McPherson, Carly. Diary Of:

Carly's Diary
'Hi'

The teachers are always saying, "School days are the best days of your
life." Are they aware of how wrong they actually are? I mean... it's
gonna get worse than this? GREAT.
But when you think about it, logically, teachers would say crazy stuff
like that. After all, their school days must have been the best days of
their lives, otherwise they wouldn't go back.
Personally, I could never be a teacher. But there again, I'm pretty
bad at being a student...

The two things I hate about school most are:
1. THE UNIFORM.
Being naturally pale, the stupid uniform (which is black) makes me look
like one of the vampires from Buffy The Vampire Slayer&;#8230;
Correction. NO IT DOESN'T. To look like one of the undead on Buffy
would be cool. You'd get to lurk around in graveyards wearing tight
leather&;#8230;. and hang out with Spike; (James Masters - like you
don't know who he is.) He's so gorgeous&;#8230;
But this uniform is b-a-d. In the winter we freeze to death due to the
paper-thin 'material' used to create the blazers. And in summer we just
get killed if your shirt is hanging out. (It worked for Britney
Spears&;#8230; it can work for us. If we get ourselves a
$600-an-hour make-up artist.) And also, we get a roasting for taking
our tights off when is like, a billion degrees in the shade. Dull? Yes.
It's okay for the staff&;#8230; they've got a lovely air-conditioned
staff-room to escape to during break times.
In a short, grammatically incorrect sentence. Uniform: unspeakably
crap.
All I can say is, roll on own-clothes days.

2. THE BOYS.
Basically, the boys in our school are awful. They make you want to go
and date 'The Muppets'. Actually, that's an insult&;#8230;to the
Muppets. Elmo is so cute!
Those that we used to class under the heading 'best friend' or
'potential husband' soon got placed in the 'total pig' category. Why is
this? You ask. How can a boy go from being someone you'd gladly receive
a diamond ring from, to the kind of person whose neck you'd gladly
stuff a diamond ring down&;#8230; until it chocked him.
Here's your answer. 'BOYS NEVER GROW UP, THEY JUST GET OLDER.' Around
the age of eleven, boys are just like us girls. Happy. Young. Immature,
but nice. Around the age of sixteen, those dreaded hormones start
kicking in, and the moment you say, 'boy, you're grumpy,' world war
three is started. (One day my theory will be proven, and I will get
global recognition. I'll get the Nobel Prize and won't my science
teachers be pleased then!)
However, there is one boy, who defies this rule. (Which means, he's an
Alien from Planet Zorb.) I have never met him, and probably never will,
but from what I've heard he's perfect. Wait, no, that's wrong. He seems
perfect. I mean, anyone who likes Green Day has gotta be something
special&;#8230;. But I guess I'll never know&;#8230;.
I spoke to his mum too. She said, (and I quote) "I'm lucky because he's
an individual. He doesn't care what anyone else thinks; he just won't
follow like a sheep."
And that's why I think I'm so attracted to this mystery guy that I've
never met. He seems like a complete individual, and that what makes him
appear so attractive. I mean, girls don't want someone who's like
everyone else, they want someone who's unique. I want someone like
that.
I think it's because sometimes, well, most of the time actually, I feel
like I don't fit in, it would be nice to be with someone who was like
me, a social misfit. Someone who isn't afraid to break the mould.
Did any of that make any sense to anyone but me?
My-kindda-guy. And his name? Yeah. Like I'm gonna give you that.
Now the boys in my form? They have been assimilated. Resistance was
indeed futile. And they are now the Borg.
Oh yeah, I forgot. Another downside to school&;#8230; is the amount
of work we are drowning in. Quick, man the lifeboats! No really. I'm
serious.
They have the audacity to say to us, "I'm not giving you homework for
the sake of it, to stop you from having fun." Oh really? Okay, so we
may manage to get six out of eighteen for our tests, but we are not
stupid. It's just a big conspiracy against us to stop us from
stampeding down the local multiplex on a Friday night. Because of the
teachers, the local cinema is loosing business you
know&;#8230;
And that's about it really. Me hate school.
Of course, throughout the course of this diary, I will elaborate on the
points I made. Big time.
Until then my friend. American TV Sitcom's call&;#8230; or in other
words, digital television. Gotta go!
Carly x

Chapter One
It was Friday lunchtime. Everyone was slowly filing into the
smaller-than-a-shoe-box classroom we are forced to share. (School
cutbacks. Can't afford more chalk, won't build an extension.) Julie and
me were already in the classroom. We'd just had Biology. One of the
nicer subjects, with one of the nicer teachers, and she'd let us leave
early.
