Hurrah – two weeks of freedom from school. And my birthday is next week – the day before Easter Sunday, actually. Can’t believe I’m going to be fourteen. I haven’t decided what I want to do for it yet. Dad will probably suggest going out to dinner, because we did that last year, but maybe I’ll do something with Chris instead.
Or maybe with Chloe and Ruth.
The thing is, I’m not all that sure how I feel about Chris right now.
I mean, I hardly ever think about him when we’re apart, and I don’t really get excited at the thought of seeing him. We’re going out tonight, and I couldn’t care less. And I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t break my heart if we were finished. I tried imagining not going out with him any more, and it didn’t make me sad at all.
And I have to say the whole kissing thing hasn’t got any better, even though we practise all the time. It’s just – well, sort of boring really.
Maybe I’ll ask Ruth what she thinks. I know she hasn’t had any experience with boys, but she’s pretty clever. She might have some advice about what I should do.
Actually, I kind of know what I should do myself, but I think I just want to hear someone else telling me.
Dad said some boy rang for me yesterday when I was next door at Ruth’s. He says it sounded like Bumble, but I’m pretty sure it was Chris. I might ring him back later.
It definitely looks like Dad and Marjorie are finished. I saw her a few days ago, working in her garden, and she waved across, but I didn’t think she looked as cheery as normal. I wonder if it’s awkward for her now, living right across the road from Dad. Poor Marjorie.
I don’t know how Dad’s date with my swimming coach Sandra went last week, because I was in bed by the time he got home, and he didn’t mention it the next day. I don’t know about you, but I can NOT talk to my father about his dates – it just feels too weird. So I’ll have to wait and see what happens there.
By the way, I asked Dad about getting a kitten for my birthday, and he said, ‘We’ll see.’ I don’t think he’s much of a cat lover really. He usually ignores Ginger if he sees him in our garden. I’ll just have to do a bit of nagging; I’m good at that. Dad says if nagging was an Olympic sport I’d win gold.
I’ve told him the colour kitten I’d like, and I reminded him that the Cats’ Home is always looking for good owners, and he just grunted, but that could have been because his mouth was full of fish fingers at the time.
I told Ruth I was hoping to get a kitten, and she said I was such a copycat, and I told her that I wasn’t, because a cute little kitten beats a mangy old cat any day. But I tickled Ginger under his chin while I was saying it, so he’d know I was only joking.
Joel wrote again from France. Here’s a bit of his latest letter:
‘I and my papa go to skiing next week. I enjoy to ski very much, but the last times I had broke my ankle-bone, and she was very much painfull. Did you went to ski in Ireland?’
Good God. I wonder if my French sounds as bad to him. Maybe Marjorie would help me out with my next letter. It might cheer her up a bit. I could call over tomorrow and ask her.
Joel wants me to send a photo, so just for fun I’m going to cut Catherine Eggleston’s picture out of the yearbook we got at the end of sixth class, and send him that. Chloe doesn’t approve, but I don’t care. Joel will never know it’s not me, and he might as well think he has a beautiful penfriend.
I don’t take in the pizzas from Henry any more. I let Dad answer the door now. I’m still mourning a bit, but I’m not that heartbroken really. I suppose it was just a crush, and not true love.
Wonder how you know when it’s true love? Must ask Ruth.
Mam still hasn’t mentioned anything about me going out to see her in the summer. I refuse to worry.