I bite my lip as I think of all the photos and videos I have of us on my phone. Since I started posting them, my blog has been getting better and better. I’ve just hit 1,000 followers – which feels insane. I wonder how Lily feels having millions and millions of people following her. It must make her feel amazing.
It’s just over two weeks until I get to finally meet her at the lipstick launch party. I nibble the end of my biro.
Will she be as nice in person as she is online?
Mrs Shepherd whacks her fingers against the board. We’re meant to be writing about Mrs Montague, but my hands have a life of their own: they’re doodling lipsticks in the margins of my textbook. As Mrs Shepherd starts talking about Romeo, my fingers start writing Andy’s surname, Butcher, in swirly writing beside the date. I know it’s childish, but I almost can’t stop myself. Hmm. Andy Butcher. Melissa Butcher. Mrs Butcher. (OK, that actually sounds a bit like a serial killer; maybe when we get married, I’ll keep my surname.)
Suze leans over and I instinctively shield my scribblings. She catches a glimpse of them and sighs.
‘Didn’t you see enough of him at lunch?’ she snaps.
I put down my pen. I know Suze must be a bit jealous, but, seriously, what’s up with her?
‘Look, do you have a problem with me having a boyfriend?’
Suze has been acting really weird the last few days. Every lunch, I’ve been going to visit Andy and his friends on the field, yet she won’t come with me. When I asked her yesterday, she just started muttering about needing to meet her friends for swing band.
I know that she must be a bit scared of sixth-formers, but Andy and Rish aren’t intimidating – they’re nice. I mean, I’m sure Rish would be interested in her at the very least if she came with me a few lunchtimes. It’s not like she’s not pretty; she just wears her hair as a wild, frizzy mane and doesn’t wear a scrap of make-up, so her eyes look bare. She’d probably be way prettier than me if she actually bothered. When we used to play with make-up when we were younger, I once gave her a makeover and lined her eyes in thick kohl and smoky grey eyeshadow. They looked huge. Then I slicked lip gloss on her puffy, pale lips, and even her big hair started to look cool in an 80s-throwback kinda way.
But right now she’s squinting at me, her white eyelashes brushing against the lenses of her glasses, faint frown lines creasing her pale forehead. She gives a tiny shake of her head and bushy blonde coils spring out of her ponytail.
‘I don’t have a problem with you having a boyfriend – it’s just . . . what happened to seeing friends? I haven’t seen you all week.’
I have to fight hard not to bite my tongue. This is ridiculous. I see Suze nearly every lesson. Well, apart from textiles and art, because Chloe asked me to sit with her, plus Suze often leaves those lessons halfway through for band practice.
I suck in my breath.
‘Look, Andy is everything I’ve ever wanted. I’m sorry if he’s taking up a lot of my time, but we’re still getting to know each other. Don’t you want me to be happy?’
‘Is he?’ she says.
‘What?’
‘Is. He. Everything. You’ve. Ever. Wanted,’ she says slowly.
‘Um, what are you saying?’
‘I’m not saying anything. I’m just asking if he’s really everything you’ve ever wanted. What do you actually like about him?’
My mouth drops open. I thought Suze was jealous, but not mean.
‘Andy is the perfect boyfriend. I don’t have to justify myself to you.’
Suze starts tapping on her phone screen. She purses her lips.
‘OK. I didn’t want to ask – but, Issa . . . look.’
She points to a photo on my blog of me and Andy. It has over a hundred comments underneath from my followers. I fold my arms.
‘Yeah, so what?’
‘Well, this is Andy on your blog, isn’t it? Except you keep calling him Zeke. Does he know about this?’
I feel throb of panic go through me. Shit. Shit. Shit.
‘Yeah, that’s his nickname. It’s – er – a pet name.’ My cheeks warm up.
Suze looks straight into my eyes.
‘It’s, erm, Zeke, which rhymes with “brek”, because we always meet at break, because he loves breakfast . . . It’s a joke – you wouldn’t get it.’
‘Issa . . .’ The worry crease on her forehead deepens.
