her so angry and I can’t get a word in. Also, it’s really embarrassing because Imogen is sitting there having to listen to the whole tirade.
The only good thing is that Mum seems to have forgotten about the tiny question of where I have actually been. By now she’s close to tears and is trying really hard not to cry. It turns out she got to the nursing home just in time, because Miss Maybrooke passed away shortly after she got there.
‘Not only have I just lost a very dear friend and could have done without coming home to your thoughtlessness, but don’t forget that this house belonged to her and there’s a very real possibility that we could soon be homeless.’
After this devastating announcement, Mum rushes from the room, no doubt because she can no longer hold back the tears.
I feel completely drained. Too much has happened this evening and none of it is good. Well, the kiss from Seth was good at the time, but now I know his real motive it is ruined forever in my mind. Everything is ruined. My whole life is a complete disaster.
I flop down on to the sofa next to Imogen. Why, oh why did I invite her back here! Why didn’t I just accept, at the beginning, that my evening was ruined instead of making it so much worse? If I’d just come home I’d be sitting in my room now, wishing that I’d been able to go out with Seth but blissfully unaware about what a rat he is. It strikes me that Imogen is being very quiet and I suddenly feel bad about her having to witness all that.
‘Sorry about my mum,’ I say. ‘She doesn’t half go on.’
Still nothing from Imogen, only silence. I steal a quick look at her, then wish I hadn’t. I’ve never seen anything so scary. She’s clutching a cushion and her knuckles are white where she’s gripping it so tightly. She looks too angry to speak, which is just as well because I don’t think I can take any more tonight. I’m just wondering if I should suggest that she rings her dad to come and get her when she turns to me.
‘I can’t believe how you’ve
used
me.’ This is forced outbetween clenched teeth, and I involuntarily cringe back into the corner of the sofa.
‘You planned this right from the start, didn’t you? You got me here so you could sneak out. I bet you were meeting that boy from the Sixth Form. Don’t give me any more lies,’ she adds as I open my mouth to defend myself. ‘I’ve had to spend the last week watching you mooning around after him like some dumb-struck idiot. And to think I spent the whole afternoon helping you to get ready! What were you going to do? Pretend that you had to go home and go and meet him when you were supposed to be at my house?’
I can feel myself going red as she hits on the truth. We had actually had a really good time today, shopping and doing my make-over, but now my ulterior motive has been uncovered it does seem like I was just using Imogen.
Although a part of me feels really bad, there’s another part that is angry. If Imogen was any kind of friend I could have told her about my date. I could have asked her to cover for me and everything we did this afternoon would have been her helping me and supporting me. So it’s not my fault, it’s hers – for not understanding.
OK, so I didn’t tell her what was happening and that I had a date and give her a chance to help me, but somehow I just knew that she’d be dismissive of the whole thing and tell me I was wasting my time with him. It doesn’t help that she would have been right, either. Perhaps I ought to point this out to her. It doesn’t look like I’m going to get a chance, though, because Imogen hasn’t finished yet on ‘the failings of Alice Watkins’.
‘Your mum’s right. You are selfish. All you ever think about is yourself. You’re always going on about how terrible your life is, but you don’t know how lucky you are. If you think your life is horrible, you ought to try mine.’
I know my mouth is hanging open, but I can’t seem to
The only good thing is that Mum seems to have forgotten about the tiny question of where I have actually been. By now she’s close to tears and is trying really hard not to cry. It turns out she got to the nursing home just in time, because Miss Maybrooke passed away shortly after she got there.
‘Not only have I just lost a very dear friend and could have done without coming home to your thoughtlessness, but don’t forget that this house belonged to her and there’s a very real possibility that we could soon be homeless.’
After this devastating announcement, Mum rushes from the room, no doubt because she can no longer hold back the tears.
I feel completely drained. Too much has happened this evening and none of it is good. Well, the kiss from Seth was good at the time, but now I know his real motive it is ruined forever in my mind. Everything is ruined. My whole life is a complete disaster.
I flop down on to the sofa next to Imogen. Why, oh why did I invite her back here! Why didn’t I just accept, at the beginning, that my evening was ruined instead of making it so much worse? If I’d just come home I’d be sitting in my room now, wishing that I’d been able to go out with Seth but blissfully unaware about what a rat he is. It strikes me that Imogen is being very quiet and I suddenly feel bad about her having to witness all that.
‘Sorry about my mum,’ I say. ‘She doesn’t half go on.’
Still nothing from Imogen, only silence. I steal a quick look at her, then wish I hadn’t. I’ve never seen anything so scary. She’s clutching a cushion and her knuckles are white where she’s gripping it so tightly. She looks too angry to speak, which is just as well because I don’t think I can take any more tonight. I’m just wondering if I should suggest that she rings her dad to come and get her when she turns to me.
‘I can’t believe how you’ve
used
me.’ This is forced outbetween clenched teeth, and I involuntarily cringe back into the corner of the sofa.
‘You planned this right from the start, didn’t you? You got me here so you could sneak out. I bet you were meeting that boy from the Sixth Form. Don’t give me any more lies,’ she adds as I open my mouth to defend myself. ‘I’ve had to spend the last week watching you mooning around after him like some dumb-struck idiot. And to think I spent the whole afternoon helping you to get ready! What were you going to do? Pretend that you had to go home and go and meet him when you were supposed to be at my house?’
I can feel myself going red as she hits on the truth. We had actually had a really good time today, shopping and doing my make-over, but now my ulterior motive has been uncovered it does seem like I was just using Imogen.
Although a part of me feels really bad, there’s another part that is angry. If Imogen was any kind of friend I could have told her about my date. I could have asked her to cover for me and everything we did this afternoon would have been her helping me and supporting me. So it’s not my fault, it’s hers – for not understanding.
OK, so I didn’t tell her what was happening and that I had a date and give her a chance to help me, but somehow I just knew that she’d be dismissive of the whole thing and tell me I was wasting my time with him. It doesn’t help that she would have been right, either. Perhaps I ought to point this out to her. It doesn’t look like I’m going to get a chance, though, because Imogen hasn’t finished yet on ‘the failings of Alice Watkins’.
‘Your mum’s right. You are selfish. All you ever think about is yourself. You’re always going on about how terrible your life is, but you don’t know how lucky you are. If you think your life is horrible, you ought to try mine.’
I know my mouth is hanging open, but I can’t seem to
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