William was one of the last people to enter the room. Once he was
inside, he slammed the door and belched loudly; he had the potential to
create hurricanes in Florida.
"Will!" Julie and I screeched in unison. "Don't be such as disgusting
pig!" He stared at as squarely with his sea green eyes, before belching
again. Then his impish face broke into a wide grin, his mischievous
eyes almost disappearing.
Ignoring us then, he turned around, and lifted the lid of his desk.
He'd already engraved various swearwords into it with his compass, and
the inside was even bleaker. Crumpled papers, crisp packets, water
bottles and the occasional schoolbook clogged up the chasm. He wrinkled
his brow, cussing silently, rummaging through the mess like a terrier
trying to dig out a fox burrow. Having not retrieved what he could not
find, he spun around again.
"Yo, Afro! Chuck us a pen?" He said in a deep, comical voice. (Afro
was a nickname that had been affectionately slapped on Luke from on age
of four, due to his dusty-blonde mass of curly hair.) Luke threw a pen
with athletic precision, it sliced through the air, and it was aiming
for Will's forehead. "Whoa!" he said, dodging the object. "Afro! I am
not a dart board!"
"Where you going any way?" Luke asked, biting deeply into a crisp, red
apple.
"Detention. For Mrs. Moron. Gotta go at one."
"I hate her, she's such a bitch." I said, ripping open a packet of
ready salted crisps. "Alright!" I practically yelled. "Blue packet! You
are now looking at a very rich person&;#8230;"
"Probably just twenty seven pence off a packet of crisps." Luke
speculated. "Immensely cheap."
A strange excitement bubbled inside me. I'd never won anything before;
we'll not from a packet of Walker's crisps anyway. My Mum had mentioned
something about a girl finding a twenty-pound note in her crisps;
apparently it was in the news&;#8230; So there was hope, it wasn't
like the whole thing was a promotional hoax by Walkers. With trembling,
greasy fingers I struggled to tear open the dark blue packet. It was no
good. My fingers were too greasy and slid off the packet. I threw it to
Will. It hit him on the forehead.
"What is this?" he practically exploded. "Throw crap at Will day?" His
voice slipped into that familiar comical tone. His welsh accent always
seemed to be more prominent when he used this tone. He looked at me
squarely with his sea green eyes before saying, "Shut your spud."
Let me explain this 'spud' thing. In the beginning, it was intensely
annoying. Never upsetting, just annoying. (I believe, that Luke also
felt the same way about being labelled Afro, until he discovered that
the 70's retro look was coming back into fashion&;#8230;)
Anyway, the boys (not the mature girls, just the childish boys) were
quite fond of calling me spud, something to do with the fact that they
think I have a big head. Don't ask me where they got this
from&;#8230; because I mean, at least I have a brain in this 'big'
head of mine. All they have between their ears (whether the cavity is
large or tiny) is fresh air. But there again, we all know where boys'
brains are really located, and it isn't between their
ears&;#8230;
Sorry, I'm going off the subject here. The 'spud' thing. The whole
endless torture cycle came to an end about three months ago. Those of
us that are fortunate enough to do Geography, (or roped into it, as the
case may be,) had to go on a fieldtrip to North Wales. One lunchtime,
we were eating chips, (if you can call them that,) and they were
absolutely grotesque. I came out with, 'I'd make better chips than
these.'
Luke and Adam, being stupid, thought I meant 'me' as in my head, my
spud, and the pair cracked up simultaneously. They put down their forks
and just laughed for about two minutes straight. That was my ultimate
triumph.
I have this theory (with all these theory's I should be good at
something besides Biology) that people annoy other people to get a
reaction. If you don't respond, then they don't care. You didn't give
them what they want, and they get bored and leave you alone.
Alternatively, you can really turn the tables. If you can laugh at
yourself first, prove that you have the sense of humour, and then you
really throw them. It's like, you win then.
Just call me Carly Freud. My book should be out within the next three
years&;#8230;.

Will peeled the blue packet off his forehead. It left a shiny
square-shaped patch of grease. He wiped away the stubborn stain with
his hand, then rubbed his hand on his black, baggy trousers. He bit the
blue packet open with ferret-like teeth. He spit the excess piece of
plastic onto the classroom floor. He pulled something out of the
packet, I couldn't look&;#8230;
"Unlucky Spud! The Afro was correct!"
