The Weird Friends Fan Club

by Catherine Wilkins

  But still, I’m not used to being refused in such a manner.

  Maybe this minute act of hostility was the tipping point for my otherwise pleasant morning, because the day certainly went downhill from there.

  I joined my friends for the rest of lunch, and there were one or two unkind jibes about Erin. Then Sylvie said, “Shhh, Grace loves her now, remember.”

  “Oh, right yeah, the novelty still hasn’t worn off yet then?” said Brianna.

  “What novelty?” I asked them.

  “Slumming it with a freakazoid,” said Brianna. “You got it out of your system yet?”

  “We thought you’d be bored by now,” chimed in Sylvie.

  I was too stunned to speak for a moment.

  “I thought she seemed all right at the cinema,” said Chloe unassumingly.

  “Oh Chloe,” said Sylvie mock-affectionately. Then she put up her hand in that attitude way, and went, “Ya basic.”

  Brianna giggled.

  “I am not,” said Chloe.

  “Yes, you are,” said Brianna. “And FYI, instagram does not need any more pictures of your stupid hamster.”

  “Hey,” said Chloe.

  “You should be more annoyed than us,” said Sylvie. “You’re the one she’s replaced.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. (Even though I had previously said lots of similar things myself.) I really thought they’d listened to me when I’d told them to be nice. But they hadn’t properly taken it on board.

  This was a blow. To my authority, my sense of who my friends were, and my place in the world.

  Erin wasn’t that bad. Why couldn’t they see it?

  Why didn’t the empirical evidence, that she was kind of a laugh in English, not offset her former status as pariah more effectively? And why was I being questioned about my decisions?

  I rallied. No. I will not be undermined in this way.

  I am an inspiring leader. I am popular enough to survive anything. I am an excellent negotiator and an expert at human psychology. So I knew just what to do.

  “No. Ya basic.” I did the hand gesture and pulled my best attitude pose.

  They looked at me affronted, so I continued. “Why are you being so extra?” I accused. “God, you two must be so bored if you think this is interesting enough to be a problem. Is everything all right at home?” I added patronisingly. Chloe sniggered.

  “Look, granted, you fixed her eyebrows.” Sylvie put a hand up placatingly.

  “She does look a bit better now,” Brianna agreed slightly sheepishly.

  “But come on, Grace,” Sylvie said. “Real talk. What’s going on? You hated her. Why do you love her so much now?”

  “I don’t love her so much. Babes, I’m Switzerland over here. Neutral as it gets… It’s you who has no chill over there in The Republic of Salty.”

  Chloe suddenly got her confidence back, chortled, and said, “Ohhh, SNAP.”

  I pressed my advantage. “But, like, seriously, what was the bit about her that annoyed you?” I continued. “The bit where she lent you her pencil sharpener in English, or the bit where she was funny and insightful about Shakespeare and made our lessons more fun? Are your gold shoes too tight as well?”

  “No, I just –” Sylvie was backpedalling like mad.

  “Oh my god, are you jealous?” I crowed. “Is that what this is? Are you jealous I’ve got a new friend whose eyebrows I fix? Do you want me to do your eyebrows?”

  “No,” Sylvie replied, defeated.

  “OK good,” I said. “Then maybe stop being a thirsty little whiner.”

  “Sorry,” said Sylvie.

  “Yeah. She’s not that bad,” Brianna conceded.

  (Yesss. I WON. Natch.)

  “And so what if she’s a bit fugly?” she continued philosophically. “You just look hotter standing next to her.”

  “That’s true,” said Sylvie.

  I was just doing a victory lap in my head when Sylvie added, “She’s all right in English. But, is she really coming to your party? And like, maybe we should all have a say in who comes out with us as a group? In the future.”

  I had to really fight not to show how shocked this made me. It was so out of the blue. Was Sylvie making a power grab? Even after I’d put her back in her box so magnificently?

