by Rae Earl
Nothing wrong with lesbian cats. Love is love.
I feel like replying, “I am totally for marriage equality.” Then I realize cats can’t get married anyway. Or perhaps they do and just don’t invite us.
When I get home, I find Aunty Teresa is dressed in Victorian clothes and talking to herself.
“And they say that if you come here at night, you will see the ghost of a man who drowned after tending an injured duck. Close your eyes tightly and you will hear his gentle quacking— Oh, hello, Millie!” she says when she spots me. “I’m just practising! Me and your dad are doing a ghost walk.”
“I didn’t know there were any ghosts round here.” I’m used to being confused by Teresa but this is totally bizarre.
“Oh, there’s not!” Aunty Teresa says casually. “We’re just going to make them up.”
“You can’t do that!” I shout. “It must be illegal!”
“Yes we can, Millie. Someone made it all up once. Why not us? We will live in legend. WE WILL CREATE LEGEND!” Teresa roars.
Dad thunders into the room dressed as a ghost. He asks Teresa, “Is this going to work?”
I answer for her. “No, Dad – it’s not. You don’t look like a ghost. You look like a sheet.”
“Actually, clever clogs,” Dad says, “I’m a Roman. This is a toga. I’m the ghost of Emperor Caesar!”
This is too much. “Dad! Emperor Caesar never lived round here. That’s just a load of—”
Teresa gets quite aggressive. “You cannot prove, Millie, that Caesar did not come here on holiday. And anyway, there were lots of Caesars.”
“There was only one Caesar round here,” I say, “and he was actually a salad.”
When Teresa and Dad are like this, there’s only one place to go – away.
I sit in my room and think about Lauren. This is the longest we’ve gone without speaking. And she wasn’t even off school this long when she had conjunctivitis. I check all her accounts. She’s posted a rainbow meme on Instagram with some ridiculous quote about There can be no rainbow without a storm.
So she can’t look after me in my hour of total need but she’s well enough to make other people happy. I feel a bit … rejected.
I check my views. There are a few more but no new subscribers. And all the new comments are about Dave.
Gonna change my name to Dave. TRIBUTE.
More Le Chat. Less Chat.
I hate it when people try to be clever and funny and they’re NEITHER. It’s just annoying.
Dear Brain – think about something that makes you feel good. NOT Bradley. Think about Danny. Please don’t let Erin’s post have made him think I’m a cow.
I catch up on Canada. Basically, we have the same Queen but they have better ice cream and it’s bigger. Also, there are more things that can kill you in Canada, like snakes, spiders and the West Nile virus which basically makes your brain explode. And if that doesn’t get you, then the bears will and the only way to stop them attacking is to pretend you are dead already and hope it’s a stupid one.
I take a deep breath. I imagine what would happen if me and Danny ever became a “thing”. I’d probably say we should live here. I can’t do bears. Or elks. They charge during the mating season. I don’t even want to watch things with antlers kissing. Don’t charge at me for accidentally stumbling on your love thing like a spoon. I didn’t mean to. It was an accident! Carry on kissing your moosey girlfriend.
Why am I talking to an imaginary elk?
You know why. Love sends you crazy.
Teresa walks into my bedroom. “Sorry. Don’t mind me,” she tries to whisper. “We just need more paranormal props for the ghost walk. Does this Barbie look spooky to you?”
I look at her. “She’s got one arm, so I suppose so.”
“Yeah,” Aunty Teresa agrees. “I’m going to say it was the voodoo doll used in a ritualistic murder that happened in this house.”
“There WILL be a murder here in a minute if someone doesn’t come and tidy up this front room!” Grandad yells from the bottom of the stairs.
“Be honest, Mills. What’s more disturbing – a one-armed Barbie or a Furby with a pulled-out eye?”
“Why don’t you use them both?” I suggest. “You could call them a Duo of Death.”
“Millie!” Aunty Teresa rushes over and hugs me. “Every so often, I sense you have a spark of our entrepreneurial spirit, our joie de vivre, our—”
Now Grandad bursts in. Why is there no privacy in this house?
“You’re being ruddy crackers. Don’t get involved, Millie. Never mind ghosts, these two will put me in an early grave.”
