What I Like About Me

by Jenna Guillaume

  After meeting her mum, I can see where she gets her . . . what is it, confidence? Warmth? Je ne sais quoi, as my grandma would say (I just had to google how to spell that fyi).

  I felt a bit awkward when I got there, because they were busy organising breakfast and I didn’t want to get in the way.

  ‘Can I do anything to help?’ I said.

  ‘Don’t you dare!’ Maya (that’s Leila’s mum) said. She gave me a threatening look, but there was a twinkle in her eyes. ‘You just sit down here and relax, eat some eggs, and we’ve got some spare muffins – and, oh, have some of this, and help yourself to a cup of tea or coffee.’ She handed me a plate piled with food.

  ‘Isn’t this for your guests?’ I asked.

  ‘You are a guest,’ said Maya.

  Leila grinned at me over the fruit platter she was assembling.

  ‘I meant your paying guests.’

  ‘Babe,’ said Leila, ‘this is a battle you’re going to lose, so you may as well quit now. Mama loves feeding people, paying guests or not.’

  Maya laughed, a big, open laugh like her daughter’s. ‘Exactly. Hush up and eat.’

  I did as she said, and after a while I began to feel less awkward. Leila and her mum didn’t stop chatting as they rushed around. Once they were done, Maya ushered us out of the kitchen, telling us to enjoy the day. Leila led me to her room, and oh my god. It was like stepping into a fabric store that had been hit by a tornado and blended together with a dozen Pinterest boards come to life. Her walls were absolutely covered in sketches and photos and things she must have printed out for inspiration, and there were beads and sequins and pompoms and fabric and actual clothes and shoes and handbags all over the place. I could hardly see the bed, let alone the floor. The only clear space in the room was around the sewing machine in the corner.

  ‘Sorry about the mess,’ Leila said. ‘I’ve been working on being tidy. Believe it or not this is an improvement. It’s only taken me seventeen years.’

  She moved a pile of stuff from a big orange chair and dumped it next to her bed, telling me to take a seat. She shoved more stuff from the bed itself and sat cross-legged on it.

  ‘Where are your friends today?’ Leila asked.

  ‘I’m not sure. At the beach, I guess. I haven’t seen any of them.’

  ‘Did you guys have a fight or something?’ She didn’t ask it like she was being nosy, but like she actually cared.

  ‘Um, not exactly.’

  ‘Is everything okay?’

  ‘Not exactly.’

  She contemplated me for a moment. ‘Do you wanna talk about it? I know you haven’t known me long, but I’m a good listener. I swear. And I can keep my mouth shut sometimes.’ She smiled.

  Before I could say anything, a flyer on her floor caught my eye. It was a smaller version of the Miss Teen Summer Queen pageant poster, with my sister’s smiling face on it.

  ‘What are you doing with that?’ I asked.

  Leila followed my gaze. ‘Oh, this? Have you seen the pageant before?’ She reached down and picked up the pamphlet.

  I nodded. ‘That’s my sister.’

  ‘Whaaat, are you serious? She’s beautiful. I remember when she won a couple of years ago. I hated her dress.’ Her eyes widened when she realised what she’d said. ‘Um, I mean, it’s just, I go every year to check out the outfits, you know? And most of them are HIDEOUS. And –’

  ‘It’s okay,’ I said with a laugh. ‘I hated her dress too. It was hideous.’

  Leila smiled, looking relieved.

  ‘Why do you keep going if you think the outfits are hideous?’ I asked.

  ‘Oh, well, that’s half the fun, isn’t it? Mocking them. Also I’m an optimist, and every year I hold out hope that there’ll be something decent to look at. I have this dream of seeing some of my designs on that stage . . . It’s silly, I know, but it’s honestly the biggest event in this town all year. It’d be the best way to get my stuff noticed. I tried to convince my friend Jo to enter this year so I could dress her, but she just started going on about how it’s a patriarchal skeeze-fest and she wouldn’t be caught dead there. I guess she has a point – like, the whole premise is pretty screwed up . . . but it would be great for my portfolio. Does that make me a terrible person?’ She laughed. ‘It doesn’t matter, anyway, because none of my friends would enter.’

  ‘Why don’t you enter yourself?’

