The Bad Karma Diaries (18 page)

[photo of Anna’s runners].

Somebody got chucked out for trying to nick Hefto’s parents’ booze! Bomb dumped her boyfriend and got another! (She is a bombshell!) Demise refused all offers (She is hastening her own demise!) And Hefto is the new class pin-up! (but she hasn’t decided who to pin herself to…)

This showed how much trouble we’d gone to – all those photos, which we took in advance for the express purpose of uploading them (that’s preparation!) – so perhaps it will keep our readers quiet for a bit. And luckily (well, it wasn’t luck – I made sure) we did not mention the servants. That could incite a riot among our right-on, power-to-the-people readers!

Went to chat to David Leydon and Brian and Derek today. I thought I’d better behave very naturally in case Derek was embarrassed, although luckily I hadn’t exactly rejected him
because he hadn’t exactly asked me (although as good as). He did look just a bit embarrassed but I kept chatting until he relaxed, and soon his eyes went from mortified to enthusiastic, and we were talking friendly as ever. This is not always the case, I know, because I’ve heard Renata and Alva in Anna’s kitchen talking about guys they’ve rejected – Alva (scornfully): ‘And now he’s cold-shouldering me, as if I’ve
mortally
offended him’ – Renata: ‘Yeah, like get over it, I don’t fancy you, live with it.’

While I was chatting away normally, I was taking sneaky secret looks at Derek, seeing him in a new way. His skin is quite good for a boy’s, less spotty than David Leydon’s (although who knows what’s under that greasy fringe?!), and he is tall enough and although his arms obviously can’t compare to J.P’s, they are quite wiry and muscular (I obviously have a thing for arms!). But I wasn’t getting goosebumps, unfortunately. David Leydon was moody and silent as usual. I think he would like to be too cool for school but sorry, Dave, it takes more than black clothes and moodiness to be too cool for school. And as soon as you
try
, you aren’t, you know. So you either are or you aren’t, live with it! I mean J.P does not wear black (any time I see him outside school he is wearing very tight light-blue jeans and a grey sweater – and that’s what he was wearing at the party) and he is not that moody (although I think he has a temper, I mean sometimes he punches people – boys, I mean. He does not have a temper around girls).

On the blog:

Xena:

way to go girls! A tease, a fast-mover and a pin-up! Dynamite combination!

I worked out who was who and it seemed I was the tease because Anna was definitely the fast mover. I didn’t really see how I’d been teasing, like I never mentioned any practical jokes or jeering, but I thought it might mean something else the way words do, so I texted Anna:

check clog. What’s a tease? Ask Senata

She texted back:

a flirt. Someone who makes it seen like she’ll song the guy, then doesn’t.

I unscrambled ‘song’ – it means snog.

I thought that was pretty unfair of Xena! I never ever made it seem like I’d song Derek, no way! And I don’t make it seem like I’d song Declan either! (Why do all my admirers have to begin with ‘De’ – I should go in search of a cute Dean, or a Dermot, or a Dexy, or maybe I’d better just start saying DEvid Leydon (
ha!))

Well at least I
hope
I don’t make it seem like I’d song. But maybe I do? How do you make it seem like you’d song anyway? If I don’t know
how
than maybe I do it unconsciously?

This is A Concern.

But I defended myself. I wrote on the blog:

I (Demise) am no tease! I do not ever imply that I will song the guy. It is really not my fault if they get that impression!

Went into town with Anna to meet Keith. I said, why did I have to come? She said just
because
… so I brought Heeun. Luckily, because Keith arrived by himself, so it would have been just me and the Happy Couple. He looked confused and not that happy to see me and Heeun, but he got over that quickly and began to take charge. He always has to be the leader in any group he’s in, I think. So does Anna really, so this is gonna be a problem for them, unless they take it in turns … For today while we were with them, she let Keith take charge, maybe because she had me and Heeun, so she thought he needed something.

Keith knows a lot of stuff and he likes to talk. I think once he got over being annoyed he was glad me and Heeun were there because he had three girls to look at him and listen to him and giggle at his jokes. But after burgers me and Heeun said we had to go and we left them to it. We went round shops. Dunno where they went.

Heeun said cheerfully, ‘He seems nice!’

I said, ‘Yeah… if you like listening!’

So then she giggled and said, ‘I don’t think Anna is a number one listener …’

I am finding out that you have to prod Heeun. Her first reaction is always to say something nice and sweet, but if you prod her a bit, she says what she really thinks, which is not necessarily nice and sweet …

Did some Christmas shopping. Heeun has something like a million pounds to spend on presents. I brought Justine an Alice band. I think it will suit her.

Later

Have just remembered – Anna did not go and help Asylum seekers today! Neither did I go to soup kitchen (have decided it is just for Sundays, like mass) but I do not claim to be as committed as Anna. Her social conscience is being corrupted by sex!

