Cathy Hopkins - [Mates, Dates 01]
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Inflatable Bras
Hopkins
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CONTENTS
For Rachel
(And thanks to Rachel, Grace, Natalie, Emily,
Isabel and Laura for letting me know what’s hot and
what’s not. And thanks to jude and Brenda at Piccadilly
for their input and for giving me the chance to be
fourteen again. And last but not least, thanks
to the lovely Rosemary Bromley.)
C h a p t e r
1
What
Makes Me ‘Me’ ?
If she picks me out in
class again, I shall scream.
Wacko Watkins. That’s
what I call her. Our new teacher. We’ve got her for PSHE first period this
morning, worse luck.
‘I wonder what kind of
weird project she’s got lined up to torture us with this week,’ I said as we
hurried down the corridor to get to our classroom before second bell.
‘She’s OK as teachers
go,’ said Izzie. ‘She makes you think about stuff. And she seems really
interested in what we feel. I like her lessons.’
‘Well I don’t,’ I
said.‘It’s bad enough having a mum who’s a shrink without getting it at school
as well. I get that “let’s all share our feelings” stuff at home. I wish
Watkins would give me a break here. She always singles me out.’
‘Probably because
you’re quiet in class. She’s trying to find out what’s going on in that daft
head of yours. You’re lucky. At least your mum and dad bother to ask what’s
going on. All mine care about are my marks. Whether I get A, B or C. I think
I’d faint from shock if either of them ever asked how I actually
felt
about anything.’
Izzie’s my best mate.
Or was. I’m not sure any more. Not since Nesta Williams arrived at the end of
last term. Izzie and I have hung out together since junior school. It’s always
been me and Izzie. Izzie and me. Sharing everything. Clothes. Make-up. CDs.
Secrets. And then along comes Nesta and I reckon it’s two’s company, three’s a
crowd. But I seem to be the only one who sees it that way. I’m going to have to
tackle Izzie about it but I rarely get her on her own these days.
‘Hurry along and take
your places, girls,’ called Miss Watkins, coming up behind us.
I hope she hadn’t
heard what I said about her.
Miss Watkins is a bit odd
looking. Make that very odd looking. She looks like she put a finger in an
electric socket. Her expression is always startled, like a cartoon character
who’s seen something shocking and their eyes pop out. She’s as thin as a wire
and her hair’s frizzy grey, coiling out at all angles.
‘OK, girls, now settle
down,’ she said. ‘We’ve got a lot to talk about today.’
Here we go. Talk.
Talk. Let’s talk. I wish we could read today. Quietly. Or write. Quietly. Why
do we have to talk? Doesn’t anyone realise I’m going through a
quiet-but-mysterious phase? Like Geri when she split from the Spice Girls.
As Wacko perched on
the corner of her desk and hitched her skirt up, we all got an eyeful of her
pale legs above knee-high stockings. She has skin like cling film. Transparent.
You can see all the veins underneath it. Enough to bring up your breakfast
first thing in the morning, I can tell you.
‘There’s a few things
I want you to start thinking about for the rest of the term,’ she continued.
‘As you probably know, it’s soon going to be time to choose your GCSE subjects
for next year.Which ones you want to do.’
Inwardly I groaned.
I’ve been dreading this. See, I don’t know. Haven’t a clue. Not the faintest.
‘I know it’s a lot to
think about and I don’t want any of you to panic or feel pressurised. We’ve
plenty of time, that’s why I want you to give it some attention now so it
doesn’t come as a big rush later on.’
Too late, I thought.
I’m already in major panic mode.
‘I want you to think
about your future. Your goals. Ambitions. What you want to be when you’re
older. Right, anybody got any ideas?’
She started to look
round the class so I put my head down and tried to become invisible.
‘Lucy?’
I knew. See. I knew it
would be me she asked first.
‘Yes, miss?’
‘Let’s get the ball
rolling. Any idea what you’d like to do?’
I could feel myself
going red as everyone turned to look at me.
Duhhh? I dunno.
