by Terry Tyler
January 23rd, 2010
Gotcha!
I was in Ollie’s dad’s car this afternoon, ’cause he was taking us two and Laurel and Sonya bowling, and we went past this little village pub and guess who I saw coming out of it, holding hands? J.Dud and this blonde girl! Definitely not Mrs J.Dud, who is a measly-faced old bag. The girl was dead young and pretty. Ugh, what’s she doing with him? I told Erin when I got home and she looked a bit awkward and said I absolutely mustn’t tell anyone, especially not Izzy. So I suppose she knows.
I wonder if all married men carry on behind their wives’ backs? I know what Dad was like, because of stuff Izzy says, but he really loved my mum and was never unfaithful to her. I’d never do that to Laurel. I’m not stupid, I know why I mustn’t say anything about J.Dud. I told Ollie but he wasn’t that interested. Not surprising, as he doesn’t really know him.
February 14th, 2010
I’ve been talking to Laurel most nights on Skype. She’s brilliant, she sent me this Valentine card that she’s made herself, with pictures of her and me on. I got her one from a shop, but it was pretty cool and not too sad, and a box of chocolates too, in a heart shape. Erin sent it with the couriers at the office. Ollie said he’s got a better Valentine present from Sonya, it’s a video of her that she made herself, doing all this sexy stuff, but I asked him to show me it and he wouldn’t, so I reckon it doesn’t exist. Mind you, Sonya’s dead horny so I wouldn’t be surprised. I don’t know if Laurel would do anything like that.
I want to take her to meet Hannah, but I’m only going to if H. promises not to tell the other PPs, or they’ll start all that ooh, look, little itsy-bitsy Jasper’s got himself a little itsy-bitsy girlfriend shit.
March 7th, 2010
I took Laurel over to Hannah’s yesterday. Good day! Hannah didn’t talk down to Laurel at all, she treated her more like a mate. She said, ‘come on, let’s go out and have some fun’, and she took us to Starbucks, then we went to the pictures to see Shutter Island, which was brilliant. That’s another thing I love about Laurel—although she’s dead pretty and sweet, she hates all that crap like The X Factor and stupid chick flicks. She likes scary films, and proper music, not sad pop shit. Her favourite band’s Kasabian.
Hannah said, “You’ve got a lovely one there, you look after her,” and Laurel thought Hannah was cool, too.
March 24th, 2010
Apparently, by the end of the year I will have a hotel in Calais. I want to go and see it. Thanks for keeping me up to speed, J.Dud—not! Will told me about it.
April 7th, 2010
I’m super annoyed. Some tool called Noah Barnes keeps commenting on Laurel’s Facebook. When I logged on tonight she’d been posting all these pics of her and her mate Kayla, and underneath them this wanker Noah Barnes had put ‘hot hot hot’ and ‘gaw-juss babes’, and sad shit like that. I got straight on IM with Laurel to ask her who he is, and she said he’s just a guy in her class. Which is just what I needed to hear—means he’s seeing her every day. Fuck, why do I have to go to an all-boys school? I want to go to Eltham Comp like normal kids.
I sent Noah Barnes a friend request so I can see what he’s up to.
April 8th, 2010
I feel sick at the thought of that creep Noah Barnes sniffing round Laurel all day. Sick, sick, sick. Fuck it, I’m going to sleep.
April 9th, 2010
Wanker Barnes hasn’t accepted my friend request. I sent an IM to Laurel to ask why not. Right, I’ll read the conversation. A lot of it is in texting language, but obviously I’ll read it out properly.
I said: Why hasn’t your mate Noah Barnes accepted my friend request?
’Cause he doesn’t know you! she wrote back.
Well he knows you well enough and you’re my girlfriend, I said.
I’ll ask him to accept it if you want.
You’re joking! Does he know you’re taken?
Yeah (smiley face).
Wonder what he’d say if I was telling his girlfriend she was hot.
He hasn’t got a girlfriend.
Not surprised. Seems like a right dick.
He’s okay.
Do you like him?
He’s just a boy at school that’s all. You know I love yoooo, Jaz!
That made me feel a bit better!
Do ya?
Yeah! xxxxx!
Love ya too, babe! Xxxxx.
