The It Girl in Rome

by Katy Birchall

  Like when I stopped spluttering after she tried choking me with hairspray fumes and she said, “You so do NOT look cute when you’re sleeping.” This made me not want to fall asleep ever again.

  3. She uses all the towels when she showers.

  Seriously, ALL the towels. I was left with a hand towel to work with, which covered precisely nothing. When I mentioned this politely after I’d had to ask her to pass my clothes through from the bedroom as I couldn’t come out wearing a WASHCLOTH, she just shrugged and went, “Yeah, but I need that many towels. Deal with it.”

  WHO IS THIS MONSTER?

  4. I will never survive two weeks of her BRUTALLY honest comments like these ones:

  “Really? That’s what you’re wearing? But it’s awful.”

  “I don’t like your hair up.”

  “Your hair down looks flat.”

  “Don’t you think you should wear more makeup?”

  “No. More makeup than that even.”

  “I was thinking last night about that weird lecture you gave me about bugs. It made me wonder whether you’re completely socially inept or whether you’re an actual freak.”

  “Nice try, but I still think I win in the worst-roommate stakes,” Jess insisted. “At least yours let you have some sleep. I feel like death. Why do we have to be up at this hour anyway?”

  “We’re going to Vatican City today,” Danny said excitedly, grabbing Stephanie’s hand. “There’s bound to be a line so we have to get there early.”

  Stephanie chuckled and looked at Danny adoringly as he practically bounced in his seat. I looked down at my breakfast, not wanting to let on how envious I was that I didn’t have Connor here to get excited with.

  “Well, thanks to my roommate’s overactive imagination I’ll probably be too tired to care about anything I see today,” Jess huffed.

  “At least she doesn’t poison you with hairspray,” I reasoned. “And I forgot to mention that Sophie said that my outfit reminded her of an ice cream.”

  “That might be a nice thing,” Danny pointed out through a mouthful of cereal.

  “Sure. In another universe where Sophie says nice things to me.”

  “They’ve done this on purpose,” Jess said, slamming down her spoon and narrowing her eyes at the teachers as they came in. “It’s some kind of messed-up plot to make us all hate the trip and feel grateful to be back at school come September.”

  “We’re going to have a good time on this trip,” Danny said firmly as Stephanie squeezed him around the waist supportively. “Regardless of crazy conspiracy theories.”

  Jess narrowed her eyes at him.

  The teachers rounded us up in the hotel reception area after breakfast, counted our heads, and then ushered us outside. Mrs. Ginnwell led the charge, holding up her Union Jack flag, and walking ahead of us to where the coach was parked, like a duck proudly escorting her line of ducklings.

  I don’t know whether it was because I had been so tired from the flight the day before or the shock of being told I would be sharing a room with Sophie, but somehow I had totally missed how beautiful the street we were staying on was.

  It was just like I had stepped into that old film Dad made me watch once—A Room with a View—except I wasn’t carrying a frilly parasol and there were no naked men running around a lake. But, still, it was totally similar—the sun was shining down on the tall stone buildings lining the cobbled street, and all the window sills had these cute flowerpots on them.

  “Really pretty, isn’t it?” came a voice from behind me.

  I turned around, startled. “Er, yes, James. And that’s a very in-touch-with-your-feelings way of describing it,” I said, raising an eyebrow skeptically.

  “Didn’t mean to make you jump.” He grinned. “You want to come get on the bus before you get left behind or should I give you some more time with the really pretty walls?”

  “Haha.”

  “Come on, you two!” Mr. Kenton yelled. “We’ve got a lot to see and not much time in which to see it.”

  “So, are you going to talk about the fact that you reduced the London Comic Con to rubble the other day or are we pretending that it didn’t happen?” James said, as we walked quickly to catch up with the rest of the group. “Not bad destruction skills for such a small person.”

  “Reducing it to rubble is a slight exaggeration,” I huffed.

  “I think, personally, it’s impressive that you can bring an entire event to a standstill. You should be proud at how good you’re getting at standing out.”

