Fierce (9 page)

I am someone who is always on the go. When I was sitting in the back of a classroom, not understanding half the things that were going on and something grabbed my attention outside, I would just lose concentration. That would probably have happened even if I’d not had ADHD, I was so far behind in the lessons.

I think it was my mum who first thought I might have ADHD. She took me to see the doctor in LA. He prescribed the drug Adderall, which is given to patients with ADHD to improve their concentration. It has amazing results.

After a couple of weeks, you could really see the difference. My school work was one hundred times better. But the downside was that it practically turned me into a robot. Mum would say to me, ‘Kelly, have you done your homework?’

I would reply back to her in a monotone voice, ‘Yes, Mum. I have done my homework.’ The drug was turning me into a zombie. I was losing my personality.

Yes, it did make me focused and I was doing much better at school. But I didn’t like the person I had become. My mum didn’t like who I turned into either, so she took me off the drug.

I
N
Los Angeles, I discovered that the kids were far more tuned into ‘celebrity’ life. Back in the UK, my friends really didn’t give a shit that my father was Ozzy Osbourne because at that time he was bigger in America. I think I’d underestimated what effect it would have on my life or how people would react to me at school.

Once it got out that my dad was Ozzy Osbourne, I never really stood a chance with the bullies. I was a great target for them. The bullying was mainly name-calling. But only someone who has experienced it knows how hurtful being called names can be. It really affects your whole world. Whoever said that dumb rhyme? ‘Sticks and stones will break your bones, but names will never hurt you.’ They were talking absolute bullshit.

This group of lads would shout down the school corridors after me when I walked with my friends. They’d say, ‘Kelly, your dad’s a drug addict.’ I would think, ‘God, you’re original. Tell me something I don’t know.’

I would shout back, ‘You’re so fucking funny.’

In America, my dad was in the papers all the time for various reasons. It was a case of: ‘Ozzy strikes again …’ And so does the bullying at school for his daughter, Kelly. I’m not going to lie, it was
absolutely shit. It was mainly the guys who would take the piss. They’d also sing songs like, ‘Kelly is smelly, she has a big belly and her dad is on the telly.’ There was one afternoon when I went back to the hotel and cried to my mum. Between sobs I said, ‘Of all the names. Why did you have to call me Kelly? Because I do have a belly, Mum?’

My mum hugged me and said: ‘My darling, you’re gorgeous. Don’t listen to them.’

I
LEFT
Hawthorne School – thank God. I’d hardly been there because I kept suffering from tonsillitis and was off sick quite a bit. I was happy to leave. I hated it. I moved to another school called Westmark, which specialised in teaching kids with dyslexia. It was great. Aimee joined too.

On my first day, I met Molly and Tali, who instantly became my best friends. I walked into the classroom and I was immediately drawn to Molly, who had different colour bracelets going all the way up her arm. Tali was sitting next to her, laughing. They were the only two who seemed like fun. With the greatest of respect to them, we were known at school as the Three Fat Girls! I’m not joking. Some of the kids at school knew about my dad. Molly and Tali were not bothered and that’s why I wanted to be their friend. I’m still in touch with them now. Molly is a stylist to the stars. Tali works in communications in Israel.

I became very Americanised thanks to those two. After school, everyone used to hang out at the nearest shopping mall and they took me with them. Our favourite was Century City, which is one of the biggest in Los Angeles. It was here that I did a lot of my growing up. The deal was we’d all go home straight after school and do our homework for an hour. Then my mum would drop me off outside where the valets would stand. That was another great thing about LA. Whenever you drive to a shopping mall or hotel, there is always someone waiting to meet you. They take your keys and park your car for you. It saves so much time not having to piss around looking for a parking space. That was the spot where my mum always used to drop me off. I would call her when I wanted picking
up. If I was making my own way home, I had to be back by 10 p.m. at the latest.

I’d run from the car and walk over this bridge that used to join Century City to a little field where we’d all hang out. The sun would still be hot at 5 p.m. and we’d all lie out and talk. It would usually be the girls in one corner and the guys in another. We used to keep running back to the shopping centre to grab a drink at Coffee Bean, which sells hot drinks, cold drinks, smoothies and cakes. In Los Angeles there are Coffee Beans on every bloody street corner. In the UK, they have pubs.

Some of the kids in my class that I used to hang out with had started smoking. And sure, I was interested in giving it a go because all my friends were trying it. I’d grown up with a father who was a smoker. There was one guy who was puffing away on a Marlboro Red thinking he looked really cool. Apart from that type of cigarette being really fucking strong, it also proved he didn’t know what he was doing because they were the most advertised brand ever. I took a lit cigarette from between his fingers as we lay on the grass and took a drag.

I started coughing and spluttering straight away and had to hand it back quickly. I didn’t like the taste. I definitely didn’t like the smell. I thought, ‘Well, Kelly, you’re not going to be a smoker.’

I’d pretty much come to the conclusion quite early on that Beverly Hills was not real life. Well, not to me, anyway. There are great things to do there and the sun is always shining. But LA is a fantasy life. The streets are lined with massive mansions all sitting amongst immaculate gardens with a bunch of fancy cars in the driveway. It’s all about: ‘Look how much money I have. Look at how successful I am.’

I mean, how can it be real when the local shops are Gucci and Prada? That’s not life. Where’s the Tesco? Where’s the corner shop? I saw it for what it was in those early days and tried to concentrate on the fun stuff.

T
HE
first summer we spent in LA was an absolute blast. I mean look, we got in the car, drove for five minutes and we were at Rodeo Drive; the shopping street Julia Roberts made more famous in
Pretty Woman
. There’s every designer shop you can think of from Mulberry to Ralph Lauren. I used to love visiting that street and laughing at all the women with stretched, plastic-surgery-enhanced faces – I call them Vegas Face. It means they’ve had bad plastic surgery. There’d be whole bunch of them struggling with their millions of bags courtesy of their husbands’ credit cards.

There were fun places for teenagers to go to. My mum would always take me for a cheeseburger at Carney’s Express, which was a diner on a disused train sitting at the edge of Sunset Boulevard, the street that runs through Los Angeles and Beverly Hills.