Read Don't Even Think About It for Free Online

of him is pretty good – nice light brown hair, green eyes, lovely chuckly laugh that just makes you want to join in. No freckles, not even one. He says I have enough for the two of us, and he’s right.
    Catherine Eggleston and Terry McNamara are officially going out, which shows what kind of taste
he
has. Although I must admit she’s only been about half as bitchy as usual, since I didn’t tell on her about the note she wrote that time.
    I haven’t been sent to Smelly Nelly’s for over two weeks, which has to be some kind of record. Not that I care, with less than a month of school to go. Chloe Nelligan is still keeping the vampires away – and the rest of us too – with the dreaded garlic breath.
    The only other bit of news is not so good, which is whyI’ve saved it till last.
    Tonight Dad and Marjorie Maloney are going out again, to the launch of some dorky book written by someone Marjorie knows. Dad’s in the shower now, getting ready.
    But they’re
not
dating – Dad’s just keeping her company, because she’s got nobody else and he feels sorry for her. That’s the only possible reason he’s doing this.
No way
is he interested in Marjorie Maloney – how could he be, after Mam, who’s miles prettier and slimmer?
    He did look a bit guilty earlier when he told me he was meeting Marjorie. He tried to make it sound like no big deal: ‘By the way, myself and Marjorie are heading out to a book launch tonight, just for a bit.’ His back was to me as he spoke, stirring a saucepan, but then he looked around to see how I was taking it. I just nodded, as if I couldn’t care less.
    Of course Marjorie is acting like my best friend these days, waving at me from across the road any time she sees me. I just ignore her, which makes two people on the road I have to ignore now.
    Compared to Marjorie Maloney, Ruth Wallace is a saint. At least she’s not trying to get her claws into my dad, just run me over with her wheelchair, or insult me to death.
    Bumble’s coming over in a while, and we’re ordering in a pizza and he’s helping me to set up an e-mail account, and I am
not
telling Dad about it. Why should I, when he can just turn around and abandon me any time he feels like it? Bumble says it’s dead easy to setup – all we need is a disk that he’s bringing over. I just hope the computer is modern enough.
    Dad just called in that he’s leaving. I called back ‘Fine.’ I am not going to look out the window this time. I hope the book launch is even more boring than the cinema. I didn’t ask him about the film they went to, and he didn’t mention it either.
    Bumble’d better hurry up, or I’ll order the pizza without him. My stomach is beginning to complain of emptiness. We usually get a giant pizza with half of it topped with pepperoni and pineapple for me, and half with ham and mushrooms, for both of us. Well, I’d share my half if he wanted, but pepperoni gives Bumble a rash.
    He’s getting ten more minutes.

Five to six, Saturday, middle of June.
    A funny thing happened today in Boots. I was trying on a lipstick when I saw the girl beside me putting something into her coat pocket. I couldn’t see what it was, just that it was small, and then she saw me looking, and she turned and walked away really quickly.
    It was the first time I’d ever seen anyone shoplifting.
    I didn’t know whether I should tell someone, but then I figured by the time I did she’d be long gone. And it looked so small, whatever she’d taken. It must have been a lipstick or something. Probably cost less than five euros.
    She was just about my age too, or maybe a bit older. One of her eyebrows was pierced, which I think looks so cool.
    It looked dead easy, what she did. Nobody saw a thing except me, and she was gone in a second. One freelipstick in her pocket.
    Not that I’d ever do it – I’d be terrified of being