  “Ha! I’d much rather blend in.”

  James laughed. “Not much chance of that happening, Anna Huntley.”

  Not quite sure how to respond to that, I was halfway to whacking him around the head when we got ushered onto the bus by Mrs. Ginnwell. I jumped into the seat next to Jess in front of Danny and Stephanie, and James slid in next to Brendan across the aisle.

  “Here we go!” Danny said, leaning his face into the gap between our seats as the bus rumbled into action. “Jess, make sure you get some good pictures of all the architecture.”

  Jess twisted in her seat, held the lens of her amazing state-of-the-art camera up to Danny’s face, and clicked, the flash making him lurch back in surprise.

  Ever since Jess had won an internship at a fashion magazine, she’d been really into her photography and had done the best art project of anyone in the school at the end of last semester, so it didn’t surprise anyone that most of her luggage was made up of expensive photography equipment.

  “Well, that’s a keeper,” she announced, squinting at the screen as Stephanie and I giggled and Danny rubbed his eyes. “I do love a close-up.”

  “My vision is all blotchy now!” Danny whined.

  “Well, then don’t tell me what to do in the future when it comes to photography.”

  “I didn’t realize you were such a sensitive artist,” Danny sighed.

  “I have a vision,” Jess said, sitting upright and putting on a husky, dramatic voice.

  “Hey, Jess!” Brendan knelt up on his seat. “Get a photo of me and Tyndale.” He threw an arm around James, and then stuck out his tongue. “Or perhaps you would prefer a different pose so you can see some muscle,” Brendan added, raising one eyebrow and flexing his arms. “Watch out, ladies.”

  “Sit down, you idiot.” James laughed, pushing Brendan back into his seat.

  “Brendan, you’re such a show-off,” said Sophie, who was leaning over the seat behind Brendan slightly possessively.

  “Hey, look at this,” Josie said loudly, desperately trying to get Sophie’s attention by flapping a magazine in her face. “Apparently Marianne Montaine and Tom Kyzer have broken up. Maybe Tom dumped her after seeing her in this dress,” Josie cackled, looking over at me.

  I stared out of the window, feeling my cheeks growing hot, trying to ignore her. My breath caught for a moment in panic before I reminded myself of the time a gossip magazine had announced my plans for a solo album in collaboration with Cliff Richard—it was just another lie. I’d come here to get away from all that, and I didn’t want to give Josie the satisfaction of paying her any attention.

  Sophie glanced at it but just went, “I like that dress,” dismissively, studying her nails as if it were all beneath her.

  “Yeah, I mean, I guess it’s nice,” Josie said quickly, crestfallen, before trying another tack. “Maybe it’s her family that has been putting him off. How embarrassing for her.”

  “They haven’t broken up,” I blurted out, indignation boiling up inside me.

  “It says here they’ve been arguing about each other’s party habits too and have grown apart,” Josie read pompously. “That relationship didn’t last long, did it?”

  “I think we’ll believe what Anna, Marianne’s future stepsister who hangs out with her all the time, says over some random journalist who has never met them.” Jess snickered.

  “Some of these articles are true!” Josie squeaked, her cheeks going bright red.
“Celebrities break up all the time!”

  “I’m sure,” I said, trying to stay calm just like Connor would have told me to, “but I can tell you that Marianne and Tom are definitely not breaking up. In fact, they’re moving in together.”

  “Guys!” Danny cried. “We’re here! And you’ve missed all the beautiful sights on the way. Steph, pass me the guidebook. Anna, would you like to hear some interesting facts about Vatican City?”

  “I would love to,” I said, clambering off the bus as fast as I could and out into the sun.

  As Danny began reeling off facts that I wasn’t paying any attention to, I put on my sunglasses and took in the towering city walls and the line that was building alongside it.

  “Come on, boys and girls!” Miss Lawler said excitedly, leading us to join it.

  Danny followed eagerly, breaking away from me to talk to Stephanie, and I found myself walking dismally next to Josie.

