My Life Gone Viral

by Rae Earl

  “This is everything that is wrong with education!” Lauren rants. “You get punished for having an imagination. There’s too much information available. We can go to places of knowledge not previously explored. Teachers need to realize this. Everything is too interesting. Too distracting.”

  As if on cue, my phone pings and Lydia Portancia sends me ANOTHER distracting message.

  Hello Millie!

  The latest vlog is a triumph! Dave! DAVE! What a natural and as ever you were wonderful! Who is Erin BTW? Don’t change your main brand name. You’re not established enough to do that yet. I’m talking to some key players and media partners and I will have some exciting developments soon! Perhaps we can even get you on with a psychologist! Great news about upping production values.

  KV

  Lydia x

  I manage to swipe the phone away from Lauren’s prying eyes, but she catches the end of the message over my shoulder. “What does KV stand for?”

  “Keep Vlogging. She always says that.”

  Lauren scrunches her nose up. “That’s a bit … forced.”

  I know she’s right, but I feel like I should defend Lydia.

  “It’s just the way she is!” I reply. “She is very upbeat. All the time. I don’t want to be like that, though.”

  Lauren looks at me. “No, I hate people who are always happy. Especially morning people. They are just plain wrong.”

  “No, I don’t mean that,” I say quietly. “It’s something she’s suggested. I don’t want to be a Dr. Phil kind of vlog with clever guests using long words. I don’t think that’s me. I’m not a completely serious thing. This is a truthful and hopefully sometimes helpful to others ‘me’ vlog with a random cat.”

  Lauren nods. “Tell Lydia whatsherface that, then!”

  I can’t tell Lydia whatsherface this, as she terrifies me and I can’t tell anyone that as I’ll look incredibly tragic.

  “Whatever,” Lauren continues. “Can we talk about my fail, please? You heard my idea. It was fantastic, Mills. No one else had anything like it.”

  This makes me pull a face. “Could that be, Loz, because it was a bit silly? I mean, just a tiny bit ‘out there.’ Rebel bears? Even for you?”

  Lauren smirks. “Well, a bit, but that’s what you should do your next vlog on! How to do decent homework in a world full of other more interesting stuff going on. And not just now, but in the past. The concept of time is trying to catch us out constantly. We are all basically the new Doctor Who! Do it about that!”

  This isn’t a bad idea. I really want to talk about Mum, but I can’t talk about Mum (she would go bananas if I shared more of her private life online), and I don’t want to talk about Dad anymore. Perhaps something about school would relate to a lot of people. Also, if I do something that’s about Lauren, it might soften the Erin blow that is coming.

  “I’m going to do it, Lauren, and I’m going to dedicate it to you.”

  Lauren bursts with pride. “I am happy to be your inspirational figure, Millie, but I must go now as I have to do my history essay again. This time it’s got to feature a human.”

  “Just before you go and just so you know,” I say very quickly, “Gary and Mum have split up.”

  Lauren’s eyes pop out and her neck attains a giraffelike length.

  “What?!” she squeals.

  “I know!” I say. “I can’t believe it either. He wanted a baby. She didn’t, and that was it!”

  “That’s a pretty huge thing,” Lauren says with a sigh. “Honestly, I think my parents were happier till I came along. They love me. They’ve always loved me, but I don’t think they could juggle romance and a screaming thing.”

  I give Lauren a massive hug. “They were never meant to be together, Lauren. It’s one hundred percent NOT your fault. Don’t even think about that.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Lauren sniffs. “Anyway now that they’ve split up, things are a lot better. Dad is like a new man! It’s like he’s twenty years younger. He’s playing his guitar a lot again. He’s quite good!”

  This reminds me.

  “Do you think your dad would be up for doing a few jobs around our house? Mum could do it, but she doesn’t want to. It would be a huge load off her mind!”

  “Yeah!” Lauren smiles. “I’ll ask him after school. I need to get on now. See you later, Mills.”

  Lauren runs off, and I begin to think about the new vlog.

