Editing Emma

by Chloe Seager

  Then she threw a black wig at me. The one Steph bought when she was an emo.

  ‘Put this on. We’re going out.’

  ‘Again… why??’

  ‘We’re on a mission.’

  Half an hour later we were driving really slowly past Olly’s house… Mum had sunglasses on, and it was pitch black. Sort of worrying, really.

  ‘Mum. There’s probably at least an 85 per cent chance of you crashing.’

  ‘I won’t.’

  ‘Hmm, not reassured. This is definitely not how I want to be found dead and remembered. Stalking a stripper in the middle of the night, wearing a wig that makes me look like Alice Cooper.’

  Fifteen minutes later we were still driving round.

  ‘What exactly are we looking for, Mum?’

  ‘I don’t know… signs that he’s lying.’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘Well, he might be married, I don’t know, do I?’

  Silence. We circled his road for the fourth time.

  ‘Mum, this is ridiculous. All the lights are off and I left my night-vision goggles at spy school.’

  ‘I’m looking for his car. I can’t see it.’

  ‘What kind of car is it?’

  ‘Errr…it’s red.’

  ‘There are about five red cars.’

  ‘No, I don’t think any of them are his.’

  ‘You can’t even remember what car it is!!’

  ‘They look different.’

  ‘But they could be his?’

  ‘I don’t think so, no.’

  Silence.

  ‘I don’t think he even lives here… The prick.’

  I was just pointing out that she might be jumping to conclusions, when his front door opened and she sped off like a madwoman, skewing my wig.

  ‘Why did you do that?? We didn’t even see who it was!’

  ‘What if it was him and he saw me? That would be awful!!!’

  Evidence: Stalking in real life is more difficult, as well as more frowned upon than internet stalking.

  Emma Nash @Em_Nasher

  Tonight I learned that neither me, nor my mother, will ever have a career in espionage

  Saturday, 27 September

  posted by EditingEmma 09.37

  When I got back last night I fell asleep attempting to masturbate over Alex. In my defence it was very late thanks to Mum’s night-time escapades, but I have never once fallen asleep masturbating! Am I losing my sex drive?? Have I peaked already?! Will I never have the chance to share my urges with anyone other than me?

  I suppose if I no longer have the urges, I’ll no longer care. Like being dead.

  posted by EditingEmma 09.55

  I’m meeting Alex at half-one, but I’ve told Mum that I’m going shopping up town with Faith. I just can’t be bothered with the hassle of telling her since she got all weird about Paolo. When I came down she said,

  ‘Why are you up so early?’

  I said, ‘A bird flew into my window.’

  posted by EditingEmma 11.34

  Messaged Faith.

  If my mum calls later, I’m at yours but on the toilet. And I didn’t end up buying anything xx 11.29

  No. I told you not to use me as an excuse. X 11.31

  She can be such a downer sometimes.

  posted by EditingEmma 13.31

  Messaged Steph:

  Heading for the park now 13.18

  Circling around the park a few times so that I’m not so on time 13.27

  Hahah! Hope he’s not a Paolo. Sx 13.28

  posted by EditingEmma 13.37

  The Paranoia of Meeting People You’ve Not Really Met Before

  There have been a couple of boys pass by who I thought might be Alex in the distance, but they both carried on walking.

  Oh God. Maybe it was him and he did recognise me, but decided to walk away anyway?

  Maybe he’s forgotten?

  Maybe I got the wrong day?

  Maybe this was all an elaborate joke?

  Maybe I should calm down as he’s only seven minutes late. I’m turning into my Mum.

  posted by EditingEmma 13.46

  Is he there yet? 13.40

  Not yet. 13.43

  Wait. Oh my God. I think this might be it. 13.44

  A car is pulling up. 13.44

  ?!?! 13.45

  And a middle-aged woman is getting out. Clearly not for me. 13.45

  Though, she does seem to be heading towards me… 13.46

  posted by EditingEmma 14.29

  I’m Never EVER Meeting Anyone Again EVER

  Scrap that, I’m never leaving the house again, ever. Aghhhhh!!! After the car pulled up… No. I can’t even write it. The wound is still too raw.

  posted by EditingEmma 15.05

  What Happened

  If I just write it down, maybe it will help. Maybe it won’t seem so bad.

  The car pulled up and the woman got out. Then… a small boy got out of the car from the other side. He trailed along behind her and they both started heading for me.

  I kept thinking… they MUST have the wrong person.

  But then they KEPT coming towards me.