  “Never mind Tom Kyzer and Marianne Montaine,” she began, clearly annoyed to have been proven wrong in front of everyone a moment ago. “Where’s your boyfriend, Anna?”

  “Connor is focusing on his comic book,” I informed her proudly. “You know his first one got published? He’s working on his second one now.”

  “Really? That’s strange.” She feigned concern. “You’d think when he’s got the whole summer to work on it, he might want to spend two weeks with his new girlfriend. You have only just gotten together, haven’t you? He must be very dedicated.”

  “He is,” I said uncomfortably.

  “Amazing that your family’s . . . situation hasn’t scared him off, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Josie,” I sighed, looking around for someone to help me escape from her, but Jess was busy instructing Stephanie to stand a certain way so she could get a good shot of her outside the Vatican while Danny had drifted a way off to converse with Miss Lawler about the construction of the medieval walls.

  Josie cackled. “No privacy, disastrous first dates splashed all over the newspapers . . . personally I wouldn’t like it, but I guess everyone is different.”

  “There you are, Josie,” came a voice behind us. We both spun around to find James standing there, rubbing the lenses of his sunglasses on his T-shirt. “Sophie is looking for you. She said something about a lip gloss emergency?”

  Josie snapped to attention, reaching quickly into her bag and holding up a lip gloss triumphantly. “Thanks so much, Jayjay. I’ll go sort it out.”

  Looking proud to be called on for such an important mission, she hurriedly tottered off down the line in search of her Queen Bee.

  I grinned. “Thanks for that, Jayjay.”

  “Call me Jayjay again and I won’t be rescuing you next time.”

  From: anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk

  To: connorlawrence1@zingmail.co.uk

  Subject: Greetings from Rome!

  Hey!

  Thanks so much for your e-mail last night! How is the comic book going today? Did you have a good morning?

  I’m just in an Internet café near the Vatican—we went there this morning and it was amazing. I was all prepared to meet the pope but according to Danny he doesn’t wander around all day talking to tourists, so that was kind of disappointing.

  I wish you were here, especially this morning when Josie showed us all the stupid magazines she’d got at the airport. She was saying all these things about Marianne, which totally aren’t true. You always know what to do in those situations.

  But, you know, apart from that, it has been an amazing day so far! I better go as Jess is complaining about how hot it is in here. Talk to you later?

  Anna xx

  10.

  From: anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk

  To: marianne@montaines.co.uk;

  rebecca.blythe@bounce-mail.co.uk;

  helena@montaines.co.uk

  Subject: Rome

  Hi Mom, Helena, and Marianne,

  Went to the Sistine Chapel today. That was cool. Hope you’re good.

  Love, me xxx

  From: marianne@montaines.co.uk

  To: helena@montaines.co.uk;

  anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk;

  rebecca.blythe@bounce-mail.co.uk

  Subject: Re: Rome

  Thanks for that, Anna. It’s like we were there.Marianne x

  From: rebecca.blythe@bounce-mail.co.uk

  To: marianne@montaines.co.uk;

  helena@montaines.co.uk;

  anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk

  Subject: Re: Rome

  Darling,

  I must say you really have a flair for travel writing. Such thorough and detailed description!

  Of course, you didn’t have a lot to work with. It’s not as though the Sistine Chapel is one of the most celebrated and beautiful masterpieces in the world with a ceiling painted by the great artist Michelangelo, featuring several poignant scenes from the Old Testament, taking him five years to complete, along with wall paintings and tapestries created by many other leading painters of the time.

  It may have taken a lot of blood, sweat, and tears, but those artists of the fifteenth century can rest in peace knowing that you have visited such a haven and emerged with wisdom and a way with words beyond your fourteen years: “That was cool.” It shall be quoted for years to come!

  Mom xxx

  From: helena@montaines.co.uk

  To: marianne@montaines.co.uk;

  anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk;

  rebecca.blythe@bounce-mail.co.uk

  Subject: Re: Rome

  Dearest Rebecca,

  How you astound me with your incredible knowledge! I feel I have learned so much from your e-mail. I believe I visited the Sistine Chapel myself a decade ago when I was in Italy promoting a dreadful film that I was in—a film no one has ever heard of, thank goodness—about men running around in shorts.