  Lydia is right. If there were ever a time to experiment with things, it’s now. I’ve got real followers who I think won’t mind me looking … I can’t say great, but BETTER.

  I send Erin a text. She’s great at what she does and we’ve all made mistakes in life!

  Going to vlog after school. Want to come to mine and do my face?

  Erin replies with her usual super speed. It’s just a series of thumbs-up and smiley face emojis and the time, 5:00 p.m.?

  I reply with another thumbs-up. I hover for a moment over SEND, and then I just go for it. Sometimes you’ve just got to take a risk.

  That’s it, then. I’m now a truthful, hopefully helpful vlog with a random diva cat and added makeup.

  I don’t know if I want to be that or not. Is this vlog making me like Snow White’s stepmother? Beautiful but all devious and scheming?

  #ErinStyle

  When I get home Mum isn’t back from work. I think she’s probably staying longer, as she doesn’t want to come home to a house without a Gary and one of his gourmet fish concoctions that he’s rustled up from nothing. She is already missing his cooking. Plus, there’s already lots of added dust. I clean for a bit, but I don’t try to cook anything. I want to cheer Mum up, not make her feel worse or potentially kill her with salmonella. Or botulism. I’ve googled all the germs. Some of them seem to have faces.

  Honestly, I feel quite relieved that she’s not around. I don’t think she’d appreciate having anyone else here at the moment. I think she wants to, as Granddad would say, lick her wounds like a dog that’s had a car crash. This is one of Granddad’s favorite sayings. It means sometimes you don’t want to see anyone. You just want to hide yourself away in a tiny kennel, be kind to yourself, and pretend that no one else exists. This is a real blow to Mum. She’s said a flat no to any dating app. I can’t see her having a relationship for a long time. I think she thought Gary was “the one.”

  At this point, I wonder if Danny is my one. I think it’s probably a bit early to have met your forever soulmate, but the thought of not having him in my life makes me feel very weird and bad.

  I don’t have much time to think about this as the doorbell goes at precisely 4:56 p.m. It’s like Erin has been hovering outside waiting.

  Erin glides in and seems completely at ease. She brings in lots of boxes. One for the face, one for the eyes, one for the lips, one for the cheeks—she is product central. All of it must have cost so much.

  I manage to stutter, “I vlog in my room. Shall we do it there?”

  Erin nods enthusiastically. In fact, she beams from ear to ear. “Thanks so much for letting me in on this, Millie. I know in the past I was sometimes hideous but, you know, I learned such valuable life lessons that have helped me grow as a person.”

  This sounds like something from a book and I feel uneasy. It’s too late now, though. I put my chair near the window so Erin can have the right light and she begins to work her magic.

  Erin doing my makeup is very different to the time that Lauren did it. There’s primers, bases, blushes, brows, and things I don’t even quite understand. Erin moves effortlessly from one box to another. She won’t let me look in the mirror till she’s completely finished. Finally, she lets me go to the bathroom to have a look.

  WOW.

  For the natural look, I do feel like I’m wearing a lot.

  My lashes are so long, you could high-dive off them and probably do several somersaults before you hit the carpet. My lips are shiny like aluminum foil. My cheekbones are toothpick sharp. It’s all a bit much.

>   Erin can see that I’m a bit freaked out. “Don’t trust the mirror. This is cosmetics for the screen. Look in your phone! That’s what all this is designed for.”

  When I look in the camera I’m blown away. I look incredible, but kind of not “me.” It’s like looking at Hollywood Millie. Red Carpet Millie. I feel like my character should sort of adjust to this new face. Which is actually just the face I had on half an hour ago but with loads of stuff on it.

  Erin hangs over me like a mantis. I dare not try and change a thing.

  There’s an uncomfortable silence.

  Erin grins at all her work (i.e. me) and says, “Well, what do you think?”

  I tell her that I think it looks fantastic, which is certainly true.

  “I’m going to vlog now,” I tell her. “Any chance you can just wait in the lounge while I do it?”

