Planet Janet in Orbit

Let the bells of
FREEDOM
ring! The last day of school finally arrived! As you know, it’s been a
GRUELLING
year of hard work and personal development (with all the stress and slog of GCSEs), but though I’m pleased with how much I’ve grown and matured, I’m also
très
glad it’s over. A person can only take so much graft and growth, and then she really needs to
RELAX
. So it was all tears and hugs at the institution today. Farewell, dear friends. See you in September. Though we won’t see
EVERYONE
, of course. Siranee, Alice and Sara Dancer are all going to different colleges in the autumn. It seems like only yesterday that we were nervous Year 7s who thought taking the laces out of our trainers was
très
cool and were awed by the sight of kids smoking behind the science building, and now it was the last time we’d ever walk through those gates together unless in memory. [Note to self: Youth really does go
QUICKLY
, doesn’t it?] Because my father is
OBSESSED
with Bob Dylan, I know all of his
billions
of songs by heart, and it’s just like he says: Everything passes and changes. Ms Staples said she was
V IMPRESSED
with my efforts this year and that I deserve to have some fun (at least
SOMEONE
appreciates me!). She said I was going to have to work even harder next year, but she was looking forward to having me for A level English. I said likewise. I said I didn’t know how I could have got through this year without her
Support, Inspiration and Encouragement
. She said hearing something like that makes working sixty hours a week for a fraction of the salary of a spin doctor worth it. She said I should write to the Prime Minister and tell him, since he seems to think education is only about test results.

Disha’s father has pretty much recovered from the trauma of the
Night of the Smoke Alarm
, so I’m invited to go to Greece with her family in August! They’re renting a house on some idyllic island untouched by time (except that there’s electricity, etc.). I said I thought it sounded terminally
COOL
. After all,
GREECE
is the cradle of Western Civilization. Disha said we’ll be on a beach, not in Athens, and anyway, she doesn’t think Greece is civilization’s cradle – it’s more like the nursery. I said so Rome’s the cradle, but they’re pretty close to each other, aren’t they? And she said actually it’s Iraq that is the cradle of Western Civilization – from when it was called Mesopotamia. Neither of us is sure how a beach holiday fits in with the Dark Phase, so we’ve agreed to take a short (and much-deserved) break. After all, even God rested on the seventh day. We’ll continue to think
DEEPLY
and be creative, of course, but we’re going to forget about jazz and Albert Camus for a while and
ENJOY
ourselves. (To tell you the
TRUTH
, I never finished
The Outsider
, even though it’s pretty short, and I always lose track of what the song is in jazz unless there are words.) Disha said we should look on this as
ANOTHER BIG STEP ON THE LADDER OF LIFE
. She said she thought it could be a v broadening experience. Apparently there was a story in the paper about a teenager who fell in love with a waiter at the hotel where she went on holiday and then ran away from home to go back and marry him. (Disha’s always reading newspapers. I don’t usually bother because everyone knows that they never tell you the truth, and if there’s one thing the Dark Phase has taught me, it’s that there’s enough lying in everyday life without looking for
MORE
!) Disha said what if we fall in love in Greece? I said I didn’t reckon either of us was about to fall in love with a waiter.

Not everyone’s going away for the summer. Flynn, Marcus and David are all staying in London (poor sods!). Flynn and Marcus get to sleep till noon and play video games all night, but David’s dad is making him work in China Gardens, his takeaway (no gardens, and miles from China Town, never mind Beijing). We all commiserated with him, of course, but – if you ask me – riding around on a scooter isn’t exactly slave labour.

Oh, how I wish Ms Staples was my mother instead of Jocelyn Bandry. It just isn’t fair. Of course, I know Life isn’t fair (yet another thing the DP has taught me!), but it does seem to me that my life is more unfair than most. If there was any justice in this world, Ms Staples would be my parent. Ms Staples has a
Passionate Soul
and a
Questing Spirit
. She also truly appreciates me (unlike some
BLOOD RELATIVES
I could mention). Ms Staples would let me go to Greece and expand my cultural horizons. She’d say I
MUST GO
– my
Spiritual Growth
demands it. The Mad Cow said, “I thought you were getting a summer job.” (It’s incredible, isn’t it? She can’t remember the simplest thing I asked her to do for me yesterday, but some passing remark made
MONTHS
ago, she remembers!!!) I said I didn’t recall being date-specific. She said not only can we not afford for me to go away, but if I don’t start earning some money soon, I’ll finally get my chance to see what Oxfam looks like on the inside – because there’ll be no
NEW
clothes this autumn! (I ask you, what sort of mother would let her only daughter go to school in
RAGS
?) She said anyway, the house is going to feel really empty with Justin gone and she’d like my company. I said did that mean Justin’s finally been arrested? She said it meant Justin was taking some time off to travel, didn’t I listen to
ANYTHING
anyone says? I said only the important stuff. Apparently Justin’s tired of taking pictures of poor people in London and is going to South America to take pictures of them there. I asked how it is that she has money to send Geek Boy wandering all over the world to bother the peasants but no money to send me to Greece to expand my cultural horizons. She said Justin’s paying for the whole thing with the money he got from his photographs. I swear he does this stuff just to
IRK
me!!!