‘Look, I don’t have to explain myself, OK? You don’t know him. This is my relationship, not yours. You don’t understand – you can’t. You don’t even have a boyfriend.’
Suze blinks as though I’ve slapped her.
At that moment the bell rings, and I stand up before Mrs Shepherd has a chance to tell me to sit down. Without looking at Suze, I throw my bag on my shoulder and stalk out of the class.
I actually can’t believe she asked me that about Andy. Implying that he’s not everything I’ve ever wanted. He’s perfect. We’re perfect. I know that.
I can’t believe she isn’t happy for me. If this was the other way round, I’d be delighted for her. I was even going to offer to set her up with Rish, but fat chance of that now. She’d rather I spent every moment of my life single and sitting around moaning about my lack of love life with her. She doesn’t want me to be happy.
I can’t believe this. I can’t believe she can be so jealous. I thought she was my friend.
When I reach the year-eleven toilets, I notice my eyeliner has run underneath my eyes. I’m dabbing the smudge with a tissue when someone speaks from behind.
‘What are you doing?’
I nearly drop my eyeliner in the basin.
Oh God. It’s Amber.
There’s this weird girl who spends all her time alone sitting in the year-eleven toilets. Everyone at school avoids her, but she sometimes speaks to me because Suze is nice to her.
I don’t say anything back and quickly try to redo my makeup.
‘What are you doing?’ she says again, her voice monotone.
‘Um, what? Nothing.’ I sniff.
‘You’re crying,’ she says.
‘No, I’m not; it’s just my make-up.’
‘You are—’
Amber opens her mouth to keep speaking, but I’ve finished applying my mascara, so I twist the wand shut and walk out. She stares at me and the door swings shut.
CHAPTER 33
Lily
The next fortnight passes by in a blur of day-long meetings and being glued to my laptop, working late into the night.
Everything is finally ready for my lipstick launch party tomorrow, but for some reason I can’t sit still. Every time I try to relax, my heart quickens, and when I close my eyes my vision swims with taglines and hashtags.
I haven’t really had a chance to think about Bryan, but things have been OK between us. He even stayed up with me several nights to help me plan the lipstick launch. He’s like a changed man. Maybe it’s just what we needed – a bit of time apart. Chris messaged me on Facebook a couple of days ago, but I’ve genuinely been so busy I haven’t had a chance to read it.
There’s a thickness in my throat as I think of my evening with Chris. Why did I let him carry me? I can’t stop thinking about our walk along the river, and how stupid I was for not assuming he had a girlfriend.
I’ve been up since five this morning replying to emails to help organize the launch. One of my eyes is bloodshot, which I’m hoping disappears by tomorrow so I don’t look a state in all the fan photographs. I squeeze a couple of drops into my eye and squint at my reflection. I don’t look my best.
My outfit is laid out on the spare-room bed. For the launch, I’m planning to wear a short, sleeveless red-and-black floral playsuit, paired with tights and flat ankle boots. Then I’m going to accessorize with a couple of long gold necklaces and these big feather earrings to emphasize my pixie cut.
I stare in the mirror and plaster on a smile. Don’t worry – tomorrow will be fine. For some reason, my fingers are shaking as I smooth them o
ver my stomach. My tummy lets out a gurgled rumble. Shit. I have a meeting in ten, and I forgot to eat lunch. I breathe out slowly.
It’s fine; I’ll grab a chocolate bar.
CHAPTER 34
Melissa
I feel a pang of guilt as I see Suze sitting by herself in our textiles class, quietly copying out Mrs Burke’s notes. She takes extra care to print everything neatly with her fountain pen, her fluffy head bent over the desk. When the bell goes, she picks up her huge pile of revision books without even glancing at me and walks out of class – her low-heeled Clarks shoes clicking against the laminate floor.
I gather my books and head out to the far field. When I get there, I can see the familiar shapes of Andy and Rish crouched by a tree. Andy is lying back on the grass while Rish is talking loudly and drumming a beat on his backpack.
