about how many boys they’ve snogged and I could see, if the conversation continued, that I would shortly be called upon to publicly acknowledge my lack of a boyfriend – EVER.
I’m not trying to excuse what I did next but in my defence, it just sort of came out before I knew what I was saying. All I wanted to do was stop them humiliating me in front of the whole school. So I told them about Beth’s mum and dad splitting up. And then I told them that she’d been rushed to hospital in an ambulance, after drinking a bottle of sherry.
Everyone was laughing their heads off and I felt bad – but it felt kind of good too, cos I’d made them laugh and they weren’t laughing at ME.
And then everyone stopped laughing and went really quiet, and I looked behind me and there was Beth. She looked really pale and wobbly. We stood, looking at each other for a few seconds that felt like a million years, and then she just turned and ran down the corridor. She didn’t scream at
me or try to pull my hair – I wish she had. She looked so sad and I realized that I’d totally betrayed my best friend in the whole wide world, just so that I could look cool for two minutes to a group of people that I don’t even like.
Wow. I cannot imagine Mum behaving like that at all. She never seems to care what other people think. In fact, she’s always telling me that the most important thing is to do what
you
want to do, not what other people are doing. And she might be quite embarrassing sometimes but she’s never unkind. I’m not sure how I feel about her doing that to Beth – she sounds a bit like one of the mean girls at my school and I bet there’s no way that they’ll grow up to be as nice and fabulous as my mum.
I’m a bit worried about reading the rest and think that I’ll put the diary back in the box. But then I remember that it was Mum who told me to read this bit, so I should probably trust her – and I don’t want to disturb her by waking her up right now to check it’s OK. I turn the page and continue reading, keeping my fingers crossed that my mum wasn’t her school’s version of Moronic Louise.
11 January 1989
I have lost my best friend. I don’t know what to do. I tried ringing her up but her mum answered the phone and said that she was sorry, but Beth didn’t want to speak to me.
Mum came upstairs a while ago and asked me what was wrong. I’ve been too ashamed to tell her what has happened, but it felt good to finally talk about it. She listened to me and then said that life isn’t about friends who are nice to your face. It’s about friends who are nice behind your back. I cried quite a lot when she said that, but I think I know what to do now.
12 January 1989
Went over to Beth’s house after school. Nobody answered the door, but I could see the curtains move in Beth’s room so I kept knocking and yelling up at her window. I said that I wasn’t going to leave until she talked to me.
I sat on her front step for what felt like hours, but was probably about ten minutes, and then her mum walked up the drive. She asked why I was sitting on her step. I told her that I was really sorry and that I needed to tell Beth properly. She said she’d see what she could do and went inside.
I sat there for another ten minutes, and then the front door opened and Beth came out with two mugs of hot chocolate.
We sat next to each other for a bit and then I told her how sorry I was and what a terrible friend I’d been and how, if she forgave me, I’d never, ever behave like that again. She told me to shut up and drink my hot chocolate. We gave each other a hug and I told her what my mum had said and promised that from now on, I would be the sort of friend who was always nice behind her back and that I’d always defend her and be here for her.
We both cried a bit and laughed a bit, and then Beth said that HER mum always quotes some Sicilian proverb about how only your real friends will tell you when your face is dirty.
I’m not trying to excuse what I did next but in my defence, it just sort of came out before I knew what I was saying. All I wanted to do was stop them humiliating me in front of the whole school. So I told them about Beth’s mum and dad splitting up. And then I told them that she’d been rushed to hospital in an ambulance, after drinking a bottle of sherry.
Everyone was laughing their heads off and I felt bad – but it felt kind of good too, cos I’d made them laugh and they weren’t laughing at ME.
And then everyone stopped laughing and went really quiet, and I looked behind me and there was Beth. She looked really pale and wobbly. We stood, looking at each other for a few seconds that felt like a million years, and then she just turned and ran down the corridor. She didn’t scream at
me or try to pull my hair – I wish she had. She looked so sad and I realized that I’d totally betrayed my best friend in the whole wide world, just so that I could look cool for two minutes to a group of people that I don’t even like.
Wow. I cannot imagine Mum behaving like that at all. She never seems to care what other people think. In fact, she’s always telling me that the most important thing is to do what
you
want to do, not what other people are doing. And she might be quite embarrassing sometimes but she’s never unkind. I’m not sure how I feel about her doing that to Beth – she sounds a bit like one of the mean girls at my school and I bet there’s no way that they’ll grow up to be as nice and fabulous as my mum.
I’m a bit worried about reading the rest and think that I’ll put the diary back in the box. But then I remember that it was Mum who told me to read this bit, so I should probably trust her – and I don’t want to disturb her by waking her up right now to check it’s OK. I turn the page and continue reading, keeping my fingers crossed that my mum wasn’t her school’s version of Moronic Louise.
11 January 1989
I have lost my best friend. I don’t know what to do. I tried ringing her up but her mum answered the phone and said that she was sorry, but Beth didn’t want to speak to me.
Mum came upstairs a while ago and asked me what was wrong. I’ve been too ashamed to tell her what has happened, but it felt good to finally talk about it. She listened to me and then said that life isn’t about friends who are nice to your face. It’s about friends who are nice behind your back. I cried quite a lot when she said that, but I think I know what to do now.
12 January 1989
Went over to Beth’s house after school. Nobody answered the door, but I could see the curtains move in Beth’s room so I kept knocking and yelling up at her window. I said that I wasn’t going to leave until she talked to me.
I sat on her front step for what felt like hours, but was probably about ten minutes, and then her mum walked up the drive. She asked why I was sitting on her step. I told her that I was really sorry and that I needed to tell Beth properly. She said she’d see what she could do and went inside.
I sat there for another ten minutes, and then the front door opened and Beth came out with two mugs of hot chocolate.
We sat next to each other for a bit and then I told her how sorry I was and what a terrible friend I’d been and how, if she forgave me, I’d never, ever behave like that again. She told me to shut up and drink my hot chocolate. We gave each other a hug and I told her what my mum had said and promised that from now on, I would be the sort of friend who was always nice behind her back and that I’d always defend her and be here for her.
We both cried a bit and laughed a bit, and then Beth said that HER mum always quotes some Sicilian proverb about how only your real friends will tell you when your face is dirty.
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