  And what could I say? I couldn’t say, “No, I’m the leader and I decide everything.” Not least because that’s an informal title I’ve given myself. And also, I shouldn’t have to say I’m the leader. It should just be obvious.

  I went in for the attack, and I went in hard, and regained my position as the dominant one. Just like Daddy taught me. Why didn’t it work? Am I losing my skills of negotiation? First Erin says I can’t come to her house. Now this.

  “Babes, she’s coming to my party and it’s all fine. So you can stop wasting my time with this pointless drama.”

  Sylvie shrugged her capitulation. But I felt vaguely unnerved that the matter wasn’t fully resolved.

  Well, great. This is just great. Now I have to worry about future mutinies.

  Monday 18th March

  ERIN

  OMG. Nick Brooker has followed me, liked two of my Instagram posts, and written “LOL” under one of them!!!!!

  THIS IS UNPRECEDENTED!!!!

  He liked the one of me with Grace and her gang outside the cinema, where I have my eyes closed. (To be fair, that’s probably what he thinks I really look like, what with all my weird squinting in music.)

  Then he liked one of me at Nic’s sleepover, dressed as a zebra, trying to juggle satsumas. And he wrote “LOL” under it. I think he really gets me.

  WHAT DO I DO?!

  I followed back and peeked at his insta. Then I liked a couple of his pictures (Nick standing with some friends, holding a football, and stroking a cat in a book shop).

  Should I write something on the cat picture? Like “LOL cute”? Or “What the hell book shop is this?” I can’t decide.

  I screen-grabbed and WhatsApped Nic the pic of his “LOL” comment under my juggling photo, and wrote “Uh, I think I’m smoking hot dressed as a zebra maybe?” with some laughing emojis.

  She immediately replied, “Ooooooooh! Not bad. But U can’t date someone with the same name as me tho.”

  Dating? Ha! I mean who said anything about dating? OMG imagine if we started dating?!

  NEW MESSAGE!

  OMG.

  Nick Brooker has private messaged me on insta:

  “U goin 2 party? Winkyface, confetti canon”

  I counted to one hundred and then replied, “Yeah probs. C U there? Music note”

  He replied with a thumbs up!!!!

  OMG who even am I?

  I need to ring Nic and discuss what this means immediately!!!

  But then I will have to tell her about the party.

  Which I should do.

  I was going to invite her eventually, though, wasn’t I?

  I will. Soon.

  And I’ll just have to give myself advice in the meantime.

  Tuesday 19th March

  GRACE

  Erin was acting kind of weird when she came round to mine after school. She’d started using some of the other makeup I gave her and she kept suggesting we take selfies.

  I was still worrying about my friends’ mutineering (need to check if that’s the right word? It probably is. I’m usually a genius).

  So I was really in the mood to work rather than do any more impromptu makeovers or insta stories, and therefore was a bit grumpy and kept saying no.

  “Shall I do a story of us working?” Erin asked, sounding excited. “What shall we say?”

  “No. What? Look…” Then something clicked and the penny dropped – Erin’s makeup, the breathless excitement, caring about insta – it could only mean one thing.

  “Is this about a boy?” I asked her.

  “Haha, what?” Erin went bright red. “Um. I mean maybe. Why…”

  “Which boy?” I studied her like a scienti
st would a specimen.

  “Nick Brooker,” she replied.

  “Oh, that’s fine,” I said. “He’s OK I guess. He asked me out once. Obviously.”

  “Why obviously?” asked Erin. (As if that needed explanation!)

  “OK Erin,” I replied. “Well, I could sit here and say I’m worried my hair is too fluffy, or my nose is too big, but at the end of the day, we both know I read as attractive and everyone thinks I’m a snack.”

  Erin spluttered vaguely incredulous laughter, which I think was meant to suggest she thought I was arrogant, but I didn’t care because #practisingselflove anyway.

  Then she said, “Well, maybe he doesn’t care about that.” (So she basically agreed that I am super hot. Ha.) “You know, he liked a picture of me in a zebra onesie,” she went on, “so maybe he’s not…” She trailed off.