  She snorted. ‘I thought about it, but I couldn’t do it. I’m way too shy.’

  I raised my eyebrows and she laughed.

  ‘What? It’s true! Believe me. I’m really shy. I mean, I love talking to people face to face, but get me up on a stage and I freeze up. My Year 7 adviser tried to get me into drama because she said I have a natural theatricality – honestly I don’t know what she could have been talking about, do you? But yeah, every time I tried to say a line in front of a crowd, it just made me want to vom. So I told her I wanted in on the costume department instead and the rest, as they say, is history.’ She looked at the flyer in her hands again, at Eva’s grinning face, and then turned back to me. ‘Hey, have you ever thought about entering?’

  ‘Me?!’

  ‘You!’

  ‘You’re kidding, right?’

  ‘No way! Oh my god, you should do it! And let me dress you! How fun would that be? Please say yes . . .’ She had a huge, hopeful grin on her face.

  I thought back to last night, to the moment when I said I could win it. To Sebastian winking at me. And then to him kissing Anna.

  I sighed. ‘There’s no point. Look at me.’

  She looked me up and down. ‘I’m looking. And?’

  ‘And I’m not exactly beauty pageant material.’

  ‘Why the hell not?’

  I scrunched up my nose. ‘Because I’m . . . I’m a disgusting fat pig who no one wants to see in public, let alone on stage.’ The words rolled out before I could stop them.

  ‘Whoa. That’s a bit harsh,’ Leila said. She got up from the bed and kneeled in front of me, gently laying a hand on my knee. ‘And so not true.’

  I shook my head. ‘You don’t need to do that.’

  ‘Do what?’

  ‘Lie to me.’

  ‘Babe, I would never. You are not . . . what was it you said? A disgusting fat pig who doesn’t belong in public?’ I flinched to hear the words repeated back to me. ‘That’s absurd. You’re beautiful. You belong in the world, and on that stage, just as much as anyone else.’

  ‘Leila, it’s okay. I know I’m not beautiful. I’m fat.’

  ‘And why can’t you be both?’ she said with a smile.

  I was so shocked, I didn’t respond straight away. I’d been expecting her to keep on denying that I was fat, telling me beautiful lies the way Anna did. ‘You’re not fat, you’re gorgeous,’ Anna would say, and I’d be grateful to her for loving me so much that she’d pretend not to see the truth. That’s what friends do, right? Not like my mum, who’d say, ‘Well, you can do something about it, you know,’ or Eva who . . . well, anyway, not like Eva. It was a bit of a revelation, what Leila said.

  That didn’t mean I agreed with it, but she took my silence to mean that I did.

  ‘See? You could be the next Miss Teen Summer Queen!’

  ‘No, I really couldn’t. I mean, you have to put your size on the entry form. The judges would take one look at mine and hit delete.’

  ‘Hey, can I ask you something?’ Leila said. ‘Putting aside all this stuff about what the judges might think, or anyone else for that matter, do you want to enter the pageant? Like, honestly?’

  And here’s the bit where I admit the truth. You see, DJ . . . a small part of me would absolutely love to be in the pageant. To win it.

  When we were younger, Eva and I talked about entering together. We couldn’t wait until we were both old enough. We’d do a joint talent entry and dance together. We didn’t care if that was allowed or not. We’d do it anyway. We had this whole routine we’d choreographed to the music from Dir
ty Dancing, one of the few movies we both adored. And the judges would be so impressed by our talent and beauty they’d hand us both crowns, and we’d be happy, but what would make us happiest wouldn’t be winning, it’d be the fact that we did it together.

  And then Eva went and did it on her own. And won.

  And deep down inside, there’s a part of me that wants to do it too.

  I confessed as much to Leila. She wasn’t lying when she said she’s a good listener. She didn’t judge me at all or make me feel silly about what I was feeling. And once I started talking, it was like I couldn’t have kept the words in even if I tried.

  ‘Okay, how’s this sound?’ Leila said when I was done. ‘Why don’t we fill out an entry form for you, and if you don’t hear anything, it’s no loss, right? I mean, same difference as if you hadn’t entered anyway. But if they select you to take part, wouldn’t that be great? Really, what have you got to lose?’

