by Chloe Seager
‘I’m here.’
‘Are you OK?’
‘I think I just need to go to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow.’
‘OK. Night night. I love you.’
‘I love you, too.’
posted by EditingEmma 18.20
En-sausaged
All sausaged up in bed where no one can hurt me. The door slammed and Mum came raging up the stairs shouting, ‘EMMA! EMMA!’ But I am unperturbed in my roll. Sausages do not have thoughts. She stormed in, her face all red, then she saw me and softened. She leant down.
‘What happened?’
I tried to talk but a sort of strangled wail came out.
‘Emma, I’ve had another call from Mr Morris. I don’t care how bad things seem, you must never, EVER just walk out of school. OK?’
I nodded. She tried to coax me out with a shepherd’s pie, and sat on the floor next to my bed spoon-feeding it to me. I couldn’t help but laugh at how ridiculous we must look. She laughed too until I accidentally spat a bit of pie on the floor.
posted by EditingEmma 21.06
Had to get out of bed to wee. Stupid body. Feeling so miserable I could barely be bothered to put in a tampon. I just sort of stared at it for about fifteen minutes, gathering momentum to use it. I went on my phone briefly. It felt like everyone’s photos were saying ‘We are SO MUCH HAPPIER THAN YOU’ and it just made me feel even more lonely. Saw Paolo was online and put my phone under my pillow. I don’t feel like I have the energy to be anything but my miserable, pathetic self right now.
Friday, 19 September
posted by EditingEmma 08.39
Losing My Mind
I was so distracted this morning I’ve forgotten to wear deodorant and brush my teeth. I am actually repugnant.
posted by EditingEmma 10.34
In Maths
‘Holly, do you have any deodorant I can borrow?’
‘No, sorry. I just get Botox in my armpits.’
‘I… What?’
‘My aunt’s an anaesthetist,’ she says, like that explains it all.
I pause for a second.
‘So you just… don’t sweat?’
‘Oh, no, I do. But it comes out other places. Like my boobs.’
posted by EditingEmma 13.07
Ms Parker handed out our grade sheets for the presentations. She didn’t look at me as she gave me mine. I think she’s annoyed at me for putting in zero effort. Agh, as if I don’t have enough to worry about without mothers and teachers constantly showing that they’re people with emotions, too.
‘You read it,’ I said to Steph.
She scanned her eyes over the sheet, her mouth agape like a fish.
‘I don’t believe it,’ she said, handing it back to me.
‘What? How bad is it??’
‘You got an A.’
‘What?? You’re lying!’
She wasn’t lying. Curiouser and curiouser… My comments read:
Well, Emma, you could have been better prepared but after watching twenty-five Victor Frankensteins I decided to give you an A for originality. Don’t make me regret it.
P.S. German???
I was feeling pretty smug until Steph pointed out that no matter what happened today, it would always be the day I forgot to brush my teeth.
posted by EditingEmma 13.24
Mum drove up to the school with a toothbrush. She quickly handed it over, glancing around her all shady-like.
‘Mum, you know you’re not selling me marijuana.’
‘Just take it and get back inside.’
I looked back at school and it seemed very bleak… The car looked so warm and cosy.
‘Mum, can I come home with you?’
She rolled up the window and sped off.
posted by EditingEmma 13.51
The Burden That is Food Technology
‘What are you making in FT, Emma?’ asked Gracie.
Oh bollocks. I forgot. Every week we have ‘activities’ and Mum thought it would be a good idea to choose FT, so that I learn how to survive without her.
Now I’m frantically going around collecting pieces of fruit. So far I have Steph’s apple, Faith’s orange, a banana I bought from the tuck shop and a lemon from Crazy Holly. She was reluctant to let go of the lemon at first but I let her plait my hair for a while and she gave it to me.
Emma Nash @Em_Nasher
What can one make with an orange, banana, apple and a lemon?
