Friendship Fails of Emma Nash

by Chloe Seager

  ‘How much has she had to drink?’ said Charlie. ‘And where did she get it? I could use some.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said, stroking Faith’s hair.

  ‘Come on, we have to go.’

  ‘Do you think we can just leave her here?’ I asked.

  ‘I think it’s better that she sleep it off,’ he said.

  ‘All right, everyone, we’re on in five minutes!’ Ms Parker called out, interrupting us. Everyone started scuttling around. Abby Matthews (one of the models) started pouting even more vigorously than usual. Crazy Holly flung a pair of furry shorts in the air (I wonder which model agreed to wear those?).

  I kissed Faith’s head and left her on the table. She was curled up into a ball, still clutching her shoe. And now I’m sitting behind the curtains in the dark, linking arms with Charlie. I’m typing in one hand and eating Haribo in the other.

  THE MUSIC IS STARTING. IT’S STARTING.

  posted by EditingEmma 01.35

  Back Home. In Bed.

  I’m back home now and So. Much. Has. Happened.

  The show started and it was really weird… The models (and by ‘models’ I really mean Abby Matthews and her pals prancing around) started walking up and down the catwalk (and by ‘catwalk’ I mean planks of wood badly cobbled together by Crazy Holly) and then the funny thing happened. Abby Matthews was at the end of the catwalk doing some very questionable hip movements and my outfit was in the spotlight. Suddenly something inside me lifted, just for a moment, and it was sort of like everything else, including everyone in the room, disappeared. I could only see the dress that I’d so lovingly created, with the light bouncing off of it. Even Abby Matthews’s strange gyrating couldn’t distract me. It was just me and the dress and nothing else mattered.

  It was a little bit like the end of a rom com and me and the outfit were getting married, or something. But anyway, I felt proud. So insanely proud I thought I might cry. Which I know is stupid because I make outfits all the time and at the end of the day we were only in my school hall, not Fashion Week. But still. I did that. Me. And I like it. It’s mine and I like it. Why have I been so ridiculously worried this whole time about whether other people like it?

  ‘Charlie,’ I whispered into the darkness.

  ‘Mmghmm,’ he whispered through a mouthful of Haribo.

  ‘I’m just going to do something,’ I said.

  He nodded and I ran off.

  In the dressing room, Holly was just zipping up her furry shorts on some girl I recognized from Maths class.

  ‘It’s just, I mean…’ The girl was saying.‘They weren’t furry a couple of days ago.’

  ‘Things change,’ said Holly. ‘Roll with it.’

  ‘Holly?’ I asked, approaching.

  Holly stood up.

  ‘I’m sorry I denied you freedom in your creative expression,’ I said.

  ‘Huh?’ She frowned.

  ‘I’m sorry I said you couldn’t dance like an octopus. You must. You must dance like an octopus. You must dance like no octopus has ever danced before.’

  Holly paused for a second. I thought she might say something incredibly profound and we’d discover new depths to our friendship. But she patted my shoulder and said, ‘Octopuses can’t really dance.’

  When I sat down next to Charlie again I was still nervous, but it was like my nerves put on a brave face. I just sat back and took it all in, every now and again taking soothing bites of Haribo. And I think… I think I maybe, possibly, just a little bit, began to enjoy myself.

  Holly came out right at the end. She emerged in my ‘show-stopper’ dress (it really is quite something – long sleeves, gold sequins and beads, cut out at the back) and walked quite normally to the end of the runway. I wondered, for a while, whether she was going to octopus it up at all. But then the familiar sounds of Hotley Crew started through the sound system and I knew what was coming. Holly stopped dead and put her head down. The entire room went deathly still. No one made a sound and listened only to the soft, resounding vibrations of the didgeridoo.

  Charlie gripped my arm. ‘Sorry,’ he whispered.

  ‘No, I’m excited,’ I said.

  ‘Good,’ he said, beaming. ‘Me too.’

  And then the didgeridoo stopped. The lights went dead. One girl squealed and I heard Ms Parker hissing, ‘What’s going on?! What’s going on?!’ But quick as a flash a single spotlight came back on, shining just on Holly’s right arm, which was waving back and forth like a glorious, sedated sea creature.