  Erin says, “Sure.” I wait till she is all the way downstairs before I start. The thought of having Erin as an audience while I vlog makes me feel uncomfortable. I don’t think we are friends yet.

  I settle myself down in front of my phone. I take a deep breath and vlog …

  Hi! Millie Porter here.

  Just want to talk about homework. It’s not a glamorous subject, but Hashtag Help! Lots of us can’t concentrate because the universe is NEVER dull. Shout out to my best friend, Lauren, who inspired all this. Love you, Loz. I think a lot of people have the problem that Lauren has. Basically, it’s very difficult to do your homework when there’s a ton of stuff online that’s fascinating. I’m not just talking about looking at your friends’ Instagram pages, scrolling through your own timeline or how you can go down a rabbit hole on YouTube. That’s standard. I mean, when you google a fact for school that’s completely legitimate and then you find out something much more interesting. For example, did you know that the closest living relative to a T. rex is a chicken? That is genuinely more exciting than cell division and percentages. Though both probably played a part in making dinosaurs like poultry.

  (I feel more up than normal. It feels like a forced up. I just keep wondering, what are people going to think? Relax, Millie. Think of your followers. They just want you. That’s what they are here for … and Dave. Probably Dave.)

  You know what everyone says at this point. (I do an impression of a nagging mum): Turn the Wi-Fi off. I am completely incapable of doing that. But I know someone who can do it for me. I am first going to use the T. Rex’s nearest living relative: THE CHICKEN!

  I pull out a cooked chicken drumstick that I got from the fridge. Mum was probably going to have it for dinner at some point.

  I leave my bedroom and go toward the router on the stairs.

  This is truly radical. Find your router. Ignore that other thing—that’s where my mum’s boyfriend’s robot vacuum used to dock, but he took it when he left. He forgot that bit, clearly, probably a bit emotional at the time, don’t look at that. Look at this. I simply put the chicken on top of the router and …

  Totally on cue I can hear Dave running up the stairs. She spots the chicken and karate-kicks all the technology. The router tumbles to the floor and all the green lights go out. Dave drags off the chicken leg along with half of the cables.

  The amount you can get done once your cat is eating the technology is incredible. It’s as simple as that. If you want to get more done and eventually get to college, get a hungry feline involved. They can truly take you back to the Jurassic period, where you can do your homework in peace. And it’s as simple as that! Leave any comments below and I’ll see you next time. Oh, and obviously I will fix this before I try to upload. There’s no need to mansplain to me. Thanks!

  Erin claps for me at the end. She must have been listening all the way through. “That was seriously great, and just think how your look probably lifted it!”

  “Yes,” I say. “To be honest, I’m worried about Dave. She has taken some of the wireless stuff with her and I don’t want her to bury it in one of her special places or take it to her panic room.”

  Erin looks confused. “Does Dave have her own panic room?”

  “No, not really. I mean behind the couch. But it’s actually really difficult to get to the back of it. Mum has to get the mop handle out to retrieve anything. And then she gets depressed because she realizes there’s still stuff underneath there from when I was little. She found a Sesame Street domino the other day. Not even Neat Freak Gary would try to fully clean it up. Too difficult!”

  I’m doing a nervous ramble speech. I know it, and I think Erin has realized, too, because she just says, “Yeahhhh,” in a slightly scared way.

  Then there’s this huge pause. We’ve both run out of things that we have in common. It’s the same thing that happens with the relatives you only see at Christmas. They ask you how you’re doing at school and about the weather and then you just start saying anything to fill the gaps.

  Erin must feel the same thing, as she decides that her mum really needs to see her about something. I thank her very much. I think she’s expecting a hug, but that feels wrong so I just squeeze her arm a bit.

  As she leaves she says, “I hope we can do this again, Millie. It was great working with you. I think we’ve taken your vlog to the next level.”

  I agree, though I don’t know if it’s the level I want to take it to. I don’t like heights. I feel like we’ve pressed the button for the penthouse when all we really wanted was the seventh floor. Or something.