Emma Nash @Em_Nasher
Dammit! The orange rolled under a bush. Make that a banana, apple and a lemon. HELP.
posted by EditingEmma 15.14
Got to dreaded FT and, of course, Apple is in our class. UGH. I know that Gracie’s talking to me, but all I can do is watch Apple, sitting there smiling and… SHE JUST LOOKED AT HER PHONE. Is it Leon??! Is he messaging her?! Oh God. This is going to be so bad for my ‘stop obsessing over Leon’ resolution.
At the beginning of class everyone sits with their ingredients in front of them explaining to Ms McElroy what they’re going to make, and the method. Apple is making rainbow rose meringue cookies. My apple, banana and lemon look a little sad.
‘So, Emma,’ Ms McElroy glanced at the fruit, ‘what are you making today?’
‘Uh, fruit salad.’
‘I see. And how are you going to do it?’
‘Well, Ms McElroy, I thought I’d chop up the apple first, then the banana, and then squeeze the lemon juice over it.’
I cut the fruit reaaally slowly. But now I’m done. Hmm. What to do now? Stare intensely at the back of Apple’s head? Yes, that will pass the time.
posted by EditingEmma 15.57
Ms McElroy went around tasting everyone’s food. She said Apple’s cookies tasted like ‘fresh, spring buds opening up to the sun’, and I had a really vivid daydream that she started choking on one.
When she tried my salad she closed her eyes and said, ‘Mmm, yes, the lemon really harmonises with the banana and the apple.’
She is mad. But at least I sort of got away with it.
posted by EditingEmma 19.32
Why Do Parents Have to Be People?
I could hear Mum on the phone to someone.
‘I just don’t know what to do… I think it’s that boy again.’
‘MUM! CAN YOU PLEASE NOT DISCUSS MY PRIVATE PROBLEMS WITH YOUR FRIENDS.’
‘Hang on,’ she said, and slammed the door to her room so I couldn’t hear her any more. As if I shouldn’t be hearing a conversation about my life. Ten minutes later, she came into my room.
‘Finished discussing me, have we? I’m sorry, I do hope I didn’t interrupt.’
‘That was your father.’
‘What?’
‘I feel I really needed some backup, Emma.’
‘Backup?? I’m not an armed criminal.’
‘I’m worried.’
‘What is my dad going to do? Talk to me? Have a little heart-to-heart? We’re awkward enough when we’re speaking about my homework, without admitting that we’re both human beings with feelings. Ugh, I can’t believe he knows I’m upset, ugh.’
‘It was more for me. But yes, it was a stupid idea.’
She did look genuinely sorry. Which wasn’t good enough, but it was a start.
‘He’s not going to come over here, is he?’
‘No.’
‘Good.’
There was a silence. She must be really worried if she’s calling my dad…
My Dad
He travels around a lot doing work for various charities. (So he says, anyway, really I’d have absolutely no idea. He could be concealing himself in a house down the road for all I know.) He sends a postcard from time to time and shows up for a couple of hours at Christmas with some sort of generic present, wearing a novelty jumper. We do a vague catch-up as if it were a job interview and then he pats me awkwardly on the shoulder and leaves again until the next year.
‘Mum, it’s OK,’ I said gently, ‘I’m fine, really. I even have a date t
omorrow night.’
‘A date?’
‘Yes.’
‘With who?’
‘His name is Paolo.’
‘PAOLO? And where did you meet Paolo?’
‘He’s friends with Steph’s sister.’
‘All right. Well don’t go upsetting yourself even more.’
‘Why?! Because my date’s going to be a disaster?! Is that what you’re saying?!’
‘I’m just not sure you’re in the right frame of mind to be going out on dates, my love.’
I can’t believe this. I was just trying to stop her worrying, and she starts criticising me.
‘Well, I didn’t ask for your opinion.’
She slammed out of the room then. How mature. Five minutes later, she came back.
‘You know, I have my own problems too, Emma.’
I stayed silent.
‘But of course, you don’t care,’ she went on.
‘What? Have you and Olly broken up again? It’s hard to stay sympathetic when it happens every other week.’
She folded her arms.
