My [Secret] YouTube Life

by Charlotte Seager

  Slut! I hope you realize what a scumbag you are, ruining Lily’s life! People like you desrve to dye, make me so angry!!!!!!!!!

  What the hell?! I don’t even know where to start. This girl is seriously messed up . . .

  A dry lump thickens my throat.

  I did this. I lied to people. I deserve it.

  A breeze rustles through the grass. The cold air raises the hairs on my arms. I feel so far away from the ground beneath my feet – so far away from real life.

  What have I done?

  My phone starts buzzing manically. Mum. It’s two hours since school finished, and she has only just noticed I haven’t come home. Typical.

  I tap the answer icon.

  ‘Melissa? Is that you?’

  ‘Yes, it’s me,’ I whisper.

  ‘Where the hell are you?’

  ‘I’m at the park near school.’

  She mutters something to Dad under her breath.

  ‘Oh for God’s sake! What are you doing hanging around a park? You’re not drinking, are you? Are you with boys?’

  I try to answer her, but all that comes out is a strangled whimper. I can’t deal with Mum, not now. Not when my whole life is unravelling to nothing.

  There’s silence at the other end of the line, followed by a drawn-out sigh.

  ‘Fine. Wait there. I’m coming to get you.’

  I want to tell her not to bother, but to be honest I don’t have the energy to argue with her. And ten minutes later when Mum leaps out of her Land Rover I don’t even have the strength to look up.

  She grips my arm and yanks me upright.

  ‘What is wrong with you?’ she says, peering at me. Her hair is scraped back into a severe knot and there’s a deep crease on her forehead.

  Her face changes. ‘Is everything OK?’

  I pull my arm away. ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘You’ve dropped your phone,’ she says helpfully.

  ‘Oh for God’s sake, just leave me alone, OK?’

  Mum’s nostrils flare. ‘Look, will you stop behaving like a spoilt brat? Things haven’t been easy for me, y’know. Life has been manic. Aidy is still scared of swimming – he’s falling behind the other kids . . .’

  ‘Things haven’t been good for me either, actually.’

  Mum puts on her ‘concerned face’ – head on one side, lips pursed. ‘I know, I know. Your GCSEs are only a few weeks away; you must be feeling so much pressure.’

  This takes me aback slightly. ‘Um, yes, I guess.’

  I fidget. Should I tell her what’s going on? She didn’t grow up with the internet; there’s no way she’ll understand. Oh, screw it. It’s not as though I have any friends any more. Who else am I going to tell? With trembling fingers, I click open my blog.

  ‘Look,’ I whisper.

  Mum takes my phone, her brow knitted.

  ‘Is this . . . ?’ She flicks to the photo of me and Andy. ‘Is this you? Who is this boy?’

  I sigh. That’s the only thing she cares about – that there’s a boy there.

  ‘Yes.’

  She scrolls down to the first comment.

  You worthless, lying slag. I wish I could smash you in the . . .

  Mum’s eyes widen. ‘Melissa, what is this? What are these people saying? I don’t understand.’

  Her voice is getting shrill. She scrolls down the page, her face looking more horrified by the second.

  I hug my elbows and lean against the park bench, rocking myself.

  ‘Are they talking about you?’ she says. ‘Are you being cyberbullied?’

  There’s a long pause.

  Tears of humiliation sting my eyes.

  But instead of screaming at me, Mum takes my arms in hers and places my head against her chest. The feel of her cold, clammy skin makes me cringe. I want to tear myself away, but I have no strength left.

  She pats my hair awkwardly.

  ‘Come back to the car. We’re going home.’

  I don’t argue. I don’t say anything. I slip quietly into the front seat and rub my eyes on my school shirt.

  I don’t want Mum to think I’m weak. I pull out a hand mirror and try to clean up my face, but it’s a mess of red and black splotches. With a sniff I click my mirror shut and stare out of the window.

  Mum starts the car and stares at the road ahead.

  ‘I know you think I’m a monster, and I know I’m not the best mum. You’re right – I don’t get you. I don’t understand you at all.’

  I stare ahead, not responding.

