Pride and Premiership (12 page)

I didn’t even get to use the machine that would have toned me to within an inch of my life. What’s wrong with me? I’m a disaster if I don’t eat and a disaster if I do.

I was going to take Kevin’s advice and stay at home to recuperate, but then I realized that he thinks I threw up because I’d overdone it, rather than because I’d stuffed my face with Chinese food last night. So I’ve rushed to get ready for work. Just about to phone the Feminazi to let her know I’ll be half an hour late. I’ll say it’s because of women’s problems. Need to play my cards right to make sure she gives good marks for my NVQ.

Well … I’m still home. There’s been a change of plan and it’s Kellie’s fault. When she called to check how I was doing, I was about to phone work.

“I’m OK,” I told her. “Just proper embarrassed.”

“I would’ve come home with you,” she said, “but I thought it would be bad if both of us dropped out.”

“Yeah, right. I know exactly why you didn’t drop out … KEVIN.”

She started to giggle. “Busted. He’s fit, though, isn’t he?”

“Yep,” I admitted.

“He’ll show you around again when you’re up to it,” she told me. “And you never know, he might be mine by then.”

“I bet he will.” I laughed.

Kellie’s amazing. She never misses an opportunity. While I stand there, willing a fit boy to come over and talk to me, Kellie’s like an Exocet missile – she seeks and destroys. And it’s not like she needs to do the chasing, either. To go with her perfect brown skin, Kellie has hair that drops down to her shoulders in big black spirals and the cutest little freckles running across her nose. She’s so–oo pretty.

“Anyway, I’m going shopping. Coming?” she asked, interrupting my thoughts.

“I can’t piss Kara off. I’m still waiting for my NVQ.”

“Come on, you’ve got the perfect excuse.”

“I feel better now, though.”

Then I looked out of the window. Yep, still sunny. The kind of day that rips out your heart when you’re stuck at a boring reception desk.

“Well… I suppose I DID throw up,” I added.

“Uh-huh. Which means technically you ARE ill.”

“And it was at the gym, so there’ll be witnesses, won’t there?”

“Exactly. Shall we say eleven o’clock?”

All I have to do now is phone the Feminazi and pull an Oscar-winning sickie.

Aa–aaaarghhhh! Will somebody please put Kara Feminazi Cooper out of her misery? There’s something seriously wrong with that woman. Why does she have to be so sarky? Suppose I really did have the first signs of swine flu?

OK, I exaggerated an ickle bit – but only because I knew that if I’d told the truth, she’d come up with a story like: “My grandmother, the late, great Kara Cooper the Second, broke two legs and an arm, and still carried on working through the Blitz.”

Whatever. Please just give me my NVQ and go away.

Actually, she’s done me a favour. She’s highlighted the fact that I don’t want to work for her for the rest of my life. I want to be my own boss, in my OWN beauty salon. And even though it’s probably ages away, I’m going to start a business plan right now. I can look at it whenever she does my head in and think,
It’s only a matter of time
.

Er … what does a business plan actually look like?

Google to the rescue.

Grr. This is driving me mad! Hundreds of sites came up saying I could download a business plan sample.
Perfect
, I thought. But I don’t understand a bloody word of any them. They’re full of terms like “gross margin” and “quantify your market”. WTF?!?!

I’m going to take a break and update my Facebook photos instead.

Aha! Godfather Alan has finally emailed back.

Hey Remy,

How are you? Glad you liked the card. Are things any better there now?

Alan x

Wow. He’s later than late.

I replied straight away:

Hi Alan,

I’m fine. You’ll be glad to know that Mum and Dad are no longer at war. Early days, though. You know what they’re like.

You’re still the best godfather ever, even though you took for ever to email back.

Love Remy x

Alan’s reply:

Stopped arguing? Do you think that’s it, or are they likely to start again?

From best godfather ever, who’s very sorry about late response. x

I sent:

Is the Pope Catholic?

R x

Alan’s reply:

It’s a shame they can’t get on. Hope you’re not too upset. I remember how badly you took it last time. Do you have someone to talk to?

Alan x

I hate being patronized!

I’ll live! Happen to be seventeen now – practically an ADULT.

Remy

Alan’s reply:

Yes, of course. I suppose I’m treating you like the ten-year-old you were when I last saw you. Forgive me. Time goes so fast.

A x

Ah, now I feel guilty. I’ll write something nice.

I sent:

You’re forgiven! Anyhoo, how are you? Been sunning yourself? Having barbies and plenty of tinnies? (Ha, ha!)

R x

Alan’s reply:

I take it “Neighbours” is still big out there! Actually, been doing all of the above. But I’ve had seven years of it now and I’m missing home. Seriously thinking about coming back.

