Pride and Premiership (6 page)

Robbie called at 8.15 a.m.! I went giddy as soon as I heard his voice.

He said he remembered me telling him that I leave for work at eight-thirty, and he wanted to catch me before I left.

OMG. A boy that actually listens. He’s so–oo perfect!

Well, almost. We can’t meet today.
His mum has arranged a surprise birthday dinner for his gran and he has to be there.

“There’s always tomorrow,” I chirped, trying to hide how gutted I was.

“I wish,” he said. “But I’m going to Ayia Napa tomorrow.”

AYIA NAPA?!
After that, I could hardly hear him above what was going on in my head. (Mainly:
No–ooooooooo!
)

“The boys in the team always go there before pre-season training starts…”

Ayia Napa? With a bunch of footballers? Double no–ooooooooo!

“Probably would’ve binned it if I’d met you sooner, but…”

Bin the sun, sea and sand, and the perfect girls in their teenie-weenie perfect bikinis? Do I believe him? Hell, noooooooooo!

“Remy?”

“Hmm?”

“I was just saying that I feel like I’ve met the perfect girl and now I’m not going to see you for a week.”

“Ohhhh,” I said, swooning.

“Look, I know it’s a bit of a liberty, and you’re a stunning girl that’s probably got loads of boys chasing after you, but do you think you could hold ’em off and wait for me to take you out next Saturday?”

So I took a deep breath and tried to make myself sound casual. “Sure,” I said. “See you next Saturday.”

OMG. He called me the perfect girl. I have absolutely nothing to worry about.

But just in case: Dear God, please, please, ple–eeeeease don’t let Robbie meet a girl in Ayia Napa and I promise that I’ll never bitch about the Feminazi – no, will be respectful:
Kara
– again.

Room’s tidy.
Nothing to do with me and everything to do with clean-up-mad Mum. (Thanks, Mum.) It’s wicked to come back to a place where the carpet is actually carpet and not knickers, bras and jeans. Especially as today was a big bag of rubbish. When I got to work, Natasha asked how my date went with Robbie. She reckons he’s fit, which is a major compliment coming from Natasha, but before I could tell her that, Kara marched up and asked, “How did it go?”

I thought she was still talking about my date with Robbie. “It was amazing,” I replied. “He took me to Le Grove. Have you heard of it? It’s a—”

“No, I meant at the college salon,” she snapped, interrupting me mid-sentence.

“Oh,” I said. “Not too bad.”

She arched one eyebrow and scoffed, “Not too bad? How would the world survive if we had to rely on ‘Not too bad’?” As if manicuring and waxing people could solve global warming.

I just shrugged and mumbled, “Well, I suppose it’s up to you now.” (Meaning whether or not I pass my NVQ.)

And she replied, “Yes, I suppose
it is
.” Then she turned round and trotted off on her high horse. Aargh! That Feminazi does my head in.

Oops! (Sorry, God – one last chance?)

Dad came home on time, so I thought we’d have some normality at last, but he just dropped off his work bag and then shouted to me – not Mum – that he was going to the pub. Madness.

I’ve been having some textual seduction with Robbie. Yay!

Robbie:
Princess I’ve been thinking about u all day. What you doing to me?

Me:
Gorgeous Ive been thinking about u 2.

Robbie:
Good.

Me:
No. Good with a cherry on top.
x

Robbie:
Wish I could cancel my grans bday dinner and spend the night with u instead. x

I’ve read his last message about twenty times now. And I feel like I’m floating up to the heavens every single time.

Mum came in and gave me a lecture about my bedroom: “I’m fed up with it looking like a bomb site,”
blah blah
. While she was having a right old rant, my phone bleeped. It was sitting beside me on the bed, so I sneaked a look:
Help! At dinner from hell. Only a hot princess can save me. x

I giggled.

“This isn’t a laughing matter!” Mum screamed like a banshee.

“I’m not laughing at you. I’m laughing at something on my phone.”

“That ber–loody phone. Don’t ber–loody use it again while I’m talking to you,” she shouted.

“Oh yeah, that’s really reasonable, Mum. So if there’s some major emergency, am I supposed to ignore it?”

“What emergency? Someone’s run out of mascara?” she yelled.

I couldn’t think of a decent comeback, so I ended up saying something that I knew would really get to her. “Just because Dad called you a liar, don’t take it out on me.”

Her face went so angry, it scared me. “I’ve had enough of your lip, young lady!” Then she stormed off. Thank God. She looked like she’d have killed me otherwise.

Feeling guilty about mentioning Dad. But she did push me into it.

No more texts from Robbie.

Why does he have to go to Ayia Napa?

Phoning Kellie. Need moral support.

Spoke to Kellie for ages tonight. Didn’t realize how much pressure she’d been under with her exams. She said she’d been so stressed, her face had broken out in spots. I told her I’d believe that when I saw it.

Kellie’s skin is the best. Not only is it smooth, but because she’s mixed-race it also happens to be a golden brown that makes me want to rub on some St Tropez tan.

Anyway, she took her last exam today and now she’s looking forward to just chilling out. I asked if she fancied catching a film (because what with falling out with Mum and fretting about Robbie, I needed to escape) but she wasn’t up for it. So I expected to have the crappiest night in ever, but sometimes my big sis is like a twenty-four-year-old version of Dr Phil (with blonde hair and big boobs). Tonight she cancelled going to see Boring Roger because she could see I was worried about something. But she knows I clam up when people ask what’s wrong, so instead she said, “Know what, I can’t be arsed to get done up tonight. I’ll stay in. We can make popcorn and watch
Titanic
.”

Titanic
used to be Malibu’s favourite movie, then she introduced me to it and I fell in love with it – and Leonardo DiCaprio – on the spot. As we’ve grown older we’ve sort of used it as a bonding movie. Because it makes me proper emotional, I end up telling her all the things that are on my mind, from boys to sex to being bullied by Tara (spit, spit) Reid. Then she usually gives some advice – straight to the point, no messing. So by the time Leonardo said, “Winning that ticket, Rose, was the best thing that ever happened to me,” I was gagging to talk about Robbie.

“Mal,” I said, “do you think it’s wrong to assume that a group of lads will get up to no good in Ayia Napa?”

“Er, no,” she replied. “In fact I think too bloody right they will. Why?”

“But how can you be sure?” I persisted.

“Because they’re blokes, Rem. That’s what they do. Now why?”

“Well… It’s just… Well… Robbie’s going.”

“Oh, grrreat. When?”

“Tomorrow,” I told her. “With some boys from his team.”