Zee

SORRY, ANGELINA. I feel a bit better now. I have been so very sick. Blergh.

So, I had a big night last night, hey? Woohoo! Big night in Bali! Yay!

So, seriously, who knew that the whole thing about getting heaps drunker if you drink on an empty stomach was ACTUALLY true?

Anyway, so I remember going to the beach. I remember meeting the guys. I remember thinking Steve was a total hottie, and really dangerous-looking, with his dreadlocks and his nose ring. As in NOT the sort of guy Mum would approve of.

I remember him offering me a beer, and I said, ‘Umm . . . no, because 1) My mum is waiting for me and 2) Do you even know how many calories beer has, and plus isn’t it illegal coz I am only sixteen? And 3) Hello? Have you not even seen the movie Murdered by a Stranger? ’

And he said, ‘Dude, I’m not a murderer. And, hey, this is Bali.’

And I said, ‘Well, okay!’

And I did a few sums in my head, and I figured if I didn’t have dinner, I could have beer. Just one. A light one.

Well, turns out they didn’t actually have light beer. They only had heavy, moonshiney home-made beer.

And so I did a few more sums in my head, and I figured that, if I didn’t have dinner or breakfast tomorrow morning, I could have one of their kooky beers.

And now I don’t feel like brekkie anyway, so that worked out well, didn’t it?

The moonshine beer seems to have pretty much stuffed both my tummy AND my brain, because I don’t remember ANYTHING about last night. Well, I remember a BIT.

Like Steve giving me another beer and me saying, ‘Noooooooooooooo . . .’ and then, ‘Well, okay, coz, you know, it tastes a bit better now . . .’

And then I remember how my top suddenly felt all tight and all I wanted to do was take it off . . .

And then I remember it being dark and having no idea where my shoes were . . .

And then I remember saying, ‘Oh, hi Stevie Steve. Oh, you’re not Stevie Steve . . .’

And then I remember being all wet and cold and shivery . . . And then I remember Paulina Gifford slapping me in the face and saying, ‘Daisy Blue. For the love of Ganesha! Wake UP!’

And then I remember a real hottie saying, ‘Can I help? Can I help you lift her?’

And there was a Balinese guy. And I remember throwing up all over the Balinese guy, and a bit on Paulina’s stupid sandals and I think I said sorry.

And then I remember being in bed. Soft, cosy bed with no doona coz it was so hot I didn’t need one, and Paulina Gifford saying, ‘Sorry for slapping you,’ and me saying, ‘S’okay. Bucket? Bucket? Bucket?’

And then a bit more throwing up.

And then morning and feeling like I had been run over by a four-wheel drive.

And not really wanting to see Paulina Gifford. Coz my face still hurts a bit, so I figure the slapping was real, and if the slapping was real I figure the spewing on her stupid sandals was real as well. Shamefest.

Cool people don’t get drunk. Especially not throwing-up-and-getting-slapped drunk. It is so uncool to spew. And to spew on THE most uncool person in your whole school?

I mean, if she had any friends, she would probably tell people.

I really want some food right now, but all the hotel mini bar has is Mega Bars and Chippychips. Maybe I could just have one Chippychip. Or half of one. I could do that.

Hang on a sec . . .

Okay, so the Chippychips have gone! Bet it was Paulina. She is such a guts. Probably a good thing, though. I haven’t checked yet how many calories there are in a Chippychip.

I can’t hear anyone moving about in the other room of our apartment, which means that they’re probably down having brekkie. I might just sneak out and see what everybody else has got in their mini bars. Maybe there’s an apple . . .

I’m back. I have no apple. But I do have something else. Something BETTER. Something that may or may not be my property, and which you might judge me for now having in my possession, except, you know, you’re a diary and as such lack the ability to judge.

And besides, even if you COULD judge me, once I explain, you will see that there is no need to judge me, anyway. It’s all above board.

So I found a note. In Paulina’s room. But not, like, hidden in her suitcase or anything. Totally in full view on her bedside table. Honest!

Anyway, now that the whole morality thing is out of the way, you wanna know what it said?

You do! And there you were acting all high and mighty. Really, you want to know what’s in the note just as much as I do. Gotcha!

Omigod, this is completely curing my hangover. Totally not even craving Diet Coke. Well, maybe a little.

Anyway, so, note!!

I will read it to you in my newsreader voice. I have to practise, for my work experience.

Hey Paulina,

Cool to meet you tonight (even though weird circumstances). Cool coincidence we’re going to Ubud on same day.

(Oh, yeah. Ubud. I forgot we’re leaving today to go to the conference site. We’d better not be going in a becak, otherwise I am totally going to spew every . . . sorry, back to note.)

Can’t wait to get out of Kuta. What a tourist trap, hey? What say we meet at Cafe Wayan 2ish? Heard they do mean banana pancakes. Will wait 4 U there.

Cody

I am so going to Cafe Wayan. Cody must be one of the guys I remember from last night. Not Steve and the surfers. I hate them. One of the rescuer guys. They were hot . . . I think.

I wonder how I can get Paulina to take me along, though, without:

1 Letting her know I read the note.

2 Having to apologise for spewing on her.

3 ACTUALLY spewing on her again. Because that’s kind of all I feel like doing right now.

I’ll have to use my acting skills to pretend I want to hang out with Paulina just because she is Paulina.

I need a plan . . .

In the meantime, I also need to pack for Ubud.

And maybe spew again . . .

Gotta go. Right now.

Zee