My Dating Disasters Diary (10 page)

When I was sure Liz wasn't going to say any more
about the pool thing, I took my hands from my ears and
continued, 'Anyway, OK, I'm not saying Angela uses
condoms to keep guns and bandages waterproof. I'm just
saying the fact that she has condoms in her drawers
doesn't mean she definitely uses them for sex.'

'Of course it doesn't,' Liz agreed. 'Maybe she cuts the
ends off and uses them for, um, leg warmers or—'

'Leg warmers? I don't think—'

'Or,' Liz continued, 'wet suits for leprechauns. Yeah,
that's the most likely.'

I giggled but Liz had made her point. The truth is, my
sister is almost certainly not a virgin any more. It's
horrible to think what she and her nerd boyfriend had
been up to behind my back in my own home. Still, as Liz
said, it's probably better behind my back than
not
behind
my back.

Spots have not faded and in fact are even worse. Maybe
the Clearasil isn't going to work any more. I know it's
only a day, but still.

Saw Emily with Chris at lunch time today. Couldn't stop
thinking about Saturday and how all those boys kept
looking at her. And how Chris looked at her too. I wasn't
jealous of some girly idiot like Emily, was I?

Didn't want to go to school today because of spots but
Mum said I had to and no one looks at me anyway.

Aunt Kate says beauty is only skin deep, whatever
that's supposed to mean. Yeah, maybe I've got gorgeous
guts and fabulous-looking liver and kidneys, but who's
going to see them?

Scotland play Italy in Milan tonight and Chris has asked
me and some other pals over to his place to watch the
match on Sky. Am so excited. Hope we won't be totally
humiliated though: Italy are just so good, but at least no
one is expecting us to win. Imagine we did though. OK, I
know it would take a miracle but they do happen, don't
they?

Chris's parents will be watching the game at the pub so we'll
have the house to ourselves. Yay.

Went over just after seven. Gary and Ian were already
there. Unfortunately so was Emily, who was dressed all in
pink and wearing false eyelashes so long and thick that
she had to squint to see out of them. Come to think of it,
Emily always wears false eyelashes, even at swimming
lessons, but never ones as big and bushy as these; she
looked like she'd glued two furry caterpillars to her
lids.

Chris's parents were just getting ready to leave. His
dad has said we can help ourselves to snacks and drinks
but if we touch the beer we're dead. Chris's mum
repeated the warning and added that she'd be popping
back at half-time to check up on us. Hmmm, nice to be
trusted.

Since Chris's dad is a police detective, even Gary isn't
going to chance it.

'He'll probably breathalyse us then dust every bottle
for prints,' he moaned.

'Won't need to,' Ian said. He turned to look at Chris.
'Bet your mum could probably tell just by looking at our
pupils or something. Better stick to Irn Bru.'

Chris's mum is a nurse. It's just as well Chris is super
smart or he'd never get away with anything with parents
like that.

After his parents left we switched on the TV and
chatted for a bit while we waited for the game to start. I
tried to talk to Emily but she just gave me a tight smile
about as welcoming as a shark's grin, then ignored me.
Don't understand why she dislikes me so much. OK, we
don't have anything in common, but I've never done anything
nasty to her.

Don't understand either why she agreed to watch a
game she'd obviously zero interest in. Once the match
started she spent most of the time playing with her hair,
re-doing her make-up, or asking Chris for the umpteenth
time to explain the offside rule to her, then giggling when
she didn't get it, like this was cute instead of totally
moronic. Mind you, from the indulgent, superior smiles
the boys gave her, maybe they
did
think it was cute.

They weren't so pleased when Italy scored and she
cheered by mistake.

Just before half-time she picked up her make-up bag
and disappeared into the bathroom, probably to brush
her eyelashes or something equally important – then it
happened: Scotland scored an equalizer. Couldn't believe
it. I mean, Italy has the best defenders in the whole world.
Scoring a goal against them is like trying to break into a
tank with a feather duster. But we did it!

We all leaped up at once, screaming and waving our
arms in the air. 'Goal! It's a goal!' Then we were hugging
each other, laughing and screaming. Chris lifted me off
the ground and spun round with me as we started chanting,
'Easy, eeeaaasy!'

