The Budding Roses

The golden mane of glory

Tuesday 25th January

Oh ever since my dear David and Michael departed for University, so many long months ago, I've been searching, yearning, seeking out a target, desperate to fill the boy shaped void that is gaping wide within my brain, and which left empty for too long has rendered me a vapid, plastic individual, so bored with life that I have resorted to entertaining the murky depths of my own year group.

'What are you moaning about?' Of course Natasha offers little sympathy, 'you've got your fan club on demand and offering constant attention; although I wouldn't get too used to it, because I already heard Harry asking out Katie Birkenshaw this morning. So it seems that he's not solely dedicated to the pursuit of you after all.'

'Well thank goodness for that, because as I've told you so many times before, I've got absolutely no interest in Harry Styles, or any of the other boys in our class for that matter.'

Were the Gods listening to our little tiff and kindly reasoned that I have suffered long enough?

'Who's he?' I whispered.

'Erm, Luke Hemmings, obviously.' Obviously. 'Why do you want to know? Do you fancy him?'

'No, of course not!'

'Well that's a shame because I can get you a date if you want?' How could I possibly forget that Natasha can get me a date with anyone who ever existed?

'What year is he in?'

'The year above.'

'The year above, wow. Well he's got the dreamiest blonde hair I've ever seen.' And he really does. I can't stop thinking about it, tucked coyly behind his ears, and the way he leaned so nonchalantly against the window at the far side of the Hall, but most of all I can't stop thinking about the Adidas tracksuit jacket he was wearing instead of his blazer. I'm going to beg Mother to buy me the exact same one, right now, for if we are wearing the same jacket then that's it, I'm one step closer to making it, to really belonging, to being with someone as cool and gorgeous as Luke. Just imagine!

Wednesday 26th January

I've been overdosing on glee these past twenty four hours, the effects of which are evident for all to see.

'Someone's happy today,' Mother remarked annoyingly at breakfast, whilst I ate my toast giggling, 'is it a boy?'

'No! Aren't I allowed to smile anymore?' Damn her for being so perceptive, but it's irritating that she's right; my buoyant mood is of course entirely linked to who I encountered yesterday and to the revived feelings of exhilaration and anticipation which I've been bereft of for so long. Oh how wonderful it is to feel alive again.

'What are you staring at?' Sarah smelt my sickened agitation as my eyes flicked between the far door and my suddenly repugnant ham and cheese sandwiches.

'Nothing!' I pulled my straining neck back in, embarrassed at being caught so easily.

'She's looking for Luke Hemmings,' Natasha intercepted, 'she loves him.'

'She loves who?'

Whilst Natasha explained to Sarah who Luke was I became deflated with waiting, accepting that he probably wasn't going to show up today or ever again, in fact it's likely he never even existed, he was merely an apparition, representative of all the hot boys lost forever.

After so many years of frustrated clock watching, waiting at the bus stop for Michael and David to arrive, I can't bear the thought of it happening again, only this time in the Lunch Hall. But alas it seems that when it comes to good looking boys, why they seem to be controlled by some sort of radar system, a programme designed to torment and which instructs them to descend at precisely the right moment to exert maximum torture upon their victims; never quite disappearing forever and allowing us the relief of forgetting them, but timing their entrance so that they keep dangling that slither of hope, because the fact that they keep turning up, well it might just mean that they're here to see you too?