Suspect Heeun has as big a social conscience as Anna. Well, at least, she is religious. She had a very religious conversation, all about mass, to Agnes. She is making a very good impression in the soup kitchen. She is a very neat chopper – all her carrots are chopped the same size, in perfect little matchsticks. It is quite amazing, as if a machine had gone through them. Mine are all sizes and all shapes. I am quite jealous of her chopping skills – it came to me as I sat there hacking off great, ugly, shredded
chunks of carrot, that Heeun’s carrots are like her hair and clothes, and my carrots are like
my
hair and clothes …

Mr Noisy shouted at us today, ‘God loves every hair on your head!’ We looked at each other, and then, at exactly the same time, we both put our hands to our heads and twiddled our hair, to check what it is God loves … it is nice that He loves messy hair like mine exactly the same as neat hair like Heeun’s.

I asked Anna if she was in love with Keith. She was nonchalant and off-handish about it, actually very similar to how she was over Carl, so I’m guessing this is not love either, but more pragmatism, although it’s
improved
pragmatism because Keith is a step up from Carl, and is not that bad really. I mean he’s an energetic and chatty person with initiative. It’s just a pity he’s a bit of a know-it-all and a bit, I dunno … in his head. What do I mean by that? Well I think I mean he is ruled by his head – when you think of him you see his head and his mouth talking. Whereas some other people are in their bodies – J.P. definitely, when you think of him you see his veiny arms and his tight jeans with his hands scrunched into his pockets. And Tommy too, when he’s on stage he’s fluid and it’s like his head is just another part of his body, not necessarily the most important part. And even David Leydon, if I think of him I see him leaning against a wall, his long back and his moody, slumpy
shoulders.

So now I know what J.P. and Tommy and David Leydon have in common (because otherwise they’ve nothing in common!)

I was curious though. Why doesn’t Anna kiss J.P.? If I got an electric charge from him like she does, I definitely would. But I didn’t ask her because I didn’t want to plant the idea in her head, because if she did get to kiss J.P., I might explode from jealousy. Sorry, it’s not that I don’t want my best friend to be happy and not go up in life and improve on Carl and Keith, but let’s not go too far! Like I’ve already said I am not an actual do-gooder. Besides she didn’t need me to put the idea in her head, I mean if
I
can feel the electric charge, so can she. I guess it’s that she knows that J.P. wouldn’t actually go out with her, wouldn’t be the pragmatic boyfriend that you could use when you needed him. J.P. would be trouble.

Heeun wants to know what animal she is so she can put it up on the blog. We said we’d have to ask Renata because she is the (nasty) expert on this, so after school we all went round to Anna’s. This time all the Lotto numbers came up (except her Dad obviously; it was too early). Even Alva was there. Heeun looked all open-eyed and excited, just like me the first time I was ever in Anna’s kitchen. I hope she doesn’t take my place.
This is a very real concern.

After a bit we said to Renata, ‘So what animal is Heeun like?’

Renata didn’t miss a beat. She said, ‘Butterfly’.

We said,
‘Butterfly?’

‘Yeah, because she’s shy and everything about her flutters. You know – her eyelashes, and her giggles and her hands fluttering up to her mouth … and she flies down to sit on your finger and then she flies away again,’ Renata looked assessingly at Heeun in her uniform, ‘And probably she wears bright colours …’

Heeun cried, ‘But I want to be a St Bernard!’ so then we all exploded laughing (Tommy and Anna’s mum too) because you couldn’t imagine anyone less like a St Bernard. It is amazing how people’s idea of themselves is so far from what they are. ‘Yes!’ said Heeun, also laughing, but also earnest, wanting to be taken seriously, ‘very loyal, and hard-working and useful, and saving people’s lives!’

I looked at her closer then, and I could see that actually she is very loyal and hard-working and useful and would like to save people’s lives, but … sorry, Heeun, you definitely look like a butterfly. And she does wear bright colours when she’s out of her school uniform! And she is always flying away – I mean she has been to four schools in four different countries already. How did Renata know? That is the type of thing you know if you’re a genius, I guess.

‘Anyway,’ I said, ‘at least a butterfly is pretty, not like a frog
and a chipmunk!’

‘Yes,’ said Renata, ‘you’d better watch out for lepidopterists.’ Then, because we were looking at her incomprehensibly (obviously!), ‘A lepidopterist is a butterfly-collector. Only stamps inspire the same obsession from collectors as butterflies. Yes’ (dreamily) ‘they’ll want to catch you and drop a drop of ether on your head and pin you to a slide where they can look at you forever.’

Heeun looked terrified. Poor her. She is not used to Renata. Me and Anna waited, and sure enough:

‘Oh, Renata!’ said her mother.

