The Manifesto on How to be Interesting

by Holly Bourne

  It got awkward though when they came to say goodbye. Logan kept looking around anxiously.

  “So, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” Bree said, so sad that the day was over. She felt rejuvenated and free, and like herself for the first time in ages.

  “Yes, I’ve got you first thing, haven’t I?”

  She nodded.

  “You’d better have done your coursework.” He waggled his finger.

  It was supposed to be a joke but Bree could almost hear a klaxon honking.

  “When have I ever not done my coursework?” Although admittedly it had been a struggle to get it all done recently, what with her blog, her workouts, playing pretend with Jass… She’d only just made her Latin deadline last week, when usually she handed coursework in two weeks in advance.

  “Yes…right… Oh, is that the time?” He looked at his watch. “I’d better…”

  Bree looked at the time on her phone. “Yeah, me too. I’d better…”

  They stood in silence.

  Finally, she said, “I had such an amazing day, Logan – sorry, I mean, sir. It was just what I needed. Thank you.”

  He readjusted her scarf, a proud look on his face. “You do seem a lot happier than yesterday.”

  “I am.”

  “Is it back to being the most popular girl in school again tomorrow, then?”

  She rolled her eyes, not really wanting to think about Jassmine and Hugo just yet. It was so rare in her life to have moments to truly cherish, she wasn’t going to wreck it with bad thoughts.

  “Yep. I guess so.”

  “Okay. Bye, Bree.”

  “Bye, sir.”

  He turned and walked away first. She watched him become smaller and smaller, until he was ant-sized. Then she turned on her own heels to go home.

  Rule number four: One must fall in love with somebody forbidden

  So we’re off sex – probably for ever – and now we’re onto its much less exciting, but oh-so-much-more important relative: love.

  L.O.V.E.

  It’s what we’re here for, folks. To find someone. To have them find you. To have a warm burning in your belly that makes you want to kiss the world for making you feel so wonderful, and also throw rocks at it because you hate how vulnerable it’s made you.

  And when we’re not desperately searching for it ourselves, we’re hunting for stories of other more successful seekers. Is there any story more beautiful to listen to than how a couple got together? Even boring couples. Even ugly couples. Even imaginary couples. We read books about people who don’t exist, who are only a collection of character strokes on a page, and actively YEARN for them to be together.

  These tiny dramas of first moves, missed opportunities, and misread signals make up the very best of human life. If it were possible, we would cover ourselves with superglue and roll around until we were covered in love story after love story, like a protective blanket from everything else that is shit.

  Love is interesting.

  Falling in love is interesting.

  Being in love is interesting.

  Falling out of love is interesting.

  But it is so unimaginably more interesting if that love is forbidden.

  You aren’t supposed to be together.

  This particular love isn’t allowed.

  Is there anything more potent than that?

  I can’t fake all of this, you know. My hair’s fake for you guys. My clothes are fake. For at least seven hours a day, every word that falls out of my lipsticked mouth is fake.

  Most of this project is planned down to the letter. It has to be. How else are you going to follow my lead?

  But this…this rule you can’t fake.

  I have something to confess to you.

  I am in love. And it is forbidden.

  He is my teacher at school. He’s married.

  There are laws, actual laws stopping us from falling in love. We cannot be together in any way, or under any circumstances.

  And yet I love him.

  I love him so much that my heart does this weird hip-hop-type dance in my ribs whenever I see him. I measure time by when I’ll see him next. It drags for every second he’s not there, then whizzes right past me when he is.

  I love the me I am when I’m with him.

  I have thought about what our children would look like.

  So here’s an unexpected bonus for you all. An added surprise element as part of our expedition to become interesting. Aren’t you dying to know if we get together or not? It doesn’t matter if you approve or not, you still want us to…just to see what happens.

  I wish I knew what happens.

  Because here’s the real killer…I’m quite certain he loves me too.

  chapter thirty-seven

  A new day and it was time to go back to the double life.