I sit down beside them and click open Instagram on my phone. Suze barely uses Instagram. She just has photos of these prehistoric fossils she collects and occasional shots of her swing band. There’s not one single photo of her face. If I didn’t know she was FossilGirl269, there’d be no way of telling it was her account.
I click back to my homepage and scroll through the beauty bloggers and celebrities I follow. There’s one of a brunette girl with cropped hair pouting while seductively biting a granola bar with #AD beneath it. Her skin is so golden and perfect; her lips are full, peach-coloured and lightly glistening as she bites.
I sigh.
Rish leans over my shoulder. ‘Oh for God’s sake, don’t tell me you follow her.’
I shoot him a look. ‘What’s wrong with following Ky? She’s stunning.’
Rish snorts. ‘Right. Let me look at this.’
He snatches my phone off me and starts scrolling through my feed.
‘She looks like her lips have been mutilated. This one has been edited so much, she doesn’t have a nose –’ Rish zooms in on the breasts of the last image – ‘and those are hideously fake. She looks like a blow-up doll.’
My face burns. ‘You’re wrong! They all look amazing. I’d love to look like that.’
Rish just kind of stares at me and frowns. ‘Really?’
I turn to Andy. He’s still lying on his back in the grass, trying to balance a shoe on one finger. I nudge him.
‘What do you think?’ I say. ‘Don’t these girls look hot?’
Andy’s shoe tumbles off his thumb.
‘Answer me!’ I give him a little shake.
‘They don’t look like real people,’ butts in Rish. ‘You’ve just been brainwashed.’
A burning sensation rises up my chest. How dare he say that? Just because I know what looks attractive. I bet if I’d turned up bare-faced with my hair in a mess, Rish and Andy wouldn’t have given me a second glance. In fact, I know they wouldn’t.
‘Everyone wants to look their best. There’s nothing wrong with it. It’s normal, it’s—’
Andy moans loudly. ‘For God’s sake, will you two shut up.’
I turn on him. ‘Are these girls attractive?’
Andy glances at the screen. ‘I mean, yeah – obviously they’re fit.’
I smile at Rish triumphantly.
He breathes out slowly and shakes his head.
I take my phone back and close Instagram. Underneath, it’s open on my camera roll, and there’s an image I uploaded to my blog last night. It’s me and Andy standing outside Borough Market in London.
My body freezes.
Locking the screen, I shoot a look at Rish. I’m not sure if he saw.
I keep my head down until the end of lunch, when Andy and me split off to go to class.
Rish taps me on the shoulder. ‘Oi. You’re heading to the science block next, aren’t you?’
I shrug. ‘Yeah, I guess.’
Rish is staring at me too much as I walk along; it’s making me uncomfortable. I look the other way.
He grabs my elbow. ‘OK. What’s going on?’
His breath is warm and too close to my ear. I wriggle free of his grasp.
‘What are you on about?’
‘I’m guessing Andy hasn’t noticed? All those photos and videos you’re taking of him. What are you up to – making a shrine?’
Blood rushes to my cheeks. ‘What? No – it’s nothing!’
Rish looks at me. ‘Seriously though, they’re not on Facebook or Instagram. What are you doing?’
‘It’s nothing – I’m not . . .’ I stare ahead, avoiding his gaze.
‘You’re a terrible liar.’ His face breaks into a grin.
‘I just . . . It’s not . . . It’s nothing to do with you. Why don’t you leave it?’
Rish shrugs and, as Mr Packham walks by, spits his gum out on the floor.
‘Whatever,’ he says. ‘Just . . . keep it real, OK?’
What does that mean? Does he know?
His eyes meet mine. A flush warms my cheeks. It almost feels like when Suze looks at me. Like he can see directly into my mind.
Whistling loudly, Rish swings his backpack over one shoulder and breaks into a jog, overtaking me. He sails into the science block, wraps his arms around a couple of guys from upper sixth, and says something, throwing his head back with laughter.
I stare at the back of his sunburned neck and gnaw the inside of my cheek.
CHAPTER 35
Melissa
‘Go on! It’ll be fun . . . No, I won’t show it to anyone. Yeah, no it’s fine; it’ll just be on my phone. Yeah, I’ll pretend like I’m talking to someone. We can have fake names. It’ll be cool – I’ll call you “Zeke”. Haha, it’s not weird – it’s just silly, isn’t it? It’ll be fun!’