Grandad looks at me. “And will you be requiring my shed today for one of your things that you do for your friends on the phone?”
I look at Grandad and say, “No,” without letting my face say, “I AM HIDING AWAY FROM THE ENTIRE WORLD.”
Grandad just shuffles off. Sometimes, I am tremendous at pretending things are OK when they are quite clearly NOT.
Five minutes later, when I am still feeling quite excellent about fooling Grandad, Mum texts me. She still texts – even though it costs money. She says she “doesn’t trust the other things”.
Anything you’d like to tell me, Millie?
I reply.
No. Why? Love you x
She replies instantly.
No reason. No problem. I’m here if you need me. Love you XX
I think Mum has a mind-melding machine in her head and she knows everything that goes on in my brain. Which is a worry. For both of us.
Just realized mind melds are what they do in Star Trek. Sometimes, it scares me how deep Bradley has got into my head. He’s there all the time like a small glowing lift, going up and down the floors of my brain. Never stopping. Just up and down. Waiting for me to get on and get in touch with him.
Which I still haven’t done since I kissed him.
And then I realize that makes me sound like the most full-of-myself, love-yourself spoon since Erin Breeler and her elephant ego, so I stop.
I’m making this into something it’s not. I’m sure he thinks that kiss was as weird as I did. Bradley loves the fact that I quite admire escalators. Not me. If he liked me, he would have totally made a move after I kissed him but he hasn’t.
Erin. I wonder if she’s seen my vlog. I check Instagram. Sure enough, she’s at the top of my feed.
Her latest photo is a STUNNING one of her and her friends. They are angled and contoured immaculately. Erin’s cheekbones look like they’ve been created from a really lovely bit of marble kitchen work surface. Pale and perfect with a flash of pink. She looks unbelievable. It must have taken about five attempts to get it just right but it was clearly worth it. Underneath, she’s written:
I’m BACK! I decided that you can’t let the haters win and today, I had such a wonderful day. After school, me and some BFFs went shopping (YES! I have more than one BFF!) and all the love was there. I will share what we bought later. (I think you will LOVE it – but don’t get too excited. Just one jacket but a WONDERFUL one.) I want to thank you ALL so, so much for your support during this tough time. I came back from my break to find so many beautiful messages from all over the world encouraging me to carry on sharing. And I’m going to. You have made me feel like a total superstar. Thank you SO MUCH. I will never again let the jealousy of some people stop what I’m doing or who I talk to. I LOVE YOU x
YET AGAIN, there is nothing there that I can moan about. But, underneath it all I know the message is “BACK OFF, MILLIE. I have the power. I have the masses on my side. If you attack, I will find not just one but a hundred ways to hurt you.”
Right now, I’m the stranded whale of the social media world. Everyone will come to look at me on the beach as I struggle desperately to get oxygen. Some will feel very sorry for me. But they won’t be able to get me back to the sea. And all the time, Erin will be stood by a sand dune taking selfies with me flapping in the background.
I’m gettin
g myself into a right state about everything.
I pick up the phone and call Lauren. FINALLY, she answers! I tell her what has happened but she doesn’t seem to listen. There’s lots of “yeahs” and “mmmms”, which are totally unhelpful. She almost seems in a bit of a diva strop – very unlike Lauren.
“The thing is,” I say to her, “I need to do SOMETHING!”
“No, you don’t,” Lauren snaps. Now I’m really worried. She doesn’t get how serious all this is.
“Lauren! All my subscribers will be looking to me for a way to respond to her!”
“No, they won’t, Millie. You can do a one-minute-long vlog: ‘What to do when you’re caught out. Well, you just have to take it on the chin and move on. Thanks. Bye.’ That’s what you should do.”
Lauren sounds angry. Almost … nasty.
“You think it’s as simple as that?”
“Probably, Millie. Anyway, stuff is going on here, so I’ve got to go. Bye.”
I say, “OK. Bye!”
But inside I’m broken and absolutely gutted. And what stuff is going on that Lauren can’t speak to me about?! That’s total spoon behaviour from her.
Or…
Or perhaps she’s been kidnapped and she’s being held hostage and can’t talk to me.