  ‘When you were little, you were always so happy and so sweet – everyone loved you. People would stop me in the street to tell me how pretty you were. You loved getting dressed up – you used to make me put your plaits in every morning. “Do my hair, Mummy, hair,” you used to say, and you wouldn’t go to school until I’d got it right.’ Mum smiles at the memory. ‘You were the sweetest little thing.’

  I stiffen in my seat. I get it – I’m not cute any more. She doesn’t need to go on about it – I know I’m ugly now.

  ‘But now you’re always so unhappy, and cross with both of us. I don’t know what to do. Maybe I do spend too much time with Aidy, but it’s not on purpose – you’re just so much harder. I don’t know how all the other mums do it, how they know what to say to their teenage daughters. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong . . .’

  Mum trails off. For some reason fresh tears are spilling down my cheeks. I subtly dab at them with my hand. I don’t want Mum to see.

  She glances at me.

  ‘Oh, Melissa,’ she says.

  ‘I-I don’t know what I’m doing either.’

  ‘Is there anyone you can talk to? I know you find it hard to talk to me. A teacher?’

  I snort as tears dribble down my cheeks.

  ‘Well, what about a friend? What about Suze? You always got on really well with her.’

  I shake my head. ‘No, I can’t speak to Suze; we’re not friends any more. I don’t want to talk to anyone.’

  ‘No,’ she says firmly. ‘I think you need to. I’m going to take you round to Suze’s; she’ll know what to say.’

  I open my mouth to protest, but there’s no point arguing with her. Within a few minutes, Mum has pulled up outside Suze’s house. Without a word, she hauls me to the front door and rings the doorbell. When Suze’s mum answers, she calls Suze down and they both step into the kitchen, nattering about Aidy and Suze’s little sister.

  I stand in the porch, staring at a withered potted plant on their front step, as Suze emerges from the living room. She’s wearing her frizzy hair scraped back, round glasses and old dungarees with a rip across the chest.

  ‘Oh, hi,’ she says, glancing back at the living-room door.

  ‘Hi,’ I say, not looking at her properly.

  Oh God, what has Mum done?

  Suze clearly doesn’t want to see me – she keeps fidgeting and looking behind her.

  At that moment, a tall, dark girl clutching a clarinet comes through into the hallway. She’s wearing a baggy hoody and thick-rimmed glasses and has a square Afro, which falls across her forehead. She sees me and blinks.

  ‘Hey,’ she says, with a sideways glance at Suze.

  Who is she?! Suze doesn’t hang out with anyone outside school. She never has people round, like, ever. And she’s not family – I know all Suze’s cousins.

  I look at Suze, my eyes wide.

  ‘Um, yeah, this is Abi, my um . . .’ She starts to go red and looks at the floor. ‘My girlfriend.’

  CHAPTER 53

  Lily

  The gap in our back fence is smaller than I remember. The brambles coil so tightly around the wood that if you didn’t know it was there you’d never find it. Kneeling down, I dig around in the foliage. It’s dark, but I daren’t turn on my phones torch with the reporters outside.

  Ouch. A spiked stem pricks my thumb. I stick it in my mouth and taste tangy, metallic blood.

  I push the brambles apart, close my eyes and force myse
lf through the tangle. Leaves and thorns prick my jumper and skin, but eventually I reach the hard frame of the fence.

  The tiny gap we used to crawl through is still there, but when I feel it, it’s not even a metre in length.

  There’s no way I’ll fit through that.

  But the fence now only comes up to my stomach. Gently, I lift one foot on the lower ledge. The fence sways unsteadily. Making sure to balance, I slowly twist my body up and over, protecting my face from the thick brambles, and squeeze across to the other side.

  I stumble up a dirt bank. Untangling my jacket and hair from the bush, I reach the top of the slope in a couple of steps.

  I look out across the forgotten field, flanked by trees, my chest rising and falling.

  Now what?

  My phone, which I’ve swiped to the lowest brightness setting, is silent. I stifle a shiver as the cool night air rattles the leaves in the trees.

  The bushes nearby rustle. Hairs on the back of my arm brush up with a prickling sensation.

  Has one of the journalists found me?