‘Yes, we have. We’re over for good this time, and you can stop being so patronising. But aside from that, I’m trying as best I can to look after your granddad, I’m struggling to raise you alone with no support, I’m trying to keep my business afloat and I’m constantly tired and I’d love to actually relax now and again, but I can’t.’
‘Fine,’ I snapped.
Suddenly I felt so overwhelmingly guilty I wanted to break down into tears and throw myself at her feet. But I just sat there. She left the room, and didn’t come back.
My Mum
She is really the best, despite having questionable taste in men and an embarrassing Tinder profile, and she’s right about everything. I feel like a worm. I’m going to bury my head under a pillow and never, ever come out.
Saturday, 20 September
posted by EditingEmma 11.04
When I got up Mum was already downstairs making pancakes. I think this means we’re OK now. She dropped most of them on the floor attempting to flip them and they were covered in little bits of dust, but I ate them with good grace.
posted by EditingEmma 12.35
Trying to focus on tonight, and not the fact that I seem to have engendered hatred in a place where I only ever tried to inspire love. There must be something terribly wrong with me. Yesterday, Leon was standing at the gate with his friend, and when I walked past he actually scowled at me. His friend looked a little bit shocked, so at least I know I’m not imagining it. It might almost be comical, if it didn’t make me want to repeatedly bash my head against the wall.
But there is nothing wrong with Internet Emma. Internet Emma ONLY inspires love, admiration, and sometimes a bit of casual envy. She’s the kind of girl who doesn’t stare at other people’s social media profiles as a form of morbid self-persecution, or focus too much on the angle of her selfie or pitching her tweet exactly right. She just tweets. She doesn’t care about what other people think and never compares herself to others.
Internet Emma is who Paolo will be meeting in a mere matter of hours. At a gig. Which is what cool people like Internet Emma and Paolo do… And then it dawns on me. Internet Emma might be eighteen, but real-life Emma certainly isn’t. Do they check ID at gigs?!
posted by EditingEmma 12.44
Looked at the link Paolo sent me: ‘If you are lucky enough to look under 25 years of age we will ask you for ID when you enter the event.’
Nooooooo.
Guys… I don’t have any ID 12.29
Stephanie Brent
I’d love to help but don’t think you’ll get away with using Jess’s 12.32
For obvious reasons 12.32
Faith?! 12.33
Faith Connelly
You don’t really look like Hope either 12.36
Yes, but otherwise I’m trying to pass as black with blue hair 12.37
So I’m not looking for perfection here 12.37
FAITH?! 12.38
Faith Connelly
All right all right 12.42
posted by EditingEmma 13.57
The Stress of Being Under 18 When You Are Internally a Sophisticated Adult
At Faith’s to get her sister’s passport. You’d think I was asking her to steal the crown jewels. She opened the door and let me in, without making eye contact.
‘Do you have it?’ I asked.
‘Yes.’ She sulked, putting it in my hand.
‘Hope won’t notice.’
‘I’m not a natural thief,’ she said, implying that I am.
Oh God. I really look nothing like Faith’s sister. I suppose I could have dyed my hair. (Though anyone dyeing their hair my murky colour seems unlikely.) Probably couldn’t have changed my eye colour, though…
posted by EditingEmma 14.35
Faith Finally TALKS
It was an incredibly brief window but IT HAPPENED. I stayed at hers for a while and she kept snipping at me (she said Pretty Little Liars was ‘crap’). At first I thought she was just moody about the ID, but then she opened up a bit.
‘Are you OK?’ I asked. ‘You seem a bit…’
She sighed. ‘I’ve been at a flower market with my mum and Hope.’
‘Ah.’
‘Mum’s so excited. I mean, I’m excited too. But she’s so excited. The woman can really talk about flowers. And colour schemes. And salmon blinis.’
‘I do love a salmon blini.’
‘She’s practically delirious. And I just… I just keep thinking.’
‘Go on?’
‘Would she be this excited for me? If I was getting married? And instead of a groom there was another bride?’