Perhaps “stuff” is a code word for really bad stuff involving mad extremists who want to make the country YouTube-free or Lauren-free or something.
Or perhaps she’s cross with me. Though I can’t think why. I’ve told her everything that’s happened with the vlog while she’s been away.
Either way, I can’t sit here and let my friend become a statistic or fall out with me. I need to go over to her house to find out what’s going on. I wonder whether I should take back-up but in a house full of ghosts and old people, it’s better, as Grandad says, to be a lone soldier of fortune. With a phone. I take that obviously. You can’t be without your phone. That would be insane.
#BFFGONEBAD
This is scary, and mid-week should not be about face-to-face combat. It’s a drastic measure but some things need sorting right now. As I go round the corner to Lauren’s house, I start to case out the joint. I watched this on a private investigator’s vlog once. You assess the hostility and the threat.
Lauren’s dad is mowing the lawn, so I decide that perhaps I may have overreacted – but I was right to check. You can’t be too careful.
Lauren’s dad can’t hear me over the hum of the mower. It’s odd because the grass doesn’t look like it needs cutting, but you can’t argue with gardeners. I know that from Grandad.
I run upstairs to see Lauren. She’s sitting on her bed and barely looks at me. “Oh, you’ve remembered I exist?”
“Lauren! What is UP with you? Why haven’t you replied to any of my messages or been at school? Are you ill? You’ve been acting like a TOTAL cow.”
She gives me a look she’s never given me before. She looks like she’s about to explode. Then she sneers, “I’m surprised you’ve noticed. You’re so in love with those people on your vlog. Or Danny. Or Bradley.”
OH. So she isn’t in any danger from a terrorist group. She’s actually just JEALOUS. This makes me LIVID.
“Well, Lauren, sorry to tell you this but people on there actually need me. They look to me for a bit of good sense and stuff. A bit of—”
Lauren gets off her bed and starts screaming. Actual, total RAGE. “I need you and I’m actually real! I helped you make that vlog WHAT IT IS! Have you noticed that I’m having the worst time at home ever?! My parents are at war. I don’t even know where my mum is right now. My dad isn’t speaking to anyone and is mowing dirt. HE IS TRYING TO MOW ACTUAL MUD. I am going through HELL. And all you care about these days is your views. Your views?! Who do you think you are?! WHY DO YOU EVEN BOTHER?! You’ve been totally taken in by it all, Millie. Everything you say and do is about your YouTube channel and your friends on there. And I was happy to help but now it’s taken over. You don’t need my advice. Go and speak to one of your many friends –” Lauren keeps making little speech marks every time she says the word friends – “YOU don’t need a best friend. You need a public relations manager!”
This makes me cross. I’ve totally been there for Lauren. All the time. OK, I might have got a bit distracted lately. But she obviously can’t deal with the fact that I have different friends and different interests and – YES! – I have done something that a lot of – well, some – people are getting comfort from. Perhaps I haven’t asked her about stuff as much as I should have but I’m so cross at her for ruining it all I end up yelling, “Your parents have been rubbish for years. What’s new?!”
Even as I’m saying these words, I know they sound totally awful. Enormous levels of awful too. But I can’t stop.
Lauren goes a funny colour. “You know what, Millie? You’re right. Yes, they have been. And you’ve been really great about it. You’ve really helped me. But recently, it’s just been all about you. Or you and Erin. Who cares what she thinks? And also, the way you’ve been treating Bradley is just—”
“Just WHAT?” And this I really want to know because it will totally prove that Lauren is being completely HORRIBLE and really, she’s just upset at her mum and dad. That’s fine but be angry at them! Don’t have a go at me!
“You KNOW Bradley likes you!” Lauren shouts. “You KNOW he does! But you keep on pretending that he doesn’t and hanging out with him so he’ll help you with your vlog. And if Mr Sexy Maple Leaf wasn’t already dating Erin Breeler, you wouldn’t even talk to Bradley! That’s not fair!”
I’m not having this.
“Lauren. We. Are. Friends. Are you saying women can’t be friends with men? I’m sorry, Lauren, but that is totally unfeminist. Bradley is responsible for his emotions – not me!”