  ‘Spectacular,’ whispered Charlie. ‘Entrancing. Magnificent.’

  Slowly, Holly came back into view and kept dancing. There was no music any more. Literally just Holly rocking out in silence in her strange, bizarre way.

  ‘That’s why she wanted to be involved in literally every single team,’ I said. ‘She was staging a takeover.’

  Charlie nodded in awe. ‘That girl’s going to be famous one day,’ he replied.

  ‘What for?’ I mused.

  ‘Literally anything. Inventing some kind of strange contraption. Breaking the world record for most lemons eaten by a human being. Voyaging to unknown territories. Being president.’

  ‘You’re right.’ I nodded, as Holly finished. ‘No possibility seems ruled out.’

  There was a slow, confused clapping as the lights came back on. Ms Parker came on stage and said, ‘Thank you, Holly,’ through gritted teeth. Holly gave a little bow, with a flourish of her hand.

  Then Ms Parker invited us all up on stage. Charlie and I stood up, gripping each other in fear, and staggered out like moles coming blinking out into the sunlight. I was convinced I was going to fall over. Really, with someone as poorly coordinated as I am, the possibility of not falling over seems infinitesimally small. I am far more likely to fall than not, on an average day, and definitely more likely in front of an audience. But for once I actually didn’t.

  Me and Charlie propped each other up and walked into the spotlight to take our bows with the others. People were clapping and I could see my mum in the front row pretending to throw roses at my feet. Gracie was sitting next to her clapping in her usual demure, sophisticated manner and patting my mum on the shoulder, sort of like she was also my parent or something. Even Faith had roused from her drunken stupor and was perched at the edge of the stage looking sickly and green, but also proud and wise…like my very own drunk Yoda.

  I looked around for Steph and my heart did a little dance. Even though we were fighting there she was, yelling, ‘A HUNDRED POINTS TO HUFFLEPUFF! A HUNDRED POINTS TO HUFFLEPUFF!’

  I’m obviously not a Hufflepuff, but whatever.

  I felt so, so, SO happy and proud and loved. I felt like I might burst. I didn’t want anything to ruin it… but…ugh… I’m ashamed to admit it…but I couldn’t help noticing that Leon wasn’t anywhere to be seen. It wasn’t like I was trying to look for him, or anything, especially given what Charlie said earlier. But my eyes were just scanning for him anyway. Against my orders. STUPID EYES. You’re a part of me, eyes! Stop wandering off on your own!!! But anyway…he wasn’t in the room. Not on stage with the other set people. Not in the audience. Not anywhere.

  I think I might almost have let it ruin the moment. It might have done, if I hadn’t remembered what Steph said at the very beginning of term, about this being something I was doing just for me and not letting Leon ruin it. And thinking about Steph and what she said made me feel all warm and glowing. She was right. I shouldn’t let anything ruin this for me. Obviously if anyone who was important to me hadn’t shown up it would have been hurtful, whoever they were…Mum, friends…but this still would have been my thing. My moment.

  It’s not like I’m not upset by Leon not coming. Obviously, it sucks. But separating that out into something I’m upset about on its own, without letting it take down the entire evening with it, was like a breath of fresh air.

  After we were done on stage we came back in to start packing stuff away. And by ‘packing stuff away’
I mean taking turns to try on Holly’s furry shorts.

  Just as it was my turn, Greg appeared in the doorway.

  ‘Hey, just wanted to say well…’ He faltered, looking at the shorts. ‘Done.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I said, trying to sound casual. Like someone who wasn’t wearing a pair of furry shorts might sound.

  ‘Look.’ He ran his hand through his hair. ‘I just wanted to say sorry for the last time I saw you.’

  ‘You? Say sorry?’ I stuttered.

  ‘Yeah, I shouldn’t have done that at Battle of the Bands. Made you feel awkward again. It’s history.’

  ‘Greg,’ I laughed. ‘You don’t have to be sorry. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Yeah, well.’ He paused, then took a breath. ‘It’s great to see you.’

  ‘Really?’ I asked.

  ‘Really.’ He smiled. ‘I hope you’re happy, Emma.’

