Can you believe it? Chris texted me a while ago.
I was in shock when I got his message. After the way the date turned out, I was sure he’d never want to have anything more to do with me. And then, just as I was starting my homework, this text arrived:
Hi fncy pzza 2moro nite? Meet 7pm same plc?
Imagine – he actually wants to see me again. I waited fifteen minutes, just so it wouldn’t look like he was the only boy who wanted to go out with me, and then I texted him back:
OK C U then
So we’re going out for a pizza tomorrow night. I’m just beginning to have that sick feeling again. I thought it was only first dates that were terrifying, but it looks like I was wrong. Maybe it takes three or four of them before you stop wanting to throw up at the thought.
I’m wondering whether to tell Dad. Will he be cross if he finds out that I’m going on dates without saying anything? Do fathers need to know about these kinds of things? Would he be horrified at the thought of his little girl having a boyfriend?
Yes, probably. Maybe I’ll say nothing just yet.
Oh and guess what else? Ruth Wallace came home from hospital yesterday, nearly a week after I went to see her. I happened to be passing the landing window as her Dad was taking the wheelchair out of the boot of his car, and I watched him opening the passenger door and lifting her out and putting her into the wheelchair very carefully, as if she was a china doll.
She had a red coat on, and nice black boots, and one of her dorky hats.
I’m not sure if she saw me. She looked towards our house for a second, and she seemed to be staring straight at the landing window, but she didn’t wave or anything, and neither did I.
I wonder if she’ll say anything about the magazines that appeared in her porch later on. I wonder if she’ll guess who left them there.
I’ve started the advanced swimming after school, and it’s great, much more interesting than the swimming we did in primary. Our coach is called Sandra and she gives everyone really individual attention, because there are only five of us in the class. She told us we’ll be having an exhibition before Easter for our parents, and I tried not to think about Mam not being there.
One more thing she’s missing out on.
Oh, and the big news from school is that our whole class is getting penfriends from France. Mr Geraghty, our French teacher, has a friend teaching in Paris who’s going to get her class to write to us. We could get a boy or a girl, since the French class is mixed – we’ll have to wait and see when they write back.
Chloe and I have agreed that if either of us gets a boy we’ll both write to him, and hopefully he won’t mind being shared.
We have to write to them in French and they’ll write back to us in English, which could make things a bit tricky. I think I’ve already mentioned how awful my French is. Hopefully my penfriend’s English will be just as bad, and we’ll be quits.
And remember Henry, the gorgeous pizza delivery guy? Well, I asked him what his second name was, and it’s Morrissey, which is a bit of a disappointment. I had thought of much better ones for him, like D’Arcy or Montague or Fitzwilliam. Not that it matters really – as Granny Daly would say, WHAT’S IN A NAME?
Someone must have given him gloves for Christmas. They’re black leather ones, so they go with his jacket. And he wears a hat these days too, a woolly green one with two blue stripes at the bottom, which I have to say looks a tiny bit girly to me, but I suppose it keeps him warm. He’s still the sexiest-looking boy I know. Chris is cute more than sexy.
Imagine if Henry phoned and asked me out – now that would be truly terrifying. I suppose I’d have to choose between him and Chris. Or we could meet in secret, to make it even more romantic. And then if Chris found out, they’d probably have to fight over me. Henry would probably win, because he’s older and taller. I just hope he wouldn’t hurt Chris too much.
There’s been no sign of Bumble and Catherine around town. I suppose they’re still madly in love. I wonder if Bumble will ring me when she breaks his heart. Of course, I’ll be there for him, even if he has rejected my friendship, and I’ll never, ever say he should have seen it coming.
Maybe Chris and I could find him someone nice, to help him forget about Catherine. Chloe would be ideal if she’d only give up the garlic.
She’s coming over soon to help me decide what I’m going to wear 2moro nite, so I’d better stop. Wish me luck.