I stuck out my bottom lip in an exaggerated pout. If some kid could
find twenty-pound in the bottom of her crisp packet on the way to
school, why couldn't I? "You can have it Luke." I offered.
"A guy up in Maesteg, has won almost a hundred pounds through
promotions like that." Adam said. "He eats crisps all the time."
"Is he fat?" Julie asked. It was the first time she's spoken in almost
half an hour. At that moment in time, she was tucking into her rice. I
honestly don't understand how someone can eat rice as often as Julie
does. It's so bland. The only time it really tastes nice is when its
part of the 'egg-fried-rice'. (Ah&;#8230;Chinese Food.)
Julie seemed to be obsessing over her weight more and more recently.
She'd gone on a diet over the summer, (a rice diet, who you believe)
and it paid off, but I just don't want one of my friends turning into
an anorexic. I can kill people after all.
"Nah." Adam said, "He's about normal actually." He suddenly though
about what he'd said, and the possible repercussions. "Not that I go
checking out men's bodies&;#8230;" he added awkwardly.
Adam is, like many other sixteen-year-old boys in this country, a
complete homophobic. (In case you don't own a dictionary, that means
he's afraid of gay people.) Don't ask me why he feels like this,
because I have no idea. (Last year though, Dina really terrified him.
She told him that she thought he had 'homosexual tendencies' because he
'has an ego and loves himself.')
Sure, our Ad does have a little bit of an ego, and sometimes it does
shine through, but we can't really blame him. I mean, if he loves
himself, it's because of us, 'cos we love him too! Basically, he has a
killer sense of humour, and he's fun to be around&;#8230; he's just
afraid that one morning he'll wake up and be attracted to every guy
this side of New Jersey. (Although I don't see how that could actually
happen because 'our Adam' is also a total womaniser.)
A string of obscenities spilled out of William's mouth, as he slammed
his half-eaten sandwich into the bin. "I'm late! Mrs. Moron's gonna
kill me!" He stuck Luke's fountain pen in his back pocket, and with a
crumpled piece of file paper in one hand, a bottle of coke in the
other, and a distressed expression on his impish face, he headed off to
the library.
Will had left the door slightly ajar, and we were aware of the feint
sound of high-heeled shoes on a tiled floor. Julie stopped eating her
salad; Luke pressed a finger to his lips to signal silence. We all
froze, stopped breathing. It was almost as though if we kept perfectly
still, we'd become invisible, and whatever teacher lurked outside would
not see us.
We saw the door being pushed open slowly, and a pointy, rich purple
shoe poked through the opening in between the door and the frame. The
door was open, but the teacher nearly filled the whole doorframe. Mrs.
Star.
(I'm sure she's been in the movies&;#8230; only I can't remember the
proper title. I think she played a crocodile or a dinosaur, some
reptile-like thing. What was the name of that movie again? Oh yeah. I
remember now. GODZILLA.)
"Everyone outside now." Her voice was high-pitched. Similar to the mice
on Cinderella, or someone who had been inhaling helium. We all stood
perfectly still, as a testimony against her. It was minus five billion
degrees out, (or at least that's what it felt like&;#8230;) and she
wanted us to go outside? Yeah. That was going to happen.
"Outside." she commanded. Her attempts at 'rows' were pathetic. She was
no disciplinarian. We all muttered and rolled our eyes. Grabbing my
last chocolate bar, Julie and I headed towards the door. Star still
blocked the way. Her hair was black and curly, her fat lips plumped up
with bright purple lipstick. Her beady eyes cloaked in black mascara,
were narrowed and angry.
"Excuse me, Mrs. Star." I said quietly. She glared at me. If looks
could kill&;#8230;. Prizing herself out of the doorframe, she let us
pass. God, she was fat. On my last day of school I was going to write
'moo' on a piece of paper and stick it to her back.
Julie and I made a quick exit. We could hear her high-pitched squeak
echoing through the corridor as we went. What could possibly be
bothering her now? We made our way into the girl's toilets.
The one down the corridor from our form room wasn't as bad as the one
upstairs. The one upstairs stank and had a mirror that could make any
beauty queen look like Cruella De Ville. This one wasn't so bad though.
It had two toilets. One could be kicked open because the lock was so
lose, and the other jammed on a regular basis. The good thing was, it
was odour-free and one entire wall was covered with mirror-tiles, (just
for the narcissistic ones among us.)
Julie pulled a pale pink lipstick out of her blazer pocket, and began
to apply it to her lips. That was the good thing about these blazers,
they had deep pockets, you could almost fit the kitchen sink in
there.
