over yourself. And I’m sorry if that sounds harsh.”
So I sat on a bench, and the whole time, I was thinking: Don’t be sick, don’t be sick, don’t be sick, because I felt like I was going to vomit.
I sat against the wall in the third row from the front, and Emma sat to my left, then Kate, James, Alex’s dad, Alex, Alex’s mum, and Pat.
My stomach was fluttering like mad, and I was shaking, and when I looked over at Emma, she was crying again, even though the service hadn’t even started, and then I wanted to cry, too, because it made me so sad.
Bill looked very smart in a three-piece suit, and he nodded at us when he saw us. There were a gazillion old people there, and the place was absolutely heaving, and at one point, I turned around and saw that people were even standing in the back and in the aisle because there was nowhere left to sit.
Me (whispering to Emma): I think I’m going to be sick. What if I have to be sick, and I can’t get out, and I throw up all over these people?
Emma (unzipping her Topshop handbag and holding it open for me):…
Me: No way.
Emma: You’re not going to be sick, but yes. Just in case.
Me: Thank you.
And then Emma took my hand, and interlaced her fingers with mine, and kissed it the way I had kissed hers the day Melanie died.
I noticed that Kate noticed, but she didn’t say anything.
The whole funeral took no more than half an hour.
Because I hadn’t been to one I don’t actually know how good it was, but I thought it was nice.
The only awful part was at the very end when the coffin got transported out on a conveyer belt and they played “Fly Me to the Moon,” and everyone who wasn’t already crying burst into tears and watched Melanie leave the room. Then the curtain shut behind her, and the funeral narrator person was kind of like: Okay, everyone, show’s over, and so we weren’t allowed to sit there and digest what had happened, because the next funeral party was already outside, waiting to come in.
I can’t get over the fact that Melanie’s whole life was reviewed in less than half an hour.
Imagine it, you live for eighty-six years, then you die, and a stranger narrates the highlights, before gently yet firmly ushering your friends out of the chapel, because he has to do the very same about another dead person he never met five minutes later.
I’m not being funny, but emotional detachment is potentially the greatest superpower of our time.
After the funeral, we went on to Bill’s sailing club to have designer canapes and drinks, and Bill just said: “Thank you everyone for coming.”
This time last week he was giving a roaring speech about that Star Wars poster.
Saturday, June 16 #Pat
I know Pat’s the most horrendous person that ever lived, but turns out she’s really good in a crisis.
She’s basically living at Bill’s house, because he’s still so shocked he can barely get out of bed in the mornings.
According to Kate, Pat has repeatedly been threatening to send him into a home, which is a bit harsh, considering Melanie’s only been dead for a week, but it’s also a bit LOL, TBH.
PS: It also just occurred to me that GCSEs are almost over. All I have left is the certificate in Math 1 and 2, and then it’s done. How did that happen?
PPS: Polly has dance GCSE on Tuesday. I don’t understand how you can give an academic grade on dance, but best of luck to everyone. LOL.
Sunday, June 17 #ViolentDelights
Emma and I accidentally had a nap together this afternoon, and it was the best thing in the world ever.
She has no more exams, and so decided to spontaneously come over at lunchtime, and we made cheese toasties and cups of tea. Emma played with Richard, and then I was like: “What do you want to do?” And Emma said that she didn’t want to do anything because she was really tired, and so I was like: “Great, we can just watch some crap on telly.”
We put on old episodes of Love Island, and not five minutes into it, Emma was like: “These people are so redundant.”
I remember thinking about what a great word that is, and then the next thing I knew, I was waking up with Emma’s bare legs across me. She was asleep, and I was just like: This is nice, and so I went back to sleep, too.
We only woke up when Kate and James ca
me back from their romantic brunch date (blech!) and Kate was like: “Phoebe! Emma!”
I felt busted, but I don’t think she meant it in that way, because she was smirking at me, and I was thinking: If you say anything embarrassing right now, I’m leaving forever.
Emma’s parents were expecting her for dinner, so she couldn’t stay, and I walked her home at five.