  My last shred of dignity, I thought. But Leila was right. We killed half an hour by filling out the entry form online. And as we went through each question, the idea that my entry would actually see the light of day seemed further and further away. So I just had fun with it, and by the time Leila hit ‘submit’, some of the tightness I’d been carrying around in my chest had uncoiled. Maybe now this whole pageant ridiculousness would be out of my system.

  I spent another hour at Leila’s, flicking through these vintage magazines from the 1980s and 90s that she collects, doing silly quizzes and laughing at the fashion and slang and ‘spunks’. Then she had to meet up with some friends. She invited me to come along but I decided to finally face the music. I had to find Anna.

  Wednesday, 20 December

  2 things I discovered today

  1. It’s probably a good idea to face things rather than run away.

  Source: I actually talked to Anna, and things are better.

  2. Junior Mints are bloody delicious.

  Source: My tastebuds, via the packet I bought at the corner shop and ate.

  *

  Alright, DJ, I have a confession: I’ve been really, really mad at Anna. Surprise! I bet you couldn’t tell at all, could you?

  I guess I didn’t want to say it out loud (or, you know, on paper) because I didn’t want to admit it. I didn’t want to think about it. I didn’t want to face it. Because, well, facing it meant facing the truth: that the person I was most angry at wasn’t Anna at all. It wasn’t Sebastian Lee, either. It wasn’t even Beamer.

  It was myself.

  I was . . . I am . . . angry at myself for so many things.

  Like losing my ability to be a functioning person – let alone an attractive one – around Sebastian Lee.

  Like holding out any hope he would ever see anything in me anyway.

  Like expecting anyone could ever want me when I don’t even like looking at myself in the mirror.

  Like doing all the things that make me feel bad, despite knowing that they’ll make me feel bad.

  Like doing all the things that make me feel bad because I know that they’ll make me feel bad.

  Like being caught in a vicious cycle of self-hatred and self-punishment.

  Like . . .

  Like . . .

  Like . . .

  Everything.

  The thing is, I’m grateful to Anna. She is one of the few people who loves me unconditionally. And who not only loves me, but actually wants to be around me.

  Wanna know how we became friends? (I hope so, because I’m telling you anyway.)

  It was the second week of Year 7. I was sitting with my friend Vanessa on the library steps. (Vanessa and I aren’t really friends anymore, but that’s a whole other story.)

  These Year 8 boys were a few steps above us. Out of nowhere, they started pelting us with food. They were laughing as we just sat there in shock. After a minute or two I heard the words, ‘Fuck off, you knobheads!’ and I looked up to see Anna standing in front of me, her hands on her hips, glaring up at those boys. She looked ferocious. And something magical happened. They actually stopped. Anna stuck up her middle finger at them, then looked down at us and said, ‘C’mon. Come sit with us.’ She led us across the quad to her group, and I never looked back.

  She saved me that day. She’s been saving me ever since.

  Lately it’s been my turn to save her. She’s been so broken up about Dan the Dickhead, and she likes to pretend she’s fine about her mum ditching her but I know that doesn’t help. And yesterday I went AWOL.

  I was thinking about all this as I headed back from Leila’s. And my anger began to subside as guilt reared its ugly head.

  When I got back to the cabin, no one was around. I began writing everything down from the morning while I waited for someone to show up. If I’m being honest, I was still putting off actually having to talk to Anna.

  Finally, I heard laughter on the verandah. I went to the door and there was Anna with Sebastian and Beamer, sitting at the table eating sushi. Beamer spotted me first.

  ‘There you are, Maisie Martin! Where’ve you been all morning?’

  ‘Around,’ I said.

  ‘Anna said you weren’t feeling great. You okay?’ Sebastian asked.

  I looked at Anna, who was clearly finding something in her sushi roll fascinating because she was staring intently at it.

  ‘I’m a lot better now, thanks,’ I said.

  Anna looked up at me then, and I tried to smile. She looked really worried.

  ‘Right,’ she said. ‘You two, piss off. Maisie and I are going to have some best friend time.’

  ‘Alright then, we know when we’re not wanted, eh Sebby?’ Beamer said, getting up while still shovelling food in his face.

