Can you believe it - I'm in Year 11! And what do I get for it? Work! It's all: do your homework, do your course work, I need help with the housework. And have you noticed what they all end in? Work! Work, work, work! It's sooooo boring! There's no wonder I can't get a boyfriend.
Summer was a write off. All my friends were away for my birthday so I ended up like some saddo, going for a pizza with Dad, Belinda, Indigo, Gran and Auntie Venice. I mean, what did I look like? Madge No-mates trolling along with the relatives from Loonyville. Indigo screamed all the way through it - Belinda started breast-feeding her AT THE TABLE! Oh my God! Talk about die of embarrassment. Gran decided her anchovies were suspect and ended up picking them off her pizza and lining them up on the table so that it looked like some depressing fish mortuary. And then to make things a gazillion times worse, Dad had only gone and ordered a birthday cake - with candles on - and the waiter rang a bell so that everyone in the entire place stopped and looked at me while he waltzed in singing happy birthday and expected me to blow out the candles like some dorky toddler. It's probably slipped Dad's mind, but I am fifteen - not five! IT WAS THE WORST BIRTHDAY EVER!
And now school's not much better. We've been back a week and I've decided my life just isn't worth living. Even the gorgeous boy from the mini-mart had a girlfriend. And anyway he's going off to university next week. There are no decent boys at our school at all. They're either geeks or nerds and if they don't fit into either of those categories they're probably in a bell jar in the science lab!
I am so fed up - I HATE MY LIFE!
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