  “Breeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!” Jass pulled her in for a hug when they met at the corner. “I missed you.”

  Bree couldn’t help but smile a bit. She’d never been missed before.

  “It was only three days,” she said into Jassmine’s armpit.

  “God, really? But so much has happened. How are you? Are you feeling better? Gemma said you left Hugo’s early cause you were sick but we all thought you were just a lightweight. But you really were sick?”

  Bree untangled herself. “As a dog.”

  “You lucky thing. I love getting stomach flu. I’m always so thin afterwards.”

  They walked in step towards Queen’s Hall. An overnight frost had coated every grass blade in a beautiful icy outfit that scrunched as they clopped over it.

  “So what have I missed then? Any fallout from the party?” She was still too scared to say Hugo’s name in case her voice gave her away.

  Jassmine’s face went all serious. “Well, did you hear my drink got spiked?”

  Like hell it did.

  “Oh no! Seriously?”

  “Awful, isn’t it? Hugo’s parents are looking into it. The police say there’s not much they can do.”

  “The police?”

  “I begged Hugo not to tell them, said it wasn’t worth it, but he insisted. He felt terrible that it happened in his house.”

  Or he was just trying to distract you from his cheating…

  “Wow, Jass, are you okay? I mean, you were pretty out of it…I just thought you’d…”

  “That I’d drunk too much? No. You got ready with me, remember? I barely had anything beforehand.”

  Apart from so many cocktails you couldn’t get out of the taxi…

  “Yeah, of course, how scary.”

  “It’s really scary.” Jass didn’t look scared at all.

  “So what else did I miss?” Bree asked, deliberately veering into a big patch of untouched grass to make footprints in the frost.

  Jassmine clapped her hands together. “Ooooo, I shouldn’t say…”

  “What? Come on.”

  “Alright. This is so exciting. Matty Boy is TOTALLY in love with you!”

  Bree looked up from her footprints. “Huh?”

  “Matty Boy. He loooooooves you. He got really pissed after you left and said he thought you were well fit.”

  Bree tried not to wrinkle her nose. “Seriously?”

  “Yep. Isn’t that amazing?”

  “Er…”

  “So…” Jass tilted her head towards her. “Do you fancy him?”

  Bree hadn’t prepared for this development. Bloody hell. Where had all this male interest come from? She never thought she’d complain but…well, now she really felt like complaining. “Who? Matty Boy?”

  “Duh.”

  “Not really. Why? Am I supposed to?”

  “I think you’d be really good together.”

  Of course you do. You’re probably hoping it will cockblock Hugo.

  “Hmmmm.”

  “‘Hmmm’, you’re interested?”

  Bree made another face. “Jass, he’s funny and all, but he looks like a demented snowman.”
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  Jass snorted, trying to hold her laugh in. “Oh, Bree, you’re so mean.”

  She hunched her shoulders. “It’s true.”

  “He’s not entirely unattractive…”

  “Jass, please, stop it.”

  They were almost at school. Fellow students began joining their path, some of the younger Year Sevens taking it in turns to skid on the ice. They all silently made room for Jassmine and Bree though.

  “That’s a shame. He’s been so cute these past two days. He’s all like ‘Where’s Bree?’ ‘Is she better?’ ‘Have you heard from her?’”

  Her heart bled. Not. It might have oozed a teeny bit if Matty Boy had been the slightest bit interested in her back when she was a nobody.

  “Aww, cute,” she deadpanned.

  “So you really don’t think he has a chance?”

  “Jassy-min, I know he doesn’t have a chance.”

  “Christ. Do you fancy anybody?”

  Bree winked. “Only you, love, and you’re taken.”

  Jassmine let out another unattractive snort of laughter. “Right, well, he’s gonna be disappointed. Do you want me to tell him you’re not interested?”

  Bree thought that was a weird thing to ask. Jass obviously wanted to elbow in on the non-existent drama.

  “Nah, it’s okay. He’ll work it out soon enough.”

  “I really don’t mind.”

