Joshua’s face didn’t change. He didn’t even smirk. But
my
face was burning up. For a few weird seconds I felt proper silly sitting there wearing my ginormous gold locket and gold
bracelet with my boyfriend who goes to car meets. But then I caught hold of my head and thought, “No, that’s who I am! I’m
only keeping it real.”
Wesley drove me home afterward. I asked him if he had a good time and he said it was OK, but he felt a bit thick ’cos even
though The Merklemen won he didn’t answer no questions. Wes said everyone was nice enough though, even though a few of them
were a bit up themselves. I asked him who and he said “that Joshua.” He says Joshua was OK and all that but he’s just one
of them rich kids who think they’re it. Wesley says he can’t stand folk like that.
“Yeah,” I said. “Me neither.”
Seventeen is turning out to be a right old headbend of an age. Here was me thinking it might be the year when I get closer
to working out what I’m doing with my life. Instead, every day just makes me more confused.
So I’m sitting in the library today pretending to read about the Golden Age of Ferdinand and Isabella of Spain, except I’m
not really. I’m listening to proper old-skool Wu Tang Clan on my cell phone and doodling a drawing of a fancy cat with a tiara
on onto my notebook and staring out the window. All of a sudden a load of bags and files slam down on the desk and I look
up and it’s Saf and Josh and Carrie all swarming around me.
“Hard at it as usual,” said Joshua, looking at my cat which for some reason had dangly earrings and buck teeth which I reckon,
if it was analyzed by a head specialist might signal that I am some sort of nutjob.
“Aw, leave her, Josh,” said Carrie. “Shizza works harder than all of us.”
“Thank you, Carrie,” I said, but by this point Carrie had her tongue halfway down Saf’s throat and was pinching his bum at
the same time.
“Oh, take it somewhere private!” groaned Joshua. “It’s like watching feeding time at the bloody warthog pen.”
The pair wandered off to look at books together.
Joshua sat down opposite me and stared right in my face.
“Mr. Bamblebury has bought a twelve-channel mixing board for the music room with our quiz money,” he said.
“Flaming hell! That’s good,” I said. Josh nodded slowly.
“We should do another quiz or a raffle or something,” Josh said. “We could make enough to get new mics and crap like that.”
“Yeah,” I said. Then I thought for a bit.
“Wow,” I said. ‘You proper care about all this ‘Increase the Peace’ thing don’t you?”
Joshua looked at me, then he burst out laughing.
“No. I honestly couldn’t give a crap,” he said.
“So why are you doing all this then?” I said.
Joshua looked at me like I was a bit simple. “Shiraz, have you any idea how good all this charity stuff looks on your university
application forms? Raising money? Helping the community? Don’t say you didn’t think about that too?”
My cheeks went a bit hot then.
“No, I didn’t think about that. I’ve never thought nothing about university applications. I don’t even think I’m going to
university.”
Joshua narrowed his eyes.
“What?” he said. “Why aren’t you thinking about it? You SHOULD go to university. Why wouldn’t you go?”
“Well, I dunno,” I said, “I’ve never really imagined it. No one in my family has ever gone to uni. Dunno why.”
Joshua thought for a few seconds, mulling it over.
“Well, that’s just wack,” he said. “What you going to do instead? Stay in Goodmayes? Marry that Wesley bloke with the modded
car and the sovereign ring?”
I cringed when Joshua said that. I wish Wes had never worn that bloody ring to quiz night.
My face must have looked sad then ’cos Josh stopped being so pushy.
“Look, I’m not being tight, Shiraz,” said Josh. “I’m just saying. You’re clever. Really clever. And funny. And good fun.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“And pretty. And sexy. With a nice set of jugs.”
“Joshua!” I said.
“Sorry, sorry. My special brain pills haven’t kicked in today yet,” he said. “My mouth is out of control.”
I didn’t say anything. I just looked at him and felt really squelchy and hot inside. Like I never feel with my Wesley.
“Hey, anyway,” said Josh. “Has Ms. Bracket told you about the Christmas class trip yet?”
“No!” I said.
“We’re going to see
King Lear
at the Globe theater on the Southbank in London.”
My heart went boom when he said that. I love London. Ever since me and Wesley drove there alone last year it’s always felt
like it’s there, eleven miles away being proper exciting without me.
