All About Mia

by Lisa Williamson

  ‘But he’s meant to be with you!’ Kimmie gasps.

  ‘Did you know he was bringing someone tonight?’ Stella demands.

  ‘What a scumbag!’ Mikey cries.

  ‘Look, can you guys please just shut up?’ I beg, desperately trying to get my story straight in my head. ‘My mum or dad might hear you.’

  They may be totally wrapped up in each other right now, but my parents are literally a metre away from us.

  ‘I can’t believe he’s flaunting her in front of you like that,’ Stella continues, her voice still carelessly loud.

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake, will you just shut up,’ I hiss, grabbing her arm and dragging her off the dance floor, Mikey and Kimmie following close behind.

  ‘He didn’t even look at you!’ Stella cries as we spill out into the busy foyer.

  ‘Shut up,’ I repeat. ‘Please!’

  My eyes fall on the photo booth Mum and Dad hired for the night.

  I pull aside the curtain, relieved to discover it empty. Inside, it’s slightly bigger than a normal passport-picture booth, but instead of a swivel chair, there’s a plastic bench with space for three or four people to squeeze their bums onto. We clamber in.

  ‘Are you OK, Mia?’ Kimmie asks.

  ‘I’m fine,’ I insist.

  ‘I wonder if she knows about you?’ she adds.

  ‘As if,’ Stella chimes in. ‘What woman in her right mind would put up with her bloke giving love bites to teenage girls?’

  ‘Maybe he’s going to suggest a threesome?’ Mikey says.

  ‘Oh, Mikey, don’t be so gross!’ Kimmie cries. ‘People don’t actually do stuff like that.’

  ‘Oh, sweet, sweet Kimmie,’ Mikey says, patting her on the head. ‘You’re such an innocent sometimes.’

  The bright yellow light is making me feel dizzy. I just want them to shut up and leave me alone and for this entire day to be over.

  ‘Seriously though, Mia,’ Stella says. ‘What are you going to do? Are you going to say something?’

  ‘No,’ I say. ‘Last weekend was just a one-off. I don’t know why you guys are even bothered. I’m not.’

  ‘So you’re OK with Paul parading his new girlfriend in front of you, then? Jeez, I didn’t have you down as such a pushover, Mia.’

  ‘I’m not a pushover,’ I say. ‘It’s just not worth the energy. I told you, it’s you lot making the big deal out of it, not me.’

  ‘I just don’t get how you can switch your feelings off like that,’ Kimmie says. ‘I know I couldn’t.’

  ‘It was easy,’ I reply loudly. ‘Because there were no feelings. It was just sex, that’s all. If you’d actually done it, Kimmie, maybe you’d understand.’

  Kimmie’s face reddens and I feel a stab of guilt I really don’t have the time for.

  I just need this conversation to be over. Now.

  As if on cue, the introduction to our anthem, ‘Shake It Off’, starts to play in the distance.

  ‘Listen!’ I say. ‘Our song! C’mon, let’s go dance.’

  I lean across Mikey and whip open the curtain, only to reveal Grace, her mouth hanging open in a perfect ‘O’ shape, the expression on her face leaving me in no doubt she just overheard every single word.

  30

  ‘You had sex with Paul?’ Grace whispers. ‘As in Paul who lives next door?’

  Sam is standing just behind her, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

  ‘Mia, answer me,’ Grace says. ‘Did you sleep with Paul?’

  ‘No,’ I say, my voice wobbling like mad as I try to fight my way out of the booth, my heel getting stuck in the curtain. ‘Of course not.’

  ‘Then what were you talking about just now?’

  ‘It’s none of your business. In case you hadn’t noticed, that was a private conversation.’ I try to push past her but she doesn’t let me, her grip on my left wrist surprisingly strong.

  ‘Mia, I can’t just ignore something like that. He’s more than twice your age!’

  ‘So?’

  ‘What do you mean, so? He totally took advantage of you!’

  I have a flashback to what happened on Paul’s sofa. I’ve replayed the scene so many times I can’t remember what’s real and what’s not any more. All I do remember is how crap I felt, how small and childish and stupid.

  ‘No, he didn’t,’ I say. ‘Why do you always assume that? Why can’t you just trust me to look after myself?’

