April fool's day. This time I am not going to get caught out like all the other times. So if anyone tells me that there are pink daffodils in the park, chocolate-flavoured chicken nuggets on the school dinner menu or that eating twelve melons a day makes your boobs grow (I can't stand melons now), then I will so not believe them.
It's only ten o'clock and already I've been told that hidden CCTV cameras have been installed in the cubicles of the girls' toilets, that the government has increased the school leaving age to twenty-five, and that in an effort to improve the school ethos all pupils will have to curtsey or bow to teachers if we meet them in the corridors. Yeah, right. Like I'm really stupid enough to believe any of it.
Mr Smith has just come on the tannoy to tell us that the rumour school is closing today at eleven a.m. is not true and anyone found truanting will be severely dealt with. Since corporal punishment is now allowed in all state schools at the discretion of the head teacher, this is likely to be a very painful experience.
Passed Michael as I was on my way to the shops with Liz to buy some chocolate. As usual he was surrounded by nice-looking fourth-year girls, who were all trying to pull him, judging by their constant superglue-fixed smiles and tilted heads. He spotted me so I waved a quick 'Hi' to him and hurried on as the queue would be building up. But to my surprise he broke free from his group of admirers and caught up with me.
'Hi, Kelly Ann. Look, could I have a quick word with you?'
'Sorry, Mike, not now – I'm in a bit of a hurry. Chocolate starvation has set in and you know what the queues are like.'
However, he turned to Liz and gave her a dazzling smile. 'Maybe you could go ahead and keep Kelly Ann's place for her. Or' – he took some change from his pocket and handed it to her – 'if we don't make it by the time you're served, just buy her a Cadbury's Creme Egg.' He turned to me. 'That's what you usually like, isn't it?'
I nodded, puzzled. Liz took the money, then, giving me a look that said she'd expect me to fill her in later on what Mike was up to, every single detail, she ran on ahead.
I said, 'How do you know I like Cadbury's Creme Eggs?'
'You told me one time. Don't you remember?'
I shook my head, then shrugged. 'No, not really, but anyway, what did you want to talk to me about?'
He paused for a moment and seemed for once to look a bit unsure of himself, but then he went on, 'Look, Kelly Ann, I was just wondering if you wanted to meet up after school today. We could go to the café for a Coke and maybe have a pizza later. What do you think?'
I stared at his gorgeous face, puzzled. 'What for?'
'Well, I don't know. I mean, it's just that I really like talking to you. You're different from most girls. Interesting. And, well, fun.'
'Are you asking me for a date?' I asked incredulously.
He smiled. 'Well, yeah, I suppose so. Yeah, I am. So can I see you after school today?'
'But why would you want to date someone like me?
You could have anyone.'
'Don't want just anyone. You're, well, special. You're not like most girls I meet – always giggling and talking rubbish. I feel you really listen to what I have to say. That you're interested in me as . . . well' – he reddened – 'as a person, I suppose. That's why you're the only girl I ever sent a Valentine's card to. Bit cheesy, I know.' He grinned. 'Did you never guess who it was from?'
For a moment I almost fell for it. How embarrassing. God, Michael really was a good actor. But then I remembered it was April 1st. Aha! Like I'm really going to fall for that one. I smiled back. 'Sorry, Mike, I'm busy today.'
'OK, well, fair enough. I suppose it is kinda short notice. What about tomorrow then?' he said, still giving me his nice-guy Colgate grin.
'Busy tomorrow too.'
His smile wavered a bit. Maybe he realized his April fool wasn't working. But he persisted anyway. 'So, is there any time you've got free when we could meet up? Maybe next week?'
'Nah, sorry. Fact is, I don't think of you in that way.
You're way too ugly for me.'
He flushed. Hmm, so it's OK for him to play jokes on people but he can't take it when it's the other way about. 'I'm not ugly.'
'Course you're not,' I said, mock soothingly. 'You're just not my type, that's all. Not, um, blond enough. Yeah, I only date blonds, I'm afraid.'
'You don't want to go out with me because of the colour of my hair? That's it?' He looked at me contemptuously. 'Well, in that case I'm glad you said no. I thought you were different from other girls. There's no way I want anything to do with a girl so totally shallow.'
Then he turned and marched off.
As I watched his retreating back I realized the horrible truth – that, oh my God, he'd been serious. The hottest guy in the whole school had just asked me out and I'd said no.
I could have been the envy of everyone. At the very least no one would be calling me a lesbian or Ikea Girl again. And Shelly would have been sick with jealousy.
But no, I'd turned him down.
'****!!!'
