How Hard Can Love Be?

by Holly Bourne

  How did you fit in a canoe? Are there photos? Please say there are photos.

  I’m sorry about the whole cheerleader/Prom King debacle. Do you have any way of watching films out there? If so, I prescribe The Breakfast Club. And another film called Heathers. Honestly though, it’s not worth it. Don’t waste time mooning after guys who can’t see how great you are. Do you not remember my whole first term of college with Guy?

  How are things with your mum anyway? You went all stiff on us when we asked last. LET IT OUT. Again, remember my whole first term at college?

  Learn from my mistakes, lovey.

  We’re all okay over here in Blighty, though the rain is crazy. Crazier than me even. We should totally section this rain.

  Evie x

  From: LongTallAmber

  To: EvieFilmGal

  Subject: RE RE Death to cheerleaders

  Thanks for your email, love. Sorry it’s taken a few days to get back to you. I’ve been knee-deep in all sorts of forced-fun unpleasantries. If I have to see another campfire again after this summer, I may have to MAKE THE WHOLE WORLD INTO A CAMPFIRE AND BURN EVERYTHING.

  Sorry – that was unnecessary.

  I can’t believe the kids have been here for almost ten days. I’m so SO exhausted. And things with Mum??? Yep. I’m very stiff. Just writing this I can feel myself getting stiff. But okay, I’ll let it out. Here’s essentially my life in camp, day in, day out:

  6 a.m. – Wake up. I KNOW!

  6.30 a.m. – Try and talk to Mum over breakfast, but instead have to put up with Bumface Kevin poking his bumchinny bumchin in and never leaving us to ourselves.

  7 a.m. – Feed the kids breakfast. Fight urge to tip oatmeal over the kids.

  8 a.m. – ACTIVITIES i.e. how can we torture Amber some more?

  10 a.m. – Break. Try to get some time alone with Mum. Blocked by eight million children, well, my group of about twenty, all wanting me to draw Harry Potter tattoos on their arms with biro.

  10.30-1 p.m. – MORE ACTIVITIES. Spend most of the time trying not to look at Kyle…and then get annoyed at myself for realizing I do really quite fancy him.

  1 p.m. – Lunch. Otherwise known as "Melody shares a sex story when the kids are too busy eating hamburgers to hear" time. Mum and Kevin go and eat lunch by themselves in the cabin, while I have to help in the canteen.

  2-4 p.m. – Run my art class. To be fair, I do get to spend time with Mum here. But we’re too busy trying to stop the kids painting their entire hands with PVA glue so they can peel it off (don’t blame them – most satisfying thing EVER).

  4-5 p.m. – Chill out time. This is where I tend to hang with my new amazing pal, Whinnie, and discuss women’s rights – while also trying not to look at Kyle, who keeps coming over to listen.

  5-6 p.m. – Dinner time. I never want to eat macaroni and cheese ever again.

  6-9 p.m. – Some sort of organized chaos, involving fire and singing.

  9-10 p.m. – Try to get the frickin’ runts to go to sleep.

  10 p.m. onward – Try and talk to Mum, try and hang out with Mum, but always, always, the Bumface is lurking and she doesn’t seem to care.

  11 p.m. – Sketch in my room, try not to cry…go to sleep…

  I wish I could watch those movies, Evie, – but alas! No such technology exists in the mountains. Prom King is SO confusing though! If he wasn’t so darn NICE, I would put him down on the headfuck list, along with Guy and others. Like, he’s always walking me back to my cabin in the dark. Or sitting next to me at dinner. Or coming and sitting with me when I can’t handle the sports section of the day because I’m so unfit and declare myself a political abstainer. (Note: American football is even worse and more boring than British football.)

  Why do I have to fancy someone? I’m so mad at myself. I’m not here for that. And, look, I’ve just written a whole email to you about it, like some totally basic female fuckwit, when I should be asking you about your life…or, you know, fighting the patriarchy or whatever.

  TELL ME ABOUT YOUR LIFE. I DO CARE!

  Amber x

  From: LottieIsAlwaysRight

  To: LongTallAmber

  Subject: Welcome to Headfuck Land

  It’s both Lottie AND EVIE here.

  But it’s me, Lottie, who is doing all the hard work of typing.

