Читать книгу Boys on the Brain - Jean Ure, Stephen Lee, Jean Ure - Страница 6

(1st day of winterterm)

Honestly! Mum is impossible. She is obsessed with boys. She has boys on the brain.

First thing she says to me, over tea: “Guess who I travelled in with this morning? Brad Sullivan!”

Not, “How was school?” or “Who’s your new class teacher?” or “What’s your timetable like?” but Brad Sullivan.

“He’s turning into a really nice boy,” said Mum.

I felt like saying, “Feel free! He’s all yours!” But Mum has such rotten taste in men she might just take me at my word. My mum and Brad Sullivan! I can just see it. And then, what about poor old Harry? He’d be out on his elbow.

On the whole I do feel that Harry is a Good Thing. The first decent bloke she’s ever had. I wouldn’t want her ditching him. So I restrained my worst impulses and said, “Really?” in a polite but yawny sort of way, hoping that she would get the message. The message being that I do not want to hear about Brad Sullivan. Or about any other boy, come to that. I am sick of the whole subject!

Instead, I tried talking about school. I said, “I’m so relieved! Me and Pilch are both in 9C.” I’ve been worried, just lately, that they might split us up. “We’re together for almost everything,” I said. “Oh, and we’ve got Mrs. Adey for English again!”

“Have you!” said Mum. “That’s good!”

To be fair to her, she did try to take an interest, but in the end temptation overcame her. As usual! The opposite sex just dra-a-a-aws Mum like a magnet.

“Brad was telling me,” (she goes) “how he’s joined this new youth thing. They’re going to put on musicals.”

Meaning, in Mumspeak, why don’t you join the youth thing? Join the youth thing and meet some boys!

“They’re going to do a rock panto for Christmas,” chirrups Mum.

“Wow,” says I.

“They’re desperate for female voices!”

Mum is so transparent.

“You can sing,” she says. “Why don’t you try joining?”

I said, “Because I have a voice like a corn-crake.”

“No, you haven’t!” said Mum. “You’ve got quite a nice voice.”

“Pilch is the one who can sing,” I said.

Of course, she jumped on this immediately.

“So you can both join!”

“Mum!” I yelled. “I haven’t got time!”

She’s always doing this to me. I wish she wouldn’t! I know she means well. I know she only has my interests at heart. What she considers to be my interests. But I wish she would just leave me alone!

“You know what they say,” sighed Mum. “All work and no play…”

I happen to like work. In any case, you have to study if you’re going to get anywhere. And I am going to get somewhere! I am absolutely determined.

I said this to Mum and she said, “Oh, Cresta, you’re so focused!”

I’m still trying to work out what she meant. Like, did she mean “I’m so lucky to have a 14-year-old daughter who thinks of something other than boys and clothes and make-up”? Or did she mean, “I wish I had a 14-year-old daughter that was a bit more like other people’s 14-year-old daughters”?

I think that is what she meant. I think what she would really like is for me to be all dizzy and dumb. Well, maybe not dumb, exactly; but if we could have these cosy conversations about women’s magazine type stuff. A hundred different ways to do your hair, or how to get your man in six easy lessons. That kind of thing.

I know I’m a disappointment to her, but I can only be how I am. And how I am is me. I wish Mum could accept that!