Liz is all like,
‘That pikey’s staring again, Jess.
I reckon you’re in there!’
She smirks and
and Shawna goes,
‘Eww, man, I think he really fancies you.’
She sticks out her tongue,
blue from the gobstopper she’s been sucking,
and waggles it.
Meg lets out a laugh and says,
‘Maybe he wants to show you a good time in his caravan.’
Everyone in the corridor can hear,
and she thinks
it’s well funny,
like we haven’t heard the gypsy joke
a hundred times today
already.
She reaches into her locker and
pulls out
a book,
holds it up:
Big Fat Gypsy Weddings.
Where the hell did she get that?
‘Really?’ I ask.
‘What?’ Meg high-fives Shawna,
and they squeal
like ugly sick pigs,
like nasty little witches about to brew up
something poisonous.
‘Gonna cut out some pictures and post them around
the place,’ Meg says.
‘Might give a few to Dan, so he can
put ’em up in the changing rooms.’
Liz is like, ‘That’s hil-ar-ious.’
And I could say,
But is it?
Is it hilarious?
Cos I think it’s boring.
I think you’re boring.
All of you.
And anyway he doesn’t live in a caravan.
He lives in a flat.
But I don’t say anything
cos I don’t wanna be on the receiving end
of Meg’s bile.
‘I’ve got French,’ I say instead,
and turn away.
Behind me I hear whispering.
Nothing else.
I keep walking.