Dear Diary, Tuesday
This is what happened.
I got in yesterday morning and walked into Filippo on the way down to English.
I can’t tell you how grateful I was my cold was over.
And how utterly GORGEOUS he looked.
"Hey blondy. Watch where you’re going." He said. GRINNING this LUSH. HOT. GRIN.
"Hark who’s talking." I slung my school bag over my shoulder.
"You mean the blondy bit? Or watch where I’m going?"
"Both." I said. We were both standing in the middle of the corridor. I hoped somebody might see us together and think: lucky cow. If only Mel or Lauren had been there!
"So, were you up to much this weekend?" He asked.
"Nah. The usual. Stayed at home with my old man. You?"
"Mm. Nothing really." There was a pause. I tapped my foot impatiently as if saying "you’re wasting my time again, mate".
"Hey, Lola, I was wandering…"
Yes. Say it. What were you wandering? I threw my hair back and gave him a curious look.
"I’ve asked around, no one seems to have it, I mean, could I have your number?"
I was prepared to drop my bag, whip out a pencil and paper, then jump up and down screaming.
As if I would.
"Sure, you got a pen?"
So he flashed the pen in front of my eyes. Ha. He had one ready. Which means he knew I was going to give him his number. Which means he also knew I was going to ask him for a pen. Which means he’s dealt with girls before.
I scribbled my number on his hand then before he could give me his, I side stepped him and said "ciao" again, and dashed off.
My mobile vibrated halfway down the stairs.
Mel and Lauren were pine green with envy when I told them. Well, I sort of rubbed it in their faces. It’s the sort of thing you do when the fittest guy in school asks your number, aka saying, "I like you". Muah. Muahaha. Muahahahaha.
Off to ballet now…
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx for Filippo
Dear Diary, Wednesday
It’s our first match next week. Izzy’s been giving me pep talks, seeing as I wasn’t at the SAA last year.
"The Saint B’s" She starts "They’re a bunch of stuck up pillocks, but they play a clean game. They spend most of there time dribbling the ball around the pitch, little kicks, a bit boring, but they have technique… bla bla bla… not like when we played that local school." and there’s always that grimace. "Three yellow cards, one red, half the team were injured by halftime…"
I try to spend as little time in our room alone together as possible to avoid them.
Speaking of which, there was a moon daisy threaded threw the keyhole when we got in this afternoon.
"Someone really likes you." Izzy said giggling. "They’ve got a nerve, picking Mr Paisley’s flowers!"
Mr Paisley lives opposite the school. You can see his house from the grounds. Moon daisies are one of the many varieties of badly color-coordinated flowers in his garden. Obviously planted by his wife. I can’t see Mr Paisley going big on anything colorful.
No sound from Filippo.
It’s only a matter of time.
He knows how to play his game.
I think I’ve finally found my match.
Bla bla bla.
Nothing new happening.
This is boring.
My body wasn’t designed for boredom. It doesn’t know how to cope with it.
Even writing is boring.
Dear Diary, Friday
My period’s started.
Well, it hasn’t just started. That sounds like it’s started now, for the first time. A day before my fifteenth birthday.
It would be more correct to say my period’s recommenced.
THE HISTORY OF LOLA’S MONTHLY CYCLE
An eye-catching headline, don’t you think?
It all started when I was eleven, back in my nun days at the convent.
I know I’ve got it all written down somewhere in one of my diaries.
I’ve only just got rid of the spots from my cold, and they’ve come up again. Boys are so lucky not to get periods, and they don’t have to give birth. They get the easy part.
Yes, God, you haven’t heard the end of this!
Tomorrow Izzy, Mel and Lauren are coming over for my birthday.
Izzy thinks it’s unfair Gazzy can’t come. I told her quite plainly 1) Why would I invite someone who tries to drown me every other day.
2) She wouldn’t fit in Dad’s car. Maybe if there weren’t already five others…
Dad told me he’s put a bottle of his best French Champaign in the fridge. ☺
Dads are too cool.
Dear Diary, lola’s dairy, age 11
I started my period today!
I got cramps last night, I reckoned it was indigestion coz I’d eaten too much at dinner, I woke up and- well, it was a mess!
(It’s OK; I’ll spare you from the gory detail, even if this is my privet most personal diary).
Luckily I was at home so Amber helped me out a bit. It was a bit embarrassing but at least I’ve finally got it now. "Your first step into womanhood." Amber said.