Just before we got to her house, she took my hand again, and I let her hold it, even though after, like, five seconds, I had a seriously sweaty palm situation going on, and my stomach was 100 percent literally fluttering, and then I was like: Remember the list, and then I forgot to breathe like a normal person, which made me so dizzy that I nearly passed out.
When we said goodbye, we hugged, and even though I’ve hugged Emma loads now, I still don’t know what to do with my hands, which is ridiculous, because when I hug Polly, I literally don’t even think about it.
I was just wondering if my arms felt at all awkward to Emma when she pulled away, and then suddenly her nose brushed along the side of my face, and it accidentally made me flinch.
Emma smiled at me, but her eyes looked like she was trying to work out an advanced sudoku.
I must have looked like a fish out of water, all twitchy, with huge fish eyes, and a gasping fish mouth.
Weird how much can happen in one second.
10:21 P.M.
If Emma had kissed me, I think I would have kissed her back, even though I have no idea how to kiss someone like Emma.
10:50 P.M.
Who am I kidding? I don’t know how to kiss anyone, but it never mattered, because it never mattered.
I wonder if Emma is feeling any of the things I’m feeling, because there are moments when I think it’s impossible I’m the only one who’s losing her mind over this.
It’s so different in Romeo and Juliet, because they basically kiss before they even know each other, which not only makes their love story a lot less complicated than people want to admit, but a lot less heartbreaking in the end.
PS: I’m going to have to get that list back out if I don’t want to go INSANE!
PPS: “These violent delights have violent ends.” (Friar Laurence, Romeo and Juliet, act 2, scene 6.)
PPPS: I also spoke to Mum today, and I realized that sometimes I forget she exists.
Monday, June 18 #Brainfreeze
Polly and I went to Starbucks this afternoon, because:
a) we didn’t have school, and
b) Tristan had a dentist appointment.
Polly: I can’t believe GCSEs are basically over.
Me: I know. I hated it, and I never want to do it again, but it wasn’t too bad, looking back.
Polly: I bet you never even studied.
Me: Of course I studied. And the only reason I didn’t study as much as I’d originally planned was because I can’t think straight at the moment. But luckily I always paid attention in class, not like you, always thinking about Tristan.
Polly (staring into the distance, eyes glazing over): I know. I’m so in love.
Me: Please, I’m eating.
Polly: One day you’ll be in love, and you’ll be happy like me.
Me:…
So for the rest of the afternoon, all I could think of was that maybe I’m not in love, because I’m certainly not happy, I’m miserable. I’m a mess. And maybe you can only be in love when the other person is also in love with you. Which would mean that right now I’m basically one of those freaky fan celebrity stalkers. Except the other person knows I exist.
I’d see a psychiatrist, but imagine going to one with something this stupid.
I’m still hoping it will go away, because Polly was in love with Adam Smith once, and now she’s just like: “Meh, he wasn’t that great.”
Tuesday, June 19 #IHateHumans
Further Mathematics 1 was okay.
What I hate most is people doing last-minute studying in the corridor or on the toilet. Like you’re going to have a eureka moment at that point.
Miriam Patel is the worst for it.
Here’s what GCSEs have taught me above all else: I hate people.
Today someone was doing that thing when they were sucking snot back up into their nose every thirty seconds for the entire duration of the exam, instead of blowing their nose once and being done with it.
I could have punched someone.
Maybe I’m not capable of going on a space mission after all. It would be just my luck to be on the same rocket ship as the snot-sucker-upper.
Polly and I went to Starbucks after school.
We sat outside, and for a moment, it felt like last year’s summer holidays, and I took a deep breath, and then I thought how I haven’t noticed taking a breath for, like, months.
Polly was like: “What’s different with you?”
I told her that I’m tired, but she looked at me through half-closed eyes, stretching her legs after what must have been an exhausting dance GCSE, and went: “We’re all tired…”
I can’t talk to her about it.
Also, what if I said to her: Oh, by the way, remember Emma?
What’s the point?
Emma could be with anybody. Why would she want to be with me?
Wednesday, June 20 #HowToFixTheUnfixable
We need to do something about Bill.