Doctor. Nah. Too much blood. Dentist. Nah. Fiddling about in people’s mouths
all day. Yuk.Vet?
Yes.Vet
. I love animals. After Izzie, Ben and Jerry,
our Labradors, are my next best friends. So, vet? I could be on all those
animal rescue programmes on telly, looking glam as I save poor animals. Maybe
not. Ben stood on a piece of glass last week. I almost fainted when the vet
said he’d have to have a few stitches in his paw. I couldn’t watch. Had to
leave the room like a right sissy. He was fine after but I can’t bear to see an
animal in pain. So probably not the best career choice. So what else? What?
‘Don’t know, miss,’ I
blurted out, wishing she’d choose someone else.
‘No idea at all?’ she
asked.
I shook my head.
Candice Carter put her
hand up. She was bursting.
Thankfully Wacko
turned to her.
‘Candice?’
‘Lifeguard, Miss
Watkins.’
‘Lifeguard. Now that’s
an original one. And why do you want to be a lifeguard?’
‘So I can give all the
boys the kiss of life, miss.’
Everyone cracked up
laughing. She’s such a tart, Candice Carter.
‘Anyone got any more
sensible suggestions?’ asked Miss Watkins, looking round.
By now, half the class
had their hands up.
‘Writer,’ said Mary O‘
Connor.
‘Nurse,’ said Joanne
Richards.
‘Air hostess,’ said
Gabby Jones.
TV presenter,‘ said
Jade Wilcocks.
‘Hairdresser,’ said Mo
Harrison.
‘Rich and famous,’
said Nesta and everyone laughed again.
Everyone knows what
they want to do. Everyone. But me.
I’m fourteen.
Everyone’s always saying,‘Oh don’t grow up too fast’ and ‘Enjoy your youth’,
now suddenly it’s, ‘What’re you going to do with the rest of your life?’
‘Excellent,’ said Miss
Watkins. ‘Those who know what they want to do are lucky. And those who don’t,’
she looked pointedly at me, ‘don’t worry. You don’t have to decide today. But
it does help to have some inkling of what direction you might like to go in
when it comes to choosing your subjects later. For those of you who don’t know,
we’ll have a look at it all over the next few weeks. In fact, a good starting
point is to take a look at who you are now. Identify your strengths and
weaknesses. The seeds of today are the fruits of tomorrow. The thoughts of
today are the actions of tomorrow. So, to start with, I’m going to give you an
essay to be handed in at the end of term. Doesn’t have to be too long. A page
or so.’
She picked up her
chalk and turned to the blackboard.
What makes me ‘me’
? she wrote.
‘That’s your title.
I’ll give you fifteen minutes now to make a few notes.’
She wrote a few more
questions up on the board.
Who am I?
What are my
interests?
What do I want?
What are my goals in life?
What are my
strengths and weaknesses?
What would I like
to do as a career?
For the last part of
the lesson, I could see everyone scribbling madly.
I knew what Izzie
would be writing. She wants to be a singer. Has done since we were nine. She
writes all her own songs and plays guitar. She wants to be the next Alanis
Morissette. She even looks like her now. She’s got the same long dark hair and
she wears the same hippie dippie clothes. Not my taste, but they suit Iz.
I glanced across at
Nesta. She was writing frantically as well. Typical. She’s so sure of herself
and where she’s going. She wants to be a model and will probably get there.
She’s totally gorgeous-looking. Her dad’s Italian so she’s got his straight
black hair, like silk right down to her waist, and her mum’s Jamaican so she’s
got her dark skin and eyes. She could easily be Naomi Campbell’s younger
sister. Tall and skinny with an amazing pixie face.
I wish I was black.
They have the best skin, even when they’re old. Like Nesta’s mum. I’ve seen her
on telly. She reads the news on Cable. She’s ancient, at least forty, but she
only looks about twenty. I’m the typical ‘English rose’, pale, blonde and
boring. I’d rather be a tropical flower, like Nesta, all exotic and colourful.
I stared at the blank
piece of paper in front of me.
What makes me ‘me’? I
began to write.