  Helena x

  From: rebecca.blythe@bounce-mail.co.uk

  To: marianne@montaines.co.uk;

  helena@montaines.co.uk;

  anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk

  Subject: Re: Rome

  Helena, you are too kind! I am sure you are being modest. How did your appointment with Fenella go this morning?

  Rebecca x

  PS A film about men running around in shorts doesn’t sound dreadful in the least! It sounds like something I’d greatly enjoy watching.

  From: helena@montaines.co.uk

  To: marianne@montaines.co.uk;

  anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk;

  rebecca.blythe@bounce-mail.co.uk

  Subject: Re: Rome

  Oh, how sweet of you to remember! We were discussing pants. I must tell you all about it.

  Helena x

  PS Let me assure you, it was quite the bore. Men kept talking about a mug and the camera zooms in on me looking distressed a few times, but you can hardly see my expression through the perm. I can’t even remember what it’s called.

  From: rebecca.blythe@bounce-mail.co.uk

  To: marianne@montaines.co.uk;

  helena@montaines.co.uk;

  anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk

  Subject: Re: Rome

  A film about men running around in shorts and talking about mugs? Sounds very trendy!

  Do tell us about the pants.

  Rebecca x

  From: marianne@montaines.co.uk

  To: helena@montaines.co.uk;

  anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk;

  rebecca.blythe@bounce-mail.co.uk

  Subject: Re: Rome

  I don’t want to be part of the discussion about pants.

  And, Mom, that film was about an underdog team winning the FIFA World Cup. Not a mug. A WORLD CUP.

  Thank God only about two people ever saw it . . .

  Marianne x

  From: helena@montaines.co.uk

  To: marianne@montaines.co.uk;

  anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk;

  rebecca.blythe@bounce-mail.co.uk

  Subject: Re: Rome


  I tried on several pants, Rebecca, but I just wasn’t quite sure of the style. Some of the ones I tried on were simply enormous! To hold everything in, you know.

  One of the pairs I was quite sure were going to engulf me completely and I would never be seen again, forever lost in a pair of pants, but they turned out to be very nifty when it came to the stomach area.

  Helena x

  From: rebecca.blythe@bounce-mail.co.uk

  To: marianne@montaines.co.uk;

  helena@montaines.co.uk;

  anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk

  Subject: Re: Rome

  The pants experience sounds almost traumatic, Helena! I once had a similar experience in China when I mistook a local sumo wrestler’s pants for my own after a bathing session.

  Rebecca x

  From: helena@montaines.co.uk

  To: marianne@montaines.co.uk;

  anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk;

  rebecca.blythe@bounce-mail.co.uk

  Subject: Re: Rome

  Those pants must have been at least five times your size, Rebecca! Whatever did you do?

  Helena x

  From: rebecca.blythe@bounce-mail.co.uk

  To: marianne@montaines.co.uk;

  helena@montaines.co.uk;

  anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk

  Subject: Re: Rome

  I will have to tell you all about it over dinner, Helena, as the end of the story involved a chance meeting with Matthew Cornes, a young man who I determined must fall in love with me. In the end it turned out we were very incompatible due to his obsession with lizards, but it really is quite the tale. All thanks to a pair of Chinese sumo wrestler’s pants!

  Matthew owns a delightful restaurant in the West End these days. We should go there, Helena! Wonderful tapas.

  Rebecca x

  From: helena@montaines.co.uk

  To: marianne@montaines.co.uk;

  anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk;

  rebecca.blythe@bounce-mail.co.uk

  Subject: Re: Rome

  I would love to visit the restaurant of this lizard fellow! I simply love tapas. All those little plates are so adorable.

  You can finish telling me the sumo-wrestler-pants story when we go. I’m dying to know!

  Then I can tell you about the time as a teenager I got into a bit of trouble with a lawn mower while trying to impress the rugged gardener who worked at our house.