"They're going to tell you to take that lipstick off." I said. Julie
shrugged her slim shoulders. She didn't care. "You need to blot it
now." I handed her a piece of tissue paper.
I gazed into my reflection in the mirror. Light brown hair, pale
complexion, didn't want to go outside&;#8230; I was definitely
turning into a vampire. Julie was busy blotting her thin lips, so I
nabbed her lipstick. I spread it across my thick lips, and stared at
myself in the mirror tiles. Now I looked like a cross between a vampire
and the sugar plum fairy. Not trendy. I wiped it away, not caring that
I now had a pale pink streak across the back of my hand. Julie was pale
too, but her hair was an auburn colour and that shade suited her.
"Let's go." We were both to walk out of the door when Star blocked our
way again.
"What do you think you two are doing?" She asked fiercely. I figured it
was a rhetorical question, so I didn't answer her. As a result, she
told me off for being rude. And then she manhandled us outside. Forget
being a teacher, she should have been a bouncer.
Once Julie and I were in the cold, cold world, Star cruelly bolted the
door behind us so we couldn't get back in. Well, using that door at
least. I wrapped my arms around myself for warmth. On our way to the
field (where everyone congregated during lunch) we were forced to pass
the staff room. If we looked up, we could see the teachers in the
window, sipping steaming-hot cups of coffee.
I turned to Julie and with an ironic smile I said, "So, I hear
hypothermia is a nice way to die."

Carly's Diary
'Music'

Have you ever thought about what the world would be like if there was
no such thing as music? How annoying would that be? Alright, we
wouldn't know any different, but I think it would be annoying.
Right now I'm listening to 'Black Lab'. There on the soundtrack to
'Varsity Blues', they've been on quite a few soundtracks actually.
They're an acquired taste, if you're the kind of person who listens to
'alternative' then you'll like them. But if you live for pop music,
then these guys will probably make you cry. They're all drums and
guitars, which are extremely cool.
'Perfect Circle' are good too. They are, well, I don't know what genre
I'd class them as. Heavy metal? Alternative? I'm unsure. There is the
kind of music you want to listen to when you're in a really bad mood.
It's therapeutic in a way. Got that, therapeutic, not tranquil.
I was watching their interview on MTV 2, and they were asked if they
could 'draw a perfect circle' and the lead singer said something about
a joke about drawing perfect circles, only he couldn't say it, because
it was rude. Strange.
I wish we listened to music like this when we had music lessons. But
no, we had classical. It's good in it's own way, but that really is an
acquired taste. I remember what William did in music once.
We were all sat there, our keyboards in front of us, and the teacher
(she left about three years ago) wrote some notes on the board or a
musical term. She turned to Adam and said, "What's this?" William,
being the class clown, and wanting to be centre stage 24/7 butted in.
His answer was, "Crap."
He got detention for a week, and he had to write an apology. F U N N
Y.
Still on the subject of music, I had a dream last night about it. I was
in a 'Perfect Circle' video and they were playing their song 'Judith'.
(The song I'm listening to now.) It was so strange&;#8230;
I was a Goth. My skin was even paler than usual, and my hair was
floor-length and black. My eyes were like a cats, so I must have been
wearing contact lenses. The dress I was wearing was amazing, I want it.
Or, if I ever become rich and famous, I'm going to employ a dress
designer to make it for me. It was a combination of red lace and
leather. Sounds awful, I know, but trust me, I looked cool.
The song was playing in the background, and I was in a bathroom,
looking in a cracked mirror, applying red lipstick. The only thing was,
I wasn't putting the lipstick on properly, and it was as though I had
no control over my hand. The lipstick caked my mouth, and was smeared
on my cheek. The song was still playing. Then, I looked down, about to
wash my hands and the lipstick was gone.
Thick blood oozed through my fingers, and as I looked in the mirror
again, I saw the saw blood smeared all over my face, across my cheek
and in my mouth&;#8230;
When I woke up I felt quite sick. It amazes me how I can still listen
to that song, and not vomit.
Carly x

Chapter Two
I was watching MTV this morning, and that song 'Lady' by Mojo came on.
I love that song, it's amazing, (and I'm not one for dance tunes) and
just as it comes up to a really good part in the video, what happens?
MTV has a technical fault, and I miss the heart-stoppingly gorgeous guy
in the video. I knew it's gonna be a bad day&;#8230;.
In English, we're studying Mice and Men, which is absolutely
fantastic&;#8230; except, after a while, it becomes monotonous and
boring. The film was brilliant, although I'd rather watch Romeo and
Juliet any day, (for obvious reasons&;#8230; one being Mr.