'Just imagine, Kelly Ann,' Liz said, trying to comfort me, 'when word gets out you've actually knocked back the school's total sex god, everyone's going to think you're, like, beyond cool. Bet you'll have every fit guy for miles around desperate to date you.'
'Don't need loads of fit guys. Just one, so people stop going on about me being weird and leave me alone. And I could have had that.'
'Well, why don't you try explaining things to Michael then? Tell him you thought it was an April fool's joke. Might work.'
Spotted Michael heading off to the toilets at lunch time. Wouldn't have been surprised if his groupies had followed him there, but fortunately even they must have decided that was a bit OTT so I was able to catch him on his own as he came out again.
Took a deep breath and marched up to him. Thought he might just ignore me but he didn't. Instead he looked at me in a kind of hurt way and said, 'Hi. You wanted to talk to me?'
I stared at his gorgeous film-star face and gazed into his deep green eyes, then I squeaked, 'Aayah-sh-sh. I, um, dunno . . . um.'
It was hopeless. Michael gave me a bored look, shrugged and walked away.
Oh God. Never thought I'd have anything in common with Shelly but, unfortunately, this one time I did.
Didn't notice any fit guys paying me much attention. Did notice a new graffiti message in the girls' toilets that said KELLY ANN IS DEFINITELY A LES.
Brilliant. This month was not starting out too well. Still, at least since Liz is not going out with Peter any more, I can stay over at her place Saturday and won't have to endure the company of my sister and her nerd, who have pointedly told me they intend to stay in. I mean, why can't they go out clubbing and getting totally wasted like normal people their age?
After school I went to see our school team play Shawbridge, who we beat last year by a crushing six–nil and who've since vowed revenge. Rumour has it they're better now, with a lot of new players, but I think we'll still win.
Liz reluctantly agreed to come with me even though 'watching a crowd of idiot boys kicking a ball about in the mud' was not her idea of fun.
I was surprised to see Linda and her friends Beth and Sue there, as I thought they were about as keen on football as Liz; however, from the remarks I overheard when I passed them on my way back from the toilet, it soon became clear why they'd come.
'Mmmm, isn't he gorgeous?'
'Oh yeah, he's OK, but look at the other one – the goalie – now he's hot.'
Wouldn't have been so bad if Beth and Sue weren't talking about Shawbridge boys, although Linda only seemed to have eyes for Chris. Hmm, the rumours about her fancying Chris must be true. Don't think Chris knows though, or if he does he's not interested.
Our team won easily, three–nil. I like watching football but I'd much rather be playing. I've asked Mr Ferguson twice this term to give me a trial but he's always found some excuse not to. It's just totally sexist and so unfair. I'm as good as any boy. Better than most. That's it: I'm going to see Ferguson again and force him to take me seriously.
Found Ferguson at lunch time. I knew he was supposed to be taking the sixth-year boys for a cross-country run this lunch time as they are training for a charity marathon, but as usual this meant taking them to the gates of the park and waving them off while he went to the pub for a pint to wait for their return. My plan was to head him off before he got to the pub and speak to him about joining the football team.
I was in luck as he'd stopped for a fag by the park gates. When he saw me he threw the butt away, muttering something about having confiscated it from a pupil and what a filthy habit it was.
Yeah, right. I suppose he must have confiscated the nicotine-stained fingers from a pupil too. He looked annoyed at having his fag break interrupted but I pressed on anyway, begging and pleading to be on the school team.
At first he just said no way, he'd told me before, but I wouldn't let up. He kept looking at his watch, conscious, I suppose, of his lost drinking time, until at last he gave in. 'All right, Kelly Ann. Come to the practice at four o'clock today and I'll give you a trial. Now I've really got to get on with some lesson preparation and important administration.'
At that he hurried off to the pub without even acknowledging my shouted, 'Thanks, Mr Ferguson. Thanks a million. I won't let you down.'
Turned up at the playing field at four. Didn't have any kit so had to play in my usual school clothes and trainers but I hoped Mr Ferguson would make allowances for that. The whole school team were there doing various exercises and practice stuff, but also keeping an eye on what happened with me. Chris jogged up to wish me a hurried 'Good luck' before moving off again to practise penalty kicks at the other end of the pitch.
I was quite nervous as I hadn't played any football in ages. Used to play five a side with Chris and his pals until Ian, who is over six feet and, as my dad puts it, built like a brick shit house (very well built), fell on me and crushed my ribs. Dad wouldn't let me play again after that but I think he'll be OK about the school team as there's no one as big or clumsy as Ian in it.