  “Honestly, I’ll handle it. Thanks for telling me.”

  “Any time.” Jass paused for a moment. “It’s nice to have you back, Bree.”

  That was a phrase she never thought she’d hear.

  “I missed you too, babe. Now I’d better get to English and showcase my new tights.”

  “Yeah, I was gonna say, they’re gorrrrrrrrrrgeous.”

  “Why, thank you.” She stuck out a leg to show them off. Her mum had bought them as a present when she was in her depressive hole. They were the same fake-suspender style, but vibrant red. Racy as hell. Totally against school rules of course. But Bree had Mr Fellows first lesson and wanted him to remember everything that had gone down yesterday.

  “I bet the headmistress has confiscated them by lunchtime.”

  Bree yawned. “Probably. Right, I’m off to English. What you got?”

  Jassmine curled her lip. “Sociology.”

  “Meet you at lunch?”

  “Of course.”

  chapter thirty-eight

  A fizzy bubble grew in her stomach as she strutted through the school halls. She’d missed him the moment he’d left yesterday and time had dragged and then some since. Now they had to spend the next hour pretending they hadn’t snuck off to London together. That they were just a normal student and teacher – one learned, one taught, nothing more. Apart from the fact that they’d run off together.

  How frickin’ hot is that?

  She entered precisely one minute after the bell so everyone else was already there and seated. Her skirt was deliberately hiked up to show off her legs.

  “Bree, you’re late,” Logan said, sounding a bit pissed off.

  Huh? Why was he in such a bad mood?

  “Sorry, sir.”

  “Just sit down and get your book out, everyone’s waiting.”

  She sat down quickly, pulling her skirt down in shame and digging out her book. She turned to the front like a robot model pupil, disappointed.

  “Right, as you’re late, you can remind us all of where we were up to.”

  He gave her the teeniest tiniest wink, a knowing one, and everything was better again. Her belly unleashed a torrent of ADHD-suffering dolphins that dived about in her gut.

  “Er…” She couldn’t think or talk. Her brain was stuck on the way he’d looked at her yesterday in front of Jane Austen’s desk. She couldn’t even remember what book they were reading.

  “We were getting to the rude bit of The Handmaid’s Tale,” Chuck volunteered, saving her.

  Logan turned his attention to Chuck. “Oh, is that right?” he asked, putting a finger over his mouth.

  “Yep.” Chuck shook his personality-hair back and looked proud.

  “How would you know that unless you read ahead?”

  The class laughed – Logan too – and Chuck slouched down into his chair.

  “Everyone flicks straight to the filthy bits in books, sir,” he protested.

  “Well, if you read it properly, I’d be surprised if you were aroused by it. It’s not the most pleasant of sex scenes.”

  Bree flicked through her copy. Remarkably, she hadn’t read ahead for this lesson. She’d been too preoccupied. She scanned the sex scene page and grimaced. The book was weird – all these fertile women were trapped in rich men’s houses and forced to shag them to help save the failing population. In this sex scene, the rich guy’s wife was there too and they engaged in some odd threesome.

  Ick.

  “Judging by Bree’s face there, she’s just got to the ‘sex scene’.” Logan made the quotes with his fingers. “What do you make of it, Bree?”

  He stared her straight in the eye. Her breath deserted her and ran off into someone else’s body to ask for asylum. It should be illegal for men as good-looking as Logan to stare like that and say the word “sex” at the same time. She made an overdramatic grossed-out face to compensate.

  “It’s weird. Why did she even include it? I hate sex in books, it’s disgusting. Why can’t the author just allude to it? Like in the old James Bond movies?”

  “That’s an interesting point, Bree. The thing about Margaret Atwood is…”

  And he was off, back to being a teacher again. A good teacher, one who managed to teach them important parts of the syllabus the day they read a sex scene in class. As he got more animated, his hair flopsied into his eyes and he pushed it back haphazardly, each time making her belly bubble more. There was no doubt about it, he was a good-looking man. Yet he was so much more than that too. His heart was good, he had an actual functioning brain, and he got Bree. Understood her. No one else, male or female, had managed that feat before. He was careful for the rest of the lesson, making no more than two small glances in her direction. She was a bit gutted but knew it was important to maintain the illusion that they were just pupil and teacher.