  ‘I hope you’re happy too,’ I said.

  He gave me a hug. And then I felt something shift. Here he was, still standing in front of me and being everything that Leon wasn’t, yet again… But I didn’t actually feel tempted or needy or like I wanted him to make me feel OK. I just…felt OK.

  ‘Thanks,’ I said, releasing him from my furry grip.

  ‘No problem,’ he said. And that was that.

  ‘So what happened there?’ asked Charlie as Greg walked away.

  ‘It was just…’

  Then he interrupted me with laughter.

  ‘No, sorry, I take it back. I can’t take you seriously when you’re dressed like that.’

  Just as Greg left the room, Leon entered. With Anna.

  Because that’s where he’d been…of course.

  He looked at me across the room and started trying to come over to me. I pointedly turned my back on him. Because I literally don’t care any more. At all. I had a lot of feelings for him. A LOT. So many feelings that it’s incredible someone could have squished every single last ounce of them out of me. Quite masterful, actually. But they are officially gone now. As if it wasn’t enough to swap me in and out of ridiculous, boring, immature benching cycles and then bully me online, he misses the one thing that actually meant something to me.

  Every single last feeling. Gone.

  ‘Emma?’ he said from behind me.

  ‘I saw you,’ I said. ‘And that’s why I’m facing this way.’

  ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked quietly. ‘Me and Anna aren’t back together or anything. She just wanted to talk about things. I thought I owed her an…’

  ‘God, Leon, you’re so desperate for attention, slag.’

  ‘What?!’ He turned me round to face him.

  ‘Oh don’t pretend you don’t know. Charlie told me.’

  ‘Charlie,’ he repeated.

  ‘Yes. Now, if you don’t mind.’

  And then I turned back to the wall again.

  I heard him walk away. Charlie came up to me and said, ‘Damn, Emma. Cold.’

  I shrugged and let him feel the breeze of my icy glare, too.

  ‘You know,’ he said, ‘I’ve said it once and I’ve said it again, it would be a lot easier to take you seriously if you weren’t wearing furry shorts.’

  After I’d removed any item of clothing that made me look like a bison and passed them back to Holly, we finished packing up. I was about to head home, thinking I had well and truly had enough drama for one day. Seriously, enough. And I like Pretty Little Liars. If a PLL fan has had enough drama then you KNOW it’s been enough drama. But that’s when I noticed Andy lingering awkwardly by the dressing room door.

  Great.

  I went over to him.

  ‘Uh, hi, Andy,’ I said. ‘I think Steph’s already gone.’

  He looked incredibly uncomfortable, and kept shuffling his feet. ‘Actually, I wanted to speak to you,’ he mumbled.

  ‘Oh,’ I said.

  ‘It was a great show,’ he said. ‘How much did you raise in the end?’

  ‘About £2000, which is pretty amazing,’ I answered.

  ‘Oh, awesome!’ he cheered…then tightened his lips again. ‘And did you…have fun?’

  If Andy was anything like Gracie, this was going to take all night, so I cut straight to the chase.

  ‘Oodles of fun,’ I said. ‘What’s up, Andy?’

  It came out a bit sassier than I intended. I think, and I don’t like this about myself, because I recognize it isn’t anything he has actually done…but I think I have come to maybe, just a tiny, tiny, weeny, only a little bit…loathe Andy’s existence.

  He sighed. ‘I think… I think maybe I owe you an apology.’

  I blinked. ‘For what?’

  His lip started twitching in that really annoying way that Gracie’s does, and I reeaaaallly had to stop myself from reaching out and pinching it.

  ‘I… It’s hard to say.’ He shrugged. ‘I’ve not done anything wrong, I guess. But I just wanted to say, I’m really sorry for not doing anything right either.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘This whole thing with you and Steph.’

  My heart jumped into my throat. He sighed.

  ‘I think…’ He carried on. ‘I don’t know. It’s not like, it’s not like I encouraged her to be annoyed at you… But I didn’t exactly discourage it, either, do you know what I mean?’

  ‘No, not really.’ I could feel adrenaline flooding my body. Andy was still looking at his shoes, but he looked up at me then.