DiCaprio.)
What gets me is, John Steinbeck (the writer of Mice and Men) didn't
know that in a couple of (hundred?) years children would be studying
his book, and taking an examine in it. Apparently, he's famous in
America. I only heard of him four weeks ago when we were told we had
another piece of literature to study.
I think us 'schoolchildren' should have our own award ceremony (like
the Brits of the MTV VMA's) we should have the MAAA (Most Annoying
Author Awards.) Seriously. Of course, there would be a subcategory,
which William Shakespeare should be placed in.
Did you ever see that programme 'BlackAdder Back and Forth'? It was
fuuny, but not as comical as the actual series. Anyway, there was this
one scene that every school child in Britain would have loved to
partake in.
BlackAdder goes back to (was it Elizabethan England?) I'm not sure,
England anyway, when Billy Shakespeare was alive. BlackAdder walks up
to him, and punches him square in the jaw, and he falls over. Then he
says, "That's for every school-girl and school-boy for the next four
hundred years."
How I would love to hit William Shakespeare. Trying to study anything
he's written is absolute torture. If his work had been around in the
Middle Ages, peasants would have been asked, "How do you want to die?
Shall this big guy in a balaclava chop your head off, or shall I just
read you Macbeth?" But instead, poor innocent school students have to
endure his wrath. I don't mean to speak ill of the dead, but couldn't
Billy Shakespeare have written it in plain English for a start?
Mice and Men. I forgot to write up some chapters, so I had detention.
Well, I wouldn't exactly call it detention, because by the time you
reach Year 11, the word detention no longer exists. It's called 'going
to the library.' Very original. And guess what? Our English teacher
wants to make the prospect of GCSE's 'more real' for us!!! (Joy- not.)
So, guess what she's gone and done? Given us the exam dates, so we can
actually count down to doomsday. Fantastic.
Just when I thought my day couldn't get any worse&;#8230; whom did
I see when I went into the library at break? Jenkins. (His first name
is actually Steven; only nobody bothers calling him by his Christian
name for some reason.) I hate him, even more than I hate Shakespeare.
That's a lot of hate.
I wondered into the library, clutching my English books and tried to
sit as far away from him as I possibly could. (However, this was hard.
You can't swing a cat in our library, and there's what? Four ancient
desks with year's worth of 'messages' engraved in them by kids in
detention.) In the end, I was sitting opposite him. (It was the only
desk with a comfortable chair.)
I opened my book and started writing. I could feel his eyes watching
me, like a hawk, staring down at a helpless mouse. He was getting to
me. I practically slammed my fountain pen down on the desk. "WHAT?" I
almost screamed.
Jenkins had a dull voice. It was monotonous, low and stupid. It
sounded like a cross between Cartman and Kenny from South Park.
"Nothin'." he said.
I hated Steven with all my soul. He was one of those boys that were in
the 'pig' category, and were never going to leave it. Not only was he
horrible to me, (although thanks to long negotiations in the
headmaster's office, those incidents were now few and far between) but
he was horrible to everyone else, including the teachers! He was just
the most inconsiderate person ever.
Don't talk to me Steve, I said over and over to myself, Don't talk to
me. I repeated the mental chant. He spoke to me. Dammit.
"What you here for then?" he asked, his voice seemed to be one
continuous mumble.
"Forgot to write up Mice and Men." I answered him swiftly, not wanting
to start any real conversation. (That is, if 'real' conversation is
actually possible with Steven.)
"Cool." He drawled. Then, he suddenly started doing 'South Park'
impressions. (Imitating badly-drawn, foul-mouthed cartoon characters is
more common than you may thinks, amongst the boys I know
anyway..)
Without even thinking I said, "I love South Park. Kickass!" (I did a
very poor impression of Eric Cartman as I said the last word.) He
smiled wryly.
We soon plunged into a deep (and meaningless) conversation about
foul-mouth cartoons. We moved on from there, talking about everything
from Green Day to Napster. And of course, Steve being a complete
imbecile had to give his critically acclaimed
'how-to-make-a-homemade-explosive' talk.
"And then you add the magnesium ribbon." he finished.
I don't give a damn, I thought hopelessly. "Cool!" I said with forced
brightness. "Now what were you saying about Napster again?" I asked,
attempting to bring some sanity back into the situation.
"Just type in Eric Cartman. They have him singing 'Firestarter.' It's
immense. Adam's got some class ones&;#8230;"
Steve Jenkins and I had finally found some common ground. Who would
have thought it?