  The time flew – as it always does when you’re within a five-metre radius of someone you’re falling for – and soon she was daydreaming her way through Latin. It was like a virus had hacked into her brain, erasing all other thoughts but Logan, Logan, Logan.

  She didn’t even mind seeing Hugo again at lunch.

  “Hello, stranger,” Jessica said, as she approached them all in their prime spot in the school canteen. “We missed you.”

  Hugo had his arm slung lazily round Jassmine, looking bored. Gemma was copying Emily’s homework, and Seth was cramming as many chips into his mouth as possible, making Jassmine squeal with disgust.

  “Bree.” Matt stood up, then sat down, and glowed red.

  Oh yeah…that. Bollocks.

  “Hi, everyone.” She waved, then took the only seat left, next to Matty Boy – what a surprise! She took a crisp, and popped it into her mouth. Matt moved closer to her.

  “You feeling better? Were you very sick?” His face was all concerned.

  Argh. This was gonna get awkward.

  “I’m fine, thanks.” She took another crisp.

  “Did you enjoy Hugo’s party?”

  “Yeah, Bree. Did you enjoy my party?” Hugo gave her a knowing eyebrow-raise.

  Even now, being so blatant and disgusting, he couldn’t penetrate the happiness in her tummy.

  “It was…satisfactory, I suppose,” she quipped back.

  “Only satisfactory? I should’ve tried harder to be a good host for you.”

  Jass picked up on the conversation, leaving Seth with a gob full of chips and no audience.

  “You didn’t like Hugo’s party, Bree?”

  “I was joking. It was great,” she said, keen to stop this before it got dangerous.

 
; “Great, eh?” Hugo danced his eyebrows some more.

  Innuendo. The humour of idiots…

  Jass looked at each of them in turn, frowning. She pulled Hugo tighter, like he was a dog on a choke lead.

  “Hughie?”

  He reluctantly looked at his girlfriend. “What?”

  “Have you talked to the police any more about who might’ve spiked my drink?”

  Bree was pretty sure fifty per cent of the table rolled their eyes. But she wasn’t expecting what came next.

  “Er, no, Jass. Cos I reckon you were just in a drunken state cos you drank too much. Your own fault, no one else’s.”

  From across the table, Bree saw tears appear in Jassmine’s eyes.

  “What? Hugo? I don’t understand what you mean.”

  “Yes you do.” He pushed her off his lap so she fell sideways onto the chair next to him, all awkward and uncomfortable.

  Nobody knew what to do.

  Hugo declared he wanted more chips and left, while everyone watched Jassmine teetering on the edge of an emotional outburst. Bree tried to smile kindly at her but she got a glare back.

  “What you looking at?”

  “Whoa, nothing. Jass, are you okay?”

  Everyone was quiet. Even Seth – always good at saying inappropriate stuff – had his mouth shut, trying to swallow all his chips.

  “Yes, I’m fine, why wouldn’t I be?” Her voice was sharp and spiteful.

  Bree backed off. “Just checking.”

  “Well don’t.”

  Gemma gave Bree a Don’t bother look.

  Jass looked round the table for her next victim. Her eyes stopped on Emily.

  “Emily, your new hair really doesn’t suit you,” she said, for no reason at all.

  Emily’s hand went to her fringe in shock and shame. It was her turn for tears to well up. Was this how it worked? Did Popular Land have a reverse version of “Pay it forward” with nastiness dripping down the hierarchy like sloppy leftovers?

  Jassmine pushed her chair back. “I’m going to go see if Hugo’s okay. He’s always so grumpy when he’s got a rugby match coming up.”

  The rest of them looked at each other as she strode off – scared she’d come back.