"Oh, good, I can get pregnant now." It was a joke, duh, but she still went and blabbed to dad and he gave me a whole long lecture bla di bla did a.
"Presides, you don’t want kids before your 20, it’ll ruin your life."
The cheek! Dad had me when he was 19. He just sighed when I told him and had the nerve to say: so I know what I’m talking about.
Git. Idiot. Hate him. Tosspot. Git.
P.s I can’t wear my new white skirt now to the party tonight.
Dear Diary, Saturday
I don’t know where to start.
Things didn’t go exactly according to plan.
Things started at 4o’clock this morning. I was having such a random dream about talking to a cow called Sebastian when Izzy shook me awake. My phone was vibrating noisily on the desk. She said it had already rung three times.
It was Dad.
"You really wanted to be the first to say happy birthday, huh?" I croaked.
"Lola-listen." I could hear noise in the background.
"Dad? Where are you?"
"Amore, listen, I’m in hospital-"
The blood drain right threw my fluffy slippers. Izzy was watching me nibbling her thumbnail.
"It’s Ok, well, I am at least, and Georgia’s waters broke in bed… I’ve had to rush her in-"
"But she’s still got a month or more to go!"
There was a pause. A long one. I honestly started to get frightened.
"I know, Lolita, I know… look, I’m going back, I’m so sorry about your birthday, I don’t think I can pick you up-"
"Dad, it’s all right. I’ll stay here."
I told Izzy. She looked shocked. I can’ blame her. I was too.
"So is it a girl or boy?"
"Um, not really sure yet."
Izzy’s eyes practically popped. "He left his girlfriend giving birth to tell you the party was off?"
I giggled. It wasn’t really funny. You do that sometimes. You laugh at stupid thing. That, I suppose, was a stupid thing.
I was too worried about Georgia to get back to sleep. I didn’t feel like praying to make her better. I wasn’t in the mood to have a convo with God.
I must have dozed off, because Izzy was shaking me awake again at nine.
My first thought was "Shit! Track!"
But then Izzy held out my buzzing phone and the dead weight dropped on my stomach.
I almost cried with relief when Dad told me.
I don’t cry. Not even when he said it was a baby girl, and though she was born before her predicted time, she seemed reasonably healthy.
And Georgia was fine. Fast asleep and sore, but fine.
He said he was going to pick me up and bring me to the hospital.
He picked me up an hour later. He looked tired but his eyes were shining, all happy.
I wander if he looked like that when I was born?
Georgia was still asleep when we arrived. Her curly hair was knotted with sweat and there were bags under her eyes, otherwise she looked fine.
The baby was in an incubator thing, with tubes running threw her tiny nose. Her eyes were closed too so I couldn’t see if they were blue like mine or brown like Georgia. Her hair was so fine it was hard to see what color it was.
"Isn’t she cute?" Dad whispered. He said it in Italian. I don’t know much Italian, but I understood that much.
"She looks a bit like one of the Chinese cats." I said, without thinking.
"Huh? The bold wrinkly things?" Dad paused. I felt mean, but to my surprise he chuckled. "Don’t tell Georgia, but you’re a bit right."
He took me to a McDonalds for lunch because it was near the hospital. I was happy enough. Dad gave me his Mr Man happy toy and said it was my birthday present.
He took me back to the SAA after lunch. Izzy seemed to have explained to the others what had happened in the dead of night because they came rushing over as I came threw the doors.
"Well? Is it good news?"
"What is it?" Lauren asked.
"A baby, what did you think? It’s a girl."
We had a privet party back in our room. They hung up a banner of toilet paper reading "Happy Birthday Lola!" and we all drank coke from the school’s vending machine.
At about midnight, I got a message.
"Oh my god!" Lauren said, reading it over my shoulder. "I’m like, hyperventilating for you!"
"Write back!" Mel urged.
"He calls you Blondy?" Izzy asks snorting. "How-adapt."
"Sweet! Romantic! Cute, aw, I’m jealous!"
I wanted to leap around the room and twirl, and then blow raspberries in their faces. But I’m cooler then that, come on.
I considered what to write.
An ode? A romantic letter?
Your message, despite being so short, consisted passion! The emotion you put into your words overwhelmed me! My heart swells with pride at the time and effort you, my sweet, put into it. I must be blessed!
