The Boy Who Made it Rain

Cora Kelly’s Opinion

Cora Kelly’s OpinionOh my God! It’s not as if I fancied Clem or anything. Rosie’s a pure liar if she said that. I can’t believe people would even think that. That’s a pure riot. We spoke about him:

A. Coz he was new to the school

and

B. Coz that’s what we do when chatting about the guys.

All girls do that. You should hear what they say about us, by the way. Someone put it around that I gave this wee third-year a five-ten-double-ten after the third-year disco…A hand jive…you know, pulled him off. Then I heard all these wee third-years whispering to each other in the corridor. So I went to the guy with the motor gub and said that I’d boot his nose through his ear if he didn’t say it was a load of crap. Let’s say he quickly took it all back. I mean, why would I turn up at a third-year disco in the first place? I’m not into jigging away to The Jonas Brothers thank you very much. What I’m saying is don’t believe everything you hear in here that’s all. All it takes is one text message and the next thing you’re the biggest s**t in the whole school. Sometimes I wish I could go back to the olden days when they didn’t have mobiles. My mum still talks about those days. Can you imagine it but? You’d be pure Billy No Mates.

Actually Rosie knew that I sort of fancied Conor Duffy. Even though he was into like football and all that male bonding crap, which is way uncool. I still liked him. Away from his pals he was actually okay. I could just about stomach all that hail! hail! the Celts are here drivel but there’s no way I could’ve put up with all that we’re-from-the-hood mince. Yeah right, in Glasgow? And you should hear the way they talk, as if they’re from the manky part of town, with that pure cartoon Glasgow accent. It’s totally put on coz I’ve heard the way some of them talk to their mums, and it’s a billion miles from what comes out their traps in school. But I definitely drew the line at all the hip-hop singing and references. I mean have you heard 50Cent and JayZ done in a Scottish accent? Sounds like an i***t with a speech impediment. I still liked him though.

It’s like one of those guilty…thingymajigs…pleasures, that’s right. A guilty pleasure. Rosie said he was a bit of a tosser, so I tried not to like him. No, I don’t always do what Rosie tells me to do. You listen to your mates, don’t you? I’m not hiding stuff here.

Clem?

Clem was okay, in a boring I’m-into-books-and-reading-all-the-time type of way. He had a funny name and a funny accent. Some girls are attracted to all that. They were all saying he was the spit of some guy from The OC but I never watch The OC so I couldn’t really say. Too much teeth for my liking. To me it was like listening to someone off Eastenders or Hollyoaks. That’s the most erotic it gets here…No, I don’t mean that…Different, that’s all…Exotic then. Erotic exotic same thing.

After about a week in school he had everyone eating out the palm of his hand. I called it the Robbie Williams effect. You know, all the guys want to…how do you know? Anyway there were some girls, especially in the year below, who were slobbering whenever he passed by them in the corridor, like they were at some JLS music store gig. It was pathetic. Believe it or not Miss Croal was the worst though.

She was practically salivating every time he came into her English class. Even I was embarrassed for her. No, I never gave her a hard time over it…well, maybe the odd wee comment here or there…nothing nasty.

Sometimes these new teachers need to be put in their place. It happens to them all. They’re all full of innovation. It’s so annoying. I mean, just give us a book and let us read it, or we’ll pretend we’re reading it. We don’t have to examine what every blinking word means. I didn’t even want to do English, it’s not like I was going to do it as a career or anything like that. It’s a boring head wreck. Worse than going to the school mass. I still look in the dictionary for swear words in English class to keep it exciting, that’s how bad it is. Why do schools force everybody to do it? It doesn’t make any sense. I say let all the nerds do it if they want and let the rest of us do extra classes on the subjects we enjoy…I sort of wanted to be a vet, but I’m mince at Biology and I don’t really like the sight of blood. But I do like animals…who knows, maybe I’ll do a drama course or something, I don’t know yet. My guidance teacher suggested beauty therapy, and I was like: Christ on a bike, Sir, I’m not that thick.

It was kind of worrying when Clem came to the school coz I was worried that me and Rosie would both fancy him and there would be this pure tension between us, so I tried dead hard not to fancy him. Then when I heard him talking all that rubbish in the English class I knew that I could never fancy him. Not my type, you see. I reckon he must have been a Libran or something, coz Sagittarians and Librans can’t stand each other. Or is it Leos? Whatever he was, I could tell that we were totally out of sync. But I could tell that Rosie liked him. She was like pure rash material always looking at him when he wasn’t looking and going all red and shy when he was about. For a time I thought she was going to turn into some mad-stalker bird. Thing is, Rosie could have gotten any guy in the school. All of fifth- and sixth-year guys thought she was a ride. She didn’t cake herself in make-up like most of the dogs in fifth- and sixth-year, who thought they were pure God’s gift. That’s the thing about Rosie, she didn’t know how good-looking she was.

I wasn’t jealous…why would I be jealous? I had loads of guys chasing me. Even guys with cars and guys who were, like, working. I could hold my own. I didn’t want a bf…boyfriend. I couldn’t be arsed with all that ‘childhood sweethearts’ crap. It’s not as if I was a slapper or anything like that, I just didn’t want the hassle of a bf. No way. Stuff that! Half the girls from third-year up are probably on the pill so it’s no great surprise. In fact, if you believe any of the stories in this place, half of the lassies in our year have probably been marched down to the abortion clinic at one time or another while the other half pop the morning-after pill as if they’re Tic-Tacs. I was always careful. It’s not like it’s the eighties we’re in. Anyway me and Rosie were totally different, not just in looks, for a start she was into all that oh-I’m-dead-depressed-I’m-going-to-slit-my-wrists music. She tried for ages to get me into it but it just made me want to self harm. I need beats and rhythm. Even if I wanted to I could never have fancied Clem; I’d never have done anything to hurt Rosie. She was my best pal.

Of course I’m shocked…

Am I sad? That’s another thing, isn’t it?