Читать книгу ‘It’s OK, I’m wearing really big knickers!’ - Louise Rennison - Страница 33

Even though it is quite obvious I am really depressed and in bed Mum comes poking around being all efficient and acting as if life is not a tragedy of a sham (which it is). She made me get up and show her what I had packed for Whangamata. She went ballisticisimus. “Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus, eyelash curlers, two bikinis and a cardigan?!”

“Well I won’t be going out anywhere as I don’t like sheep and my heart is broken.”

“But you might wear your bikini?”

“I’ve only packed that for health reasons.”

“What health reasons?”

“Well, if I can’t eat anything because of my heartache, the sun’s rays may keep me from getting rickets. We did it in biology.”

“It’s winter over there.”

“Typical.”

“You are being ridiculous.”

That’s when all the pain came raging out of me. “I’m being ridiculous!!??? I’m being ridiculous??? I’m not the one who is dragging someone off to the other side of the world for NO good reason!!”

She went all red. “No good reason?! It’s to see your dad!”

“I rest my case.”

“Georgia, you are being horrible!” And she stormed off.

I feel a bit like crying. It’s not my fault if I am horrible. I am under pressure. Why can’t Dad be here? Then I could be horrible to him without feeling so horrible. (And without having to go to the other side of the planet. Most teenagers only have to go into the sitting room to be horrible to their dads.)

It’s not easy having an absent dad, that’s what people don’t realise. I am effectively (apart from my mum and grandparents and my crap cousin James, etc.) an orphan.