#Help

by Rae Earl

I’m going to live with my dad.

  #MYFAM

  As Mum and I drive to Grandad’s, I think about what’s just happened. Mum’s car is a good place to think. She drives like a granny and keeps within the speed limit even when there isn’t a sign or a safety camera. I can turn off reality and overthink things.

  Yes. This has been very … civilized really. That’s the word to use when everyone behaves themselves and acts in a way that won’t get them on daytime telly, yelling at each other. My family are like that really. We have slightly barking streaks of loon (Aunty Teresa), but mainly the team works, as Dad says. This is because:

  @Parents

  My parents are divorced, but in the most lovely way possible. Dad and Mum met in Ibiza when they were ravers. Mum used to wear neon bikinis and cowboy hats. But after I turned four, Mum and me came back here for school. Dad stayed in Spain and ran a club then a tapas bar then a bungee-jump business. He came back a year ago and he’s still looking for something permanent, so he lives with Grandad. Mum and Dad still seem to really like each other – they just don’t want to live with each other. I know! It’s really unusual, but it’s good for me. Dad seems to understand how difficult it is to be my age. I think Mum has forgotten. And Gary Woolton was never young at all. Bet he’s never even been to a party. Except maybe to clean up afterwards.

  @Grandad

  Grandad is my dad’s dad and is basically OK. He’s a massive sexist. This is because he was born before feminism was actually invented. BUT he loves me, and sort of doesn’t think of me as a girl. He always says, “You’re different to most women, Millie. You don’t nag, you don’t cry and you don’t shout at me for having muddy fingernails.” This is shocking and you’ll be thinking, How do you even deal with that man? Look – you just have to remember he’s ancient, and that occasionally he gives me five pounds from his pension money to buy something nice. HA!

  @AuntyTeresa

  Aunty Teresa is La Diva Mentalis. She got this nickname from a Spanish man called Juan she was engaged to, until she found out he was married to someone else from Estonia. She is SO unlucky with guys and work, so she lives with my grandad too. Occasionally. She’s also lived in a garage, in her friend’s conservatory for six months and even in a tent in a field near Glastonbury. She thought if she pitched up there, went all River Cottage and lived off the land, she’d eventually get free entry to the festival. She lasted five days. And made herself ill eating poisonous berries. I’ve basically looked after her since I was born, even though she is twenty-seven years older than me. At a job interview once, they asked her if she had any questions and she said, “What’s the best way to get rid of verrucas?” You see – I have to be sensible, as a lot of the so-called adults around me are not…

  @Dave

  Dave the cat is actually a girl. Don’t ask. I was three. My mum asked me what I’d like to call her and I said Dave. It’s the most stupid thing I’ve done, but it sort of suits her. She’s a feline rebel who lives on the edge. Actually, she’s mainly just asleep and trying to pinch your crisps but she’s my cat and we understand each other.

  So things were working OK until Gary came along. I lived with Mum and we would go to Grandad’s every week for Sunday lunch and after school on a Friday. But now I’m going to Grandad’s for much more than that. I just need to look on the positive side of all of this: no more iron rules, no more set bedtimes, no more homework times, no more being followed around with a dustpan and brush and a can of furniture polish.

  Oh, why do I feel so … nervous? I keep getting this feeling in my tummy like a knot. A big lump of worry.

  Dave is not happy inside the cat basket. She looks very grumpy. Cages don’t fit with her rebel credentials. I tickle her chin through the bars. She’s pushed all her grey tabby fur through the wire and does a massive tuna breath hiss at me. I have to be strong. For Dave. She’s going to miss the hedge where she waits for wild-bird burgers.

  Come on, Millie. Pull it together.

  That’s me talking to me by the way. Dave can’t talk. Yet.

  #GLOWSTICKDAD

  When we get to Grandad’s, Dad is GLOWING. I’ve made his Saturday night – and probably his life – complete. He gives me a huge hug and says, “MILLS! You’ve come to live with lads that love you. We are going to have so much FUN! I’ve made your bedroom up. Pop upstairs and put your stuff down.”

  Mum stands at the front door looking sad. The outside security light makes her look like a Doctor Who villain. She is not. She is lovely. I see her mouth at Dad, “Look after her.”