Just then, Emily returned, scowling like a gargoyle. At
first I thought she was gutted at missing the goal but soon
realized it was just me and Chris she was glaring at, like
she'd just caught us snogging or something.

What an idiot. I mean, Scotland had just scored against
Italy, for God's sake. In Milan! Even Ian and Gary were
hugging, and yeah, Ian had lifted Gary off his feet too and
was swinging round with him.

Chris quickly set me down. It was half-time so I
decided to go to the toilet and leave Emily and Chris to
sort things out.

Just before I got to the living-room door Emily called
after me, 'Oh, Kelly Ann?'

I turned round. Her gargoyle glare had gone but she
still stared at me with eyes so narrow her lashes nearly
stuck together. She waved her make-up bag at me and
said, 'Want to borrow my concealer for your spots?
You've got quite a big one on your chin.'

Before I could answer she put her bag down again.
'Oh, I forgot, you don't worry about your looks, do you?
Must say, I really admire that. It would be fantastic to be
so totally confident that you don't care how awful you
look.'

'What's that supp—?'

'Not that you do, of course. Look awful, I mean.'

Yeah, right.

I trudged off to the bathroom and examined my face.
She was right about the spot on my chin. It was
practically the size of a grape. And there was a crop of
smaller ones growing on my forehead. Oh God, I did look
awful. I wasn't stupid and vain like Emily but I didn't
want to look like my face was erupting either.

When I came out, Chris's mum was just opening the
outside door and coming into the hall. She was smiling,
but when she saw me she frowned and said, 'What's the
matter, Kelly Ann? I thought you'd be happy Scotland
equalized.'

'Yeah, I am, but, well, it's these.' I pointed to my spots.
'They're worse than ever, no matter what I do.'

I thought she'd just nod sympathetically, or maybe
even tell me not to moan because I didn't have a horrible
disease like cancer or something, like the people she
works with, but she was really nice. She took me back
into the bathroom and handed me a tub of blue paste
stuff, which she told me to put on my face every day for
a month, leaving it on as long as possible. 'It doesn't work
for everyone, Kelly Ann, but it's worth a try.'

When we went back into the living room, Emily was
practically in tears. Turned out one of her false eyelashes
had come unstuck and fallen into Gary's Irn Bru. He
fished it out and handed the soggy thing to her but it was
ruined.

Chris's mum wasn't as nice to Emily as she'd been
with me. 'It's not the end of the world, Emily,' she said.
'Just take the other one off.'

Emily did look stupid with just one false-lashed eye
but, bloody hell, now I knew why she always wore fake
ones. Her own lashes were stubby and so sparse you
could count each one.

She insisted on going home so, with a sigh, Chris's
mum offered her a lift back even though that would make
her late back to the pub for the start of the second
half.

But I had a fabulous time after that. It was great to be
with Chris again without Emily spoiling things. Even
when Italy scored again, winning two–one, it didn't
totally spoil things. It had been a fantastic game and we'd
played really well against a shit-hot team. I even forgot
about my spots.

When I got back home though, I put on the blue paste
stuff that Chris's mum had given me. I looked a bit like
the Cookie Monster, but if it works it will be worth it.

Went to watch our football team play Elmwood after
school. Emily was there – I guess because Chris was playing,
since I now know for sure she's not remotely
interested in football. It was a great game and we won
three–nil but Emily looked bored. She also threw me a
dirty look when I talked to Chris afterwards.

Honestly.

I ignored her furious scowl which, if she'd only known, made
her face look as attractive as a chewed toffee, and continued talking to Chris,
but he seemed uneasy and cut me off: 'I'd best go get changed, Kelly Ann.'

Thinking it over, I was quite annoyed with Chris and
called him tonight to tell him so but he wouldn't listen.

'Look, Kelly Ann, Emily's my girlfriend. It's only
natural she gets jealous sometimes if I talk to other girls.'

'Jealous? But that's stupid! Totally mental. Just tell
her—'

'Maybe,' Chris interrupted, 'but that's how it is. She's
no different from most other girls. Look, people change.

Move on. It's part of growing up.'