Even though we were on the second floor, the buzzer still rang loud,
buzzing in our ears. "Hate it when that happens." I mumbled to myself,
not Steven. With that, I picked up my books in a muddled bundle, and
left without saying another word.
I was trying to walk down the stairs without falling over and breaking
my neck, but I was somewhat confused. I've known Steve (a.k.a Jenkins)
since I was about three. (And, believe me, that is not something to be
proud of.) and for the first time in my life, I've had a decent
conversation with him. Maybe he wasn't that bad after all&;#8230; I
mean, when you disengaged the 'bomb', 'bully' and 'bad-mouthed' parts
of his brain he was almost human. I shook my head vigorously. I needed
fresh air, desperately. I'd been cooped up in doors way too long.
Grasping my books, I walked back to the classroom, hoping that I didn't
have the words 'I just spoke to Jenkins' written all over my face. The
usual scene greeted me when I entered the classroom.
Will was sitting on his desk, amusing his audience with another
hilarious tale, Luke was enduring new and everlasting 'afro' jokes,
Adam was eating, David was listening to his portable mp3 player, and
Julie was nowhere to be seen (probably in the bathroom, reapplying
lipstick for the nineteenth time.)
"Hey Dav, what ya listening to?" I enquired, dumping my books on the
desk top, going over to investigate. The mp3 player was slim, shiny and
sleek. It screamed 'expensive'. David hadn't heard a word I'd said. I
viciously yanked a headphone from his left ear. The familiar sound of
Green Day's 'basketcase' blared out from the tiny headphone. "Oh my
God, David!!! How loud you got this damn thing?"
He grinned at me while twisting the volume down using his thumb. "Too
loud." He grinned again.
David isn't fat, he was just slightly plump, but does indulge when it
comes to food. All you had to do was glance down at his four-course
lunch to realise that! David was one of the few boys who still remained
in the 'friend' category. I can't think why, because over the past few
years, he has done his fair share of medalling. I don't think I could
ever hate David though; no matter how 'evil' he is every once in a
while. I think it has something to do with the fact that he still has
the same spiky blonde hair he had as a five year old&;#8230; it
looks kindda innocent.
"Right, Carl, you gotta listen to this Cartman song-" he offered me a
tiny headphone. I cringed inwardly. Cartman. My conversation with
Jenkins. For some reason it had left me feeling warped and spacey. I
was never talking to him again.
I pointed to my bag. "Food." I sounded like a Neanderthal.
"Aren't you going to speak to me then?" A bemused voice asked from
behind. I had just twisted the cap on my cola bottle. The voice had
startled me, and before I knew it the bottle had hit the floor. The
already loose cap, had snapped off, and a spray of fizzy cola showered
my bag and the surrounding area. I cursed under my breath.
"Unlucky Spuduth!" It was Will, sat on his desk, a jumbo-sized sandwich
in one hand. I glared at him for a brief moment, too annoyed to answer.
All he needed now was a pointy red hat and a fishing rod, I thought and
he could be a garden gnome. At Christmas time he could be one of
Santa's elves. "What you lookin' at Spud?" he finally asked. I shook my
head and returned to the course in hand.
"Hello?" another voice asked. The same voice that had been responsible
for me spraying myself with cola. I turned around, ready to give
whoever was responsible a steely glare.
"I hope you - Oh my God! Abbey! When did you get back?" My voice
switched from intense anger to happiness in about half a second. "Did
you have a nice time? How come your so brown?" A million questions were
buzzing around in my head all at once. I gazed at my friend with envy.
She had the most glorious suntan ever. Julie and I couldn't get results
like that even after applying gallons of self-tanning lotion. Abbey on
the other hand, having a slightly more olive complexion could tolerate
the sun more, and went a sort of glazed brown rather than bright red
(like me and Jules). She was so lucky. Not that tans were the most
important part of holidays&;#8230;
"I had a great time." Abbey was sorting through my questions
methodically. "I'm 'so brown' because I applied suntan lotion and only
went out in the sun at certain times of the day and&;#8230;." there
was a hint of excitement in her voice, "I met someone." My eyes grew
wide. Abbey produced a Polaroid from her blazer pocket. It was of her
and the most gorgeous guy I have ever seen in my whole entire earthly
existence. He had olive skin (similar to Abbey's) jet-black hair, soft
brown eyes and the cutest smile.
My jaw all but hit the floor. "Once your done with him&;#8230;. can
I have a lend?" Abbey laughed, almost hysterically. "I'm not kidding
Abbey." There was a silence as I continued to gaze at the picture, and
curse my own damn bad luck that Abbey had met him first. "He Spanish?"