  Dad mouths back, “Of course I will.”

  I say goodbye to Mum and she says something, but no one can hear anything as Dave is howling to be let out. It sounds like she is in pain but she isn’t. She’s having a major tantrum. By the time I’ve stuck my finger in to rub her head (she bites it), Mum has gone.

  Luckily, Grandad arrives with a hot piece of chicken and gives Dave a gourmet snack with one of his super crinkly old fingers. Dave goes to purr factor ten and shuts up. Grandad also gives me a piece and whispers, “Roast meat makes everything on earth happy.”

  I think the chicken would disagree but now is not the time to go militant vegetarian. Grandad hugs me and I go upstairs with Dave.

  Dad has done quite a good job on my new room. He has moved his bongo drums and taken out most of Aunty Teresa’s junk. There’s still her collection of cuddly toys and Sylvanian Families though. If you move those things, she’ll go into full panic mode and have to breathe into a bag. I’ve seen it.

  So there are miniature rabbits and a massive Winnie the Pooh, but I notice there’s no actual clothes rail. “Dad – where can I put my school uniform and stuff?”

  “Well, I thought you could hang it over Aunty Teresa’s exercise bike. She got it on eBay and was going to use it for half an hour during Hollyoaks but she never got round to it. It’s not for ever – just till we … till we … get you something … more appropriate. Anyway, settle yourself in, Lady Mills. I’ll go and finish tea. Will the usual Dad special be OK?”

  I tell him it will be fine.

  It isn’t really but he looks so happy I don’t really want to make a fuss or make him feel bad.

  I put my jeans over the exercise bike, take a photo, Instagram it and write:

  Sometimes you have to make the best of what you have. Meet my wardrobe… #fail

  Dad won’t mind. He understands the banter. No one will see it anyway. I’m not Erin Breeler. I haven’t got worldwide followers hanging on my every word.

  What I have got is chips and mayonnaise with a salad cream coulis waiting for me. Not #glam but #myfam.

  #LIKEAVALANCHE

  When I check my phone after my gooey tea, I get a bit of a shock. The first thing I see is a message from Lauren.

  Mills. Massive post! What’s your Dad’s like? x

  It’s unbelievable that, in under an hour, a stupid thing about a piece of abandoned bike that was bought in a panic from an eBay New Year’s sale has had some shares and LOADS of likes! Plus, I’ve got thirty-two new followers. And it’s quite late and the Wi-Fi is still on! Coming here was the right decision! This is all the savoury stuffing balls of amazing.

  Just as I’m scrolling through all the comments (My mum uses her mini trampoline as a shoe rack!), Lauren calls me.

  “Have you seen? Have you seen?!” she is screeching down the phone.

  “Yeah,” I say. “It was only a stupid thing about my dad’s place. It’s not—”

  “But Millie – you’re funny loads of the time, and you notice things that other people don’t. Look how often you make things better by making me smile. You NEVER fail. And Gracie messaged me. Her sister is in Year 11 and was talking about you! Apparently, loads of them are dying at the panda thing that you did to cheer me up. They’ve shared it everywhere! Have a look! You’re just GOOD. Honestly, I think you should do a proper vlog or something! Not Instagram ’cos that’s Erin, but a vlog!”

  “Come on, Lauren.
I’m not that interesting. I’m not like –” (and this is the first person who leaps into my mind) – “the Mad Baltic Boy Scientist and his dangerous slime baths.”

  “But you could be! Sort of. I mean, you’re not a boy and I think you shouldn’t do vlogs involving paddling pools and explosives. But, seriously, I know other people would totally love you. You could do it from your bedroom. You could start off by talking about how to deal with insane aunties and their exercise bikes… Just try it! YOLO!”

  YOLO. You only live once. It’s Lauren’s favourite phrase. She uses it whenever she wants me to do something a bit brave or out of the ordinary. I’m not always so good at doing this. Because … all right, I will tell you. But PLEASE don’t think I’m being boring…

  #YOLOSBC

  I’m going to be dead honest with you. I’m a bit of a worrier. I get very anxious. It’s why I’m on the more … what does Mum call it? The cautious side.

