By the Time You Read This. Lola JayeЧитать онлайн книгу.

       Teabags Bursting with Hormones

      Did you know…? While England won the World Cup, Kevin scored (kissed) a girl for the very first time.

      The morning of the Saturday before my thirteenth birthday, I peered out of the window to see the Bingo Caller helping Mum into the back seat of his car, her hand on her tummy. I went back to sleep and awoke to the sound of the front door being banged almost off its hinges. I smiled.

      ‘Get up, you lazy thing!’ shouted Carla as I opened the door. She was dressed in a pretty little baby-doll dress I could never wear, (not with my bandy looking legs) and huge trendy boots. ‘Change of plan. Your birthday party’s gonna be at our house!’

      Apparently, Mum had called from wherever it was she and the Bingo Caller had gone and requested my thirteenth birthday party be shifted next door to Carla’s.

      ‘Charming!’ I remarked.

      ‘Is your mum all right? My mum wouldn’t tell me what was going on.’

      ‘Probably had something better to do,’ I said, feeling a little put out, but hoping she had a good reason for her missing my thirteenth birthday.

      Looking around next door’s tiny kitchen – which was almost identical to ours, but filled with pictures of the family and with Corey’s huge smelly trainers by the entrance – it was clear a lot of effort had been made. Tiny cupcakes (soon to be decorated with hundreds and thousands) were baking in the oven; a wonky stool with dusty footprints was evidence of someone having placed colourful streamers on to the wall. A few friends from my school were invited (with Carla’s help), along with Corey’s mates, assuring a good turnout (even though I still doubted whether anyone would actually show up). Carla’s mum forced a red bow onto my head, even though I’d insisted on wearing jeans and not a dress. But for once I decided not to mind because it was my thirteenth birthday. The biggy.

      Mum rang just before the first lot of party guests arrived.

      ‘I’m really sorry I can’t be there, darlin’.’

      ‘So, why can’t you come?’

      ‘You know what it’s like with flu. Thought I’d stay away so I didn’t spread it around.’

      ‘The flu? I never heard you coughing last night?’

      ‘It must have started during the, erm, night.’

      I shrugged off Mum’s explanation. Besides, I had Dad now, who’d cared enough to write to me every birthday. ‘That’s okay, Mum. You get over the flu.’

      ‘Really sorry, Lois.’

      ‘Don’t worry. I have everything I need here,’ I whispered to myself.

      ‘Never mind, though, your actual birthday isn’t until Monday. I’ll make sure I’m there for that. Okay, darlin’?’

      ‘Mum, I have to go now. People are arriving.’

      She started to mumble something as I replaced the receiver.

      People began to trickle in quite slowly. And quietly. No one saying a blimmin’ word. There was the odd sound of a leg tapping against a chair as guests basically gazed at each other, as if waiting for someone, anyone, to utter anything mildly witty. The silence was deafening and my life flashed before me – grand confirmation of my big fat L of a Loser status at school. But just as I thought the party was more than over, Carla’s mum turned up the record player and began to move expertly to the fast melodies of ‘Motownphilly’ by Boyz II Men, complete with tube dress and a group of lustful eyes belonging to Corey’s mates. Soon, others followed. My initial fear of mass yawns and exits evaporated and I was free to find the loo to let out nothing but a sigh of relief.

      I shut the loo door behind me just as Carla’s mum, still on the ‘dance floor’, proclaimed it was indeed Hammertime!

      ‘Lo Bag, where have you been?’ asked Corey, sounding like an old man. Voice all deep, as I shut the loo door behind me.

      ‘In the bog of course!’ I shook my head to this silly question, itching to return to my guests and new friends.

      ‘I…erm…wanted to give you your present.’

      ‘Your mum’s already done that!’ I replied. A roar of laughter escaped from the living room and I longed to be among the joviality and not stuck with Corey the Moron outside the toilet.

      ‘When?’ he asked with a puzzled look.

      ‘What do you think all this is about?’ I said, gesticulating wildly towards my new pair of stone-washed jeans. ‘And the party!’ The kid had been hanging around with his mates too long it seemed.

      ‘Oh! So what did your mum get you?’

      ‘A puffa jacket! I told you she gave it to me weeks ago! Look, this isn’t the time to annoy me, Corey!’

      ‘I’m not…I don’t want to annoy you. I wanted to give you this.’ He produced a square package hastily wrapped in what looked like Christmas paper. ‘Sorry, we didn’t have any birthday wrapping left.’ He thrust the tiny item into my palm. ‘From me.’

      Before I could say thanks, he’d walked off. So I opened the present to reveal LL Cool J’s ‘Mama Said Knock You Out’ album on tape. Wow! My feet were already tapping to the beat of my favourite track. The one album I’d been after for months but Mum wouldn’t let me buy (because it was rap music) and Corey had just handed it to me! Carla must have told him, I reasoned, along with wondering why Corey would save up his pocket money to buy me a present. The same Corey who up until about a month ago pulled my hair, farted in my face and called me all sorts of silly names. I thought nothing more as I rejoined the others on the ‘dance floor’ and launched into Lois’s very own awkward and stiff dance routine.

      For the next week, I was on a high. I stood in the dinner queue, constantly greeted with invisible high-fives from girls who’d never even burped in my direction before. It would seem my party remained on the lips of almost everyone in my year, which unfortunately included Sharlene Rockingham, who cornered me behind the science block as I raced to Maths.

      ‘Why didn’t I get an invite to your poxy little party, then?’ she asked gruffly.

      ‘Why should I have invited you?’ I replied. It seemed to slip out before I’d a chance to really think about it as Dad’s advice pounded against the wall of my head, desperate to get in.

      ‘You think you’re better than me, don’t you, Lois?’

      ‘No,’ I moaned, a little cheesed off that my week of glory was about to be soured. I inched away, trying hard not to look like a ‘wimp’ but without being too ‘smart’ about things.

      ‘I’m gonna be late, so I’ll, er, see you…’ I said pathetically.

      Sharlene’s eyes narrowed with evil. ‘Yep. You will.’

      On the morning of my actual thirteenth birthday, I opened up The Manual.

       Happy Birthday baby!

      You’re now officially a teenager. From now on,