I asked. "After all, you were in Barcelona."
Abbey shook her head, her hair shaking as she did. "Nope.
English."
I stuck out my tongue. "English? Nah. They're way too arrogant. Welsh
boys are far nicer. Besides, the Welsh accent is sexier."
A mysterious smile spread over Abbey's face. "Julie told me about that.
You favouring guys from your own country at last."
"I've always liked Welsh boys!!!" I exploded.
"Yeah. Right. There is one particular Welsh boy, isn't there? Do you
even know his name?" She teased. "Or have you only seen a photograph of
that too?"
I was about to ask her how she knew, when she explained that Julie had
told her. I sat on my desk to avoid standing in the puddle of cola. I
crossed one leg over the other. Abbey was in one of her 'Agony Aunt'
moods; I was in for a long talk.
"Carl, you don't even know this boy!" This was not good. She'd only
said one sentence and she was getting nasty. She was about to start
another, but I interrupted.
"He seems real nice, Ab. How can anyone who likes alternative be
anything less? Besides, his mum told-"
"Mothers always say nice things about their sons!!! It's a fact.
Especially if they only have one son, then that boy is solid platinum
in their eyes!" I opened my mouth to say something, but she beat me to
it. "Face it. Your not gonna get anywhere with this one."
I clenched my teeth. Ok. What Abbey had said was true. Or, partly true,
but it was unlike her to be so horrible and dismissive. Normally, it
doesn't matter who I deliriously pin my affections on, Abbey and Julie
still stand by me. Maybe this time they'd just had their fill of my
boy-crazed brain. I was still angry at Abby though.
"Shut up!" I bit off cruelly. "Just because you had some holiday
fling-"
"Your just jealous." She observed with a ruthless smile.
I couldn't stand much more before jumping off my desk, and storming
out. Slamming the newly painted classroom door as I went. I stayed out
in the cloakroom for a few second, overhearing the reactions of my
classmates.
It was only when William said, "Whoa. What's up with Spud?" that I felt
sick to the stomach, and had to leave.

Carly's Diary
'Dammit'

So. There you have it. A perfect end, to a perfect day&;#8230; not.
I mean, alright, Ab is entitled to her opinion, but she could have
waited five seconds before hitting me with it. But she was right about
one thing, I am jealous. That boy of hers (whatever his name is) is
incredibly cute.
I hate Abbey now. Just because she's found&;#8230;. ARRRRGGHHHHH! I
hate her! I mean, I don't have to explain now Diary. I just hate her.
Loads.
I went to Spain once. Didn't pick up a single guy.
AAAAARRRGGHHHH!
Hate her.
There is no point in me writing this. I'm just wasting pen ink, and
giving myself hand cramp. I'll write later, when I have something to
say besides ARRGH!
Actually, I do have something to say. What gives Abbey the right to be
such a judgemental bitch anyway? This 'boyfriend' of hers is the first
guy she's ever been out with, and right now he's thousands of miles
away&;#8230; probably cheating on her.
Julie's no better either. She always&;#8230; never mind.
I hate them both. Julie for telling Abbey and Abbey for being so
judgmental.
Hate them.
Now, if you'd excuse me, I have to listen to Nirvana/Green Day/The
Offspring. LOUDLY. EXTREMLY LOUDLY.
Carly's Diary
'Dammit... but much later'

It's me&;#8230;. again! I've kindda calmed down a bit now. Just a
bit though. In the end, I got sick of Dexter Holland (lead singer of
the Offspring) screaming 'She's Got Issues' out of my speakers, so I
switched them off.
Right now, I'm listening to Savage Garden. SO much calmer. SO
quieter.
I speak on behalf of SG fans everywhere when I say; Darren Hayes has
the most beautiful voice ever. Daniel Jones, who does all the actual
music, is great too. If you really, really listen to the lyrics, you'll
see how wonderful they are. They convey a real message. I'd love to see
them in concert&;#8230;. The closest I've come to that is seeing the
video for 'Affirmation' on MTV. I can but dream&;#8230;
See&;#8230; I've gone completely off the topic now.
I think I'll go on the SG website after.
As far as my so called friends go&;#8230; I'll wait until tomorrow.
I'll see how they react to me then.

