alternative freak

Andrew’s still counting his spoils from last night – it’s amazing how many people actually had “treats” in their houses. I heard Andrew giggling with Darren and Joe about a couple of houses that didn’t so they egged them. Andrew had better hope that mum doesn’t find out, she’ll go mad. She is constantly terrified that we will shame her in front of the neighbours.

It was in the local paper that Imogen’s Mum is being buried on Monday.

Saw Willa again today, and she was still alright, we chatted about stuff in general and I told her a bit about Uncle Angus and what a cool dude he is. The only time I got a bit nervous about her was when we talked about painting and she said that she’d like to see some of my work, she must have seen the look of horror on my face because she started laughing and said “don’t worry, I’m not trying to get into your head through your art.” I was very relieved to hear that – it implied that she wasn’t impressed with all the nonsense about that kind of thing either. Or maybe it was a ploy, or maybe I’m a Paranoid Android.

Saturdays are dull days. I've had that headachey feeling all day from sleeping too late and watching too much telly. I can't believe that I've wasted the day watching a load of crap that's not worth my time.

Mum finally persuaded Uncle Angus to come to Sunday lunch, he was on good form and was very sarcastic when anyone said anything stupid, he’s great when he’s on form. I could see mum slowly losing the warm glow she had gained from her good deed of inviting him over. But he smelt it out and irked her even more, he even teased her about Steven, I didn’t think that he’d listened when I told him about it; he was saying that he’d have to interview him and grill him on his intentions and prospects. Dad didn’t bother to phone which infuriated mum. She thinks he’s getting more and more crap but she doesn’t like to say anything bad about him in front of us. Claire is going to the firework display, she thinks it's really cool. . . Andrew wanted to go with his mates but Mum won't let him go on his own. What does she think? That somehow one of the fireworks will come shooting out at him?

I think I might have done a bad thing today, I went to the church where Imogen’s mum was being buried, I didn’t go into the service or anything, I just waited in the churchyard as they brought out the coffin, I thought I was hidden, but Imogen looked straight at me and stared for ages, so I think she might have seen me. I hope she doesn’t think that I was just being nosy, but the truth is, I don’t know what I was being, I don’t know why I went, it just felt like a thing that I had to do. What was even more worrying was that after they had all gone and I had a chance to get out of the churchyard I spotted Jed Carter, he had been lurking about too, I must have loomed up on him because he jumped as if I’d given him a fright, but he didn’t say anything, he just flicked out his willy as quick as a flash and laughed one of his evil prince of darkness laughs.

It’s been really bothering me that Jed Carter was also at the church, it clearly means that I must be as much of a psycho as he is.

Wednesdays are always the worst days of the holidays, you’ve lost the relief of being off school and realise that in fact, you’re bored. Claire had an interview for part time work at a shoe shop on Monday, she got all important and flustery about it, took ages getting ready and kept snapping at Andrew and I because we “got in the way”. When she got home she was unbelievably dramatic about it and we had to hear a verbatim report of it over supper. Today she got a phone call to say that she’d got the job and you’d have thought that she’d just been elected Prime Minister – what an achievement. She’s doing four hours tomorrow for the late shopping and was wittering on about what she was going to wear.
I said, “I thought you had to wear a uniform,” (it’s a bit of a fogey shop).
Then she said that she did, but she was talking about what she would wear to the shop!! What a total, total idiot.

Of course nobody in the world has ever had a job before. . . I think Claire’s expecting a prize.

I couldn’t believe what happened today. Imogen Markham knocked on the door at about twelve, before I knew it Andrew had brought her into the sitting room. At first I thought that she’d come to have a go at me about being at the funeral, but she didn’t mention it for ages, she sort of sat there for a bit. I asked her how she was and she just said “odd”.
Then I started blabbering on like a fool about how I was sorry if I had intruded and that I hadn’t meant to disturb her. Then I ran out of steam, particularly because she was just sitting there staring at me with her big eyes.
She said, “I just thought you’d come because you were sorry.”
And I said, “I am.”
Then we sat there for a bit longer and I asked her if she wanted to watch a film. We had to watch one of Claire’s crappy teen romancy type films, but we just sat there and watched it and then she said she had to go. Then she came up and hugged me and I didn’t know what to do so I hugged her back and then she said “thanks” and she was gone. I feel terrible because it’s really worrying me that she came round to talk about it and that I was my usual crap self and didn’t help at all.