  I think it might have started when Mum got run over when I was six. She broke her pelvis and was in hospital for ages. I don’t remember a lot of it but I do remember seeing her in plaster up to her actual face and thinking, Oh don’t leave me, Mum. It just seems like the world is a really dangerous place. And when you google stuff, it gets worse. 650,000 car accidents a year are caused by random insects. A plane once crashed because of some wasps in a tiny tube. There’s a jellyfish the size of a fingernail that can kill you! OK, it’s very unlikely to be in Devon, where we normally go on holiday, but still! Stepladders, scarfs, lawnmowers, cows! All these things have caused serious injuries, you know.

  I’d better not google accidents caused by exercise bikes. That’ll be another thing to worry about.

  Grandad gets it. He seems to see through me. He says Grandma was like it. The Swan, he called her. She looked graceful on the outside but underneath, where no one could see, she was paddling like mad. Mum gets it too. Or used to, before Gary.

  So, YES, Lauren. You only live once. So be careful.

  This is why I like my bedroom so much. You’ve got your friends on Messenger and you’ve got people on YouTube who just want to make you laugh or help you put your lippy and blusher on the right way. AND you’ve got people that seem quite happy to jump into frozen lakes dressed as lizards to promote their band. You can watch other people do the risky stuff. I CAN STAY SAFE.

  Who am I kidding? Your bedroom is also the place where trolls can say what they like about you. Or where you can see the photos Mr Style Shame has posted of you looking like a massive spoon.

  Perhaps Lauren is right. Perhaps I should start #YOLOing and just GO FOR IT. I’ve broken free from Mum and the Neat Freak. Perhaps I am braver than I thought? Better than I thought? And being a panda to cheer up Lauren was pretty epic. Perhaps I should just do a vlog? Instagram is great, but with a vlog you can TALK to people. Have a laugh. Perhaps I should just put the camera on now and just … just…

  What?

  What sort of stuff should I talk about? I can’t talk about fashion or beauty – and anyway hundreds of vloggers are already doing it way better than me. Could I pretend to be an animal other than a panda? Maybe my speciality is just comedy bears.

  Dave is looking at me. Right now, I think she’d make a better vlogger than me and she’s currently trying to attack my cardigan and eat her own tail at the same time.

  #GRUMPYCAT

  When I wake up, I realize the following:

  1. I’ve had the worst night’s sleep ever mainly because I kept checking my phone every five minutes. I now have 1,086 likes on my bike photo and 859 views of the panda vlog. This is what it must feel like to be Erin Breeler. It’s good. I like it.

  2. I am wearing Aunty Teresa’s Christmas pudding beanie as this is actually a fridge pretending to be a house.

  3. Dave is staring at me from the end of the bed.

  4. Lauren is also staring at me from the end of the bed.

  “Who let you in?” I love my friends but I don’t expect them to be actually in the duvet with me on a Sunday morning.

  “Er … no one,” Lauren whispers. “I just let myself in.”

  I should have remembered. This is not Mum’s house with its super-sensitive burglar alarm and multiple locks. This is Grandad’s house. There might as well be a massive human cat flap where the front door is.

  Lauren is giving me her full-on serious face. She looks like an aye-aye monkey. Cute but slightly terrifying.

  “Mills. This is… This is… Right … this is…”

  “This is what, Loz?”

  Lauren’s cheeks twitch because her face is allergic to being sensible. If eyebrows could do Pilates… I’m expecting something a bit life-changing because she looks like she’s about to burst.

  “This is a bit epic, Mills. TITANIC.”

  And then she makes a massive movement with her hands like something has exploded in a microwave and covered the kitchen in baked beans. And no – not even I cover mine with cling film. Like Dad says, life is too short to give food an overcoat.

  All this makes me giggle.

  My laughing makes Lauren cross. “Seriously though, Millie. LOOK at your exercise bike pic. Someone has even said, This is everything. Give me more of your life hacks and LOOK who has liked that comment!”

  I scroll through them again. Danny Trudeau thinks it’s a good idea. The new boy has noticed me.

  This is not a massive deal. How many random things do you like in a day? Bet you can’t name them. I can’t. Plus, I’m not about impressing men. I do silly stuff for me.