I'm still kind of edgy about it, though. At least I’m seeing her tomorrow. We’re going bowling with Ollie and Sonya, and Zach and some girl.
April 15th, 2010
Something isn’t right. Laurel took ages getting back to me on IM tonight, and when I looked at her Facebook page I could see that she was kidding around with Wanker Barnes at the exact time I was sitting there like a sad fuck, waiting for her to reply to me.
I asked her what he’s up to but she says they’re just friends.
She’s fourteen in June and says she’s having a big party. She’d better not invite him.
April 19th, 2010
Will picked me up tonight after school to take me to a meeting at the office, it’s about my new hotel. It was good to hear about it but I hated not being at home, knowing that Laurel’s on Facebook and I’m not.
April 20th, 2010
Laurel’s posted a link to her new Twitter account. I asked her why she’s on there, and she said it’s more cool than Facebook ’cause everyone’s mums and dads are on FB. Well, mine fucking aren’t, are they? I felt really angry for a minute when she said that. None of the grown-ups I know are on it except Erin, but I don’t think she’d snoop on my page. So I made a Twitter profile and went onto Laurel’s to follow her and guess what? The first person she’d followed was Wanker Barnes. Went onto his profile and he’s got about two thousand followers. Laurel says he buys them. What a saddo! I’m guessing it was him who put her up to going on there, right? Ha! Does she think I’m stupid, or what?
April 26th, 2010
I’m bloody sure she’s going out with him, or if she’s not yet he’s trying his best to make it happen, while I’m sitting in my little room on my own talking into my old nanny’s Dictaphone. Hate being stuck in this village! Why can’t we have a crash pad in the town? That would be awesome. I’m going to get one as soon as the money’s all mine.
Watching 24. I wanna be Jack Bauer.
April 27th, 2010
I wish I had someone to talk to about Laurel. I did think of Hannah but I don’t reckon she’s had any experience with stuff like this. Ollie would just take the piss. Laurel still says she loves me but it’s always me who starts off the messaging or Skype now, and if I look on her Facebook or Twitter she’s always fooling around with Barnes.
I mean, he’s got zits, and black hair in this half-hearted Goth style (like he daren’t be a real one), and she said she likes blond hair like mine. Real Goths don’t say things like ‘gaw-juss babes’, anyway.
When I think of her ditching me to go out with him it makes me feel all sick and scared, like when Dad died.
April 30th, 2010
Everything’s shit. Laurel says she can’t meet me tomorrow. We always meet on Saturday. She says it’s a family thing she’s got to go to but I don’t believe her. I can’t accuse her of lying, though, can I?
Over and out.
May 1st, 2010
Got a bad head. I’m lying in bed.
Last night I was wandering round the house, bored. Rosie came over to make sure I was okay, and I lied that I was doing my homework then going to bed early so she’d go away. Pat had gone to the pictures with her friend but Erin was actually at home, which she never is usually on Friday night. She was in the kitchen making some of her weird tea with a towel round her head; she was having an early night because she’s going somewhere today with Eddie Courtenay. Motor racing and cocktail bars, I think. Must be great being a pretty nineteen-year-old girl, you get to do all sorts. Anyway, we got talking, she was asking me about girls and all that, and I ended up spilling my guts about L
aurel.
“Never mind the green tea,” she said, as soon as she sussed out that I was depressed. She got out a bottle of Martini and we had some of that with lemonade and slices of lemon, it was lovely, I hadn’t had it before. I like how alcohol sort of cuts through the lump in your throat when you’re upset. When I was a kid I used to think it was dead cool how grown-ups said ‘I need a drink’, like it was really going to do them some good—Dad used to say it all the time—but now I know what they mean.
Erin said, “I shouldn’t be letting you drink, don’t tell the grown-ups,” and we had a good laugh, like when we were kids. “Well, I used to drink a bit when I was fourteen,” she said, “and I haven’t turned out to be an alcoholic, have I? Anyway French children have wine with water at dinner. That was what Dad used to tell Kate when she got snotty with him about me having some. Don’t start smoking, though, will you?” She lit one up, and we both laughed. She didn’t smoke in the house when Kate lived here, because she wasn’t allowed (Kate tried to stop Dad, too, but he said he wasn’t standing outside to have a cigarette like some pleb), but now she has the odd one. “So,” she said, “come on, tell me more about Laurel.”
