Boys Beware by Jean Ure

which is what always happens when she’s bottling things up. Unlike me and Tash, who let it all hang out (or so Mum says), Ali is a bottler. We tried to encourage her. We told her to “Say it, whatever it is,” but she wouldn’t. She just muttered again that we were talking nonsense and went off to her broom cupboard, scooping Fat Man into her arms as she went.

    Ali is
such
a puzzle! There is simply no understanding her.
    Wednesday
    Me and Tash are really angry. Really
really
angry. Ali has absolutely gone and done it! Yesterday, we felt fond of her. Today we are
seething.
We’d like to lock her in her cupboard and leave her there. She is not fit to be let out!
    It just so happened that we both stayed late after school, me for the drama club and Tash for tennis practice. We didn’t get back till half-past five, by which time …
    Suffice it to say that Ali has been up to her old tricks.
Talking
to people. People she finds on the street. People that drink, and stink, and probably take drugs. People you wouldn’t want to be within a million miles of! And there was one of them, sitting in
our room,
at
our table,
eating
our food.
    Me and Tash nearly went ballistic! I really thought that Ali had grown out of that disgusting habit. It is so unwholesome, and she is just so
totally indiscriminate.
She sees these people sitting there, in shop doorways, and she starts up these mad conversations, and next thing you know she’s claiming they’re her friend, and bringing them back home to stink the place out. Cos this one did stink! We could smell it as soon as we openedthe door. I don’t mean to be unsympathetic, but it was just, like, completely and utterly DISGUSTING. Only of course you can’t actually say anything, since you don’t want to hurt people’s feelings.

    Ali, as usual, remained blissfully unaware. She has this ability, things just wash over her. All bright and happy she tells us that this is Patricia, who’s just popped in for a bite to eat. Patricia looks like a pickled walnut, and I can’t decide whether it’s dirt or suntan. She’s also raving bonkers. Mum wouldn’t like me saying that as she is all for tolerance, but it just happens to be
true.
We got rid of her double quick and immediately scrubbed the table with Dettol. We are just so furious! We have both laid into Ali, telling her it will be all her fault if we go down with some dread disease or get eaten alive by fleas.
    I said, “You can’t do things like that! It’s irresponsible.”
    “It’s dangerous,” said Tash. “You could have got us all
murdered.”
    Well, she could! Patricia was definitely certifiable. We said this – well, shouted it, actually – and Ali just sat there, like completely unmoved. She wasn’t bottling: we just weren’t getting through to her. She waited till we’d finished yelling, then calmly stood up and said, “She can’t help the way she is, she’s had a very hard life.” And that was that! End of conversation.
    Oh, God, Ali is so so weird! Did she do this thing to pay us back for upsetting her yesterday? Saying about Auntie Jay being a lesbian? Or did it just suddenly come over her, that she had to bring this stinking old woman back home? Mum once said that Ali has a “good heart”, and I know – I know! – that people like Patricia are lost souls and cannot help the way they are, I know that Ali is right and I am wrong, but it is very difficult to bear!
    Thursday
    Tash says she has been bitten by a flea. It could have come off Fat Man – or it could have come off Patricia. We are still
very cross
with Ali. We have told her, it is good to have compassion, but there is a limit. Unfortunately, I don’t think Ali knows what limits are. It’s like she has to watch
Star Trek
every day. I mean,
every single day.
We think she is probably a lost cause.
    Gran rang up this evening to tell us that the photographs are on the way. Hurrah! I am longing to see them.
    Friday
    The photographs have come and they