Skinny Jeans Have No Place On These Thighs
Untitled
"Where did you go?" hisses Izzie as I sit back down in my place in the form room.
To tell the truth, I'm a little surprised at myself. Am I ashamed? No, more . . . taken aback. I didn't realise I had the nerve to attempt to go through with it.
I'm going to try again tonight. If I do it right then things can change for good.
"Nowhere," I mutter back, picking out my French homework from my bag and flipping onto the right page.
"That looks good," says Izzie, looking appreciatively over my shoulder. "I didn't think you liked French."
"I don't really," I confess, "But I had the whole weekend to do it. Mum grounded me after the incident on Friday."
"Yeah, it's a shame I didn't remember to call my Dad," murmurs Izzie.
It's not quite an apology but it sounds almost regretful so I decide to let it go.
"Izzie," I swallow nervously.
"Hmm?"
"Did you really sleep with that boy Andrew four times?"
Izzie's cheeks turn ever so slightly red. She looks over at Bridget but she's turned around in her seat to talk to pretty Matthew Bryer.
Happy that Bridget is otherwise engaged, Izzie leans in and whispers, "No. The first time I got nervous and we had to stop. And the second one ripped when we put it on. And then the last one . . . "
Izzie lowers her head so I can't see her face. She's saying something but I can't hear her.
"What?"
"Oh, it doesn't matter," chirps Izzie, looking up and smiling at me distractedly. "Don't worry about it."
Then Bridget turns around and we start to plan the presentation and so I don't have time to ask Izzie any more questions about it.
The rest of the day passes without excitement. I hand in my French homework, get told off in Information Studies for playing Solitaire on the computer and then it's suddenly home time.
Usually, Izzie and I always walk home together. But today, when the three of us - Bridget and Izzie had finally stopped fighting. They usually do when they hit a stale mate - walked over the gate, who should be standing there but Andrew Foreman. He wolf whistles when he catches sight of Izzie and half the people in the playground turn around to stare.
"Why isn't he in school?" I ask Izzie under my breath but she doesn't hear me. She's too busy squealing in delight and hurrying over to give him a big hello kiss in front of everyone.
"He dropped out of sixth form," explains Bridget to me in a low voice. "He wants to be a plumber."
This is so not Izzie's style I nearly laugh. Not that there's anything wrong with being a plumber. In fact, I wanted to be a plumber for a day when I was eight. But Izzie told me girls don't do that. At the time, I half believed her because I'd never seen a woman plumber. Then again, I hadn't seen many plumbers anyway!
You wouldn't catch Izzie with a sexist comment like that on her tongue anymore! But then again, Izzie used to halfcomplain about wolf whistling before. Saying that only male chauvinist pigs whistled at girls! She was so busy riding on her feminist bicycle, she didn't hear Bridget calmly explaining that male chauvinism is the belief that men are better than women, and that wolf whistling was separate issue entirely. Izzie just said loudly that all guys that whistled at girls should buy a dictionary and learn 'how to complement us properly'.
It doesn't look as though Izzie is all that bothered about buying Andrew a dictionary now. He's taking up all of her attention.
As it doesn't look as though they'll be resurfacing back to the real world for a while, Bridget and I begin to walk towards Bridget's bus stop.
Bridget says she can't wait to have a car because she can just drive to school then! Of course, she has to wait a few years before she can take her test or get her provisional license. For now, she has to get the bus.
Sometimes, Seb will drop her off at school but he can't always because in sixth form you don't always have to go in for registration and they don't go searching for you if you seem to have vanished.
"Want to hang out?" I ask, trying to sound like I have no ulterior motive. I know that Marcus probably won't be at Bridget's house but it's more likely he'll be there than at mine!
Bridget's not stupid.
"He's not there Ella," she says coolly. "Seb and I have put a ban on anybody coming round until we've finished tidying. And Mum and Dad are back in a few days and we've got the 'arty' presentation to fix. I think I need to get on with all that."
I'm crushed but I don't say anything.
"OK, no problem then," I smile brightly. "See you tomorrow!"
A few minutes later as I reach the end of the road, Bridget's bus goes by and I put my hand up to wave back to Bridget as she rides by.
She's so lucky to get to ride the bus. I have to walk. Bus banter looks like fun. I just don't live far enough away though.