Mr Ferguson turned to me and smiled, which was really unlike him and a bit menacing somehow. Then he told me to give him fifty. For a moment I thought he was asking me for money as some sort of joining fee, so I hoped he meant pence and not pounds, but then he pointed to the muddy ground and made it clear he meant push-ups. And he wouldn't accept knees-on-the–ground, girly push-ups, like Miss Paterson, our gym teacher, does, but toe and hand contact only. There was no way I could do this and he knew it, but he made me try anyway. After the tenth push-up I collapsed face down in the mud, so he just barked 'Failed' and started to walk away.
I ran after him. 'Wait, Mr Ferguson, this is just so unfair!' He ignored me and carried on but I managed to get in front of him. I walked backwards facing him, which forced him to slow down. I knew this was a bit cheeky but he'd been just so unfair and I wasn't going to let him get away with it, teacher or not.
'You're not being fair,' I gasped. 'I'm not unfit. I'm not. I can do the splits. Look.' I did a perfect splits right there in front of him so that he nearly tripped over me. I scrambled up again. 'I bet no one else on this pitch could do that. And anyway, no one needs to do press-ups to play a game of football.'
'No one needs to do the ruddy splits either,' Mr Ferguson pointed out. 'But OK, fair enough. Let's have a football test instead.'
He dropped a ball at my feet and told me to take it to one of the goal posts. Then he instructed me to kick it as far as I could. If it got to the other goal I was in. He gave me three tries but there was no way I was powerful enough. I argued with him some more but he wouldn't listen, just called Osman and Chris over. He told Osman to 'give him fifty', and right away, even though he is small and skinny like me, Osman dropped to the ground and did fifty press-ups, no bother. Osman said, 'Sorry, Kelly Ann.'
Then Mr Ferguson told Chris to kick the ball to the other goal. At first Chris kicked it way short but Mr Ferguson just barked, 'Stop fannying about like a big girl's blouse and kick the ruddy ball or you'll be off the team faster than you can say "Please, sir, that's no' fair." '
No one seemed surprised at a teacher using this sort of language as apparently Mr Ferguson has said that his outside school hours work is voluntary so he'll talk any sodding way he ruddy well wants and if anyone doesn't like it they can just sod off.
Chris kicked the ball to the other net, then muttered, 'Sorry, Kelly Ann.'
At this Mr Ferguson turned to me and said, 'What part of the word no don't you understand?'
It was hopeless. Ferguson wasn't ever going to let me on the team. Looks like I'm never going to succeed at boy stuff. But I'm useless at girl stuff too, like getting boyfriends. Brilliant.
Liz's dad has found out that she was going out with Peter 'behind his back', so has grounded her and docked her pocket money for a month. He says the month is to reflect the amount of time she'd lied to him about Peter. Actually it was five weeks but Liz wisely didn't correct him.
I've told Liz I'll save up from my allowance to pay back Chris, then she can give me the money when she starts getting pocket money again.
Was feeling bored today so when Rebecca invited me over to her house after school, I agreed. Her two best friends, Debbie and Nicola, came too.
Rebecca's got a really cute hamster called Ben. Found myself spending most of the time playing with Ben as all Rebecca and her friends wanted to do was talk about make-up and boys.
In an effort to change the subject I asked if anyone had heard Smashed to Pieces' latest album. They all had – though instead of talking about the music, which was really good, they all started on about the boys in the band and which one was the hottest. There's a new guy now called Jason Donnelly and he's got a fantastic voice, but all they could talk about was how he looked and whether he was fitter than Zach the drummer and Matt the lead guitarist. They agreed he was – except for Debbie, who is 'in love' with Matt.
No, really, she's totally obsessed with him – even knows his shoe size, birth weight and rising sign. All her school books are covered with pictures of him and she's had his face lasered onto her knickers. Mental.
Oh God – except for Liz, can't help finding girls' company boring now. I mean, for God's sake, what did it matter what these guys in the band looked like? It wasn't as though any of us would ever have a chance of meeting them, never mind dating them. Most girls my age are just so stupid.
Liz's dad has told my dad that I was Liz's alibi with that 'wee shite' Peter so Dad has grounded me and docked my pocket money for a month, which I think is totally over the top and completely unfair. I wasn't the one having any fun after all. Honestly, parents are such copycats sometimes.
Looks like Angela and Graham are going to have the pleasure of my company again on Saturday. Also looks like Chris is going to have to wait a while for his football boots. Just as well he's patient.
