I’ve sunk so low that I had to sit with Miriam Patel and her minions at lunch.

She saw that I was lunching solo and invited me to her table like she was Jesus hosting the Last Supper, all gracious, with her arms wide open.

Everyone had to squeeze past Polly and Tristan kissing outside the library.

Blech!

Seriously, Polly’s hormonal brain cocktail must be not only potent but also off, because Tristan’s gross. Compared to Polly anyway.

On our way to biology, I told Polly that her mentionitis was already getting on my tits, because normally she’d be saying things like: “The only reason I remember the term chloroplast is because it sounds like an adhesive but isn’t.” And all she’d said to me all day today thus far was: Tristan thinks, Tristan says, Tristan wants …

Me: Can you say one sentence without saying Tristan?

Polly: You don’t get it, Phoebe. Tristan and I are in love.

My God.

Tuesday, January 9 #BraceFace

Miriam Patel has new fluorescent pink braces, which she’s loving more than life. She’s fake-smiling all day like those teenage twats off Nickelodeon who pretend to be twelve but are actually eighteen.

Miriam Patel: Oh, hi, Phoebe.

Me: Oh, hi, Miriam.

Miriam: I’m so happy for Polly, aren’t you?

Me: Ecstatic.

Miriam Patel (grinning, because she’s evil):…

Me (grinning, because I’m choked with hatred):…

I suppose I could always have watched Polly and Tristan make out while eating my sandwich, but then there’s the gag reflex.

Wednesday, January 10 #Wankpot

Tonight when I was watching telly, Kate sat down next to me on the sofa and poked me with her foot until I looked at her.

Me: What?

Kate: Why haven’t I seen or spoken to Polly? She usually moves in during weekends when you’re here.

Me: I told you. She’s found someone she likes better. He’s called Tristan.

Kate: Oh, I see.

I told her that Polly doesn’t even know Mum’s gone to Syria, and how she still hasn’t wished me a happy new year, and that Tristan basically ruined everything Polly and I had, and that he’s always there and touching her, and that I don’t ever get her on my own anymore. And that he doesn’t know how to ride a bike.

Kate was just like: “What an absolute wankpot.” And then she put one of the designer cats on me and told me to stroke it because apparently that makes you feel better.

It didn’t.

Thursday, January 11 #NoThanks

I locked myself out this morning and had to go to the thrift shop after school to get keys from Kate.