“I think she’s gone off me,” I blurted out. I like how drink makes you dare say stuff, too. I don’t like how it makes you too emotional, though—I started to cry. Erin was so nice to me. She put her arm round my shoulder and kissed me on the cheek.
“Poor old you!” she said, then sat back. “I know, it’s shit, isn’t it. Love sucks!”
I was surprised to hear her say that. I thought all the boys loved Erin and she didn’t give a stuff about any of them.
“Has anyone ever packed you in, then?” I asked her.
“Not as such,” she said, “but I’m a bit hacked off that Robert’s going out with that drippy Amy.”
“I thought you weren’t bothered about him. You’re always off out with Eddie. And that Tim.”
“Oh, well, Robert kept on about getting engaged but I thought it was too soon.” She looked sort of distant. “I’ll tell you what you ought to do, little bro. I do it all the time, and it always works. Play a bit hard to get.”
“I don’t think Laurel would care,” I said.
“Sure she would!” my sister said. “She’ll wonder where you are and panic that you’ve gone off her—it’s human nature!”
So I didn’t bother to message Laurel on Facebook again, but obviously I’m not as good at playing hard to get as Erin, because Laurel didn’t immediately demand to know where I was, like Erin said she would. When I looked this morning (I crashed out early ’cause of all the Martini, you see) there was nothing from her. Unless she’s playing hard to get too, but somehow I don’t think she is.
I don’t half feel sick. Pat made me bacon and eggs this morning and I could only just eat it, then I came back up here and got into bed again. Think I’ll stay here and watch zombie DVDs all day as I’m not meeting my girlfriend. Hope none of the PPs come round till later.
Was nice talking to Erin last night. I think we talked about Dad and our mums, too, because she can just remember mine, but it’s all bit hazy.
May 7th, 2010
Laurel hasn’t been in touch with me all week. When I message her she says she’s busy doing schoolwork and will get back to me later, but she doesn’t. I didn’t even bother asking where we’re going to meet tomorrow, it being Saturday ’n’ all, and she didn’t say anything either. So that’s the second Saturday running I’m not seeing her. I’m going to get someone to take me over to Ollie’s tomorrow, I’m fed up with this. Sitting around waiting for her, I mean.
May 13th, 2010
I know she’s dumped me. I’m not stupid. She isn’t even decent enough to tell me that she’s going out with Wanker Barnes. I know she is, because every time she updates on Facebook he leaps in with loads of kisses and smiley faces. And retweets everything she puts on Twitter even if it’s just two words like ‘I’m bored’. I told Erin. She was really nice and gave me a big hug. I felt like crying but I stopped myself.
May 16th, 2010
As if my life wasn’t shitty enough, I’m now in big troub with the PPs. I went over to Ollie’s yesterday afternoon and we were watching demos of games we want to get for the PlayStation, then Zach came round. He’d smuggled four bottles of wine out of his dad’s cellar, put them in his backpack wrapped in t-shirts so they wouldn’t clank together, and told his mum his pack was full of books ’cause we’re having a study session before exams. We got wasted. Ate loads of mints before Pat came to pick me up, but she said I stank of drink. I said I’d just been testing Ollie’s dad’s homemade wine for him (he doesn’t actually make it), but then I suddenly felt very weird indeed. I opened my mouth, said, “oh no!” and was sick all over her, so she kind of sussed that I was lying. It just shot out, loads of it, really fast. She didn’t half yell, she was furious. Don’t blame her really, it was pretty disgusting. I couldn’t stop heaving and retching. It was all over me and the car, too, and Pat made me clean it all up, outside Ollie’s house, even though I was feeling really ill. Ollie’s mum gave me some of his clothes to wear, and Pat a t-shirt and jogging bottoms of her own. The t-shirt was black with a sparkly leopard on and the jogging bottoms were bright pink velour, which Pat was pissed off about, too. Quote: “I go out to pick up a fourteen-year-old schoolboy from his friend’s house, and come back trussed up like Katie Price with a raving drunk.” She rang Uncle Ned up as soon as we got home. Then this morning we had the big family conference. There was Uncle Ned, and Auntie Angie, and Izzy and Hannah, and Will, Pat and Erin—and me. I was like ‘the accused’ facing a jury, with Uncle Ned as PP High Judge.