I talked to mum today about what happened yesterday with Imogen, I would have talked to Uncle Angus, but he’s gone to Hong Kong for a few days. He just packs a case and goes off sometimes. Anyway, it was sort of good to talk to mum about it anyway, because she really listened and the thing is, she can be very practical and give sound advice sometimes. She said that she thought Imogen had probably come round for some comfort, but that if she’d wanted anything more than to just sit and watch a film in silence then she would have gone to someone else and that she knew I wouldn’t hassle her and stuff, so that’s why she came to me. I thought this made a bit of sense, but I don’t know what to do now, I don’t know if she wants to be my friend or if she does how to go about it, I never really have friends and I don’t know what to do with them. Mum said that if I wanted to why not just pop over to her house tomorrow and take a computer game or another film or something. To be truthful, I’m a bit worried about doing that, but I’ll think about it.

I took my life in my hands and went to Imogen’s house today, I took The Shawshank Redemption DVD because I really like that film, she didn’t seem at all surprised to see me. Her dad made us sandwiches, he looked pale and tired and sad. Then we sat and watched the film, she really likes Red and I was glad because he’s my favourite character too. After the film she asked me if I’d call for her tomorrow on the way to school, so I said I would, then she told me that Jed Carter had put a card through her door and let me read it, it was surprisingly sweet actually, he said that he was so sorry and that if he could help at all she should let him know. I was going to tell her that he was in the graveyard too, but I didn’t want to mention the willy thing, and I also didn’t want her to know that anyone else had been there – she obviously thinks that it was really good that I went and I don’t want to share the glory, there, I’ve admitted that, and feel like a right sap.

I called for Imogen and she was ready and looked almost like she used to, except for seeming a bit paler and tired. We walked to school and didn’t say much, it was embarrassing when we got there, it was almost as if people stopped talking every time she was around, I felt badly because it didn’t help her that she was hanging around with me, that was almost as interesting in the zoo as the fact that she had come back at all. She couldn’t make it through the whole day though, she said she wanted to go home at lunchtime so I walked her back, when we got back to hers she just started crying and crying, it was terrible, she sounded like an animal in pain, she could hardly catch her breath and I had to try and give her a hug as she rocked backwards and forwards all hot and grieving. It took her over half an hour to cry out all her tears, she kept apologising about crying and saying that she tried not to and that she couldn’t cry in front of her dad because it was just as bad for him. I made her a cup of tea and secretly phoned mum at work, told her what had happened and asked her to phone the school and tell them I wasn’t coming back this afternoon. Mum asked if I was all right and if I wanted her to come but I said no thanks that I’d be all right.
Imogen put brandy in her tea from their cabinet and that seemed to make her feel better. After that she was like someone who had been silent for years and had stored loads of things that just had to be said. She talked about her mum and what she’d been like and what a shock it was that she had died and that they’d had a row the day before, and that her dad wept downstairs every night when he thought that she was asleep and that she felt really, really lonely.
I am so crap at dealing with things like this, I should be good having seen the Samuels and Sallys in action, but I’m rubbish, I really wanted to help, but I couldn’t do anything other than listen and nod and try and say the odd thing. After a bit she suddenly stopped and I asked her if she wanted to go for a walk or have something to eat, but she said that she wanted to go to bed, but would I call for her again in the morning. When I got home I was totally knackered and mum was up for a huge grilling about the afternoon.

Imogen seemed much better today, people have started to come up and talk to her, she’s polite, but distant, she doesn’t seem to want to talk to anyone other than me at the moment, I don’t mind, it’s not as if we talk all the time anyway, she just seems to like me being there. She noticed Matt Collins staring today and asked if I knew him.
“No, he’s just some freak who keeps staring at me.”
“Some freak who fancies you,” she said and started laughing.
I don’t know why it was that funny.
Imogen asked if I would go to the pub with her in the evening, I said that I couldn’t because Mum was expecting me home for supper and stuff, but it wasn’t that, I was a bit worried about it, I haven’t been into pubs without an adult and it would be really embarrassing if we got chucked out. She did say that The Swan off the High Street was a good one for underage drinking, so I said that we’d go another day.

Claire’s doing late night shopping at the shoe shop again tonight and tomorrow night, she’ll come staggering in at nine tonight acting as if she’s climbed Everest.