(I saw that phrase in an article online – it sounds good.) I’m also trying really hard not to think about the fact I’ve snogged him and not told my best friend.
“It’s got nothing to do with feminism, Millie! It’s got everything to do with not being a cow. You always bring up the clever stuff when you want to win a row or look cool. How about just not being a spoon that only cares about herself and her PROFILE! I know I’m not the only person who has parents that have split up. I know that. But today, I’m the only ex-best friend of yours that has. I’m the only person I know who woke up to her mum crying and packing a suitcase and saying “Sorry” to me repeatedly. My mum left home today! Left my DAD and left HOME! But, don’t worry, I understand that, to you, YouTube is more important.”
Now I feel DREADFUL.
“It’s not!” I whisper. “I’m not a mind-reader! Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I couldn’t get a word in!” Lauren says through tears. “And you haven’t asked me what’s going on in my life for ages. I’m sorry Erin isn’t very nice to you, but so? You were the one she got today. There’ll be another one tomorrow. And the next day. That’s what Erin does. You can’t change it.”
I start to think. “Do you really think I’ve treated Bradley badly?”
Lauren throws her hands in the air. “Oh, we’re back to YOU again! Do me a favour, Millie. Just GO! GO! You’re not a person I like right now. You’ve been completely messed up by a tiny bit of fame. HASHTAG DREADFUL USELESS COMPLETELY POINTLESS BEST FRIEND.”
I start to cry. Lauren starts to cry.
As I leave, I notice that Lauren’s dad has been mowing the same bit of mud during the entire time I’ve been with her. He didn’t see me arrive and he doesn’t see me leave. I think Lauren could get kidnapped and he wouldn’t notice. Perhaps I wouldn’t notice either. I’d be too busy uploading or recording or something.
I’m useless.
Hashtag dreadful useless completely pointless best friend. I never thought that would be aimed at me. But it might be true. It IS true. Very true.
#ESCALATION
Yes. All this has escalated quickly. Not in a Bradley way. In a bad-without-any-amazing-moving-stairs way…
Back in my bedroom, life seems completely grim. I’m a bad daughter to my mum, a useless friend, I hurt lovely men, I’m a bad feminist or a good one that’s bad (I can’t decide which) and I’ve forgotten my cat needs her one-drop flea treatment and currently she’s scratching in a way that says she needs it.
How do I even have the nerve to do an advice vlog?! My life is a total and utter mess. I want to ring my mum but that will just remind me that I don’t get on with her either. Her answer to everything is to tell me to come home. I can’t go back there. I can’t go back to that level of clean.
Perhaps I’m a grot too.
The fact is, I’ve failed at just about everything. I’ve upset everyone who has ever been lovely to me … and now I’m looking at Aunty Teresa, who’s standing at the end of my bed dressed as Queen Victoria. She has frills, bum and tum pillow padding and everything.
“Hello, Mills. Me and your dad have had this idea that we want to put to you… We want you to come and join us. Be part of what will become the biggest ghost tour in the country. We want you to do ALL our social media. We thought we could get you to pretend on your advice vlog that you had someone write to you about seeing a ghost. THEN you get me on to talk about what you do when you have a ghost in your house and THEN, at the end, you say, ‘Thank you, Teresa – poltergeist specialist who organizes the ghost tour every Thursday and Tuesday from 6 p.m., concessions available, and if you book as a group, a can of Coke is included in your entrance fee.’ It’s not proper Coca-Cola, it’s the cheap supermarket stuff – but we don’t have to mention that, do we? I don’t think so.”
Aunty Teresa doesn’t realize I’ve been crying, so I just say, “I don’t think I’ll be doing my vlog for a bit.”
“OK,” she says, “but there’s something else. You see, for the ghost tour, we need a younger female actor to play a little Victorian match girl who dies horribly from being really cold without a decent duffel coat.”
“It’s called hypothermia,” I say.
“Yeah. That!” Teresa says. “So you basically have to just stand there and say stuff like, ‘I’m freezing’ and ‘Would you like to buy some matches? It doesn’t matter if you don’t smoke. You can use them to light your scented candles.’ What do you think?”