  ‘I didn’t do the right thing,’ he said, straight to my face. ‘Whenever you guys had a stupid argument. I could always see both sides of it, but I just… I just let her be mad at you.’

  Steph was mad at me?! Steph was MAD AT ME?! This was music to my ears. To be mad, you have to actually care.

  ‘Mad?’ I asked, trying to sound casual. ‘About…?’

  ‘You know, about you missing her birthday. She kept saying you’d moved on and made new friends. I tried my best to cheer her up, but she was sad the whole time.’Andy ran his hand through his hair. ‘Sometimes you need the people close to you to actually point out the other side of things. And I didn’t.’

  ‘…Why?’ I asked.

  He looked down at his shoes again. ‘I was jealous,’ he mumbled. His hair flopped down in front of his face, but I could see that his skin was basically the same colour as his auburn locks.

  I wanted to laugh out loud.

  ‘Jealous?!’ I screamed.

  ‘So, so jealous.’ He kept looking down. ‘And when she was mad at you, I guess she was kind of all mine.’

  My mind flashed back to periodbloodgate, when I was totally secretly enjoying Steph being annoyed at Andy. I knew how he felt.

  ‘God, it’s so stupid!’ Andy yelled. ‘I got so jealous, I was even jealous that she was mad at you!! I kept inventing scenarios in which I could possibly make her that mad… And I couldn’t think of any! You know, I think even if I cheated on Steph, she’d be hurt but she’d shrug and get over it.’

  And then I really did laugh out loud. ‘OK, you know if you cheated on Steph, she wouldn’t just shrug. But I know what you mean. She’s independent.’

  ‘Not from you,’ Andy said. ‘You’re her number one.’

  I beamed. With all these compliments, I suppose Andy’s existence was becoming a little less loathsome to me.

  ‘Anyway, I’m being irrational, I know that now,’ said Andy.

  I shrugged. ‘I guess I’m no stranger to irrational behaviour, either,’ I conceded.

  ‘Yeah, well, we all saw the beheaded bear.’

  ‘That was my mum,’ I protested.

  ‘The apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree.’ He smiled. ‘So, can we please pretend to Steph, and to each other, that this conversation never happened?’

  ‘Works for me,’ I said.

  ‘But next time you and Steph have a fight, I promise not to just sit there smugly.’

  ‘Me too,’ I said. ‘Unless you react like a dick about a spot of blood on your bed again. In which
case I will slip you laxatives and then humiliate you when you poo yourself.’

  He looked mildly terrified then.

  I don’t think I undid all of our good bonding…

  Definitely not all of it.

  posted by EditingEmma 00.01

  Friends and Number Ones

  In bed, still thinking about everything. Thinking about how anticlimactic it feels to have got so worked up about something I should have been enjoying. Thinking about Leon. And mainly thinking about what Andy said. The phrase ‘you’re her number one’ keeps going round and round in my head, making me glow with pride and happiness, and then have a mild panic. Glow. Panic. Glow. Panic. It’s completely exhausting… In a way, I feel so relieved. I’m still Steph’s number one.

  But I can’t always be.

  I think all this time I’ve been convincing myself Steph doesn’t care any more, or that her boyfriend is more important than me…is because it would be so much easier if that were the case. But I know it’s just not that simple. I know that I am still her best friend, but that her relationship is a private, separate part of her life and I can’t know everything about it. I can’t be number one all the time. And somehow that’s scarier than being mad at her, or upset with her.

  And…and my mind is racing forward to the day she’s going to go out into the world and make other friends, and have an actual, real-life job, a partner who she wants to stay with… and maybe some children if she wants, and…and all these things are going to take priority. They’re going to take priority OVER ME. If not all the time at least some of the time… And I’m FREAKING OUT.

  I know, now, part of the reason we’ve been fighting isn’t because Steph’s outgrown me, but because I’ve not wanted to accept us growing up.

  Sunday, 21 December

  posted by EditingEmma 09.37

  A Letter (Yes, A Letter)

  This morning I was still in bed when Mum came in and shoved a letter at me.

  A letter.

  ‘This better not be your stalker again,’ she barked.