The days draw out so long in your absence, but I cling to the knowledge that we shall meat again, and then we shall be united, until fate do us part.
I hope to be with you soon, my love, it is the only brightness that lights my day, without it, I would be tumbling headlong into a dark abyss of despair!
With all my heart,
That would be in reply to:
Hi Blondy ;)
Wot u up 2?
Filippo X (u no)
Mm… maybe my response is a bit farfetched?
Well, no fear, in the end we all agreed on:
Its my bday, just ravin it
Up with the girls!!
C u Monday
And I got a "Happy Birthday" back almost immediately.
Dear Diary, Sunday
It’s just another Sunday. I can’t be bothered to get out of bed.
Dad phoned. They’ve decided to call the baby Fedele.
It’s an Italian word, it means "faithful". Why they call a baby faithful, I don’t know. For a start, it was born two months early, which isn’t very faithful, more "Annoying", or "Pain". Wrinkly mutant seems too much.
Izzy looked up the name Lola on her laptop under girls’ names and their origins.
I almost cried out in despair when Izzy turned the screen round to face me, sniggering.
"Sorrowful!" I shrieked down the phone two minutes later.
"You called the wrinkly little annoying pain "faithful", and me, I got landed with sorrowful?"
"Lola-" He began. I wailed in frustration at the mention of my name so he quickly went on "I didn’t even consider the meaning, in fact, I didn’t know it had a meaning until now!"
Well, that’s just great, isn’t it? A man who just sticks a name on his daughter without even knowing the meaning.
"Come now, Lolita." He said.
"Come now, little sorrowful one." I corrected him.
Maybe I am the sorrowful one. I can’t see Georgia pegging it now Fedele’s born, not like some mothers.
Maybe people don’t care about my feelings. Just because I don’t cry it doesn’t mean I’m tough as rock.
Or maybe I am.
Maybe that’s just it. That’s why I don’t cry. I don’t care.
Do I really care what they’ve called the flipping baby?
Do I really care my name’s Lola?
The game was cancelled due to the awful weather conditions.
But… Oh, I want to write it now, scribble it right over the page, but I’ve got to set the scene first.
I was coming down stairs after an attempt to console Izzy, but gave up and let her stalk off to sulk with Gazzy in her bedroom, when I met Filippo. He was with a group of other boys, all of whom were watching me. Filippo gestured for me to come over. I lifted an eyebrow. He got the message and detached himself from his cronies.
He asked how the game was.
"Cancelled." I said simply. He slouched against the wall with one shoulder, so he was down to my height.
"You don’t talk much."
"I was taught not the talk to strangers." I replied. Filippo had leaned closer and brushed my fringe out of my eyes with a finger.
"Am I a stranger, Blondy?"
"People who know me know my name."
I could just make out someone over his other shoulder, standing
right outside our door. A boy.
Did I care?
No. Filippo was less then a foot away from me.
"I know your name, Lola." He said. "But Blondy’s my special name for you."
"Your trademark, is it?"
He smiled, that gorgeous smile, and I couldn’t help but smile back.
Suddenly he took a firm grip of my arm and when I didn’t protest he snaked the other around my waste pulling me up close.
I was wearing heels so I didn’t have to tiptoe.
I was pressed up against the wall. All I was awe of was his amazing kissing until I was literally choking for air.
Not as much as Lauren and Mel were when I told them.
Izzy merely shrugged.
"It was bound to happen sooner or later."
I felt annoyed she wasn’t showing any sign of amazement, happiness, or even envy.
"I’m just saying it wasn’t as though it’s just happened out of the blue. I expected him to pounce on you sooner or later."
"You make me sound like a slag."
She rolled her eyes, something that really gets on my nerves because she can’t answer verbally.
"Well, suit yourself. You could at least pretend to be happy for me, I would for you -when it happens." I had lost any coolness and all I wanted to do then was hurt her. "There was a boy sniffing around our room earlier on, didn’t see who, couldn’t have been one of your lads, could it?"
She shrugged and turned her back.
"Ok, so now you’re mute? Fine, no wander your one true friend is an illiterate ogre." I snapped, and flounced off.
I know Gazzy will get me back for that.
I don’t care.
I went straight up to Filippo and kissed him full on the mouth, hoping anyone, or everyone would see us.
So there Izzy.
Dear Diary, Tuesday