I think this has to be a miracle – 2 chapters in 2 days. I wrote 2 chapters in 2 days! What is the world coming to?

SoonToBeMe – Mwhahaha, I have updated! Stick to the deal or else. XP

LetsBeLovers01 – Actually, I am British! But yes, a lot did come from the Georgia Nicolson books, you'll probably see a lot of similarities. I'm trying to keep it original, but I just love those books so damn much. XD

Crazy, Crazy People

Still Friday, September 2nd
In my room
9:20pm
Jesus has decided to take pity on me, and led Bart to believe that the grown-ups were responsible for his vanishing pizza. It is truly an act of God, mainly because mum and dad are too drunk to be able to hold the contents down.

9:30pm
Oh no, I hear the sounds of little feet heading towards my room. Pray to God it isn't Trisha. I far too tired to deal with her and Bob right now.

9:34pm
Trisha, quite literally, burst into my room, signing a rousing verse of 'We are family! I got my lil Bob and me!'

"Say 'ello to Bob!" Trisha commanded, before heaving herself on top of me. Considering Bob ended up a few millimetres from the end of my nose, it was quite hard to ignore him.

"Hello Bob," I sighed, "Are you and Trisha having fun?"

Bob didn't reply. Of course, Bob isn't the talkative type, seeing as he is literally a toilet brush. With googly eyes.

"Me an' Bob were pwaying with Veronica before! We don’ like her though," Trisha said instead, bouncing up and down on my chest.

"And why's that?" I tried to act interested.

"She's a bitch!"

Ho hum.

9:40pm
My little sister has become the Billy Connelly of our house. And I don't mean she has a purple beard.

9:45pm
Hmmm, still hungry. Must go down for more snacks.

9:55pm
Ah, finally salvaged the jammy Dodgers. I shall sit here, relaxing, and eating my biscuits.

9:56pm
Oh hello, what's that on the desk? Looks like a note.

9:57pm
I know it was you who ate my pizza. I am holding your make-up bag hostage until you buy me another one.
-Bart

9:58pm
NOOO!!

10:30pm
Went to Bart's room to negotiate.

"Unless you have a pizza, go away!"

I stuck my head round the door anyway. "Look, Bart, about the whole hostage thing –"

Bart looked up from his magazine. "Do you have a pizza?"

"Er, no –"

"Then leave."

I sidled into his room and glanced around. Aha! There is was, sitting beside his stereo. Poor, innocent make-up bag. Just sitting there, wondering, 'Where, oh where, is Julia? Is she not going to rescue me from this hell that is a boys room?'

Fear not, my beloved cosmetics! I shall save you from the fearsome El Barto.

I crossed my arms. "Look, Bartholomew, -"

Mwhahaha, pissed off now, huh?

"- You give me back my make-up bag or mum and dad may 'accidentally' find your secret stash of porn."

Bart mimicked my pose. "I guess that means they will also 'accidentally' be shown your report card from last year. The one asking that you be sent to Summer School."

Ooh, now that was low.

We stood glaring at each like two ... glaring people, before I straightened up and said, "Is Pizza Hut still open?"

11:00pm
Pizza delivery guy just left and my make-up bag is back where it belongs.

11:01pm
Plus half Bart's porn collection is now hidden underneath the mess below my bed. Take that, El Barto.

Saturday, September 3rd
In bed
11:35pm
So bored I've been looking up words in a Thesaurus for the past hour.

11:37pm
Apparently, 'pater' is an old word for father, and 'mater' is mother. The hell?

11:55pm
'Pater' yelled up the stairs, "Julia, it's one of your friends on the phone, wanting to talk about useless things like boys and make-up!"

Sigh. My Pater just doesn't understand me and my life.

12:15pm
It was Phoebe.

"Your dad's kind of rude saying that," She said the minute I picked up the phone.

"He is no longer my dad," I pointed out.

"What is he, then?"

"My Pater."

"Your what?"

"My Pater."

Silence. Then, "Oh."

"Indeed."

Phoebe cleared her throat and said, "Anyway, Trudy, Ellen and I are going into town later, you coming?"

"I thought Ellen was going with her playmate?"

"Yeah, she's coming too."

"Joy," I muttered, rolling my eyes. "Anywho, I'll come. What are we shopping for?"

"School supplies."

Ah, 'school supplies'. I.E. Make-up and attempts to make our uniforms look half-way decent.

"Good plan. I need some new make-up."

"Yeah, but I'm actually buying proper school equipment."

I didn't say anything for awhile. Then, "What, like ... pens and stuff?"

"Exactly. It's just because I'm not going back to Ridgeley High School with you guys anymore, and instead I'm going to a –"

"School for posh snobs," I interjected.

"- Slightly more academic school," She carried on, ignoring me. "And I need to be better prepared."

"Phoebe, you are my number 1, tiptop pal, but if you carry on being sensible like this I will have to hang up on you."

"Hmph," She replied. "Meet outside Boots at 1:00." Then she put the phone down.

Gee, thanks.

Benji's Café
3:30pm

Sitting in Benji's Café after spending half an hour in WHSmith, an hour in Boots, and an hour in TopShop.

Absolutely knackered.

And wondering why the hell I hang around with these crazy people. Am I the only sane person?

"So, do you think I should? Should I? Shouldn't I? Or should I? I mean, it could be a good thing, but it could also be a bad thing, and I don't want it to be a bad thing, I want it to be a good thing, not a bad thing, know what I mean? So should I? Shouldn't I? Should –"

I snapped. "For God's sake Ellen, JUST SHUT UP."

Ellen fell silent and sat there with a slightly bewildered look on her face. I think she'd only just realised she was even speaking.

I took a deep breath. Find your inner calm, Julia.

"Ok," I said eventually. "Explain what the hell you are raving on about."

"Do you think I should ask Mike out?"

"Who the hell's Mike?" Trudy asked.

I thought back. "wait a minute," I said, "You're not talking about that guy behind the counter in WHSmith's, are you?"

Ellen nodded.

"Ok, you have spoken to him before, haven’t you?" Trudy asked.

"Yeah, when I buy things there."

I raised my eyebrows, "Any other times?"

"No."

"How do you know his name?"

"It’s on his name tag."

Bloody hell, the girl's a stalker.

I left Trudy and Phoebe to explain to Ellen why it was probably not a good idea to ask him out, and turned to Lydia. She hadn’t said much so far, and I was hoping for an intelligent conversation.

Instead I found her looking particularly gobsmacked and staring in the direction of the counter so hard I was surprised it wasn't in flames yet.

"You ok, Lydia?"

"Oh my god, he's gorgeous!" She replied, still looking stunned.

"Which one?"

"The black-haired one behind the counter!" I looked over.

"What, you mean Seth?" I said, "He works here as a chef –"

"Ohmygod!" She squealed, before looking down at her sandwich in awe. "He made this sandwich ..."

Christ on a bicycle! She's worse than Ellen.

And that's saying something.