Today I turned 12. It’s not really been a birthday I’ve been that fussed over, mainly because it’s not the big one. The big one is next year when I become - apparently - a terrible teenager. That’s what Mum said anyway. But for me being 12 is a big one. It means that I have to grow up soon. It means that I can’t just enjoy the days any more.
Yeah, school’s a bit rubbish and there’s always the bullies picking on me and Roxanne, but why would I want to grow up so soon? Why would I want to do hard studying and more homework and then look to the future? I don’t want to look to the future. I don’t want to grow up. Not yet anyway.
Me and Roxy bunked off school today and went down to the Den. God, if Mum and Dad found out they’d cancel Christmas. They probably will find out actually once the school work’s out that I didn’t have a sick note. And when they realise Roxy was off too…well, it’s only a matter of time.
But we both had a laugh anyway. It rained today, but it didn’t stop us. I always keep a pair of wellies hidden in an alcove underneath the train bridge for just these occasions. We met up in the park and then trudged down the old railway to the woods. It’s so peaceful up on the old tracks and it’ll be a shame when they dig it all up to put a road there.
We headed to the Den in the middle of the woods and lit a fire. Roxy had brought some green Panda Pops with her and I shared my sandwiches that Mum had made for me for school that day. Roxy told me about the ghost she thought she had seen in her house; a girl in a long, white dress that had walked from her Mums room, across the hallway and into the bathroom. Roxy wasn’t scared though - I might have been if I’d have seen it, but not her.
She grabbed her disposable camera and ran into the bathroom to try and take a photo only to find her brother having a shave. He’d told her off and she’d gone running back to her room.
That Dean can be a right git sometimes.
When the rain stopped we made our way past the cemetery and back towards home. I managed to make it back to my house at my usual time and my parents were none the wiser.
God, if they ever read this then I’m dead!
Anyway, I’ve gotta go now. We’re taking my birthday cake up to Granddad and Grandma’s house to celebrate. It’s Saturday tomorrow and me and Roxy are planning to spend the day back at the Den, working on our ghost story we’re writing. Granddad’s gonna give me some ideas for characters. I don’t know what I’d do without Granddad. He’s getting so old.
I hate getting older.
That’s all for now.
Love, Holly
Holly closed the diary and wiped away the tear. She’d been clearing her room out when she’d found the old diary behind an old bookcase. She hardly believed it had been eleven years since she’d written it. And she had hardly believed what her parents had told her when she had come home from work today: her Granddad had died.
Like she had said all those years ago, she hated getting older. It meant you were closer to death, and there was no coming back from the dead.
