Diary of a Chav by Grace Dent

’cos she tried to dye it “raunchy auburn” last night when it’s red and it’s gone a bit green at the sides and some of the lads are calling her swampbeast.
    Carrie says that Bezzie and Wesley are DEFINITELY going to a car cruise in Southend next Friday night and am I gonna come, ’cos she could tell her dad she’s coming here and I could tell my mum I’m at Draperville and then as long as no mums ring each other we’ll be sweet. I said no. I said I don’t wanna go to a car cruise ’cos I don’t like riding about in cars ’cos I get carsick.
    This wasn’t true. I do like riding about in cars but I am still fizzing with Carrie for leaving me on the curb near Wesley’s house that Saturday. I think that was totally disrespectful to me as a mate and I certainly don’t wanna get dumped in Southend if she does it again. Carrie would NEVER EVER do anything like that usually. She is a top girl and my best friend ever since Year Seven. This is all since she met Bezzie Kelleher. Sometimes I feel like she likes Bezzie almost as much as she likes me and it freaks me out.
    “Oh come on Shiz, it’ll be such a laugh! Three hundred cars are coming from all over Essex!” she said. “They do burn-outs and donuts and stuff!”
    “I can get donuts at Asda,” I said.
    “Not them sort of donuts,” she said.
    We sat and said nothing for a while.
    “God, Shiraz, you’ve really got bad vibes about Wesley Barrington Bains II, ain’t you?” Carrie said.
    “I ain’t got NO vibes about Wesley Barrington Bains II!” I said, then my mum came in, probably to change the batteries on her sonic ear trumpet that she uses to find out everything that happens in Goodmayes ever.
    “Wesley Barrington Bains II?” said my mum.
    “Gnnnnno,” I grunted, then I stared at the telly.
    “You know him, do you?” she said.
    “Yeah a bit,” said Carrie. I scowled at Carrie to shut up.
    “I knew Wesley Barrington Bains the First,” said Mum. “He used to come in the social club all the time, terrible nice fella he was. Mad keen on cars.”
    I tried to pretend I wasn’t listening but I totally was.
    “What happened to him?” said Carrie.
    “Oh . . . it was a terrible business,” said Mum. “He was home one day looking after his little lad, right as rain, then when his missus came home from work . . . he was laid out flat on the living room floor, stone-cold dead! The little lad playing with his toys beside him. Heart attack! Only thirty-two he was. The little boy just thought he was sleeping. There was bloody hundreds down at that crematorium. Horses and carriages. The lot. They still live in that house y’know. Over near Dawson Drive.”
    Mum grabbed a fudgesicle out of the freezer and disappeared back into the lounge.
    Me and Carrie sat for a while and said nothing. I felt a bit raw in the back of my throat.
    “Me and Bez reckon he likes you,” Carrie said.
    “Oh shut up,” I said.
    WEDNESDAY 23RD APRIL
    I was really bored today at school ’cos I’ve totally lost track of what Mr. Gilligan is going on about in geography, then in math we were doing statistics and they are bleeding tedious. Then at break Carrie was going on about Bezzie and Southend again, then after lunch it was double hockey and I thought, balls to this, I’m off home. So I walked, with Carrie and Kezia, in the general direction of PE, then as I got to the gym I just kept walking past the changing-room door and out of the building and out of the back gates and down the road and on to the 239 bus toward home. The trick is all in your expression. Never EVER look like you shouldn’t be going somewhere and usually you don’t get stopped.
    So I get home and I get into bed and reckon I’ll have two hours’ kip before Mum’s due in from work, then I’ll get up and walk round the block and come home at the same time as ever. EASY. So I’m just drifting into a nice dream (about Wesley, if you must know) when the front door opens downstairs! MY HEART