  ‘Because you blatantly can’t!’ she gasps. ‘Oh my God, is that why you were acting so shifty on Monday morning? Is that where you’d been the night before? With Paul?’

  ‘Hang on a second, you were with Paul Sunday night as well as Saturday?’ Mikey asks, frowning.

  Shut up, Mikey. Shut up, shut up, shut up.

  ‘No,’ I say.

  ‘So where were you on Sunday?’ Grace asks.

  ‘I told you, revising at Stella’s,’ I say, praying Stella will play along with me, at least until we’ve managed to get rid of Grace.

  ‘No you weren’t,’ Stella says. ‘You didn’t answer my texts the entire day.’

  ‘In that case, where were you?’ Grace repeats.

  ‘Yeah, where were you?’ Stella says, a strange look on her face.

  ‘Excuse me, I’m sorry to interrupt.’

  Everyone looks round to see who is speaking.

  It’s Cara. Smiling her horrible smug smile. I wonder how long she’s been listening in, how long she’s been plotting to bring me down. Because that’s surely what comes next.

  ‘Hello again, Mia,’ she says. ‘I’m so sorry, I totally forgot that I was supposed to give you a message. From Aaron?’

  Kimmie lets out a tiny gasp.

  ‘He would have called you,’ Cara continues. ‘But you didn’t leave a number. Anyway, last Sunday you left your earrings on his bedside table. The peacock ones? I just thought you might like to know.’

  I’d forgotten about my earrings. Kimmie made them for me for my last birthday. They’re one of my favourite pairs. I glance over at her. Her face is flushed, her eyes flooded with water. Next to her, Mikey and Stella’s mouths are hanging wide open.

  ‘Lucky I bumped into you really, isn’t it?’ Cara adds, her voice sickly sweet. She smiles, flips her limp ponytail over her shoulder and walks back towards the bar.

  Nasty. Evil. Interfering. Bitch.

  Everyone is in a little semicircle, looking at me, hemming me in.

  I turn my attention to Kimmie, whose lower lip is wobbling dangerously.

  ‘Don’t listen to Cara, Kimmie,’ I say desperately. ‘She’s full of crap, just stirring. She fancies Aaron and he blew her off and now she wants revenge. Just ignore her.’

  ‘But that doesn’t make any sense,’ Kimmie says slowly. ‘Why would she drag you into it? She doesn’t even know you.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I stammer. ‘She’s crazy, isn’t she? Totally batshit.’

  ‘Exactly what is going on here, Mia?’ Grace asks. ‘Did something happen between you and Paul or not?’

  I hesitate. ‘No.’

  ‘You lied, then?’ Stella says, blinking in disbelief. ‘But why?’

  ‘It wasn’t my fault. You asked about the love bite and I panicked.’

  ‘Because Aaron gave it you,’ Kimmie says in a tiny voice. ‘Didn’t he?’

  ‘Nothing happened,’ I cry quickly. ‘I was going to tell you all about it, Kimmie, but I thought you might be upset because I got to hang out with him and you didn’t. I don’t even fancy him, you know that.’

  She takes a step towards me, breaking the semicircle formation. My back is pressed right up against the booth now.

  ‘So why were you at his house?’ she asks. ‘Why did you take your earrings off? Why were they on his bedside table?’

  ‘It’s not as bad as it sounds.’ But it is.

  ‘Oh, come on, Mia, we’re not total idiots,’ Stella says, her voice impatient. ‘Just admit it. Did you shag Aaron Butler on Sunday night or not? Y
es or no?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  She pulls a face, like she’s totally disgusted with me. ‘You don’t know? How can you not know, Mia?’

  But I can’t put it into words. Because then I’ll have to admit I never slept with Jordan, that I’ve never slept with anyone properly.

  ‘Oh my God, just tell the truth!’ Stella cries.

  ‘Me? You’re the one applying to uni behind my back!’ I explode.

  ‘What?’

  I describe what I saw under her bed last weekend. It sounds petty when I say it out loud though, silly and insignificant.

  ‘Seriously?’ Stella says, folding her arms. ‘You’re comparing what you’ve done to me sending off for a few university prospectuses?’

  ‘But we pinky swore on it,’ I say, my voice verging on a whine.

  ‘It’s nowhere near the same,’ Stella spits. ‘You outright lied to us, Mia. The end.’

