something a bit scary? They don’t seem to realise that I’ve grown out of all this kiddy crud.
Anyway, when it was time to go back to school one of the drivers, who is called Ivy, said she’d take me in her cab. We talked a bit on the way and Ivy asked me how I was getting on with my mum’s new husband. I was glad she didn’t say “your new dad” as I can’t standit when people do that. So I pulled a face, and Ivy said, “Tough going?” And then she told me how it had happened to her when she was about my age and how she’d thought she’d never get used to her mum having a new bloke, “Never!” but how in the end she had and, “Now we’re the best of friends.”
I know Ivy was only trying to be helpful, but I am afraid it is not going to work out like that for me. I still have my real dad, even if he does live miles away. It was different for Ivy as her real dad was not really a very nice person. In fact Ivy said he was “a right *******”. (I have to put stars as the word Ivy used is not the sort of word I wish to record in this diary.) I told her that my dad is the best dad in the world and that I am going to stay with him over half-term. I said that I am really looking forward to it. Ivy said, “Well, have a good time, but don’t expect too much, will you?”
I don’t know why she said that. I didn’t have a chance to ask her as we had already reached the school gates. Skinny was mooning about nearby with Avril and Uchenna. You should have seen their faces when they realised who was in the cab!
They couldn’t have been more surprised if I’d stepped out of a Rolls Royce. Skinny shrieked, “Where have you been?” It was just my bad luck that Mrs James happened to be passing at that particular moment and also wanted to know where I had been. I told her I’d been visiting my dad’s old work-mates and she said, “You do know you’re not supposed to leave the premises at lunch time without permission?” and I said yes, which was a dumb thing to say. I should have said no, though I don’t expect ignorance is any defence, and she said, “Very well, Cherry,” all frozen and unsmiling like an ice lolly with the colour sucked out of it.
I am to go and see her tomorrow, first thing after assembly.
I know what that means. It means she’s going to bawl me out and threaten to tell Mum. I don’t care! It was worth it. I’m glad I went. I don’t see what right they have to keep making all these rules and regulations anyway. Nobody ever asks us what we want. Grown-ups do just whatever they like. Get divorced. Marry creeps. Have babies. It isn’t fair!
Thursday
Went to see Mrs James. Actually she was quite nice. She said that “this sort of behaviour” couldn’t be allowed to go on but that she didn’t want to have to write to Mum unless I absolutely forced her, and then she said, “Did you ever think about my suggestion for keeping a diary?” and I said yes, I was doing it, and she asked me if it was helping, but without prying into the reasons why I might need helping, which is what lots of teachers would have done. So to please her I said I thought perhaps it was, just a little bit, and she told me to keep on with it because it could only be a good thing.
I hope she’s right. I do quite like putting things down in writing. I can say lots of stuff that I couldn’t say to anyone else, not even the Melon – who is back being friends with me again, incidentally. It seems that we can’t survive without each other. Avril and Uchenna are all right, but me and Skin have been together since Juniors.
I stayed in school at lunch-time and dutifully ate yuck in the canteen. It made me feel sick. I feel sick most of the time now, what with eating yuck and Mum and Slimey keeping on and on about this blessed baby. Even the names they have come up with are yuck. If it’s a boy it’s going to be Bernard … Bernard Butter. If it’s a girl it’s going to be Belinda. Mum says she likes what she
Anyway, when it was time to go back to school one of the drivers, who is called Ivy, said she’d take me in her cab. We talked a bit on the way and Ivy asked me how I was getting on with my mum’s new husband. I was glad she didn’t say “your new dad” as I can’t standit when people do that. So I pulled a face, and Ivy said, “Tough going?” And then she told me how it had happened to her when she was about my age and how she’d thought she’d never get used to her mum having a new bloke, “Never!” but how in the end she had and, “Now we’re the best of friends.”
I know Ivy was only trying to be helpful, but I am afraid it is not going to work out like that for me. I still have my real dad, even if he does live miles away. It was different for Ivy as her real dad was not really a very nice person. In fact Ivy said he was “a right *******”. (I have to put stars as the word Ivy used is not the sort of word I wish to record in this diary.) I told her that my dad is the best dad in the world and that I am going to stay with him over half-term. I said that I am really looking forward to it. Ivy said, “Well, have a good time, but don’t expect too much, will you?”
I don’t know why she said that. I didn’t have a chance to ask her as we had already reached the school gates. Skinny was mooning about nearby with Avril and Uchenna. You should have seen their faces when they realised who was in the cab!
They couldn’t have been more surprised if I’d stepped out of a Rolls Royce. Skinny shrieked, “Where have you been?” It was just my bad luck that Mrs James happened to be passing at that particular moment and also wanted to know where I had been. I told her I’d been visiting my dad’s old work-mates and she said, “You do know you’re not supposed to leave the premises at lunch time without permission?” and I said yes, which was a dumb thing to say. I should have said no, though I don’t expect ignorance is any defence, and she said, “Very well, Cherry,” all frozen and unsmiling like an ice lolly with the colour sucked out of it.
I am to go and see her tomorrow, first thing after assembly.
I know what that means. It means she’s going to bawl me out and threaten to tell Mum. I don’t care! It was worth it. I’m glad I went. I don’t see what right they have to keep making all these rules and regulations anyway. Nobody ever asks us what we want. Grown-ups do just whatever they like. Get divorced. Marry creeps. Have babies. It isn’t fair!
Thursday
Went to see Mrs James. Actually she was quite nice. She said that “this sort of behaviour” couldn’t be allowed to go on but that she didn’t want to have to write to Mum unless I absolutely forced her, and then she said, “Did you ever think about my suggestion for keeping a diary?” and I said yes, I was doing it, and she asked me if it was helping, but without prying into the reasons why I might need helping, which is what lots of teachers would have done. So to please her I said I thought perhaps it was, just a little bit, and she told me to keep on with it because it could only be a good thing.
I hope she’s right. I do quite like putting things down in writing. I can say lots of stuff that I couldn’t say to anyone else, not even the Melon – who is back being friends with me again, incidentally. It seems that we can’t survive without each other. Avril and Uchenna are all right, but me and Skin have been together since Juniors.
I stayed in school at lunch-time and dutifully ate yuck in the canteen. It made me feel sick. I feel sick most of the time now, what with eating yuck and Mum and Slimey keeping on and on about this blessed baby. Even the names they have come up with are yuck. If it’s a boy it’s going to be Bernard … Bernard Butter. If it’s a girl it’s going to be Belinda. Mum says she likes what she
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