I sat awkwardly for a moment, thinking about the right thing to say. Because I really don’t know. Thankfully, Faith didn’t let me answer,
‘It’s like it’s about so much more than two people finding each other and falling in love. It’s like getting married is some sort of achievement, and for the love to be celebrated it has to fit into this traditional mould. And mine will never be worth as much, because it doesn’t. Hope said she might carry a bouquet of herbs instead of flowers, and my mum laughed like it was the most outrageous thing ever. She said, “Well, dear, as long as you’re happy,” like she’s so… accepting… when all it is, is about friggin’ flowers. I bet if I said, “Hey, Mum, I’m marrying a woman instead of a man,” she wouldn’t say, “Well, dear, as long as you’re happy.”’
‘Maybe not. BUT… I do have to point out that you haven’t tried.’
She ignored that one.
‘Oh, they were just so… smug, Emma. And I really wanted to stop and scream “I’M GAY. I LIKE GIRLS.” But all I did was stare at my shoes. Like always.’
Faith took a breath.
‘Agh, this is stupid. This isn’t about me. God, all I keep thinking about is myself, feeling jealous like a five-year-old.’
‘Faith, you’re not being stupid! It’s not like you want to take away what Hope has. You just want the same excitement for your own life.’
She nodded.
‘You should go get ready for your date.’
‘Are you sure? I can stay, talk some more?’
‘No. I’ve talked too much already.’
On my way out I held up Hope’s passport. ‘Faith, I need your honest opinion. Do you think I’ll get away with this?’
She shrugged and said, ‘You’re the same race, I guess.’
posted by EditingEmma 17.26
Getting Ready for Date No. 2
Steph turned up at the door, wearing a leather jacket, crop top and purple lipstick.
‘What are you doing here?!’
‘You didn’t think I was letting you go alone?’
I felt like I was going to cry.
‘Emma, please don’t cry.’
‘Sorry. You look AWESOME.’
‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘I know.’
‘Do you think I could pull off purple lipstick?’
‘No.’
When Steph came into my room she screeched, ‘Agh, what IS that?!’
‘That… that is the band we’re going to see.’
‘How is that music?!’
‘I happen to like it.’
Not strictly true, but if I keep saying it enough maybe I’ll believe it.
posted by EditingEmma 18.58
Still in my room, desperately going over ‘my’ birthday and ‘my’ star sign and ‘my’ address. Why can’t I just be older? Why can’t I just be BETTER? Why can’t I feel like Internet Emma all the time? Why can’t I turn the clock forward and be twenty-five?! And then stop the clock and never turn twenty-six?!!
I’m suddenly starting to feel all nervous about having lied about my age. And about almost everything else. I’d feel so much better if I had my blanky dress.
My Blanky Dress
Steph calls it this, because it’s essentially my teenage equivalent of the ‘blanky’ to a five-year-old. It’s black, the skirt is sort of skater-esque, and the sleeves are three-quarter-ish length. It sounds like a fairly standard dress, but IT’S SO MUCH MORE. The black is not just any black; a really subtle, softer grey-black, which sets off smoky eyes. The length of the skirt is perfect. I don’t know… I’ve just never found anything that I like as much, or that I feel as comfortable in. I’ve worn it so much it’s essentially just a rag now.
Faith messaged:
Good luck! 18.47
Thanks 18.47
I’m with Gracie. She says avoid dancing, if you do get in 18.48
Tell her THANKS 18.49
Please, please, please say I don’t get turned away at the door. Oh God. It would be the worst thing to get turned away at the door.
posted by EditingEmma 19.24
In the Queue With Steph
‘Now, we have to split up,’ said Steph.
‘Why?’
‘We’re less likely to get in if we go together.’
‘But I’ll miss you.’
‘Be cool, Emma.’
Now I’m standing way ahead in the queue alone. I turned around and winked at Steph a couple of times but she pretended not to notice.
posted by EditingEmma 19.33
I’m In. Sort of
UGH!!! The man on the door was so EVIL!! When I arrived I tried to look as natural as possible.
‘ID, please,’ he ordered.
He scrutinised the passport and for a blissful second I thought I’d got away with it, because he flashed me a big grin.