ask Lori,” said Annie. “Just leave it to me. And
stop FUSSING
!”
RACHEL’S DIARY (THURSDAY)
My sister is a brat. An obnoxious, odious, beastly little BRAT. She was playing music really loud this morning. So loud the floors were practically shaking. I told her to turn it down, but the minute I left the house she went and turned it back up again. I could hear it thumping and banging all the way down the road. Next Door’s going to create, I just know they are. Then Mum’ll say, “Rachel, how could you let her annoy the neighbours like that? You KNOW what Mrs Hawthorn’s like about noise!”
And it will stand there looking all simpering and saintly, and pulling faces at me behind Mum’s back. It knows I can’t say anything. If I complain about it not doing what it’s told, it’ll go and tell Mum about me going off to meet Ty instead of staying here and playing nursemaid. It’s blackmail!
Well, and what do I care? Seeing Ty is the only thing I care about.
He’s asked me to go to a party with him on Saturday!!! I bet he never would have if it weren’t for me going in every day and sitting there right under his nose. He probably wouldn’t ever have noticed me! You have to work at these things, they don’t happen by themselves. Well, sometimes they do, if you’re lucky, but mostly I think you have to make a bit of an effort, specially if it’s someone like Ty that could have the pick of the bunch. He’s so gorgeous! He used to go out with Marsha Williams, but he doesn’t any more so it’s not like I’m stealing him. He was up for grabs! I wouldn’t have made a play for him if he’d still been going with Marsha. At least, I don’t think I would. But then again, I might have! All’s fair in love and war, and Marsha is a total dimbo anyway. She may have the boobs but she certainly hasn’t got the brains. She doesn’t deserve a boy like Ty.
The brat and its friend are downstairs now, hatching plots. I know they’re hatching plots because whenever I come into the room they immediately stop talking and look guilty. MEGAN looks guilty. Annie looks furtive. When I ask what’s going on, Megan turns bright pink and Annie says, “Nothing. Why?” I say, “Because your eyes have suddenly bunched up and gone all shifty.” So then she crosses her eyes and sticks out her tongue, and I tell her she ought to have a bit more respect for those in authority – i.e. me – to which she retorts that I am not in the police force YET. I snap, “Service!” and flounce from the room; whereupon they both start giggling.
They just don’t seem to teach kids any manners these days. I’m sure when I was that age I wouldn’t have cheeked my older sister like Annie cheeks me. If I’d had an older sister. If I had, I’d have paid attention and done what she told me. I would have taken the opportunity to LEARN. This one just doesn’t care. Well, and neither do I! Let them get on with it.
Thursday came – the day of my birthday treat! I was so excited, but a bit nervous, as well. I had been Harriet’s number-one fan for so long! Ever since I was eight years old, and read
Candyfloss.
I just loved that book! I read it so many times that in the end it fell to pieces and Mum had to buy me another one. Now I was actually going to meet the person who had written it!
I couldn’t make up my mind what to wear. I don’t have all that many clothes in my wardrobe, and I am notone of those hugely fashion-conscious people, like this girl at school, Rozalie Dunkin, who is trendy as can be and always dressed in the latest gear, which Mum won’t let me have. Or at least, not very often. She either says it’s cheap and tacky, or she says it’s not suitable. Meaning that she doesn’t approve of eleven-year-olds dressing up like they’re eighteen. She really is very old-fashioned, my mum. It doesn’t usually bother me as I don’t specially want to go round pretending to be eighteen, and am probably a little bit
stop FUSSING
!”
RACHEL’S DIARY (THURSDAY)
My sister is a brat. An obnoxious, odious, beastly little BRAT. She was playing music really loud this morning. So loud the floors were practically shaking. I told her to turn it down, but the minute I left the house she went and turned it back up again. I could hear it thumping and banging all the way down the road. Next Door’s going to create, I just know they are. Then Mum’ll say, “Rachel, how could you let her annoy the neighbours like that? You KNOW what Mrs Hawthorn’s like about noise!”
And it will stand there looking all simpering and saintly, and pulling faces at me behind Mum’s back. It knows I can’t say anything. If I complain about it not doing what it’s told, it’ll go and tell Mum about me going off to meet Ty instead of staying here and playing nursemaid. It’s blackmail!
Well, and what do I care? Seeing Ty is the only thing I care about.
He’s asked me to go to a party with him on Saturday!!! I bet he never would have if it weren’t for me going in every day and sitting there right under his nose. He probably wouldn’t ever have noticed me! You have to work at these things, they don’t happen by themselves. Well, sometimes they do, if you’re lucky, but mostly I think you have to make a bit of an effort, specially if it’s someone like Ty that could have the pick of the bunch. He’s so gorgeous! He used to go out with Marsha Williams, but he doesn’t any more so it’s not like I’m stealing him. He was up for grabs! I wouldn’t have made a play for him if he’d still been going with Marsha. At least, I don’t think I would. But then again, I might have! All’s fair in love and war, and Marsha is a total dimbo anyway. She may have the boobs but she certainly hasn’t got the brains. She doesn’t deserve a boy like Ty.
The brat and its friend are downstairs now, hatching plots. I know they’re hatching plots because whenever I come into the room they immediately stop talking and look guilty. MEGAN looks guilty. Annie looks furtive. When I ask what’s going on, Megan turns bright pink and Annie says, “Nothing. Why?” I say, “Because your eyes have suddenly bunched up and gone all shifty.” So then she crosses her eyes and sticks out her tongue, and I tell her she ought to have a bit more respect for those in authority – i.e. me – to which she retorts that I am not in the police force YET. I snap, “Service!” and flounce from the room; whereupon they both start giggling.
They just don’t seem to teach kids any manners these days. I’m sure when I was that age I wouldn’t have cheeked my older sister like Annie cheeks me. If I’d had an older sister. If I had, I’d have paid attention and done what she told me. I would have taken the opportunity to LEARN. This one just doesn’t care. Well, and neither do I! Let them get on with it.
Thursday came – the day of my birthday treat! I was so excited, but a bit nervous, as well. I had been Harriet’s number-one fan for so long! Ever since I was eight years old, and read
Candyfloss.
I just loved that book! I read it so many times that in the end it fell to pieces and Mum had to buy me another one. Now I was actually going to meet the person who had written it!
I couldn’t make up my mind what to wear. I don’t have all that many clothes in my wardrobe, and I am notone of those hugely fashion-conscious people, like this girl at school, Rozalie Dunkin, who is trendy as can be and always dressed in the latest gear, which Mum won’t let me have. Or at least, not very often. She either says it’s cheap and tacky, or she says it’s not suitable. Meaning that she doesn’t approve of eleven-year-olds dressing up like they’re eighteen. She really is very old-fashioned, my mum. It doesn’t usually bother me as I don’t specially want to go round pretending to be eighteen, and am probably a little bit
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