I couldn’t concentrate on my calls today; all I could think about was tonight’s audition. One customer became extremely upset with me after asking for a quote to insure his toy poodle. I told him we only covered real animals but he simply wouldn’t accept it. He asked to speak to a manager but George wasn’t around – he’d taken Lucy into the meeting room because she still looked upset. Jess said she would pretend to be a manager and took the call from me, but she accidentally pressed the Release button and said “Oops! Cut the bugger off.” We both put our turrets into ‘aftercall’ so if he phoned straight back, someone else would get him. 
      I ran through the lyrics in my head, humming the tunes quietly to myself. I’d practised Summer Nights as much as I could last night in my room and my throat felt a bit raw from repeated “Na-hites!” It was a very difficult note to hit. Even Myra had struggled; I recalled my goldfish vibrating each time she’d attempted it. When I’d gone downstairs to get a glass of water, My Ryder from next door was sitting in the kitchen. Mum said he’d come round to say how much he was enjoying my singing, which was very nice of him. He suggested it would be good for my lung capacity if I sang as loudly as I could non-stop for twenty minutes so I went back to my room and did just that. I think they must have really loved it because I’m sure I heard them joining in after the "well-a well-as" with a loud "huh!". 
     Lucy returned from her meeting with George and I gave her a big supportive smile. She was clearly very touched as her face crumpled and she fled toward the toilets in tears. It was typical of her kind nature not to mention my text message; she must know I’d feel embarrassed by the kiss. George came over and placed an envelope on my desk. “There’s your invite, Foggy.” How exciting! I said “Oh great! Are you having a birthday party?” He looked at me very strangely and said “No. You’re having a disciplinary hearing.” I opened the letter and saw the hearing was in one week’s time. My head felt all swimmy and my mouth went dry. I couldn’t worry about this now; I had to concentrate on tonight. I’d worry about it tomorrow. 

                    

Mum was in the kitchen flicking through the Next Directory and listening to her Human League playlist. She looked very nice; she'd done something different with her hair and she had a smart red jacket on that I hadn't seen before. It was great that she always managed to look good even though she never had any money to spend on herself. I asked her what was for tea but she said she'd been too busy to go shopping. Just as well, really, my stomach was still churning. I've no idea what had caused it to react in such an explosive way. Nerves, perhaps – it was the auditions tomorrow, after all. I’m sure John Travolta suffered much the same way before he had to kiss Olivia Newton John. I tweeted Katy Perry to see if she had any suggestions for combating nerves. She hadn’t replied to any of my last 387 tweets but this could finally be the one!
 I asked Mum if, when she did go to the shops, she could get me some more of the fizzy yoghurt I'd had last week. I'd never had anything like it before; it was really tangy and zingy. She looked confused and said she hadn't bought any yoghurt for months. Crafty Mum! No wonder I'd found it hidden away right at the back of the fridge - she wanted it all for herself! I gave her a knowing smile and went to change into my green jumper with the leather elbow patches, to get me into a Greased Lightnin' mood. Still nothing from Lucy. I expect her phone is out of credit. I'd offer to lend her some money but after giving mum the extra house-keeping and forking out on all that aloe vera ultra soft Andrex, I only had £8.13 to last me through the month. And I needed that for a Clearasil emergancy.

    George came over to my desk before I could take another call. Here we go. I braced myself as he pulled up a chair. I saw his left eye was very swollen and there was a dark, purplish bruise just above his cheek bone. He said he'd done it playing football. It was a bit difficult to hear him because he put his hand over his nose, so he sounded a little muffled. Perhaps he thought he was going to sneeze. He said "Bad news, Foggy. Your absence rate is over six percent now, so you'll have to attend a formal meeting. You don't need to worry about it. Well, not much, anyway. I don't think they kick you out just for six percent, but you never know." When I asked him if he was sure about his sums, he replied "Kate worked it out. The meeting will be with her." He looked very weary. "What was wrong with you, anyway? Got the shits?"
     Jess had a go at me when George had gone. She told me I should have said I was off with anxiety or depression, because "they can't touch you if you've got mental 'elf issues." I said I'd remember that for the
formal meeting. No reply from Lucy yet. My stomach was churning again.
     It was my last evening to practice before the SADS Grease auditions tomorrow night. My Summer Nights rehearsal with Myra had not gone well. I'd got a little confused with all the constant switching of lyrics in the duet. When I'd accidently sung "Met a boy cute as can be"  Myra had exploded: "Since when was the leader of the T Birds fucking gay? It's called Grease, not Vaseline!" Her anger got me all nervous and I did too many shoo-bop bops. We eventually decided we'd practise on our own.