  Lauren won’t be stopped. “You could be a major Internet star. I’ve been thinking about it ALL night. You should do … something. I just can’t think of what.”

  Dave jumps into Lauren’s lap and lies on her back with her paws straight in the air. She truly does not care about anything or anyone. She does what she likes when she—

  It’s then that it hits me. I grab hold of Dave. “CATS!”

  Lauren starts shouting, “Yes! Let’s make Dave a vlogging superstar! Cats always get likes.”

  “I’m not sure Dave will though, Lozza. I don’t think she understands vlogging. But let’s have a go anyway?”

  I get my phone out, look straight into the camera and start recording.

  “This is Dave and I’m Millie. You see a lot of entertaining cats online. But Dave isn’t like the cats you usually see on here.”

  At this point, Lauren catches on and pulls out a packet of Doritos from her bag. She tries to balance a Dorito on Dave’s nose. Dave just lies there with her legs still in the air. Lauren then piles up a cuddly llama (Aunty Teresa’s), a science textbook (mine) and a chicken Marengo sandwich (Lauren’s – it looks vile) around Dave.

  Dave still just lies there on her back. I carry on.

  “As you can see, if you want to make your cat go viral, get a cat that at least reacts to bread.”

  At that moment, Aunty Teresa bursts into my bedroom with her masses of black curly hair and her very neon spotty shirt. She’s like a big cloud of slightly manic. She’s also really loud. She takes one look at Lauren and Dave and shouts, “I’m sorry to barge in, Mills, but I heard what you’ve been talking about and all I’m saying is, VEGETABLES!”

  I pause recording. I don’t want to look completely stupid. Suddenly, you can see what I’ve been saying about Aunty Teresa makes quite a lot of sense.

  Lauren looks puzzled for about half a second, then her and Aunty Teresa start jumping in the air yelling, “VEGETABLES! VEGETABLES!!!”

  I sit there spoonlike.

  “Haven’t you seen it?!” Lauren is looking at me like I’ve suddenly grown four extra heads and an arm.

  The worry rises in me like a tight anxiety burp. Usually “Haven’t you seen it?!” means something involving you that everyone else knows about and you don’t. I whisper, “Seen what?”

  “MILLIE! Where have you been?!” Lauren says, getting her phone out. She shows me a cat jumping ten metres in the air after being ambushed by a cucumber
. Apparently this is a thing – this cat has had over five million views and four figure likes.

  A cucumber. Probably the most un-terrifying vegetable except for turnips and they are pathetic AND unpopular.

  Aunty Teresa dashes downstairs and brings back a real-life cucumber, three potatoes, a mandarin and a cauliflower. We remove the sandwich from Dave and for the next twenty minutes, we film Dave with vegetables.

  • This includes:

  • Lauren putting a cucumber by Dave. Dave cuddles it.

  • Aunty Teresa rolling potatoes in front of Dave. Dave ignores them.

  • Lauren giving Dave fake eyebrows with mandarin segments. This is quite funny.

  • Lauren making Dave a small helmet for Dave from cauliflower leaves. Dave pulls them off in a really undramatic way.

  Then I get a message that the storage is nearly full on my phone.

  “There you are! How NOT to make a cat vlog with me, Millie Porter, Lauren and Aunty Teresa!”

  As I press stop, MUM thunders into the bedroom like a really cross elephant in gym kit, and Dave decides to rear up on two legs, leap two metres in the air, do a somersault and land perfectly. The camera is OFF.

  Lauren is very impressed. “Wow, Mrs Porter, can you just do that again so I can turn the camera on and … get…”

  You can tell by my mum’s face that it really is time to totally shut up. Aunty Teresa has a rare moment of being a bit sensitive and grabs hold of Lauren. “Anyway, do you want to go and increase our brain bandwidth with some more vlog ideas?”

  Lauren says, “Er … yeah,” and they disappear really quickly. It’s just me, Mum and Dave.

  “Millie,” Mum says, “I’ve brought some more of your stuff round. I thought you might want your school things sooner rather than later. And why have you got a piece of holly on your head?”

  “I’m a Christmas pudding – it’s cold,” I snap. It’s very difficult to be taken seriously when you are a dessert or a panda.