  I take a step backwards, hugging my elbows, poised to bolt back to the cottage if I need to. A dark figure emerges into the clearing. He takes a step, then swears as his trousers get snagged by branches.

  ‘Is that you?’ I whisper, as loudly as I dare.

  ‘Lily?’ says Chris.

  My whole body relaxes. ‘Yes!’

  In the outline of the moonlight, Chris’s face curves into a smile. ‘Walk?’ he says.

  I try to smile back, but my body tenses up at the thought of being caught. ‘Only if no one sees us.’

  He nods. ‘That’s the plan.’

  We walk along the path we used to take, towards the church. I feel myself easily fall into silent step with him. Chris lightly touches my elbow and gestures at the break in the path. My arm fizzes at his touch.

  ‘This way, it’s quieter,’ he says.

  We turn left, away from the church, and towards a neglected country path along the river walk. As we step more into the open, I glance round, expecting reporters to leap out from every bush and start flashing cameras in my face. My heart quickens. I close my eyes, trying to blot out the thoughts, but the images still dance through my mind.

  Chris glances at me.

  Without saying a word, he puts an arm gently across my shoulder.

  I want to nuzzle into his chest, but I freeze.

  What if someone sees? What if there’s another photographer in that far field with a long lens, capturing every shot? I unlink his arm from mine.

  He frowns, and brushes a hand through his hair, looking off into the distance.

  ‘Shall we . . . um?’ I gesture towards a couple of low trees, which we used to use as a den when we were kids.

  Chris nods. Ducking down, he pushes aside the trees to help me step through, the branches scraping across his broad back.

  ‘Thanks,’ I mouth.

  After a few crouched steps, we come to a clearing where you can just about sit up. I slide down on to my knees, and Chris awkwardly crosses his long legs. He turns on the torch on his phone and spins it round so we can see each other.

  He tilts it towards the ground to lower the glare. But even this small light makes me glance around, watching for any movement. We’re completely surrounded by branches, but I still don’t feel safe.

  Chris clears his throat.

  ‘I, um, saw what the Daily Mail . . .’ He sees my face. ‘How’re you holding up?’

  ‘Yeah, I guess . . .’ I try to finish the sentence, but my voice breaks.

  Chris reaches over and gently takes my hand. His thumb brushes across my palm and my heart drums in my ears. There’s a moment of hesitation, then he moves closer, wrapping his arm round my shoulder.

  I feel tears well up as I close my eyes and lean against his warm chest. I press my face into his body.

  The stubble of his beard scratches against my forehead.

  The weight of everything crashes down on me. Tears run down my cheeks. I tilt my head up to him, sniffing.

  ‘Chris . . .’

  He brushes his lips against my forehead.

  In the dim light, I imagine I can see his face coming towards mine. There’s a weird, queasy feeling in my stomach.

  No.

  ‘I . . . I can’t.’ I turn my face away.

  ‘What?’ he says.

  ‘I can’t do that . . . Imagine if we were seen again.’

  Chris’s face changes slightly. ‘Do what, Lily?’

  He moves his arm away, and his face hardens.

  A cold wind sweeps across my neck and makes me shiver. I watch the light of Chris’s phone cutting through the thicket, and bite my lip.

  CHAPTER 54

  Melissa

  A look passes between Suze and Abi, as if to say, ‘She didn’t know?’ Suze subtly, almost imperceptibly, tilts her head.

  ‘Y-your girlfriend?’ My voice comes out as a squeak.

  ‘Anyway, I’ve got to – um . . . I was just heading off,’ says Abi, glancing at me.

  A warmth spreads up my neck. What is seriously going on? I’ve known Suze since we were five. She never said anything when I told her about my crushes. She never mentioned girls . . . But, come to think of it, did she ever mention boys? Oh God! I thought she was shy! How did I get this so wrong?

  I think of the thousands of ‘slut’ messages on my blog, and my eyes fill with tears.

  How did I get everything so wrong?

  She’s my best friend. Why didn’t she tell me?

  Because she’s not my best friend any more, is she? When was the last time we spoke? What am I even doing here?