We’re trying out the Swan tomorrow – Imogen says that she’s been in there loads of times so it’ll be alright, I asked her what I should wear. I couldn’t believe it, I sounded just like Claire, but I was worried, maybe some clothes show that you’re not eighteen. She said that jeans and trainers would do it. Christ, I hope so; I’m worried about the whole thing.

That idiot Jade started trying to call Imogen “Immy” today, you could see Imogen bristle, but she just said “I don’t really like that nickname,” and Jade immediately caved and said sorry. I’m still a bit worried about tonight, we’ve agreed to get ready at Imogen’s and I feel like I’m selling out all my principles and joining the herd. What made it worse was that Mum said this morning, how nice it was for me to go out with a friend, as if I’d been causing her sleepless nights for all these years because I was such a sad sap, actually, thinking about it, maybe I have. Of course I didn’t tell her that we were going to the pub, when she asked where we were going I said I wasn’t sure. I’m a really rubbish liar and was blushing a bit when I said it, but luckily mum didn’t notice. I was about to try and get out of seeing Willa, but I had time to see her before Imogen’s.

I feel really bad this morning, Imogen had sneaked some WKD’s for us to drink while we were getting ready, she took ages and had loads of make up on, but she seemed much happier and more confident, especially after she’d had a couple of drinks, then we set off for the Swan, we left it a bit late so that it was busy and no one would see us coming in. We decided to have cider because it’s cheaper and we thought it would make us look older, but I could feel it mixing with the WKD’s and it didn’t make me feel good, before I knew it, I had to sit down, Imogen was in her element though, there were bunches of lads there who were really paying her attention, they kept touching her bum and putting their arms round her waist, but she didn’t seem to worry, I thought she would have kicked off at them, but she didn’t, it was as if that invisible bubble around her wasn’t there anymore. I can’t really remember much else except that we stayed at her house and her dad hadn’t waited up for us, which was lucky, because we were both staggering about a bit, and Imogen seemed really drunk, making loads of noise and giggling, then saying she thought she was going to be sick. This morning I feel really bad and keep trying to have something to eat but it makes me feel sick. I left Imogen in bed and came home, this is when it’s lucky that you are not a chatty person, nobody in my house noticed that I had a raging hangover, they all just thought I was being my usual self!

It’s cold and miserable and I still feel rough and there’s the joy of a great big Sunday roast.

Nightmare day of rumours and gossip and unrest at school, there must have been someone in the pub on Friday from school. I don’t know who it was, but everyone seemed to know that Imogen and I were there and that Imogen was popular. Suddenly people were talking to her and asking what she had been up to and when she was next going out, they all seemed to forget that her mum had just died, nobody mentioned it. Even I was affected by the popularity of Imogen, all these sad saps started coming over to talk to me as if they had been doing it for years, I couldn’t be arsed with any of them.

It’s still going on, Jade and Rebecca keep trying to be best buddies with Imogen and because they’re so keen they keep trying to talk to me, I mostly just ignore them, but it doesn’t seem to be working, and then, on top of that Jed Carter sidled up and asked me how Imogen was doing, he didn’t quite get his piece out, but he was fiddling with it all the while – I think that’s a sign of nerves rather than any type of sexual satisfaction, at least, I hope so. I told him that she was doing all right and that if he fancied her he ought to just go and tell her. I think I might have misread his interest though, because he just sort of stood there staring at me for ages with a look of horror mixed with bewilderment on his face, then he gave his wanger a final scratch and walked off. I mentioned it to Imogen and she said that she’d seen him outside her house a few times, either walking up and down the road, or standing on the other side staring at her windows, I couldn’t believe that she hadn’t mentioned it before. She thinks he’s a freak, but I wonder, I keep thinking of him lurking about at her mother’s funeral and the fact that he’s now lurking about outside her house. I have a feeling that there was some sort of family death a few years ago in his family, maybe it’s that.

Because half the world seems to be going to the Swan tonight we are going on Saturday. Which means that tonight I have the joys of that bloke Steven having dinner with us, he’s such a larry.

The shame of it, Steven the idiot stayed over last night in mum’s bed. I suppose it had to come sooner or later, but it was a mega embarrassment this morning when he started wandering about the kitchen all chirpy and making tea as if he lived there. He started trying to talk to me, but I sent him away with one of my famous early morning snarls, yuck.

