“We don’t want to get in a car with the wrong person!” I said.
Annie rolled her eyes. “You are such a worrygut! Maybe she could hold a copy of one of her books? Or d’you think there might be hundreds of people waiting at Brafferton Bridge holding copies of books?”
I giggled at that.
“I’ll 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 not one 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 old-fashioned myself. Annie sometimes says I am. But I did want to look nice for Harriet!
I dithered for ages, trying to decide. Most of the stuff in my wardrobe is stuff that Rozalie Dunkin wouldn’t be seen dead in. But I had to wear something! Mum was calling to me from the kitchen: “Megan, your breakfast is ready! What are you doing?”
I stuck my head out of the door and yelled, “Getting dressed!”
“Well, just be quick! I haven’t got all day.”
Now it was Mum agitating to go, and me holding things up. I stopped dithering, grabbed a top which was not new but which I just happen to love – it is blue, with little bunched sleeves, and ties round the middle – and my best pair of jeans, which were new. So new I hadn’t yet worn them! They had beautiful embroidered bits round the bottom, bright reds and greens, all curling and swirling. I thought maybe they were the one thing I owned that Rozalie Dunkin might not mind being seen dead in. I didn’t have any trendy sort of shoes, so I just put on my trainers, which she definitely would not have been seen dead in! They were quite old and tatty, but I hoped that Harriet wouldn’t notice.
Mum did! Well, she noticed the jeans.
“You’re wearing your new trousers!” she said. “I thought you were keeping those for the party?”
“I’ll probably wear a dress for the party,” I said. “I might get a bit hot in these.”
“You’ll get a bit hot in them today! It’s going to be well over 20 degrees. If I were you, I’d go and put some shorts on.”
I couldn’t go to tea with Harriet wearing shorts. I had this sudden great urge to tell Mum what I was doing, but I knew that I couldn’t. Mum is such a worrier! She might even tell me that I wasn’t to go. In any case, I had promised Annie not to say anything, and I couldn’t break my promise. Not when it was her birthday present to me, and she had worked so hard at it.
“Well, it’s up to you,” said Mum. “Wear what you like, I don’t have time to argue! Now, I’ll be picking you up at 6.30 tonight, OK? So you’ll be having tea with Annie.”
With Harriet, I thought; and I couldn’t help a little giggle bursting out of me. Oops! I promptly clapped a hand to my mouth.
“You’re in a very odd mood,” said Mum.