  And can I just say: AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

  WELCOME TO THE HEADFUCK LAND OF BOYS, YOU WONDERFUL LITTLE HYPOCRITE, YOU!

  Do you not remember THE LECTURES you gave us last year? About how much we were whinging about the complex and compulsive-worrying behaviour of men? And DIDN’T WE TELL YOU how hard it is to maintain one’s dignity and ability to think of useful things when boys we like behave all boy-like?

  Welcome to karma, Amber…

  Mwhahahaha.

  Sorry – I just needed to get that out. We love you. We’re here for you. It’s just quite strange, seeing you crumple under the pressure, when you’ve always been so noble. To be fair, I have seen the arms on that guy, and if he was walking me ANYWHERE, I’d be thinking about it. A lot. Alone.

  Just remember our advice. Be you. You are kick-ass and amazing.

  Sorry things are tough with your mum. Do you need to talk about it some more? Remember she’s just probably got a really set "routine" that she needs to stay healthy or something, and maybe it’s taking her a while to adjust. As for Kevin, that’s not fair that he won’t let you have alone time. I can see how annoying that is, especially as you hate him so much. She loves you though. Who couldn’t love you, you frizzy wonder?

  Oh yeah, that reminds me, I bumped into your dad and Penny in Sainsbury’s the other day (how exciting is my life?) and they asked me to ask you why you’re not replying to their emails. Amber, why aren’t you replying to their emails? Now, I’ve done it…I’m just going to back away with my hands up in the air because I know what you get like when Penny is involved… Maybe just send the one though?

  We have no news. It’s rained here too much for anyone to do anything that makes news.

  Keep us updated on you.

  Lots of love,

  Lottie and Evie (and cheesy snacks)

  xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

  SITUATIONS THAT ARE DESTINED TO FAIL:

  Drawing straws

  +

  Bad tempers

  Sixteen

  Russ carefully hid three long straws among the bundle of short ones in his hand.

  We had only a moment’s peace, while the kids were still smearing chocolate pudding down themselves, to decide this.

  “I don’t trust you, man.” Kyle made to grab the straws. “I know how much you want this.”

  Russ twisted his hand behind his back. “We all want this. I swear, if I don’t have a break from Martin’s screaming and get a good night’s sleep soon, I’m gonna go mad.”

  After fourteen days of solid work, The Weekend Cover were arriving. High school students who came and did our jobs for us for two days so we could sleep, and rest, and leave the actual confines of the camp. But only a few of us could go… We had to alternate weekends.

  “Martin still having bad dreams?” I asked. Russ had been complaining about Martin since day one. Apparently he woke up every night, screaming the cabin down, waking everyone else up.

  Russ nodded grimly. “Every night… Man, I hate that kid.”

  “RUSS!” Whinnie and I scolded.

  “He is really bad,” Kyle said. “I can hear him from my cabin sometimes.”

  “Well, what’s wrong with him? Surely he must be disturbed or something?”

  Russ shook his head. “Nah, he’s just a wimp.”

  “Hey,” Whinnie and I said at the same time.

  “Okay, whatever,” Russ said. “Can we just pick a straw already?”

  He arranged them carefully in his gripped hand, making them all line up at exactly the right height. “How do we decide who picks first?”

  “We draw straws?” I joked, but Russ looked conf
used by that. “Never mind…it was just a joke.”

  “It doesn’t matter –” Kyle went to grab one – “statistically it makes no difference at all.”

  “Actually…” Whinnie said. “It does make a huge difference.” She pointed at herself. “Maths major…”

  They started bickering and I sighed and lunged towards Russ. “Just give me a straw already.”

  I felt guilty I was even in the draw. I had my own room in a private cabin, I didn’t need a break as bad as they did. But I was also desperate to have a weekend off so I could go on a trip with my mum. Finally, after three evenings in a row of my careful hinting, she’d promised we could go sightseeing together – anywhere I wanted – if I got the weekend off. Just us two. Not a bummy chin in sight.

  Russ leaned over and I plucked a straw from him. It was long.

  “Ahhhh, lucky!” Russ pulled a face at me.

  “See!” Whinnie said. “Now the rest of us statistically have a lesser chance of getting one.”

  “That means I’m next!” Russ plunged into his own palm and pulled out a short straw.