The Swan was buzzing last night; there were loads of people there, some from school and some of the people from last week. Imogen was a bit of a mare, she virtually dumped me as soon as we got there and let all her admirers ply her with drinks. In some ways I didn’t really mind, I don’t want to get involved in all that false talk and flirting, it’s like a cattle market in the area near the bar, everyone stands there trying to look cool and eyeing each other up. So I was quite happy to sit at one of the tables and watch, I was a bit worried about Imogen though, she let those blokes touch her up even more that last week and the more she didn’t stop them the more they tried. Later she told me giggling that one of them had suggested a shag outside where the barrels are. “I hope you told him to piss off.” I said, but she said that she’d just laughed; she’s a nutcase at times.

The other thing was that Matt Collins came in, he came late at about ten o’clock, he looked a bit glassy eyed, so I think he had been drinking somewhere else first. I was feeling a bit drunk by this time and actually made eye contact with him for a bit. I think he was going to come over and speak but one of his mates called him over and he got caught up in a big conversation. When we were going out of the pub I caught sight of Jed Carter, he had clearly been lurking about inside for a while but I hadn’t seen him, I tried to catch his eye to kind of apologise for what I’d said to him, but he glared at me as if I was one of those animals he was about to torture to death. He can be a bit scary, sometimes he gets a look on his face which is almost inhuman, as if there isn’t a brain or a soul anywhere in his body, just an empty carcass, or at least that’s what I thought at the time, maybe I was pissed, it’s not like me to get over dramatic.

I am sick and tired of people thinking that I am somehow a way into the coolness, which is surrounding Imogen at the moment. I wish they would all just sod off.

It was careers day at school today, there have been posters up about it for ages, and just about every class that I’ve been in for the past two weeks has gone on about the fact that there is going to be a great big careers day organised for us – we are so lucky – and that we must “make the most of it” and get some “really useful advice and information.” I was dreading it for lots of reasons, prepare for a list.

1. I really hate it when people tell you you have to do something and how you must do it.
2. I hate organised things where you’re bossed into a queue to wait for something and you stand there like a prat shuffling your feet and waiting for your turn, which invariable is not worth a quarter of the wait you’ve had.
3. I hate thinking about this business of careers, people almost expect you to be born knowing what you want to do, but my mind is a great big black muddle over the whole thing.

Sub list on why careers are a muddle

1. Years ago people used to do what their parents had done or there were different kind of jobs – the posh ones, doctors, lawyers and that kind of thing and then there were apprenticeships in carpentry and plumbing and that stuff. Then there were other things like being a grocer or a postman or whatever. I’m not saying that those jobs don’t exist anymore, it’s just that firstly you never do what your parents have done and secondly, there are all these other jobs that have a title but you don’t know what they are like media executive or research assistant or account manager, what does it all mean? I have no idea.
2. You have to plan your career so much in advance and then get A’ Levels to match and degrees, but how can you know what you want to do at 16 unless you have a vocation – no I don’t want to be a nun.
3. People ask you all the time what you want to do and you never know what to say, but more importantly, they never have any good ideas either. When you hear people talk about what they do it’s always confusing and you never know what they actually mean, so it seems that most people sit at work for eight hours answering the phone every now and then and fiddling about on a computer.

So, I ended up going to this bloody careers day worrying about what to say without looking like an idiot and not really knowing what was going to happen. I sat at a desk opposite a well meaning bloke who gently asked me if I had any idea what sort of a career I wanted. I told him that I really didn’t know, the only thing that appealed to me was some sort of journalism but that I had reservations about it. The reservations are that I don’t want to work on some grubby tabloid newspaper where you only ever write lies and innuendos mostly about sex scandals. I didn’t want to end up on some “women’s magazine” where I had to write about knickers and handbags and the latest blusher. I didn’t want to work on some celebrity obsessed mag where you snapped people out on the razzle absolutely hammered. But I also didn’t want to work on a broadsheet newspaper where there was some stuffy old boys network going on.

I asked him if he could see my problem, but he seemed a bit taken aback by this and sat there blinking and opening his mouth trying to say something but then closing it again. But just as I was getting really bored and about to leave him to try and find some trout pellets he said: “Well there are different sort of magazines for different attitudes that might interest you, or you could think about being a foreign correspondent for a paper, or maybe even write in advertising.” Which is odd – Uncle Angus was a foreign correspondent.

It was quite good actually, because he had listened to everything that I said and he didn’t just dismiss it as the rantings of a mad person, he actually tried to help. I said thanks very much and he gave me some leaflets about journalism and what qualifications and degrees that you’d need – he actually had it on his desk.