  After Erin has gone, I find all the bits of machine and I manage (FEMALE POWERHOUSE!) to put the router back together. I upload the vlog while Dave plays with the chicken leg. She hasn’t eaten a lot of it. I’m tempted to dust it off and put it back in the fridge, but then I remember I can’t get away with that anymore. It’s now on vlog record that Dave mauled the meal. Mum is off her food, anyway. She calls it the heartbreak diet. She says you’re guaranteed to lose at least seven pounds in seven days but the side effect is wondering if you’ll be alone forever.

  If that doesn’t prove that all diets are evil nothing will.

  #Fool

  About thirty minutes after I post the vlog, I make the very bad error of looking at the comments.

  They are not good. In fact, some of them are completely horrible.

  This is so not you. Same old. Seen it all before #unfollowed

  (This makes me feel sick.)

  Wearing makeup makes you stupid.

  Parent propaganda. Do you want to force the message home a bit more?

  (I SOUNDED LIKE I WAS PREACHING! Of course I did! I could feel it.)

  Don’t mess with no date night Netflix.

  (Obviously.)

  Epic makeup

  I hope you realize chicken bones can kill a cat YOU IDIOT!!

  (Dave is not an average cat. I’ve seen her spit out fish bones in a neat pile that almost formed a sculpture. Perhaps I need to mention that.)

  Is this turning into a makeup thing because if it is I’m not interested.

  (No, it’s not, I promise. Perhaps I should vlog about that.)

  Bajka love Dave! Follow Bajka on Instagram

  What?!

  I open up Instagram. Bajka is a cat. She is an exotic breed with a face that looks flat like it’s been squashed up. She’s absolutely beautiful, though, and she writes beautifully in her own special feline language with cute spelling.

  Well, obviously she doesn’t write it. Whoever is writing for her does and it’s very good. For example, there’s a photo of Bajka looking annoyed. Her face is pressed up against a cupboard door.

  Frenz hi. Hooman won’t feed me. No tuna. Pleasz get help.

  I google the name. “Bajka” is Czech for “fairy tale.” This is like a fairy tale. It’s the perfect account—one of the greatest Instagram feeds ever. Bajka has got loads of followers. It’s REALLY funny, too. I could never be this funny. It’s like it’s written by a comedian. I don’t even know how to reply to a comedy cat! This is in a different league to me. It’s professional and I’m …
<
br />   I’m an amateur.

  I can feel it.

  I can also feel my chest getting tight and one side of me getting all tingly. This is me when my breathing gets so weird that I have to concentrate on it. Breathe in and breathe out slowly. Mindfulness, or what my mum calls common sense. God, I want my mum to come home. I look in the mirror. I still look incredible on the outside but on the inside the mascara is streaming down my face, my lips are smudged, and my entire face looks like I’ve flown into a patio door like a confused owl.

  I lie down on my bed and slow everything up. In situations like these sometimes my brain can just shut down and I can have what I call a trauma nap. I know, I KNOW, it’s not real trauma, but it’s just when all the electrics in your brain feel like they are short-circuiting and you just need to put the STORE CLOSED sign up on your forehead.

  Two hours later, I wake up when Dave starts biting my toe. Mum still isn’t home and I’m sixty-four subscribers down.

  Sixty-four. That’s AWFUL. I need to speak to someone. I know I need Danny. He’ll make me feel better about it all.

  I send a message to him.

  Hello, Danny. How are you feeling? Are you around for a chat? Really would like to speak to you.

  I can see that he has looked at my message. I wait for something back but nothing comes. This is life in the seenzone. It feels like forever. I can see he’s active, but he’s not typing anything to me. I get nothing.

  Who is he speaking to and, more to the point, why isn’t it me?!

  At this point Mum comes in with Chinese takeout. She doesn’t have time to put down the Singapore Noodles before I run into her for a hug. She ends up with honey and sesame dressing all over one of her best shirts, but I’m in such a state she doesn’t seem to mind.