Free Together Apart by Natalie K Martin

1998
     
    I miss Dad. Our new house is okay, I suppose, but I can’t go into a room and picture Dad in it like I could in our old flat. When I think about all those times I shouted at him, telling him I hated him, because he’d made me angry, I wish I could take it all back. I always thought heart attacks only happened to old people. It’s not fair that he died when there are so many old people out there hanging onto life with hardly anything to actually hang on for.
    Mum seems to have forgotten he ever even existed. She took down all of his pictures because she said it hurt too much, but now they’ve been replaced by pictures of her and smarmy Peter. She’s even started going to Peter’s church. It makes me laugh. She used to say church was only for christenings, weddings and funerals, not somewhere to pass the time on a Sunday morning. She doesn’t do anything fun anymore, and she dresses differently too. She used to wear jeans and high heels, but now all she wears are long skirts and cardigans. I don’t know what’s happened to her. She’s started to drink a lot too. She drinks the wine in the kitchen she supposedly uses for cooking. I don’t think Peter’s noticed, but why would he? He hardly ever does anything in there. He said men weren’t made to be in the kitchen. He’s such a chauvinistic pig!
    Whatever. I don’t really care, as long as he doesn’t try to g et me involved in his creepy God stuff. He keeps preaching to Claire about all the wonderful things God can do. Hopefully, he won’t even bother with me. I want him to think I’m beyond even Go d’s help.
     
    3 October 1998
     
    I started my period today. Whoopee-flipping-doo. I have the biggest headache ever, and now I have cramps too. If that’s what having my period does to me, I’d rather not have it at all. I feel so bloated. I hope it’s not permanent. Apparently, it can make you put loads of weight on. I’m on the verge of being chubby as it is. I don’t need any more weight added. Anyway, Mum had the talk with me as if I’m some dumb kid who doesn’t know all this stuff already. If she’s worried about me popping out a baby, then she really shouldn’t be. I mean, has she seen the guys around here? No, thanks. I’ll probably die a virgin.
    On the upside, I’m having my room painted this weekend , an d I’ve already chosen the colour I want. It’s called ‘Purple Infusion ’. I’m going to stop by The Forum this week and pick up some candles and stuff too. Peter’s going to paint it. He freaks me out, he’s so weird. The thought of him and my mum together makes my skin crawl. It’s gross.
     
    9 October 1998
     
    Okay, so I definitely don’t believe in God, but I do believe in fate. I met the fittest boy ever today. He’s friends with some of the other crowd that hang around at City Hall after school, but I’ve never seen him before, probably because my curfew is so bloody early that I miss all the fun stuff. Anyway, he’s gorgeous. He’s got these really bright hazel eyes, and I swear, he looks like he should be in a film or a band or something, not dossing around outside Sheffield City Hall. He has this vibe about him, like he has a really tortured soul he’s hiding. He just seems so . . . I dunno . . . aloof, I think. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him.
    Anyway, everyone’s going to Corporation on Friday night, and he’s invited us all back to his house afterwards and I really need to be there. I don’t know how I’m going to do it, but I have to. Maybe Claire will cover for me. She probably won’t, just to piss me off, but I’ve never met anyone I fancied this much before. I know it’s stupid. I heard he just split up with Rachel, and she’s gorgeous. Next to her, I’m like the Elephant Man, so even though he probably doesn’t fancy me at all, I absolutely have to be there.

    Claire’s going to cover for me! All I need to do now is tell Mum I’ll be spending the night at