“You’ve been warned about this one time too many,” he started it off. “I don’t blame you entirely, because although you’re old enough to know better, you’re at an age where you’re susceptible to anything a bit out of bounds”—he said that, like he’s ever done anything out of bounds in his life—“but that doesn’t mean you should be exempt from punishment.” He looked round at the others, and coughed. “The people I consider most to blame are the parents of your friend Ollie, as these episodes occur when you’ve been to their house. I can’t interfere in how they bring up their own children, but I have a very big problem with allowing my nephew to visit a house in which there appears to be next to no parental control.”
I can see ‘next to no parental control’ becoming one of his favourite phrases; he looked dead chuffed after he’d said it. Anyway, then he stopped, and looked round again; all of them, apart from Erin, were nodding in agreement. “Therefore,” he continued, “you will not be allowed to go round to Ollie’s house until the beginning of the summer holidays, at which point, and before any of us drive you over there, I will require Mrs Dawkins’s assurance that you will not be allowed any alcohol at all.”
I mean, the fuck? I’m nearly fourteen and a half, practically an adult, and he’s telling me I can’t go round to see my best mate? What is this, prison?
Then Erin said, “Ned, I think it’s a bit harsh for you to say he can’t go round to see Ollie. Jaz—well, he hasn’t had a very good time of things lately, and—”
Auntie Angie leant forward and put her hand over Erin’s; Erin looked down at her hand then up at her face as if she was something slimy. Erin rocks, sometimes.
“We know what you three have been through,” Auntie said, in her yucky insincere voice, “and indeed your trials have been worse than most, but this is not the answer. This is how alcoholism starts, and we don’t want to see Jasper go down that road, do we? If we don’t consider the Dawkins household a suitable environment for our nephew, then so be it.”
“He’s also my brother, and I’m nineteen,” said Erin.
“Yes, but Kate turned over legal guardianship to us when she left,” Angie said, going a bit pink. “We’ve allowed Jaz to stay in his home because we didn’t want to disrupt his life, but we still have the final say.”
‘Allowed’ me to stay in my h
ome, that’s a good one. More like, they didn’t want me disrupting their life, I reckon, and introducing darling little Cordelia and Imogen to bondage sex and hard drugs. Ha!
“You can’t stop me seeing my friends,” I said, kicking at the table leg. I was annoyed with myself, then, because I knew I sounded like a sulky kid.
“We’re not,” said Uncle Ned, “you can still see Ollie at school, and all your other friends, and if you want to socialise with them you can do it here, where suitable boundaries are in place.”
“They won’t want to come here. Everyone goes round Ollie’s ’cause it’s more fun, Ollie’s got all the best games, and they’ve got a swimming pool, and everything.”
Big mistake. Should’ve pretended we had some study group going down. Then I had another thought. “You’ll let me go round to see my other mates, won’t you?”
“Suitable friends, yes,” Uncle said, “and for the purpose of study only, at the moment. Aside from that, I’m afraid your social life is curtailed until after your exams are over and the summer holidays have commenced.”
Hannah spoke up next. “He can come round to see me, though, right?”
“As long as you don’t ply him with alcohol!” Uncle said, and gave a little laugh. Auntie Angie did a silly little titter. Erin looked at me and mimed sticking her fingers down her throat; I nearly burst out laughing.
“I don’t want to come across as the bad guy, always laying down the law,” Uncle said, looking at me and deliberately making his voice go softer, “but your father wouldn’t have wanted me to allow you to visit homes in which there is next to no parental control.”
Bingo!
So that’s it. I’m gutted. I think my girl’s dumped me, and I can’t go round Ollie’s. I’ll be a social outcast if I can’t go round to his! Zach and the others will still go, and I’ll be left out, sitting here at home on my own, without Laurel!
May 22nd, 2010
I’m so fucked off it’s not true. It’s a brilliant day, dead summery, and everyone’s going round Ollie’s ’cause his mum’s having the first barbie of the season. That’s everyone, except me. I fucking hate Uncle Ned. I sent Laurel a long message telling her to at least have the nerve to tell me if she’s going out with Fuck Face Arsewipe Wanky Bollocks Barnes instead of me.