  “Did you want to use the word superficial?” I asked a tiny bit condescendingly.

  “Um…”

  “Because if you truly believed that; then what’s with all this?” I waved a hand, gesturing to her face. “Finally mastering mascara etc.?”

  Erin looked down, like she was thinking. Then she looked up again. “Did you go out with him? After he asked you out? Did you go out with him?”

  “Oh! No.” I shook my head.

  “Why?”

  “Not my type.”

  “What’s wrong with him?”

  “I don’t know. Probably something. But there was just no spark. I’m sure he’s nice though. He never lunged at me or anything.”

  “That seems like a low bar,” said Erin. “No known assaults.”

  “Fine,” I said magnanimously, forcing myself to be the grown-up. “Do you have the hots for him?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Best of luck with your endeavours. Shall we get back to work now?”

  “OK. But just one more…”

  Erin tried to take a selfie of the two of us sitting at my mahogany dining table, working. She had to hold the phone far away to get us both in, and she dropped it on the marble chequerboard stone floor, and the screen cracked.

  “Oh nooooo,” she wailed. “It’s cracked!”

  What a fuss. Honestly. Was it not enough I’d gone out on a limb for her and risked alienating my friends? Not to mention inadvertently lowering my own social standing.

  “Whatever,” I sighed tiredly. “Just get your father to buy you a new one.”

  “What?” Erin looked at me shocked.

  “You heard.” I looked up perplexed. “Let’s move on.”

  “OK, problem one: he can’t afford to,” said Erin.

  “Well whatever, get it on the insurance.”

  “What insurance?”

  “OK, whatever, you’re from the mean streets,” I replied tiredly. “Brilliant. You’re an outlaw. You don’t have phone insurance. You’re so cool. But look, this is why we have rules and regulations. To protect us from our own stupidity.”

  “Ouch,” said Erin, subdued. Then, “OK. I didn’t realise how much I was annoying you. I’ll go.”

  ERIN

  What the hell is her problem? I fumed, confused, all the bus ride home. I looked at the pictures I’d taken on my poor, cracked phone. I felt like I looked quite good in one of them, but I didn’t have the heart to post any now. My mood had gone sour on the whole thing.

  And I was annoyed, too, because something Grace had said had struck a chord. Why was I suddenly trying to look extra nice, if I really believed he liked me as I was? I had insecurities coming out the wazoo.

  Nicole and I officially laugh at people who worry about stupid things like if their ears are too big. And here I am trying to look pretty for a boy. How unimaginative.

  And why did Grace seem so irritable about selfies? She’s normally all over selfies. That’s what she lives for.

  I calmed down a bit later when I got home.

  I still can’t work out if I’m a hypocrite for suddenly caring more about makeup. Google tells me that eyebrows take 56 days to grow back, which is basically two months. So, I guess if I’m still into it then, I’ll know if I’ve become that which I once mocked.

  Wednesday 20th March

  GRACE

  Another brilliant poem by Grace Abella:

  Evergreen

  The leaves are turning, turning brown

  But not the evergreen

  Look how they go red, look how they fall down,

  What a thing to have seen.

  They’re pretty at first, then soon turn to slush

  But not the evergreen

  They’re in people’s way, when push comes to shove,

  The ground won’t look so clean.

  The evergreen alone stands tall,

  And keeps its pines aloft

  Trusted, constant, reliable,

  Through rain and sludge and frost.

  When chaos rules, and wisdom sails,

  The world is fickle, changing, mean,

  The realm of nature may repeat its fails

  But the evergreen is Queen.

  #naileditagain #whataminotgoodat

  Actually, apologies. Well, let me rephrase that: on the rare occasions where I have actually made a mistake or done something wrong, I am very good at apologising. I believe in the rule of law and civilisation after all.

