Dear Diary,
Taylor is on holiday with her parents for the whole of Easter and I feel miserable. I haven’t seen her since the last day at school and I won’t see her again until next Tuesday when we go back. She sent me a postcard. Mum barged into my bedroom with a big grin on her face to give it to me a couple of days ago. She thought it would make me happy. It didn’t. Taylor seems to be having a lot of fun without me and I don’t think she misses me at all.
I’m not going on holiday this year, not even somewhere in England, Mum says we can’t afford it. When I pointed out that Dad has been working loads so we should have lots of money, she just cried. She’s always crying lately and she’s not fat any more; I wonder if maybe she’s too sad to eat. One night last week she was too sad to make lunch or dinner. I’m not allowed to touch the oven, so I just ate crisps and biscuits. I asked Mum if she was still sad about Nana and she said she was sad about everything.
Mum said she’d take me to Brighton again one day next week if I was good. I asked her where she would take me if I was bad, but she didn’t laugh. I’ve reminded her that I’m ten and a half now, so I’m a bit old for the kids’ rides, but I don’t mind walking along the pier and I like the sound of the sea. Now that I am older, Mum has started looking for a part-time job, like Taylor’s mum. She hasn’t got one so far, even though she’s applied for loads. Every time she gets an interview, she wears her hundred-year-old black suit, puts on too much make-up, then comes home and drinks all afternoon. I wouldn’t give her a job either, she’s too sad and lazy. I had to wear the same shirt for school three days in a row before the holidays. She said it didn’t matter and that nobody would notice, then sprayed some disgusting perfume on me so that I stank of her all day.
My packed lunches have also taken an interesting twist. Part of Dad’s job is to fill up the sweet machines where he works. One of the perks of his job is being able to bring home boxes of free chocolate and crisps. Last week, he brought home a box of forty KitKats. We ran out of bread before the last day of term, so Mum gave me two KitKats for my packed lunch instead of butter-and-crisp sandwiches, which was fine with me. But then the lunch monitor spotted what I was eating and thought I’d forgotten my lunch, even though I told her that I hadn’t. She sent me to join the kids who have hot meals, which was great, because that’s what Taylor does.
She was sitting alone, as usual, so I sat down on her table. But then there was a fuss because, apparently, Mum hasn’t paid the school for the last time I had to have a hot lunch. In the end, I think Mrs MacDonald felt sorry for me or something, because she paid for it herself and told me not to worry. By the time I got my fish and chips, everyone else had been sent out for playtime. I could see almost the whole school on the field while I ate my lunch. I spotted a group of girls from my class and saw Taylor standing in the middle of them. They pushed her between them as though she was a rag doll and she didn’t look like she was enjoying it. When she tried to leave, they joined hands and closed the gaps between them, pushing her back to the centre of their circle. I left my chips and said that I didn’t want any of the dessert either, even though I was still hungry. I ran to the playing field but I couldn’t find Taylor or any of the other girls. I ran to the quadrangle where she sometimes sat on the steps on her own, but she wasn’t there either.
I went back to our classroom, even though it was still break time, but it was empty. Then something caught my eye, something out of place. I walked over to the class fish tank and looked at the dead goldfish floating on the surface of the green-tinged water. Taylor and I had helped clean the tank a few weeks ago. Mrs MacDonald taught us that you empty the liquid by putting a piece of hose in the water and sucking the other end. The water rushes out by itself if you do it right, and you can collect it in a bucket. It’s all to do with gravity. Like the moon and the stars. I got a mouthful of fish tank water the first time I tried it and Taylor laughed at me. I don’t think anyone has cleaned it since.
I knew the fish was dead and I couldn’t decide how I felt about that. I had a goldfish that died when I was little. Nana flushed it down the toilet and I was sad. But that was mine, it had belonged to me. This fish wasn’t mine but, while I tried to find the right feelings to feel about it, my hands did their own thing and opened the lid of the tank. I don’t know why I wanted to hold it. It was wet and slippery and cold. Taylor came into the classroom then. She looked at the dead fish, then she looked at me. She took the fish from my hands, put it back in the tank and closed the lid. She took a tissue out of her sleeve, like a magician takes a rabbit out of a hat, then she dried my hands before drying her own. I was glad that she was all right.
Last year, I had two Easter eggs. One from Mum and Dad and one from Nana. Nana’s was better because it had sweets inside the chocolate egg. I counted them and there were thirteen sweets, which I remember because it was lucky and unlucky all at the same time. This year, I’ve only got one Easter egg, but that’s OK because it’s from Taylor. I didn’t get her anything, but I will. I might give her some of the KitKats, we’ve got loads.