Carly x

Chapter 3
Ok, lets get this thing straight; I have absolutely nothing against
veggies except when they turn into evil screaming monsters that lash
out on yours truly. Like Mrs. Wilkins said in English, (now you can
worry, I'm paying attention during class!!!) She said that 'Lennie'
from 'Mice and Men' in passive. Trouble sort of happens to him, he
attracts it. I believe the same is true of, well, ME. I attract trouble
like a huge magnet attracts some, huge, metal thing. (I dropped
physics, okay?)
Lets start at the beginning.
There's this girl in my class, who is a vegetarian, which is okay.
Except&;#8230; something very un-veggie occurred today. This girl,
Ellie, actually ate some meat!!! The very thought of Ellie the veggie
going within ten miles of a hamburger threw everyone into a state of
shock not to mention total hysteria. And Will was his good ol'
self&;#8230;
It was break time. Will, Luke, Kelly and David had crowded around the
teachers desk to watch Adam do some of his infamous card tricks. One
thing I'd like to point out was, these cards were Manchester United
playing cards. I know we all love Adam, but, enough is enough.
Adam did a 'Las Vegas' style shuffle with the deck, so that they merged
together gracefully. He placed down the four aces, some distance apart.
After them he placed a King, Queen and a Jack. Then a Heart, followed
by a Club. At this point in time, I was peering over Kelly's shoulder
thinking 'what the hell?' (Also, I should probably point out that Kelly
is a boy. If you think that 'Kelly' is a girly name, you are so totally
wrong. Hence, Kelly Jones from the Stereophonics.)
Adam cleared his throat. "There are four islands," he began, "they all
have a King&;#8230;" he glided a long finger over the surface of the
four picture cards. "A Queen, and a Jack. The Jack's are responsible
for the guards on the island who where heart uniforms, they carry
clubs." He swept up all the cards in a sudden hurry. "One day, there is
a terrible storm, and all the islands get mixed up together."
He handed the deck to Kelly. "Split the deck." he commanded. Kelly did
so, several thousand times. He gave the cards back to him. Adam picked
up the story again, telling it as he laid the cards out. "When the
storm had passed, there were still four islands, with a King, a Queen,
a Jack who was responsible for the heart-clad guards who carry clubs."
He smiled. The trick had worked, and the cards were exactly as they had
been in the beginning,
"How you do that then, butt?" Will asked.
"It's a secret."
The door opened Matthew walked in. One thing about Matthew is, he's
unbelievably thin. He's about five foot nine, and as skinny as a rake,
yet he'd walked in through the door with three hamburgers.
"OH MY GOD MATT!!!" David shouted. "You bap Forrest, you absolute
bap!"
Matthew practically shoved the second half of the juicy hamburger
straight inot his mouth. "What 'ya say, 'Fatman 2000?'" Matt laughed at
his own joke, nearly choking to death in the process.
"One day, that name'll get old." David pointed out. "I mean, what are
you guys gonna call me in 2001?"
"Duh, mun, David!" I said. I hadn't spoken for about half an
hour.
"Fatman 2001!" Kelly laughed.
I love it when Kelly laughs. In fact I love it when Kelly does just
about anything&;#8230; maybe I just love Kelly. He's the second
person on my 'crush' list. He's really cute. He has these eyes that are
dark and shines with intelligence, and his skin is the colour of milk
chocolate. That would explain why I often get hungry when he's
around.
Another thing is, the way he smells. You know how certain deodorants
just smell like, well, you know, gross, Kelly smells amazing. Whatever
it is he uses is just wonderful. It's the kindda smell that drives you
wild. I'm surprised that he doesn't have girls following him around
because of that. Actually&;#8230; I follow him around a lot,
especially in Biology.
Anyway, everything was pretty much blissful up until that point. Then
Luke opened his mouth. It's not like I'm blaming all this on Luke,
because I'm not&;#8230; Luke shouted, "Oi! Ellie, you had your nice
tasty hamburger yet?" He too, was laughing. Surprisingly, Ellie was
laughing too.
This was when it struck me, that something was not at all right. Last
year, David, being a moron, had decided to slip a small slice of turkey
into one of her sandwiches, and quite frankly, she was about to
explode.
Since Ellie was in such a good mood, (unusual for her) I decided to
join in the merriment. "Yeah, El!" I giggled, "Are we gonna see you eat
this hamburger or what?" That sentence was the extra bacon slice that
turned the veggie sick.
Her pale eyes filled with anger. I may as well have waved a red flag at
a bull. "What did you (censored) say?" (Ellie has always had a foul
mouth, and I don't really want to repeat any of it.)
I looked up at Kelly who I was still standing next too. I winked at
him, and whispered, "Someone's grumpy because they can't have their
veg!?!"