“And then…” said Joshua. “And this is the unofficial, not Ms. Bracket bit, we’re going clubbing afterward!”
“No! Straight up?” I said.
“True fact,” said Joshua. “I’m sorting it out.”
Then the bell started to ring for next class so we both began collecting our stuff. “And I hope you’re coming, Shiraz Bailey
Wood. ’Cos it’s going to be Christmas and we’re going to go partying. And it’s going to be messy. And besides… I want my Christmas
snog.”
And with that he walked off leaving me more confused about life than I’d possibly ever been EVER.
Oh God. I keep having bad dreams about Joshua Fallow ever since he said that stupid thing about my jugs which he probably
never meant anyway, ’cos he is a proper player who flirts with everyone. Not scary dreams. Nice dreams. Ones I’m proper ashamed
to describe.
Last night for example, I dreamed that Joshua Fallow was riding a horse wearing just his undercrackers through Ilford Mall
and he starts chatting me up outside TopShop and he gets off his horse and his body is well buff and then he is biting my
neck like a vampire then we are rolling about together in the flower beds doing what my Nan would probably describe as “heavy
petting.”
I woke up breathing all funny, with a big grin on my face and the duvet kicked off and my nightie all twisted, covered in
sweat. That giant bear Wesley bought me was on the floor staring at me crossly like I’m some sort of hoochie mama.
I felt guilty, and it’s not fair ’cos I’d NEVER cheat on my Wesley. NEVER. Not when I’m awake anyhow. But I can’t bloody help
who I snog in my sleep CAN I?
Ooh, it’s starting to feel proper Christmassy already! Carrie and Barney Draper have been getting the legendary Draperville
Christmas lights display ready. This time it’s gonna be BIGGER AND BETTER THAN EVER! They’re doing the Santa’s sleigh and
Rudolph running up the front of the house and decorating the tree with a zillion flashing lights as usual and they’re also
doing a weird eight-foot-tall snowman with the mechanical moving arms and a flashing carrot nose… BUT THERE’S MORE! This year
the Drapers have hired a life-sized nativity scene! With a baby Jesus in a manger being beheld by three wise men from afar
and shepherds and everything!!!
It’s not like Barney Draper is proper religious or anything. To be honest I reckon he’s only doing the nativity ’cos the
Ilford Bugle
kept saying Essex council were going to ban the word “Christmas” ’cos of the word “Christ” being offensive. So now Barney’s
making a big point of celebrating Christ ’cos he says he’s got a perfect right to and besides, “It’s not like I started whining
last Eid when Amjad at Number 39 and his lot were giving it the big one about Allah!”
I just nodded when Barney said that, then helped him hammer up some plywood to make a shelter for the baby Jesus and his whole
team of plastic supporters, which included a sad praying woman, a bloke with a beard who looked like the magician David Blaine,
a sheep, an ox, and some other weird biblical animals made from flame-retardant materials.
I asked Barney if there was any room in his biblical scene for a proper massive teddy bear so huge kiddies could clamber on
it. Barney said, “Yeah, of course.” He’s picking up the bear tomorrow. THANK YOU GOD.
Oh my gosh it’s the 15th already!! I ain’t done none of my shopping! Not one present. Sonia Cathcart has done all of her Christmas
shopping, fancy-wrapped it in special bows and got it all under her Christmas tree! “I’m sooooo glad I was organized this
year!” Sonia Cathcart keeps saying. “I’d HATE to be rushing around!” she keeps saying. “Now I’ve got more time to party at
Christmas,” she keeps saying, 227 times a day.
“Oh shut it you annoying cow!” I feel like shouting, “You don’t even know what partying is! You won’t even risk drinking the
Cup-a-Soup with the spicy croutons in your variety pack ’cos you reckon you’ve got food allergies and high blood pressure
YOU SILLY BINT!” I don’t say it though. I just think it.
All I’ve done so far is make a list:
Mum: CD of covers by Pop Idol winners.
Dad: 3-pack of vests from Macy’s (dark color to hide curry stains).
Murphy: Page 3 Model Calendar from the supermarket.
Carrie: Tabitha Tennant Underarm Roll-on—“Pong-Gone by Tabitha T.”
Cava-Sue and Lewis: A book about traveling TO REMIND THEM TO GO.
Penny: Cadbury’s Chocolates box (large) and bag of Purina Lo-fat Science Diet.