  “DAMNIT!”

  We had to stop him from dropping them all over the floor.

  “Go offer them to the others,” I said. Russ gave me a resentful look and went to present the straws to Bryony and the rest of Dumbledore’s Army. Two of them drew short straws, cursing under their breath. Bryony delicately plucked out a long straw. “Awesome!”

  The kids were rousing behind us. Pudding was finished. The clattering sound of empty plastic bowls filled the hall.

  “Quick,” I said. “We don’t have long. The sugar rush from dessert is about to kick in.”

  Everyone laughed but I wasn’t trying to be funny. I’d learned to dread sugar. American food seemed to be laden with it, even the healthy stuff. Like “raisin bran” – each raisin came in a crystallized winter coat of silvery refined sugar. One moment the kids would be okay – I could get them sitting quietly in the rec hall, painting or whatever. Then they’d have a snack and suddenly it was like being in a Roy Lichtenstein painting – all KABAAM and WALLOP, as they ricocheted off the walls, running about and fighting with each other.

  There were two straws left – one for Whinnie, one for Kyle. They both reached for the same one, and Kyle made a gentlemanly gesture.

  “Okay then, you take it.”

  Whinnie did. It was a short straw. “Damnit!” she yelled as Kyle triumphantly grabbed the last long straw from Russ’s hand.

  “That’s what you get when you’re a gentleman!” He picked Whinnie up and whirled her around.

  “You are not a gentleman.”

  “Oh yeah?” And he put his arms around her back and started ballroom dancing her about the hall. The kids – the sugar from pudding well and truly lodged in now – came running up behind us. “We wanna go, we wanna go.”

  Calvin grabbed me, his pudgy hands forcing me to turn with authority. “Dance with me.”

  “Calvin, you just can’t go around grabbing girls like that.”

  He didn’t listen, but dragged me caveman-like into the centre of the room and started twirling me with a determined look on his face. The other kids paired up too, and soon we were all swirling to no music, a silent ball, as Kevin and Mum laughed from the sides and took photos.

  I slipped on a spaghetti hoop that had fallen to the floor.

  “Woooooah,” I shot into Kyle and Whinnie.

  “Swap partners,” Kyle called, expertly swapping me and Whinnie and kicking the treacherous spaghetti hoop to the side of the hall. He leaned in and whispered in my ear, making my curly hair tickle. “Consider yourself rescued.”

  I looked over his shoulder at Whinnie. Calvin was spinning her into circle after circle after circle.

  “He is one determined child,” I said. “Thank you…

  I think I have whiplash of the whole body.”

  We twirled, skidding a bit on some chocolate pudding. Russ had two small girls riding on his feet, and groaned whenever he had to take a step. Bryony and Melody and their group were teaching some of the girls to shimmy in the corner.

  “I think he has a crush on you.” Kyle spun me again so we could see Calvin staring at both of us. He was scowling a bit…

  “Great,” I said. “The first guy ever to have a crush on me, and he’s an overweight ten year old in the first thrusts of puberty.”

  “I’m sure that’s not true.”

  “What? You think he’s still a while away from puberty?”

  Kyle dipped me, but slid on some spilled juice. We collapsed onto the floor. Him on top of me.

  “OUCH!” I said, as everyone stopped dancing.

  “AHHHH YOU FELL OVER. DO IT AGAIN. YOU FELL OVER. OHMYGODTHAT’SSOFUNNYDOITAGAINAHAHAHAHAA.” The children forgot the dancing and the hall of ballroom dancers all started deliberately skidding on leftover food, throwing themselves to the floor. Mum (sensing a lawsuit) clapped her hands in that loud way that made everyone stop.

  “Time for campfire, everyone.” They cheered and started lining up in their groups by the door. Kyle scrambled up and held out his hand to help me off the ground.

  “I think I’ve got alphabetti spaghetti in my hair,” I whinged. “And concussion of the butt area.”

  Kyle laughed a wide open laugh and steered me towards Dumbledore’s Army.

  “I was talking about the crush,” he said. “I don’t think it’s true that Calvin is the first guy to have a crush on you.”