  ‘It’s not that simple,’ I say.

  I turn to Kimmie. She backs away, like she can’t stand to be anywhere near me right now.

  ‘Kimmie,’ I say. ‘Just wait …’

  ‘You knew how much I liked Aaron,’ she says, talking over me. ‘And you don’t even fancy him – you’ve said so at least a thousand times.’

  ‘It’s true, I don’t. It wasn’t like that.’

  ‘Then why did you do it, Mia? Why?’

  Because I felt stupid.

  Because I felt sad.

  Because I wanted to feel sexy.

  And beautiful.

  And like I mattered.

  But I don’t know how to explain any of that. It’s all way too complicated.

  Kimmie gives me one final look, like I’m a smear of dog poo on her foot, before bursting into tears and running towards the exit, Stella and Mikey shooting glares at me before rushing after her, leaving me alone with Grace and Sam.

  ‘What the hell, Mia?’ Grace asks.

  I look up. She has her arms folded across her chest and is shaking her head at me in disappointment. The sight makes my blood boil. It’s her fault I got into this mess in the first place.

  ‘Why do you always have to stick your nose into my business?’ I hiss.

  ‘Excuse me?’ she says, actually daring to pretend she doesn’t know what I’m talking about.

  ‘I had things under control before you opened your big mouth.’

  ‘Under control?’ she scoffs. ‘Are you sure about that?’

  ‘Yes! And then you came in and totally ruined it.’

  She laughs. ‘Oh my God, are you actually trying to blame me for all this?’

  As she turns to Sam as if to say ‘can you believe her?’, I’m flooded with hate. I hate how neat her hair still is; how glowing her stupid pregnant face looks; how she always gets to play the role of ‘Little Miss Perfect’ no matter what the situation.

  ‘You just don’t get it, do you?’ I say.

  Over Grace’s shoulder, I notice Audrey coming towards us.

  ‘There you are,’ she says, her face falling the second she clocks the expressions on our faces. ‘Is everything OK?’ she asks, her eyes round with worry.

  ‘It’s fine,’ Grace says smoothly.

  I almost burst out laughing. Not because it’s funny, but because it’s so ridiculous. Everything is not fine. It’s the opposite of fine; it’s a fucking disaster.

  ‘Mum and Dad have been looking for you,’ Audrey says, her eyes flicking from me to Grace and back again. ‘They want to do a family picture in the photo booth before it gets too busy.’

  ‘Good idea,’ Grace says.

  She turns away from me and starts searching through the box of props and costumes next to the booth. All I can do is stare at her back as she crouches down to select a feather boa and pair of oversized plastic sunglasses.

  ‘Here they are!’ Mum’s voice rings out. ‘My beautiful girls.’

  I look up. She and Dad are walking towards us, arm in arm.

  I stand rigid as Mum plonks a pair of Minnie Mouse ears on my head and a massive plastic medallion round my neck, while the others squeeze inside the booth.

  ‘C’mon, you two,’ Dad says, sticking his head out. ‘We’re waiting.’

  Mum takes my hand. I have no choice but to follow her, grit my teeth and play Happy Families.

  31

  ‘There you are,’ Sam says. ‘I’ve been looking for you everywhere.’

  At least I think it’s Sam. It sounds like Sam anyway.

  I’m right at the end of the terrace, slumped on the stone steps leading down to the lawn, my body sort of folded in half. I dunno how long I’ve been out here. Half an hour? An hour? Longer?

  I get up, kicking over an empty wine bottle. It clinks as it rolls over the paving slabs. The person who I’m now almost eighty-five per cent sure is Sam picks it up and sort of peers at it like he’s never seen a bottle of wine before.

  ‘Mia, did you drink all of this?’ he asks.

  ‘What’s it to you?’

  I sound all funny, like I’ve lost half the letters in the alphabet. It makes me giggle.

  ‘Oh my God, you did, didn’t you?’

  ‘Maybe. Maybe not,’ I say, prodding him in the chest.

  Oh God, there are two of him now. Sam and Sam. I don’t know which one to look at so I settle for somewhere in the middle which makes me giggle even harder.

  ‘Shit, Mia.’

  I tut. ‘It’s my mum and dad’s wedding. Am I really not allowed to have one ’ickle drink?’

  ‘You’ve had more than one, Mia.’