***
‘Hello, everyone . . . Hello? Hey-lo? Man, I said that weird. Anyway, so yeah, me and my boyfriend, Zeke, are here today just exploring our local park. We’ve actually got a picnic planned – I’m super excited – it’s going to be so, so fun . . . !’
I watch back the clip on my laptop and start chopping and editing the footage. I don’t like the way I look in most of the shots – my make-up has run in some of them, and my voice sounds weirdly high-pitched, but I can hardly trick Andy into doing a second shot.
I cut out all the scenes where I don’t look pretty, and trim it down to a three-minute video. My hand hovers for just a second over the publish button. But I’m not worried about Andy or people at school seeing this. I don’t even speak to Suze any more, and she’s the only person I told. Rish hasn’t mentioned it again, so I think I was just being paranoid. No one is going to find out.
My blog has exploded since I started posting almost daily photos of me and Andy (or Zeke). I now have almost 2,000 followers. There’s been so many comments about how cute we look together, how we are #relationshipgoals, and how he looks like the perfect boyfriend.
I feel a buzz of pleasure every time I read what my followers are saying. One comment even made me dance around the room in delight. It was from one of my favourite friend bloggers, LizzieAbFab:
You two have to be the most gorgeous, most in-love couple I have ever seen. So jealous. #relationshipgoals <3
When I see our photos and watch our videos, part of me still can’t believe it’s actually happening. I never thought I’d be so happy – or that I’d be someone other people would be jealous of. This must be how Lily and Bryan feel all the time.
I’ve been watching more and more of Lily’s old date videos. It gives me inspiration for things me and Andy could do, and things I can film. I feel like our lives are so similar now – I genuinely can’t wait to meet her in real life.
At that moment, my phone buzzes with a text. It’s Suze. I haven’t heard from her in about two weeks. Tentatively, I click the message open.
S: Hey, I’m really sorry. I know I said I could go, but I don’t think I’ll be able to make the LilyLoves lipstick party. I have band practice that evening and it’s getting close to the end-of-year show. Hope that’s OK xx
I breathe out slowly and grit my teeth. Without even r
eplying, I delete her text and click on Chloe’s chat icon.
I: Random, but I have a spare free ticket for LilyLoves London lipstick launch this Saturday – fancy coming with me? X
Chloe texts back almost instantly.
C: Love to x
CHAPTER 36
Lily
Mindy has arranged a taxi with blacked-out windows to take me to the venue. I’m sitting in the cool back seat, wrapping my fingers round the thin gold chain of my necklace, when there’s an ear-splitting scream.
There are lines and lines of people crowded across the pavement, the queue snaking back across the street. Through the windows, there’s the muffled sound of a thousand voices.
The taxi driver turns round and looks at me, his mouth open.
‘Are all these people here for you?’
I don’t know what to say. My throat is dry. I try to swallow, but I can’t.
A girl in the queue turns round and starts pointing at our blacked-out windows. My heart starts to thump like a lunatic.
More people are twigging that I might be in the car. A few break out of the crowd and start running beside us. In a split second, the tide turns, and an avalanche of people engulf us.
A thousand screaming girls throw themselves at the windows. They can’t see me through the tinted glass, but I can see them: their wide, urgent eyes; their gaping, shrieking mouths. I turn away – but there are people on the other side. They start hammering on the windows, and the car starts to rock. I dive down, wedging my head between my legs.
‘I’ve never seen anything like it!’ bellows the taxi driver, but I’m not listening.
I press my forehead into my clammy knees and squeeze my eyes shut, trying to pretend I’m not there.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
I can hear Mum in my head. ‘Calm, Lily. Calm. Everything is fine.’
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Oh God, why are so many people here? Isn’t this a ticketed event? I thought there was a limit!
Thud. Thud. Thud.
‘Hold on tight,’ says the driver.
The horn emits a loud, continuous roar as he attempts to clear the path.
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