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Wednesday, 12 November

posted by EditingEmma 11.15

Stupid Friends

At break, I sat down with Faith and Steph.

‘Guess what I did last night,’ I said.

‘What?’

‘Went to my first after-school activity.’

‘Cool,’ said Faith. ‘The fashion thing? How was it?’

I paused.

‘Faith, I’m not sure you heard me properly. I went to an after-school activity. I stayed at school longer than I was legally obliged.’

She blinked. ‘Congratulations?’

‘What?! Come on! This is big!’

‘I stay behind to finish my art projects all the time,’ said Faith.

‘I have football practice on Tuesdays and monthly matches on Saturday,’ said Steph.

I sighed. ‘This is just like becoming a pen-writer all over again,’ I said.

‘What?’

‘So in primary school, you know how you use pencils, and then graduate to pens?’

Faith shrugged. ‘Can’t remember.’

‘Well in our class it was a really big deal. The first pen-writer, Gail Wandsworth,’ I said her name with venom, ‘was treated like bloody royalty. Her pen was bestowed upon her like a knighthood and everyone clapped. And she was all, I’m Gail, everywhere I go I leave a trail of permanent ink that smells like roses and superiority. Gail… ugh. Then there was Polly Kendrick, and Dan Sharma…’

‘Are you going to go through your whole primary school class?’ asked Faith.

‘Shh,’ said Steph.‘I want to see the depths of her bitterness.’

‘And by the time it got to me, loser Emma Nash, pen-writer number fifteen, NO ONE CARED ANY MORE. Does my achievement mean any less because I got there a bit later? Do my successes not mean anything on their own? Must they constantly be compared to that of my superior friends and peers?’

‘You’re right.’ Faith patted me on the shoulder. ‘Well done.’

‘I just don’t feel like you mean it.’

‘Better show appropriate enthusiasm, Faith,’ said Steph, ‘You don’t want to end up like Gail, buried in a shallow grave with a pen stuck down her throat.’

Why do I bother?

posted by EditingEmma 13.55

Steph came with me to look at the fashion show sign-up sheet, to see what teams I’m on. I got social media and design like I wanted!! Score!!! Then Steph pointed at a name lower down.

‘LEON is doing it?!’ she shouted.

‘Yup.’

‘Agh, WHAT. WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME.’

‘It’s no big deal.’

‘It IS a big deal. AGH. That’s so ANNOYING. This was something you were just doing for you. And he has to ruin it with his stupid…annoying…presence!! Ugh, why doesn’t he just cheese off, seriously!!!’

‘Cheese off?’

‘It felt right in the moment.’

‘Don’t worry,’ I said, ‘he won’t ruin it.’

‘AGH!!! It’s so UNFAIR.’ She shook her fist at a passing Year 7.

‘Steph, really!’ I took hold of her fist. ‘I was a bit shocked and at first I was very…aware of him in the room…but after a while I just got on with it and forgot about him.’

‘Really?’ Steph peered at me.

See. I can’t lie to Steph.

‘OK, I didn’t totally forget about him. But I nearly did. I promise. He’s not going to ruin it.’

‘He’d better not,’ said Steph. ‘Remember this is something you’re doing for you and ONLY YOU.’

‘I’ll remember.’ I nodded. ‘Anyway, he’s doing set with C-Holz, so I’ll barely ever see him.’

‘They’re letting Crazy Holly do set?’ Steph exclaimed.‘Isn’t that a health and safety hazard?!’

‘Probably.’

She got distracted then, thankfully. Because I don’t think I was doing a great job of convincing her. But she really needn’t be worried. I’m definitely not thinking about him.

posted by EditingEmma 20.19

Why Is My Mother Incapable of Dating Men With Normal Jobs?

Mum came into the kitchen, looking a bit glamorous for a Wednesday night…

‘Where are you going?’ I asked.

‘Out,’ she said.

Expansive.

‘You’ve got a date?’ I prodded.

‘…Yes.’

‘With who?’

‘The nice man we met on Halloween.’

‘Oh my God, the pumpkin carver!!!’ I practically screamed.

Mum sighed. ‘His name is Graham. And he’s a vegetable artist.’

I stopped. I stared.

‘A what?!’ I repeated. ‘What the hell is a vegetable artist?!’

‘Must you be so obsessed with my boyfriends’ jobs?’ Mum sighed. ‘Can’t you ever just focus on their personalities?’

‘I will, once you go out with someone who’s an electrician, or a plumber, or in advertising, or sales… What about sales, Mum? What about a nice, normal salesman?’

‘I don’t want to date a salesman. I want to date Graham.’

‘Well then. It’s up to you. But I’m afraid I’ll have to keep referring to him as the Pumpkin Carver.’

‘Vegetable artist,’ she replied, through gritted teeth.

She left before telling me what that meant, exactly. I’m sure time will tell.

Friendship Fails of Emma Nash

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