A x

I’ve just sent:

When? When? When?!

R x

His reply:

Pretty soon.

A x

PS Please don’t tell your parents. I want to surprise them.

Yippee! I’m so happy Godfather Alan’s coming back but a tiny part of me is thinking,
Oh no, I’m rubbish at keeping secrets
.

I met Kellie at Westfield. That place is so–oo massive. Still takes my breath away. It was full of loafing sixth-formers because most exams are over. Kellie charmed a sales assistant in the Apple store and he gave her a pink silicone iPod case! Another one was eyeing me up and Kellie dared me to work some magic on him. He was cute-ish but I just haven’t got it in me. Besides, I’m saving myself for Robbie.

I bought some lip gloss from MAC, and Kellie bought some gladiator sandals, then we just mooched around for a couple of hours until Kellie had to go off to an interview for a Saturday job in Topshop. She’s been working in Superdrug up until now, so this is a massive step up.

“You’ll get it,” I told her when she said she was feeling nervous. “Use the same skills that just got you a new iPod case.”

Been home for over an hour now and I’m bored. Bored. BORED. Daytime TV’s crap and they keep muting the sound on
Big Brother
. So–oo annoying.

Never thought I’d say this, but I actually wish I’d gone to work today. I think I’ve missed the laughs we have. I’ve even missed Malibu boasting about Goldenballs – how duh is that?

I’m going down the newsagent’s. Flicking through mags will be far more entertaining.

OMG. I have the juiciest gossip ever. I cut through the park on the way back from the newsagent’s and saw Lance Wilson kissing a girl on a park bench. Not just any girl – AMY FITZGERALD! He should be ashamed of himself. He’s gone from dating my beautiful big sister to publicly snogging the local bike. (The same local bike that he used to call ugly whenever Malibu accused him of fancying her.)

Well, he obviously doesn’t think Amy’s ugly any more, because he was so into her that he didn’t even notice me. I was really tempted to say something, or at least to stand behind them and start clearing my throat: Ahem. Ahem. AHEM. But it started to rain – this country’s so–oo random. And I only had a little summer dress on, so I ran the rest of the way home.

Anyhoo, I bought four magazines and I’m going to scan through them to find a look that rocks for my date with Robbie tomorrow. But first I’m going to phone Malibu to tell her about Lance and Amy. This is going to be the bitchfest of all bitchfests!

I’m so stupid! Watching
Home and Away
with Mum earlier reminded me about Godfather Alan coming back, so I blurted out, “Alan’s mad to want to—”

I was going to say “come home” but I quickly stopped myself when I remembered it was SUPPOSED TO BE A SECRET.

“To want to what?” asked Mum, frowning.

“Um…” It felt like it took twelve hours to dig myself out of the hole. “Um… To want to … stay in Australia when he could be in rainy old England. Ha, ha!”

The Jedi mind trick must have worked because Mum just looked out the window, saw the rain lashing down and sighed. “Yeah.”

Phew!

It’s official. I have the biggest mouth ever. I’ve already told Malibu that Godfather Alan is coming back. And I didn’t even mean to, it just fell from my lips.

“When?” she asked.

“He said pretty soon. But don’t tell Mum and Dad. He wants to surprise them.”

“Why?”

“Dunno, but don’t tell. Ple–ease…”

I feel an ickle bit like a traitor now, but I don’t think she’ll tell. Malibu usually takes everything in her stride. Even me catching Lance and Amy snogging in the park didn’t turn into the bitchfest I thought it would. I expected Malibu to be spitting blood, but there was a long pause and then an ice-cold “Whatever”.

She’s another level.

Mum didn’t cook today – she’s meeting Dad down the gastro pub.

Before she left she started to say, “I stored last night’s dinner in the fridge. Are you all right to…?” But she got a text before she could finish. She read it straight away and I reckon it was a romantic message from Dad, because she broke into the biggest smile ever.

“Nuke it?” I finished for her. “Course I am, Mum.”

“OK then. See you later.” She was positively glowing.

It’s nice to know Dad can still make her feel that good, even after their arguing. Anyway, I thought it was a good time to give her some advice. Not the complacency speech – Mum wouldn’t have appreciated it like Dad did – so I just said, “Mum, please drop the hair elastic. You look so much better without it.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled and did it. Her hair dropped to her shoulders – blonde and not perfect, but so much better than before. Next time I’ll work on her letting me make her up.

OMG. Malibu isn’t as unflappable as I thought. She’s having a massive barney with someone on the phone. Swearing and everything! I don’t think I’ve ever heard her like this. Wonder who it is…?

Just overheard “messing me about”. Goldenballs? It must be Goldenballs. Maybe he’s changed his mind. (He’s supposed to be taking her to dinner tomorrow.)