  It’s boring and laborious and I resent having to do it, but also I accept that it’s the human condition and it just proves what a great person I am, that I am prepared to make the ultimate sacrifice and text Erin, “Sorry if I came off a bit abrupt before. Got a lot on my mind. Hope you can fix your phone.”

  So selfless. So kind.

  Also, I really wanted to just get a tiny bit more work done on my story and I thought she’d never agree to come all the way to my house if I didn’t acknowledge we’d had some kind of incident.

  You, my diary, know that I am not sorry at all, and just playing her like a fiddle to get my own way.

  Erin, though her faults are many, respects civilisation enough to comply with social norms and sent back, “Thx, nw. Let me know if U want 2 talk about anything.”

  Ha. No thank you. Abellas don’t talk about our problems. We quit whining and get on with it.

  I just wish she could hurry up with returning the RSVPs for her friends Nicole and Liz.

  Maybe I should just chase them up myself?

  #ifajobisworthdoing #superwomanbabes

  Thursday 21st March

  ERIN

  Ohhhhh maaaaaaaan.

  Grace asked Nicole why she hadn’t responded to the party invitation.

  Nic honestly thought she was joking and that I would never have forgotten to pass it on.

  Ninety per cent sure Nic didn’t buy the whole, I’ve-been-so-busy-lately-I-really-did-forget-and-meant-to-invite-you-honestly-and-I’m-so-thrilled-you’re-coming excuse. I wouldn’t buy it if it was the other way round to be fair.

  Liz and Nic are now coming. We are hanging by a thread.

  It’s all such a shame because apart from my simmering resentment, Nic and I were actually getting on quite well. I was really pumped about Nick Brooker, and Nic was giving me really good advice.

  Now I’m the terrible friend who gave her two days’ notice to the hottest party in town.

  Sunday 24th March

  GRACE

  I am mostly a genius at parties. I chose very good caterers. Some of my friends are sophisticated enough to enjoy dim sum, and the rest enjoyed the miniature pizzas and tiny, tiny hamburgers. It was a nice touch having actual waiting staff.

  Also, having adults around in some form helped keep some of the more boisterous revellers from getting too carried away and trashing anything.

  I was very happy with the DJ and the lighting system, while the smoke machine added a certain je ne sais quoi.

  Ditto the piñata – looked FAB! As did my ice sculpture of a swan. And (as far as I know) only two boys got their tongues stuck on it this time.

  I didn’t manage to find a snow leopard,
but maybe that was for the best.

  I was really hoping that maybe my friends and Erin’s friends would come together and see our worlds are not so different (not because I’m some damn hippy – just so I could be right and they could eat their words. Natch).

  And, also, there would be no more mutinies and I would be top dog.

  And, to be fair, everything went really well. To start with.

  ERIN

  OK. First of all, it wasn’t my fault!

  Some of it might have been. But not all of it!

  Nic was being kind of aggro to me from the start. (And YES I get why – and some of that is on me – but my patience and sympathy quickly waned.)

  “Is that breakfast bar where you and her majesty queen of swots do your homework together?” she asked snarkily in the kitchen.

  “Uh-huh.” I tried to laugh it off and subtly look around for Nick Brooker, but I couldn’t see him. “Hey! Let’s have a go on the piñata!” I tried to change the subject, and Sophie Wheeler handed me the bat.

  “Ugh, monobrow is here?” Theo said in my face, then walked past me. Nic smirked, which I found infuriating.

  I watched him put way too much dip on a carrot stick. Then he ate it like a monster eating live rats. I thought how much I hated him. Urgh.

  Sophie put the blindfold mask on my face.

  “Make sure you make it tight,” advised Nic. “We don’t want any cheating.”

  I felt this weird shame creeping down my neck. But then it hit my stomach and fizzed into anger and started creeping back up again.

  It was disorientating.

  I mean, obviously – I couldn’t see.

  Plus, Sophie spun me round three times. I was dizzy and hot.

  I felt chastised by Nic, and made a half-hearted attempt to hit the piñata. I know I wasn’t even close. There was some muted giggling nearby.