Got picture of butterfly and put it up on the blog with:

animal Hefto resembles.

The blog has a load more comments all spinning from my last entry:

Xenawarriorcleaner:

what’s songing???!!

(Then I realised that I written in ‘song’ instead of ‘snog’ – didn’t mean to!)

Pippa wrote:

Yeah!! Is this some bizarre dating ritual that hasn’t come to Ohio yet?

CuriousinDenver:

Don’t worry Demise! I’m sure you would never imply that you’d song. I’m sure you don’t even
think
about songing!

ZeeZee:

Yeah. But bet Bomb songs like crazy!

Eloise at the Holiday Inn:

And Hefto heaves ho!

We all looked at each other. Heeun said, ‘what is songing?’ So we explained about predictive texting. And then we were all laughing but also, you know, kind of alarmed. Well it is alarming having all these strangers commenting on everything you write. I mean suddenly you’ve all these shrieking voices in your living room, all having a laugh and making jokes at your expense.

I said, ‘God, it’s like giving Renata a portal into your brain.’

So Anna cracked up, and Heeun too cause now she knows what Renata’s like.

We confab-ed on what to reply. This is what we posted up:

You’re coasting along and everything’s okay, and the trouble’s over and you think you’ve learnt something and that’s when –
bang
!
– the real trouble hits.

This is bad, bad trouble, worse than the racist stickers, and I don’t know what to do.

I am sitting in my bedroom and I’ve been sitting here twenty minutes looking mindlessly out the window. I am not crying. I am in numbed shock.

I don’t know what to do.

I came home – just half an hour ago! Imagine! Thirty-five minutes ago everything was fine – I was a bit late back ’cause I’d gone to Anna’s after school and delayed a bit, but I wasn’t actually late for dinner or anything. The house was quiet, but when I went into the kitchen Mum was sitting at the table, and she was just gazing ahead like me now, and something about the way she was sitting and gazing – because normally she’s always busy – made me say, ‘Are you alright Mum?’

She said, still gazing ahead, ‘It’s Justine.’

I said, ‘Justine?’

She said, ‘She’s––’

But I can’t write what Mum said Justine is. I can’t! It’s too
terrifying. It’s a scary, scary word.

I said, ‘No, she’s not!’ but in a reflex way. I didn’t even think about it. I just denied it.

Mum said harshly, ‘You know she is. When did you last see her eat her dinner?’

I thought about it. I never notice what Justine does, but now Mum said it, it came to me, Justine sitting miserably at dinner turning the food round with her fork on the plate, and all of it staying on the plate, not going to her mouth.

I said feebly (and desperately), ‘Maybe she fills up before dinner? On cereal! When she gets in from school.’

Mum said, ‘The cereal’s never touched.’ She was still gazing flatly ahead.

I said wildly, ‘I’ll – I’ll talk to her, I’ll see what’s going on. I’ll make sure she eats. I’ll–’

‘You?’ Mum took her horrible, blank gaze from straight ahead and turned it on me, still blank, but now with a bit of scorn in it, ‘You? What will
you
do? You don’t care about anyone but yourself. You ignore your sister. You ignore your father and me. You spend every moment you can in Anna’s house. When you do eat here, you make it clear it’s a boring duty imposed on you. You snap and sulk. It’s obvious you consider us dull and unworthy of your wit and humour. You devise complacent, self-congratulatory games with Anna, which involve being cruel to other kids. God help you, but you’re a selfish little monster.’

I looked at her. A full five seconds we looked straight at each other, then I turned and ran up here.

Yes, she said all that, in just those words. I will never forget them. And first I raged and raged and thought,
she’s trying to hurt me, she’s just trying to hurt, because she’s upset
, but I knew that wasn’t it, I knew she really thought those things because of the dead blank way she said them, not like she planned them, but like they were coming from somewhere very deep inside her. Then I tried to defend myself. In my mind I tried to reject what she said, but I couldn’t. How could I? My little sister is – and I didn’t even know. I hardly even noticed she was miserable. How can I defend myself against that?

Well then I had evidence. I mean I had this diary, so I read back over all of it, from the beginning, and I burned, burned,
burned
with shame. Suddenly it was like one of those 3D pictures where you think you’re looking at a load of colourful shapes and then you adjust your eyes and suddenly a man on a horse (or whatever) emerges from the random shapes. Or maybe like when you read a book in English and you like the story but then you go through it with O’Toole and you pick up on all the hidden bits, and the Metaphors and the Allusions, and it seems a different book. I mean I’ve read over this diary before and giggled, because it seemed funny, very entertaining, but now my eyes are adjusted, now I’m looking for the hidden bits, the metaphors and allusions, and all I see is selfishness and me being totally rude and dismissive to my parents, and actually
cruel
to
Justine. It’s horrible. I want to rip the pages up.