Rebecca Rocks by Anna Carey Read Free Book Online

taking a break from my hideous studies, but I don’t think it’s really working. I used to think that my misery over Paperboy moving to Canada fuelled my creative powers, and it seems that I was right! Not that I don’t have lots of problems, of course, but they don’t seem to be the sort of problems that inspire poetry. I mean, what sort of poem could I write about exams and annoying teachers? Maybe I should try a haiku. They are the easiest sort of poems to write because they are only seventeen syllables long and they don’t have to rhyme.
    Mrs Harrington
    Why do you love my mother?
    I wish you did not.
    Hmmm, that wasn’t that bad, actually, if I say so myself. But still. I just don’t feel the old, I dunno, fire. I know I said it was quite relaxing having no boy problems to think about, and it is, but sometimes I can’t help wishing something exciting would, you know, just happen. If only to give me something to write about.
    Maybe I could write some poems about being a bit bored. But they might be a bit boring.

    Studying. AGAIN. I feel like I can’t remember a life when I didn’t have to sit in my room staring at books full of stuff I can’t remember. I can’t wait until I spend an entire day just lazing around doing nothing. Cass has escaped her books for a few hours and has gone into town to meet Liz, but that’s only because her parents have gone to a christening and taken her little brother so they can’t check up on her. But I am stuck here, trying to avoid looking up at the window because that horrible little Mulligan is back there taunting me. Why hasn’t she got anything better to do than sit in her room and annoyher innocent neighbours? I mean, why hasn’t she got friends?

    Oh my God, she does have friends! Or at least one friend, who is in her room right now making faces and dancing at me! And now they’ve turned around and are shaking their bums at me! One annoying child mocking me was bad enough, but two of them is just too much. Surely this is against the law? Maybe I could go to the police.

    Mum says children dancing around in their own rooms isn’t against the law. I think it should be, though.
    ‘Just ignore her!’ said Mum. ‘She’s only little.’
    Easy for her to say, her study is the other side of the house. I bet if she had to look at some annoying little brats waggling their bums at her when she was trying to write about Lily Fitzsimons, she’d think differently about all this.

    Exams start tomorrow. I am totally panicky. I don’t think I have done enough work. I know my parents forced to me to study every night over the last few weeks, but when I look back now I seem to have spent quite a lot of that time writing in my diary. Oh dear.
    I have reached a stage where I am basing my studying on what day each exam is on. For example, maths is tomorrow, but history is on Thursday, so I need to concentrate on maths tonight (obviously) and then I will have three more evenings to get various bits of history done. But of course I can’t spend all those nights on history because I have other exams too. Like Irish, and German, which are both on Wednesday. Oh God.
    Right, I’m going back to work now to try and remember some geometry … stuff. I can’t even remember the words for bits of maths now. Oh dear. I have a feeling I won’t be writing in this diary much until it’s all over.

Week 4

    I hate exams. I am halfway through exam week, and I have forgotten everything I ever knew. Cass feels the same way, but Alice keeps telling us that we know more than we think.
    ‘You did manage to answer all the questions, didn’t you?’ she said.
    ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘But I don’t know if I answered them very well.’
    ‘But you actually could answer them,’ she said. ‘I mean, there was nothing you absolutely couldn’t say anything about?’
    She is right. But I still don’t feel very confident. I am going to go and read some stuff about Martin Luther and hope that some of it