  And he was helping the children get into pairs before my mouth had even fallen open…

  SITUATIONS THAT ARE DESTINED TO FAIL:

  Sleep

  +

  A cup of hot chocolate

  Seventeen

  From: LongTallAmber

  To: EvieFilmGal; LottieIsAlwaysRight

  Subject: TIME OFF!!!!!

  I’m getting time off!!!!!!!!!!

  They’re actually letting me leave the camp. And Mum’s coming too! I’ve got an entire weekend with my mum AND NO ONE ELSE. She’s driving us to Los Angeles and I want to take the obligatory photo of myself by the Hollywood Sign and wander about the place, hoping to bump into Joseph Gordon-Levitt so he can fall violently in love with me. I’m soooooooooo looking forward to chilling, just us two. I can never get her away from Bumface Kevin – I think his bumchin may have its own gravitational pull and you need some kind of rocket launcher to break Mum away from his atmosphere.

  Thank you so much, as well, for your VERY SYMPATHETIC attitude towards my boy woe…not.

  Okay, so I definitely had it coming… He’s still being all confusing. Yesterday he said something about this chubby kid at camp who's developed a worrying crush on me. Kyle said: “I bet he’s not the first guy to have a crush on you.”

  WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?

  Anyway, that’s tomorrow so I’ll be offline for two days. Let me know all your news.

  Lots of love

  Amber

  I putzed about on the internet a bit longer before bedtime, looking up things to do in LA. Did I want to go and see famous people’s houses? Or go to Universal Studios? There was lots of tourist stuff about Wine Country – a part of California that looked really pretty. But I couldn’t really suggest Mum and I went there…

  An email pinged in just as I was about to log off.

  From: LottieIsAlwaysRight

  To: LongTallAmber

  Subject: You do know you’ll need to bleach your bum-hole, right?

  That’s what EVERYONE does in LA. It is one big anal bleaching EPIDEMIC.

  And they don’t give you normal omelettes, but ones made with only the white of the egg which everyone knows is the shit bit of egg.

  Seriously, though, I am SO jealous. Have a great time with your mum! I am ALL alone this weekend. Evie is buggering off on a "Mindfulness Weekend" with Oli. I KNOW?! Maybe a bit of meditation will finally get those two together. We all went for a drink the other night and they kept looking at each other and pretending not to. It
was so cute I almost vommed with happiness and banged their heads together. Things have got so desperate here that I’ve actually agreed to go drinking with Jane and Joel tomorrow night. WISH ME LUCK.

  Oodles of love

  Lottie

  xxx

  PS Don’t let this guy mess your head around with his bulgy arms. If he has chosen Melody as his streetlight to piss on, he can’t go around saying that sort of thing to you. Just close your eyes whenever you talk to him, so you’re not pulled in by his arms (both literally and metaphorically).

  I pottered to the kitchen quietly, smiling to myself as I filled up my water glass. Those girls… I was so lucky to have those girls. All I could hear was the steady buzz of cicadas – I finally learned what they were called! – as I ran the tap. I thought of everyone in the cabins surrounding us. Whinnie tucking the last of the children in, Russ trying to get to sleep quickly before Martin had another nightmare… Kyle sneaking out to meet Melody probably…

  “Hey, sweetie.”

  I jumped, splashing water all down myself. It seeped into my strappy night-top, making my tummy lurch back in shock.

  “Mum, jeez. You scared me. I thought you were asleep?”

  “Kevin is. I was reading.”

  I grabbed a kitchen towel and dabbed myself dry. Mum looked like a Renaissance painting, all Pre-Raphaelite, her auburn hair streaming down her back, her pale skin all cushiony and glowing.

  “Do you want a cup of hot chocolate?” she asked. “I was going to make one for myself.”

  “Sounds great.”

  Mum warmed up some milk on the tatty cabin stove while I sat on the countertop and watched her. I would never get tired of watching her. I couldn’t even think about the end of camp, the end of this summer, when the simple act of watching my mother would be snatched away again.

  “I can’t wait to go to LA,” I said, swinging my legs under the countertop.

  Mum looked distracted as she poured the hot milk on top of the cocoa powder and stirred.

  “Uh hur…”

  “Can we go to Hollywood Boulevard and put our hands in the prints of famous people?”

  Mum handed me a cup and grimaced. “Er, no. Hollywood is a horrid place. I thought we could take a hike.”