'Yeah, well, if growing up means ignoring your best
friends, then you can count me out,' I said, slamming the
phone down.

Chris called back but I refused to talk to him. I'd let
him stew for a while before accepting his hopefully
grovelling apologies. Wish he'd get rid of Emily. Why
can't he see she's just a stupid, boring girl who stops him
having any fun?

Was on my way to Liz's when I bumped into Emily, for
once not with Chris. I just nodded hello and was going to
walk on when she surprised me by smiling and saying,
'Oh, hi, Kelly Ann. You know, this is weird, I was just
thinking about you.'

'About me?'

'Yeah. Actually, this is great because I was kind of hoping
to get the chance to talk to you about things.'

'What things?' I asked, puzzled.

'Well, erm, I hope you won't take this the wrong way,
Kelly Ann, but the thing is, you see, Chris is getting a bit
embarrassed with you always hanging around him now.'

I glared at her. 'That's rubbish. Don't believe you.'

'It's true.' She paused and stared at me in a concerned
kind of way. 'Oh God, don't tell me he hasn't said
anything
to you? Not even kind of hinted?'

I flushed, remembering the phone call yesterday. Is
that what Chris had been trying to tell me? Surely he
wouldn't do that to me. He was my best friend, after
all.

She waited, obviously expecting me to say something,
but now I wasn't sure what to think any more.

When I didn't reply she went on, 'I mean, he likes you
and everything. But, you know, he feels it's kinda time to
move on. No offence.'

She paused again. Still I said nothing.

'Oh God,' she said, 'I hope I haven't upset you.'

Felt my eyes start to tear up but blinked them back. I
would
not
let her see me cry. At last I said a bit shakily,
'Why didn't he tell me himself if that's really how he
feels?'

'Oh, you know boys.' She laughed. 'Total cowards
about stuff like this. And anyway, Chris is such a nice guy.
He wouldn't want to hurt anyone. Asked me to have a
word with you, sort of girl to girl.'

'Oh.'

'So, you OK then?'

'Oh God, yeah, of course.'

'Cool. You know, Chris was convinced you'd be
gutted.' She chuckled. 'Boys. They're so big-headed.
Always thinking they're way more important to us girls
than they really are.'

'Yeah.' I attempted to laugh too but it came out more
like a maniacal cackle so I stopped abruptly. 'Actually, the
truth is, I was meaning to speak to Chris about this
myself.'

'You were?'

'Yeah, um, in fact I was just going to say it was time we
sort of cooled the friendship a bit. I mean, we're not kids
any more and, well, him always being around is kind of
putting boys off asking me out and stuff.'

'Yeah, totally. It must do.' She smiled at me. 'So,
actually, you must really be relieved about all this.'

'God, yeah.'

'So, do you want me to tell Chris what you said? You
know, how you were just going to ask him to stop hanging
out with you? Or do you want to tell him yourself?'
'No, you do it. It's fine.'

She looked at her watch. 'God, is that the time? I've got
to get a move on. I'm meant to be meeting Chris in ten
minutes. It's been great talking to you. See ya.'

'Yeah, nice talking to you too.'

Yeah, bloody fantastic.

Chris came round to my house this afternoon. When I
opened the door he didn't come in and I didn't ask him.
His face was grim. Hmm, maybe he was annoyed that I'm
not as gutted as he thought I'd be. Honestly, Emily's right.
Most boys are so up themselves.

'Emily told me what you said. Did you mean it? You
don't want us to be friends any more.'

'Oh, that,' I said casually. 'No, of course we're friends.
I mean, we haven't fallen out or anything. It's just that,
yeah, we've been spending too much time together. And,
you know, I'm busy with other things these days. You are
too.'

'I haven't done something to upset you?'

'God, no. You didn't upset me at all. It's cool. Just, you
know, time to move on.'

He was silent for a moment, then he said, sounding a
bit puzzled, 'So you're still talking to me?'

'Yeah, course I am. God, we're not primary kids falling
out over nothing any more.' I looked at my watch. Of
course, I didn't actually have anything planned, but looking
at my watch wasn't lying. 'Anyway, glad that's out
the way. So' – I put on a pleasant, formal voice – 'was
there anything else?'