  ‘It’s fine; I’ll leave,’ I say, sniffing. I get it. Suze doesn’t want me here – Abi loves her. She obviously felt like she could tell Abi everything she couldn’t tell me. She doesn’t need anyone else. Her and Abi are blissfully happy. I know when I’m not wanted.

  Suze looks pained.

  ‘No, stay. Abi really was just leaving.’

  Abi turns to Suze and gives her a gentle kiss on the cheek, which makes her face turn even redder. My chest pangs. I don’t think Andy ever kissed me that gently.

  ‘See ya.’ She nods, bowing out of the front door.

  Suze glances in the direction of both our mums, who we can hear chattering loudly in the living room. She lets out a long, loud breath.

  ‘I guess you’d better come upstairs.’

  ***

  Suze’s bedroom hasn’t been decorated in years. It’s white, with these pink rose-petal cushions that her mum bought her, juxtaposed with these huge, dusty prehistoric shells that Suze collects – each labelled with squirly writing and an estimated date. In the corner, there’s a stack of music books and a clarinet propped up against her desk. Somehow, it works.

  Suze stands away from me, arms crossed, staring at the far wall.

  My mouth opens, but no words come out. I wind a loose thread of fabric round and round my thumb until I can’t feel the tip.

  Suze looks at me biting my lips, and tilts her head to one side.

  ‘Issa, I—’

  ‘Suze—’

  I clear my throat and look down. Shame burns my cheeks.

  Suze purses her lips.

  ‘I didn’t mean for you to find out like this,’ she says. ‘I guess I should have told you. I just didn’t know how to say it.’

  ‘I know, I . . .’ My vision starts to blur. ‘I didn’t – I was so obsessed with Andy, I didn’t even ask. I had no idea.’

  Wetness dribbles down my cheeks. My lip starts to shake.

  Oh God.

  ‘I’M SUCH A CRAP FRIEND!’

  I burst into tears. Proper tears, that I didn’t show Mum. That I didn’t think I would show anyone. Big, ugly, chest-racking sobs.

  I’ve messed everything up.

  It’s not just my blog. It’s everything. My best and only friend – this was going on in her life, and I had no idea. I was so wrapped up in me. I didn’t even
think. I didn’t care.

  As I cry, I feel the tickle of wiry hair on my wet cheek, and slim, soft arms round my shoulders – pulling me into her warm chest.

  ‘Oh, Issa. How could you have known? I didn’t even know really, not for sure. Until I met Abi.’

  When I draw away, Suze has a worry frown across her pale forehead.

  ‘I tried to tell you, but I couldn’t . . . You were always talking about boys – I didn’t think . . .’

  ‘I’m an awful frien—’ My voice cracks.

  Suze lifts her eyes to the ceiling. ‘No. I’m the bad friend. All the stuff you did. I saw your blog. I knew what you were doing . . . I should have stopped you.’

  I sniff into her neck. ‘I don’t think anyone could have stopped me.’

  Suze holds me at arms’ length and looks right into my eyes. Her irises are so blue – they’re like a laser seeing straight inside my brain. I almost want to look away.

  ‘Why did you do it?’ she says quietly. ‘Everyone thinks you lied about the picture for attention. I just . . . Why? What did you think would . . . ?’

  Suze’s temple is creased. She looks torn about whether to comfort me or tell me off.

  ‘I told you this would happen, didn’t I? I told you that you didn’t really like Andy and that Chloe was a bitch.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I blurt out. ‘I’ve been so stupid. I don’t know why . . .’

  She tilts her natural-looking face to one side.

  ‘I know why. You’re an idiot,’ she says with a small smile.

  ‘I’m really sorry. I should never have gone off with Andy. Or Chloe. Or Louise.’

  Suze breathes out.

  ‘No. I should have told you what was going on with me. You were right. Maybe I was a bit annoyed about you spending so much time with them. And when you said I was jealous of Andy –’ Suze scrunches up her face, eyes glistening – ‘I . . . I couldn’t have told you then.’

  ‘I should never have made you feel like that,’ I say, and my head starts to throb. ‘You were right. Me and Andy never even had one proper conversation. Oh God, how did I not notice? Andy, Chloe, you – how did I get everything so wrong—’