Disha tried to cheer me up over this
CRUSHING BLOW
(as you know, she’s very loyal). She said that, personally, she wishes she could stay in London with me. What’s the big deal about sitting on a beach all by yourself? I pointed out that she’d be all by herself if she did stay here because
I HAVE TO WORK
. She said I don’t have to work
ALL
the time though, do I? I said I would if the MC had her way. It’s just as well slavery was abolished or she’d’ve sold me off years ago. Disha said slavery still exists. I hope no one tells my mother.

I GOT A JOB
! Can you
BELIEVE IT
?!! (The MC can’t.) And I’m not working in Woolies or anything like that, either. (Which, of course, was what the MC suggested. Imagination is
NOT
her strong point – assuming, of course, that she actually has one). I was going past this
V TRENDY
Mexican restaurant in the neighbourhood and thinking how nice it would be to eat there sometime (it’s way too sophisticated and upmarket for my family) when I noticed the HELP WANTED sign in the window. As you know, I’m very outgoing, have megatons of personality and like to help people, so I reckoned it was the
perfect
job for me. Also, I’d much rather work in a place where you might bump into an actor you recognize than somewhere like Woolies – where the only person I’ve ever bumped into is the security guard – so I just went right in. The owner’s name is Mr Saduki (he’s dark and has a moustache, so I reckon he’s Mexican even though I thought they were all named things like Lopez). I was prepared to lie about having experience (on the grounds that I’ve spent
YEARS
putting food on the table and clearing it away again), but he didn’t even ask. All he wanted to know was when I could start. I said I was available for immediate employment. He said all I had to do was get my uniform together (I supply the white shirt and black skirt or trousers and he throws in the string tie with the silver D – for Durango) and he’d put me on weekday shifts till I learned the ropes. I said I’d have it sorted by tomorrow. He said and no trainers: you have to wear black, low-heeled shoes. Neither black, low-heeled shoes nor white shirts have ever formed part of my essential wardrobe, of course, so I raced home to get some money off the MC to go shopping. Can you believe it? She said she’d
LOAN
me the money, but I have to pay it back out of my wages!!! (There’s just no end to this woman’s ability to sink to new depths of bad parenting.) I said since she’s the one forcing me to work, I’d’ve thought paying for my uniform was the least she could do. She said no, loaning me the money was the least she could do.

So now I know where slavery still exists – in
DURANGO
! My feet feel like I loaned them to someone else – someone who’s just walked across the Himalayas in too-small shoes (they may
LOOK
comfortable, but, as we all know, appearances can be
EXCRUCIATINGLY
deceptive!). And there’s more to this waiting-on-tables lark than you’d think. [Note to self: Don’t
EVER
for even one second consider becoming an actor, as they all work as waiters until the big break comes, which is a pretty depressing thought if the big break never turns up!] You not only have to write everything down and fetch it and all; you’re meant to do all this v quickly and with a cheery smile (and you can’t stop smiling just because you’ve got a customer with the personality of Margaret Thatcher). And then there are the Kitchen Staff, who, I notice, Mr Saduki kept pretty quiet about yesterday. There are three of them and they all look like they’ve got form, probably v recent. Not that this has made them grateful for a chance to go straight and make an honest living. They’ve all got
MAJOR
attitude problems and do nothing but grumble and snap your head off. It’s all pretty strenuous and stressful. Not only are my feet
ABSOLUTELY KILLING
me, but my face aches from smiling so much! Also, the other waiter on my shift comes straight from hell. Her name’s
SKY
! (If you ask me, it should be
BOSOM
, since her breasts enter the room at least a minute before the rest of her!) She’s a complete
KNOW-IT-ALL
in the Catriona Move-Over-God Hendley mould. I tried to ignore her, but it was
très
difficult since she spent the
entire
day
TELLING ME WHAT TO DO
. By the time I limped into the Staff Room (otherwise known as the Broom Cupboard) at the end of my shift to get my things, I’d decided I wasn’t coming back. But God finally took pity on all my suffering. One of the waiters on the next shift was in there reading a newspaper (maybe they’re not as big a waste of time as previously believed!). I thought
My Heart had Died and Gone to Heaven
. My first thought was:
So this is what humans are meant to look like!
His name’s Ethan and he’s Australian (most of what I know about Australia comes from those beer ads and a documentary I saw on how badly the Aborigines were treated, but, of course, I said that I’d always wanted to go there). He’s only just started too, but he’s been a waiter for over a year. He’s almost twenty, and looks like he spends a lot of time outdoors (surfing, etc.). In addition to being so good-looking, he’s practically a walking advert for God: Ethan’s extremely nice, v sophisticated and staggeringly mature (it wasn’t a tabloid he was reading!). All I can say is
THANK HEAVEN
I never made up my mind about getting serious with either Marcus or Flynn!!! Can you imagine the
agony
if I wasn’t
FREE
?!! Have decided to give Durango a second chance.