  Sebastian stood, briefly resting his hand on Anna’s shoulder and saying, ‘I’ll talk to you later.’

  ‘See ya,’ she said.

  ‘Catch ya. Glad you’re feeling better, Maise.’

  They walked away, and then it was just me and Anna. I went over to the table and sat down opposite her. We were quiet for a moment. Then, at the same time, we both said, ‘I’m sorry.’

  We laughed, more awkward than amused. I pushed on. ‘Anna, I’m sorry for disappearing today, I –’

  ‘No, no, don’t apologise. I’m the one who’s sorry. You . . . you saw us last night, didn’t you?’ She swallowed hard. She had a pained expression on her face. ‘Me and Seb, I mean.’

  ‘Yeah. I saw you.’

  ‘I’m really sorry, Maisie. I don’t know how it happened. He just – I just – he just kissed me and I was so shocked and –’

  ‘It’s okay,’ I said.

  ‘It’s not! It’s like rule number one of friendship: don’t kiss your best friend’s guy. I’m the worst.’ She looked like she was about to cry.

  ‘That’s the thing, though, isn’t it?’ I said. ‘He’s not my guy. If he was, he wouldn’t have kissed you.’

  ‘But –’

  ‘It’s fine, Anna. I get it.’

  ‘It won’t happen again, I swear.’ She looked absolutely miserable.

  ‘Do you want it to happen again?’ I asked, sounding way calmer than I felt.

  ‘No! Of course not! I would never want to hurt you like that,’ she said.

  ‘But you like Sebastian, right?’

  Anna bit her lip. Her large, lovely eyes were full of worry. ‘Maise . . .’

  ‘Don’t worry about it, okay? He’s all yours.’

  ‘What? No! I would never let a guy come between us.’ Which was true. Through all the boyfriends she’s had (she never stays single for long), Anna has always had time for me and prioritised our friendship. Which was what I was trying to do now.

  ‘He won’t,’ I said. ‘If he is what you want, if he is going to make you happy, then that’s what I want.’

  Anna was quiet for a moment. ‘Maisie, I can’t,’ she said. ‘You’ve been in love with him for years. It’s not going to happen, okay?’

  I thought about how much happier she’d been over th
e last few days. About the way I’d seen Sebastian looking at her. The way he had never – would never – look at me. And I told her a beautiful lie, like she’d done for me so many times before.

  ‘Anna, I promise you. It’s fine. I’m kind of over him, anyway.’

  ‘But –’

  I cut her off with a wave of my hand. ‘Seriously. I think the whole crush thing has been more of a habit than anything else. A way to keep myself entertained each summer. But I’ve got you here now. I don’t need a silly crush.’

  She looked at me carefully, and I leaned forward and rested my chin on my hands, smiling. ‘Besides,’ I said. ‘There’s no point in wasting perfectly kissable lips.’ I waggled my eyebrows and she laughed. ‘I want all the details! Come on!’

  She shook her head and changed the subject, telling me about a glitter make-up tutorial she’d seen on YouTube that she thought I should try. We went inside, dragged out all our make-up, put on some music and played around until Mum got home with Laura. She took one look at us, laughed, and then pulled out some face masks she’d bought. The four of us spent the rest of the night treating ourselves, and when Lincoln appeared looking for Laura, she told him to go home and tell the others we were in a boy-free zone. Mum even let me and Anna have a bit of wine. It was a total cliché of a girls’ night, and you know what? It was really nice. There were some awkward moments – like, whenever Mum mentioned ‘your father’ with a reflexive lip curl, but Laura expertly navigated her away from the topic, for which I was extremely grateful.

  And for the first time in days, when I went to bed, I went straight to sleep and slept all night.

  *

  As for today, nothing much to report. Anna and I went for a walk together this morning, then met up with Sebastian and Beamer at the beach. It went about how every other interaction has gone since we got here (Sebastian: his usual friendly self, especially towards Anna; Anna: pretty happy, especially near Sebastian; Beamer: bloody annoying, especially around me; me: quiet and self-conscious – especially around Sebastian and Anna . . . especially every time I spotted Sebastian’s hand on Anna’s arm, or her thigh, or her back. Tracing those tiny little circles and patterns with his fingers . . .).