Kate says that Pat says that he’s going to actually die of a broken heart.
I’ve Googled it, and even though it seems to be largely a myth, there are recorded occurrences where couples have died within minutes or days of each other. It’s odd to think that your body would allow that, because have you ever tried holding your breath? The body proper fights for it.
I messaged Emma to see if she has any suggestions.
Me: How did you get over Bradley dying?
Emma: I didn’t.
Me: Sorry.
Emma: OK.
Me: How do you keep going?
Emma: Because of my parents. I don’t want them to see me broken. I don’t think they could handle it.
Me: Are you still broken, then?
Emma: Yes.
Me: I wish you were happy.
Emma: I am happy. But I’m also broken. But it takes a lot of work to be both.
Me: What about Bill?
Emma: I don’t know. I think he needs something to live for.
Me: Pat?
Emma: LOL.
Me: Seriously, though.
Emma: Maybe we need to tell him that he’s got responsibilities at the shop. I mean, he actually has.
Me: True. Kate’s already complaining that Pat’s at Bill’s all the time and nothing in the shop gets done.
Emma: And we haven’t been there loads, either.
Me: I know.
Emma: I have to go now. Talk to you tomorrow?
Me: I’ll be at work tomorrow. Talk to you then.
Emma: x
Me: x
Thursday, June 21 #TheGameIsOn
Further Mathematics 2 marked the end of my GCSEs.
Loads of people were having a get-together in the park after, but I was just like: I need to not see you for a while, and so I went to the thrift shop as promised.
Kate had bought me a bunch of flowers to say well done, and she kissed my face for literally five minutes whilst holding me in a death grip.
Emma just laughed.
Because we’ve been shit, Emma and I decided to up our game and have an actual donation of the week contest with each other. And this is how it’ll work:
Instead of just having the one, we’re going to choose one ridiculous donation each, work on the display, try to sell it for at least ten pounds, and whoever sells theirs first wins. We’re going to play every week until the end of the school year, and then whoever has won overall buys the other Sprinkles.
This means: More fun for us, more money for the shop, and ice cream at the end.
Also: Alex is not allowed to take sides, but must promote both entries equally. He obviously has a lot to
say about that, but we told him he can come to Sprinkles, so he’s less frowny already.
My first candidate is a pair of bowling shoes I found on the bottom of the hideous-shoes-that-are-never-going-to-sell pile.
They are bright red, totally worn, and have zero grip.
I cleaned them until they looked super shiny, labeled them VINTAGE, and put them in the window for fifteen pounds.
Emma found a framed picture of pressed flowers that she put in the display cabinet with a sign saying A PICTURE IS WORTH A THOUSAND WORDS. I reckon it’s worth nothing, but we’ll see.
The shoes are a definite winner.
PS: I’m a free agent now. No more exams. But now starts the horrible wait for results. Seriously, school is basically an endless string of unavoidable events that make you feel literally sick.
Friday, June 22 #WhatHaveIAgreedTo
Today Polly was like: “Have you ever been to Tooting Lido?”
Me: Never. I don’t believe in outdoor swimming. Where is it?
Polly: Tooting.
Me: You’re funny.
Polly: I know. That’s why I’m your favorite.
Me (thinking: She’s right, she is still my favorite.): Why?
Polly: Because Tristan and I want to go on Sunday.
Me: Have fun.
Polly: And we were wondering if you wanted to come.
Me: And watch you guys make out in a swimming pool? Let me think … eeeeehm, no!
Polly: It won’t be like that.
Me: You say that now, but then you see him in his swimming trunks with his skinny little legs poking out, and you’ll be like: OMG, I must lick all that immediately.
Polly:…
Me: What?
Polly: That’s what you think of me, isn’t it? That I’m a sex-crazed maniac.
Me:…
Polly: I actually love spending time with Tristan, and I love spending time with you, so why is it so difficult for your smart brain to process that maybe I just want to have my two favorite people in the same place every once in a while?
Me:…
Polly: So are you coming or not?
Me: I’m coming.
Polly: Good. Geeez! It’s like drawing blood from a stone with you.
Love Is for Losers Page 20