Liz's mum says it's all very well Liz's dad saying she's grounded for a month but he's off to London with his work for the next fortnight and won't have to share the house with a moaning teenager 24/7 so her grounding is lifted. But if Liz so much as speaks to a boy without getting her parents' written permission first she'll be sent to a nunnery for the rest of her life whether she's Catholic or not.
Mum says there's no way she's putting up with a weekend of me moping around the house with a face like a buffalo with piles so my grounding's lifted but I'd better not tell any more lies or she'd batter me up and down the house.
She did seem pretty desperate to get rid of me so I decided to push it a bit. 'Thanks, Mum, but I'll just be staying in tonight all the same as I've no money to do anything.'
Mum threw a tenner at me. 'Away to the pictures or something and take your moaning face out of my sight.'
Really, sometimes my mum isn't too bad. Called Liz telling her that Mum had given me money to go out – did she want to come with me? At first, instead of being pleased, she went on about how bad it was for me that my mum was not consistent about sanctions (yeah, like her mum was) and how this would negatively affect my psychological development, but when I told her I'd enough for both of us she quickly changed her mind. After all, as she said, adult human beings' behaviour was not always fair, consistent or rational so this would help me learn to deal with the flawed nature of humanity and so really Mum was teaching me a valuable lesson. Liz would be ready in half an hour.
As it turned out though, Liz's mum had also given in over pocket money withdrawal when she heard mine had caved in (sometimes the copycat behaviour works to our advantage) so as well as going to the pictures we were able to afford a bucket of toffee popcorn, a pound of pick-'n'-mix plus a hot dog and two large Cokes, although Liz had Diet Coke as she is trying to lose weight.
Liz and I were talking to Gary about the film we'd seen last night. Gary said he'd wanted to see that film too and had suggested it to Chris but he'd been broke and Gary hadn't wanted to go by himself. We should have called him.
Gary looked at us. 'Why have your faces gone all red? It isn't a dirty film, is it? Bloody hell, if I'd known that I'd have loaned Chris the money to go with me.'
Oh God, felt so guilty. So did Liz, though she later pretended she didn't.
'Of course I don't feel guilty,' she said. 'Guilt is a negative, useless emotion. Well, not totally useless, I suppose. Without it we'd be psychopaths and cool about slaughtering innocent people, then eating pizza and watching Doctor Who straight after. But we've not done anything like that. Slaughtering people, I mean.'
'We should have paid some money back to Chris, Liz,' I said miserably. 'How much have you got left?'
'Twenty-six p,' Liz replied, flushing. Knew she felt guilty. 'You?'
I looked in my purse and checked my pockets but I knew the answer anyway. 'Twelve p. That makes, um, thirty-eight p. Not much point in giving that to Chris now.'
'Hmm, no. But we could donate it to charity.'
'How does that help Chris?'
'It doesn't, but doing a selfless good deed will help us feel better – er, less guilty.'
'So how is it selfless then?'
'You're right. Let's buy a Freddo to cheer ourselves up. Chocolate contains mood-enhancing chemicals, you know.'
'OK.'
Liz's gran has come down to stay over for the weekend and as usual on these visits she gave Liz money to buy herself 'something nice'. Normally Liz would have spent all of it that day but this time, as we were walking home from school, she held the thirty pounds out to me and said, 'Take it quick, Kelly Ann, before I change my mind. Don't want to feel guilty about Chris again. Guilt is a very negative emotion, you know; it can lead to feelings of self-hatred.'
I reached for the money but Liz was still holding it in a tight grasp.
'I would probably try to blot out these feelings,' she continued, 'by abusing alcohol and drugs. Of course, this would eventually only make me feel worse and I would be drawn into a vicious downward spiral of guilt, shame and addiction so that finally the only way out was suicide.
'Of course, if Chris found out he was responsible for my death he'd feel guilty too, which would lead to feelings of self-hatred and—'
I yanked the money from Liz's grasp. 'Thanks, Liz, I'll see Chris gets this.'
Called Chris today with the good news that I could return the money I borrowed. Then I said, 'How about we go to the shops today and I'll help you choose a pair? Maybe we could get a burger for lunch while we're there, then—'
'Sorry, Kelly Ann, I can't today. I'm, erm, going to the pictures. Maybe some other time.'
'Even better,' I said. 'Wasn't really in the mood for shopping anyway. A movie's a much better idea.'
'I'm, um, going with a friend.'
'Yeah, so? That's cool.' I laughed. 'I don't mind Gary or Ian coming.'
'She's a girl.'
'Oh.'
I put the phone down. Don't know why I should feel so surprised and depressed but I do somehow. Just wish my friends wouldn't keep changing all the time and would just stay like they've always been. It's annoying. And scary.