Nan: One of them novels she likes with a picture of a woman in a Victorian bodice being groped by a geezer in riding jodhpurs
on the front.
Clement: Entenmann’s marble loaf cake.
I’ll do all that after school one night.
11
PM
—Wesley! Oh God, I forgot about him: something from Best Buy or Sports Authority.
Wesley’s teddy bear is a big hit at the Draperville lights display!! Carrie’s family have raised over a grand to go to their
charity that sends sick kids to swim with dolphins. (What is it with sick kids and dolphins? They’re proper obsessed with
them, aren’t they? If I ever find myself thinking about dolphins a lot I’m getting myself down to Dr. Gupta’s right away.)
Barney Draper says that he’s had folks of every color and creed enjoying his nativity: white, black, beige, and green. “EVERYBODY,
so the council can stick their Christmas ban right up their ’arris!”
Some people have been enjoying the nativity a bit too much, mind. The baby Jesus went missing for twenty-four hours on Saturday
night after a drunk bloke nicked him on the way home from Goodmayes Social. He brought him back though. The bloke said he
was so hammered he felt proper sorry for baby Jesus sitting there freezing with his frankincense and myrrh so he took him
home for some of his lamb shish kebab.
Anyway, I’m proper excited tonight as we’re going on our Christmas trip to London to see
King Lear
tomorrow! Carrie says the dress code is “Dress to Impress with a nod toward Academia.”
Balls to that, I’m wearing my jeans, my pink hoodie, and my gold.
Oh God. Oh no. no. no. NO NO NO.
I feel properly awful today. Awful, terrible, nasty—but at the same time, a bit amazing. Yesterday all of us Sixth Formers
went to London and it turned into one of the most brilliant days of my whole life ever. Even better than the day my family
went on
Fast-Track Family Feud
on ITV2 and even better than the day Wesley first came round my house and asked me out and better than the day I got my GCSEs
and realized I wasn’t thick. Better than all of that.
I ain’t eaten one single thing today and I never even went to school. I just lay under the duvet in my room thinking and thinking
and praying and I ain’t even religious or nothing but the one thing Sonia Cathcart always says is that if you ask Jesus Christ
Our Savior for his divine guidance then suddenly he’ll spring up like a genie out a bottle or something and help you out.
Well I’ve been under here for eight hours asking him to sort this mess out for me and he ain’t helped me at all. All I know
is I’m well confused and I feel like a right slapper.
Basically, me, Carrie, Sean, Uma, Saf, Joshua, Ms. Bracket, and loads of other folks went through on the train and the tube
to London yesterday at about 3
PM
. It was snowy and quite dark when we came up from the tube station and there was a brass band playing on Charing Cross Road
and zillions of Christmas shoppers everywhere and tourists and office workers and commuters and all the shop windows had Christmas
displays and everywhere you looked there were tipsy people staggering out of Christmas office parties and bus drivers wearing
flashing antlers and Santa Clauses on every corner collecting charity money and traffic jams and noise. We were all having
such a giggle, me and Carrie and everyone. I just felt proper Christmassy and dizzy and alive.
I always want to come to London but Wesley never wants to come. Wesley can’t see the point. Wesley says it’s smelly and full
of freaks. And I used to think that too for a long time, especially when Cava-Sue used to go on about it. But now I don’t
because the thing is when you get to London and you stand on Waterloo Bridge over the Thames and look both ways along the
river and there’s Big Ben and the London Eye and the Houses of Parliament and St. Paul’s Cathedral and loads of other amazing
buildings and lasers and lights and the river is flowing beneath you, well, it is properly the most beautiful thing EVER.
And it really changes how you feel about life ’cos suddenly you’re part of this one amazing, big universe and you feel like
exciting stuff can happen and you’re not just stuck in Goodmayes doing school stuff and you feel properly in awe of the world
and what can go on here and it changes how you feel about everything FOREVER. Wesley can never see that about London. I wish
I could bring Wesley to that bridge and show him, but he would never want to come.
Me and Carrie and Saf and Josh and Uma and Sean stood on Waterloo Bridge and stared at the view for a while and took photos
of each other and Josh pointed out mental stuff no one noticed before like weird faces on buildings that he called gargoyles
and statues up on roofs. Then Sean took a group picture of us all for our MySpace and Josh put his arm round me and touched
my shoulder and it felt really good.