The Budding Roses

Weirdoes and woodcutters

Friday 15th May

'Now that you're sixteen you need to get out there and start doing it.' Flora Sidebottom screeched from the back seat of the 136. 'You don't want to be the last virgin at school, even if you are a swot face.' Do I look like I need reminding of this most embarrassing fact? Oh dear Lord, is it so transparent, that even the general population can tell that I remain untouched on my sixteenth birthday? Let's hope that it's just Flora, who through her extensive experience of public berating, is privy to my inner most thoughts and anxieties, and can detect from a mere glance at my eyes that this is a topic of great sensitivity to me?

If only I had the courage to answer her orders and yell back what I really think, that "Yes Flora, I could not agree more, I too do not wish to be the last virgin in school, in the world, and thank you so much for reminding me what a loser I am, especially today, on my birthday. In fact now that you've been good enough to suggest it, why I might just take your advice and skip school today, why not treat myself to a jolly good rodgering instead?" Oh but weedy character that I am, I just laughed.

The worst part is that she is right, it is no longer an illegal act for me to engage in sexual intercourse, but what does she really expect me to do about it, grab the first male object I see and ask him to bonk me? Whoever I pick they would probably say no anyway.

Tuesday 21st May

This would never have happened if I'd just caught the 136 home like normal; I'd be home by now, warm and toasty, secure amidst the sanctuary of Summer Bay, but oh no, the powers that be, i.e. Natasha, have decided that taking the bus home is no longer de rigueur, and so it is now compulsory to walk home with "The Gang". Like I haven't seen enough of them at school all day.

But battling the attentions of a bunch of bursting boys was easy compared to this. For it would appear that more unexpected dangers exist, and my budding charms have now transcended the safety barrier of the school gates, landing me right at the forefront of the attentions of the professional adult male. Has Flora Sidebottom secretly been auctioning me off as the town's prize virgin?

This latest desperado is seemingly wise to the knowledge that draconian tactics, such as beeping one's horn, will not readily convert to scoring shag, and so to increase his chances he has taken the initiative to make best use of the other resources at his disposal.

He has a van. But in the absence of sounding its horn, he must find another way to gain the attentions of the unsuspecting lady he desires. What a cunning tactic; firstly she must believe that it is she who is curious and that it is she who noticed him first, right? Wrong! Alas this is where his plan has failed, for she, or I as the case may be, had little choice but to reciprocate, by looking right back into the dirty lair of his eyes, leaving me forever paralysed and with nowhere to run.

Initially I couldn't be certain that it was me who he had chosen, since the part of town we were in was as busy as ever, but as we walked up George's Road, I sensed the eyes of the monster set upon me. Damn me for blushing just because this strange man had smiled at me; now he was grinning smugly, convinced that I liked him too.

I can't be sure, but he was probably in his early twenties, and dressed in paint smeared jeans and a grey t-shirt, but it was his long blond hair, tied back at the nape of his neck into a pony tail; that was the part that made me want to gag the most.

'Did you see that?' My voice trembled.

'What?'

'That man staring at me. He gives me the creeps.'

'Um, not really. Anyway he does that to everyone.' How does Natasha always know who everyone is, even the weirdo's?

Nauseated by the mix adrenaline and inexplicable guilt, why I'm now feeling secretly disappointed that she might be right. Maybe he does look that way at all the girls, maybe it's not just me, and maybe I'm not that special? Please dear Lord, tell me that I'm special?

Wednesday 22nd May

Well here are two fingers up to you, Miss Know It All Natasha, because it's only gone and happened again. Ha! Well maybe not ha since this dude is certainly not what I would call a hubba bubba. Please can someone begin to fathom the idiosyncrasies of my perverted mind and explain away my reaction? Specifically why the heck am I blushing all over the place like an over ripe raspberry about him? With Luke Hemmings I completely understand the cause of my hysteria; I love him and he is totally drop dead gorgeousamundo, the King of Hubba Bubbas, but I certainly do not love this man, I don't even like him. I mean he's old for starters, like well over twenty.

Tuesday 28th May

Everything about him is awful, but I'm only now, at last, just about figuring it out. Where Michael and David, even Luke, have been safe, this man, and all he quite obviously desires to do to me is terrifying, but the most dangerous part is that I can't get enough of it.

Like Dracula lurking to suck my nubile blood, there he is, appearing in a poof in the most random of places, and always bearing that same penetrating stare and menacing smirk.

'Don't look now, it's Weirdo Woodcutter.'

I clung to the safety guard of Natasha's left arm when the van pulled up at the bus stop this morning. 'What are you doing?' I hissed. Can you believe that she was smiling back, and waving too! 'Please don't do that. He's staring at us even more now. He's creeping me out.'

'Who are you talking about?' Harry was confused as ever, but before I could answer, Natasha was flicking her tongue at him. Eagerly he revved the engine of the van, before speeding away, consumed by the horizon.