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June 28th, 2005
"We're going on holiday", said my mum, casually over breakfast.
I knocked the marmalade over in surprise. "Holiday?!"
"Yes, to the Greek islands."
I felt a strange butterfly feeling. The last time I went abroad was when I was six and Kayla was one. I faintly remember the trip to France, a bright and beautiful place with lovely houses, Disneyland Paris and crisp, warm baguettes. Ascending the Eiffel tower at night, looking over thousands of glittering lights. Kayla was too young to remember, but claims she remembers it all too. (So as not to get left out.)
"You know that we've been saving up for years now," she said, "we all deserve a treat. There's one week left until the end of both of your schools. I wanted to make it a surprise, but I realised I'd got to give you time to pack." She gave one of her shrill laughs. "We're going to do all sorts of things there. Shopping, touring, dining at restaurants. I've even booked some water sports and paragliding."
All of this seemed unreal. I laughed and skipped around the room, swinging Kayla round.
"Stop it Nina, I'm getting dizzy!" she squealed.
At school, I told my friend Sally all about it.
"Cool!" she said, swinging her immaculate white-blonde hair to one side, "that sounds great. My dad won't let me paraglide, he's scared of heights and is always worrying that the cord from the boat will snap and I'll drift away like dandelion fluff."
I stifled a giggle. Sally's dad could get very paranoid about these things.
I couldn't concentrate in my lessons. Not even in my favourite, English. I kept on doodling beaches, sand and palm trees.
"That looks good" whispered Paul leaning over my shoulder. "Hey Nina, do you want to come to my house this afternoon?"
Paul is my next door neighbour and good friend.
"I'd love to, but I have to pack."
"You going on holiday?"
"Yeah" I grinned
"Be quiet you two" our teacher, Mrs. Fletchley called sternly.
At lunch, Sally went to the corner of the playground and gossiped to Liz and her groupies. I always get annoyed when she does this, because she’s supposed to be my best friend. But she seems more concerned to get in the ‘cool’ group then to hang out with me. But it didn’t really matter, because I spent my lunchtime with Paul. We went outside and talked about our day at school. He said that he got teased for his high maths result. All of the boys in our year think he’s a ‘geek’ to love maths, and ‘stupid’ to hang out with me, a girl. I talked about how Liz was making snide remarks at my second hand school uniform. How Sally was drifting away into Liz’s world of make up and shoes.
“I just don’t find that sort of thing interesting, you know? Why do girls have to dress up like Barbie’s to get into their special clan? And to attract boys. Excuse the stereo type. You don’t fall for that sort of thing do you?”
He laughed, setting his glasses askew. “As much as you fall for six pack body builders.”
It’s fun talking to Paul. He seems to be the only person I can tell everything to.
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