It probably worked out for the best. I have some stuff to take care of tonight myself.
To tell the truth, I'm a little surprised at myself. Am I ashamed? No, more . . . taken aback. I didn't realise I had the nerve to attempt to go through with it.
I'm going to try again tonight. If I do it right then things can change for good.
"Nowhere," I mutter back, picking out my French homework from my bag and flipping onto the right page.
"That looks good," says Izzie, looking appreciatively over my shoulder. "I didn't think you liked French."
"I don't really," I confess, "But I had the whole weekend to do it. Mum grounded me after the incident on Friday."
"Yeah, it's a shame I didn't remember to call my Dad," murmurs Izzie.
It's not quite an apology but it sounds almost regretful so I decide to let it go.
"Izzie," I swallow nervously.
"Hmm?"
"Did you really sleep with that boy Andrew four times?"
Izzie's cheeks turn ever so slightly red. She looks over at Bridget but she's turned around in her seat to talk to pretty Matthew Bryer.
Happy that Bridget is otherwise engaged, Izzie leans in and whispers, "No. The first time I got nervous and we had to stop. And the second one ripped when we put it on. And then the last one . . . "
Izzie lowers her head so I can't see her face. She's saying something but I can't hear her.
"What?"
"Oh, it doesn't matter," chirps Izzie, looking up and smiling at me distractedly. "Don't worry about it."
Then Bridget turns around and we start to plan the presentation and so I don't have time to ask Izzie any more questions about it.
The rest of the day passes without excitement. I hand in my French homework, get told off in Information Studies for playing Solitaire on the computer and then it's suddenly home time.
Usually, Izzie and I always walk home together. But today, when the three of us - Bridget and Izzie had finally stopped fighting. They usually do when they hit a stale mate - walked over the gate, who should be standing there but Andrew Foreman. He wolf whistles when he catches sight of Izzie and half the people in the playground turn around to stare.
"Why isn't he in school?" I ask Izzie under my breath but she doesn't hear me. She's too busy squealing in delight and hurrying over to give him a big hello kiss in front of everyone.
"He dropped out of sixth form," explains Bridget to me in a low voice. "He wants to be a plumber."
This is so not Izzie's style I nearly laugh. Not that there's anything wrong with being a plumber. In fact, I wanted to be a plumber for a day when I was eight. But Izzie told me girls don't do that. At the time, I half believed her because I'd never seen a woman plumber. Then again, I hadn't seen many plumbers anyway!
You wouldn't catch Izzie with a sexist comment like that on her tongue anymore! But then again, Izzie used to halfcomplain about wolf whistling before. Saying that only male chauvinist pigs whistled at girls! She was so busy riding on her feminist bicycle, she didn't hear Bridget calmly explaining that male chauvinism is the belief that men are better than women, and that wolf whistling was separate issue entirely. Izzie just said loudly that all guys that whistled at girls should buy a dictionary and learn 'how to complement us properly'.
It doesn't look as though Izzie is all that bothered about buying Andrew a dictionary now. He's taking up all of her attention.
As it doesn't look as though they'll be resurfacing back to the real world for a while, Bridget and I begin to walk towards Bridget's bus stop.
Bridget says she can't wait to have a car because she can just drive to school then! Of course, she has to wait a few years before she can take her test or get her provisional license. For now, she has to get the bus.
Sometimes, Seb will drop her off at school but he can't always because in sixth form you don't always have to go in for registration and they don't go searching for you if you seem to have vanished.
"Want to hang out?" I ask, trying to sound like I have no ulterior motive. I know that Marcus probably won't be at Bridget's house but it's more likely he'll be there than at mine!
Bridget's not stupid.
"He's not there Ella," she says coolly. "Seb and I have put a ban on anybody coming round until we've finished tidying. And Mum and Dad are back in a few days and we've got the 'arty' presentation to fix. I think I need to get on with all that."
I'm crushed but I don't say anything.
"OK, no problem then," I smile brightly. "See you tomorrow!"
A few minutes later as I reach the end of the road, Bridget's bus goes by and I put my hand up to wave back to Bridget as she rides by.
She's so lucky to get to ride the bus. I have to walk. Bus banter looks like fun. I just don't live far enough away though.
It probably worked out for the best. I have some stuff to take care of tonight myself.