  ‘You’ve had more than one, Mia,’ I repeat, in an exaggerated version of his posh accent. ‘You know what, Sam? I like you and everything but you’re a right spoilsport sometimes.’ I prod him in the chest again, harder this time, forcing him to stumble backwards a couple of steps. ‘Whoops!’

  ‘You promised me you’d stop getting in this state,’ he says. He looks all serious, his mouth set in a straight line.

  ‘What state? I’m not in a state. Look.’ I jump up on the wall and pretend it’s a tightrope. ‘See,’ I say, balancing on one leg. ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘Mia, get down.’

  ‘No,’ I say, running along it, going faster and faster.

  ‘Mia, seriously, get down,’ Sam says, jogging alongside me, his arms outstretched as if primed to catch me. It sets off a fresh wave of giggles.

  ‘Oh, don’t be such an old lady, Sammy!’ It’s not even like I’m that high up. I do a leap. It feels good. Like I’m flying almost. I do another. ‘Look at me, I could be in the circus!’ I squeal.

  ‘I mean it, Mia, get down,’ Sam says. ‘You might hurt yourself.’

  ‘Or the Olympics!’

  ‘Mia, I’m not joking!’

  I blow a raspberry at him and do another leap, then change direction and run back the way I’ve come before transferring to the steps, jumping up and down them in rhythm as I sing. ‘So, do, la, fa, mi, do, re!’ I bellow, pretending I’m all the Von Trapp kids at once.

  I get to the end of the song, the bit where they run up and down the steps while Julie Andrews sings a really high note. Only halfway down, I catch my foot on something and go flying, landing on the grass with a thud.

  ‘Shit,’ I hear Sam cry. ‘Are you OK?’

  The next thing I know he’s kneeling over me, his face centimetres from mine. I can smell the smoked salmon starter from dinner on his breath.

  ‘I’m fine,’ I say.

  ‘Gimme your hand,’ he says, standing up.

  I reach out an arm, but instead of letting him help me up, I pull him onto the ground. He lands on top of me hard, the flower attached to his lapel squishing against my cheek.

  ‘Mia,’ he says. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Rolling!’ I cry. ‘Let’s roll together!’

  I wrap my arms around him and push off with one foot to get us going.

  ‘Mia, stop mucking about,’ he says, trying to prise my fingers apart.

  I’m
on top of him now, pinning him to the lawn, my hair all in his face, in his mouth, making him cough and splutter.

  ‘Stop it,’ I say. ‘I’m doing that thing. That thing where you roll down a hill together.’

  ‘But there is no hill. It’s totally flat.’

  I stick out my lower lip in a sulk. ‘You’re no fun, Sam Castle. Sam Castle,’ I repeat, dissolving into giggles. ‘Sam bloody Castle!’

  ‘Just let me get up, Mia, I’m serious now.’

  ‘No, you’re not. You’re boring. Boring snoring!’

  ‘What’s going on?’

  I can’t work out where the voice is coming from. Only that there’s a light shining right in my eyes suddenly, making me go all squinty.

  ‘What’s going on?’ the voice repeats.

  It sounds strict.

  Grace.

  Perfect Grace being all perfect.

  I pretend to snore loudly.

  ‘Nothing,’ Sam says, wriggling free. I stay where I am, lying on my back, the wet from the damp grass soaking through my dress as I stare up at the stars. They look so pretty tonight. All twinkly and shiny and magical, like something out of the Nativity.

  ‘She was on top of you, Sam,’ Grace is barking.

  She sounds annoyed. More than annoyed. Angry.

  Ha. Now she knows how I feel half the time.

  ‘She’s been drinking,’ Sam says. ‘She fell and when I went to help her up, she pulled me down. Mia, for God’s sake, get up and tell Grace what happened.’

  I’m not getting up. I’m having a perfectly good time lying on the grass, thank you very much.

  Sam grabs my arm, forcing me to stand up.

  I’m all floppy though, and fall straight back down again. ‘I don’t want to get up! I want to stay down here and look at the stars and moons and planets.’ I lie on my back, my arms and legs spread wide.

  ‘Tell Grace,’ he says. ‘Tell her you were just being silly.’

  Inside they’re playing ‘At Last’ by Etta James. I spring up, the blood rushing to my head, and wrap my arms round Sam’s neck.