  Even when the woman stopped abruptly in front of me, I still couldn’t quite believe that they were coming to meet me. I thought maybe they were going to ask me for directions. She was very groomed and wearing a cream suit, and she put her hand on one hip.

  ‘Aren’t you a bit old, my love?’ She frowned.

  It was only then that the reality hit.

  Oh no, I thought. No no no no no no no. Please no.

  I looked at the small boy, cowering just behind her.

  ‘Alex?’ I whimpered.

  He didn’t say anything. He was just frozen in horror.

  ‘Uh, this is Charlie. Alex’s brother,’ the woman said.

  Writing it down didn’t help.

  posted by EditingEmma 15.22

  Speaking About It Didn’t Help, Either

  Phoned Steph.

  ‘Steph.’

  ‘Emma.’

  ‘Steph. I belong in the seventies.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I should be locked behind bars.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Alex. He was… not Alex.’

  ‘I still don’t understand.’

  I took a deep breath.

  ‘I’ve been talking to his YOUNGER BROTHER. He was THIRTEEN.’

  I hung up on her because she couldn’t stop laughing. I half felt like joining in but the overwhelming feeling of wanting to sink into the ground took over. Five minutes later, she phoned back.

  ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll stop now. What happened?!’

  ‘He turned up with his mum.’

  More laughter. I hung up again.

  Then my mum called.

  ‘Where are you?’ she said through gritted teeth.

  My heart plummeted.

  ‘On the train.’

  ‘From where?’

  ‘Shopping with Faith. I already told you.’

  ‘Oh, really. Because I happen to know Faith’s at home, doing her homework.’

  Oh God. Think. Must turn it around. Play hurt and hard done by.

  ‘Were you SPYING on me? First Olly and now ME? I can’t believe you!!! I can’t believe you wouldn’t trust me!!’

  ‘Yeah, well, evidently with good reason. I bumped into Faith’s mum and dad on the high street, and they had no knowledge whatsoever of a shopping trip.’

  Oh God. There really is no getting out of this one.

  ‘I don’t believe this… Faith must have a DOPPELGÄNGER.’

  It might have worked on The Vampire Diaries.

  posted by EditingEmma 15.33

  Faith phoned.

  ‘Oh my God, Emma!! DON’T GO TO MEET ALEX!!! Stop!! Turn around! Go home!’

  ‘Faith. You’re a bit late.’

  ‘Oh no.’

  ‘Oh yes.’

  ‘Oh NO.’

  ‘Oh yes
.’

  ‘I’m SO sorry!!! I just heard my parents talking about how Jane was taking Charlie on his first date to the park today and how cute it was… and my heart stopped. Emma, I swear to God, that was his number, honestly. He must have given his old phone to his little brother. I’m sooooo so sorry!!!’

  ‘It’s all right, Faith. These things happen.’

  ‘Do they?’

  ‘For a moment can you just… pretend they do?’

  ‘Oh sure, sure. Yes. These things happen all the time.’

  posted by EditingEmma 15.47

  Lingering on the path to our house, which at the moment looks about as much fun as the Bates Motel.

  posted by EditingEmma 16.08

  How To End Up Grounded

  When I went to put the key in the lock the door opened by itself… and Mum was standing behind it, looking very grave.

  ‘Explain,’ she barked.

  ‘I went to meet a friend.’

  ‘What friend?’

  ‘His name’s Alex.’

  ‘How come I’ve never heard of this Alex?’

  ‘I don’t need to tell you everything, Mum. We’re not Rory and Lorelai.’

  ‘When it involves you going God knows where to meet God knows who, you do need to tell me.’

  ‘Not God knows where to meet God knows who… To the park. To meet Alex.’

  ‘The park?!’ she exclaimed. ‘The PARK?! Were there even people around, you stupid, stupid girl?!’

  ‘YES, Mum. About fifty parents pushing their children on swings.’

  (How apt.)

  ‘And how do you know this Alex? Hmm?’

  ‘He’s friends with Faith.’

  ‘Mmm. Just like that Paolo boy was friends with Jess? I’m not an idiot, Emma. You didn’t go out all summer and now you’re meeting boys left, right and centre.’

  ‘I went out a bit…’

  ‘I mean, what are you playing at? WHY are you meeting random strangers off the internet?’

  ‘I’m not meeting random strangers.’

  ‘Oh really?’ She held up her phone. There was a picture of me trying to fit an entire burger in my mouth, and underneath it said ‘Emma Nash. 18 Years Old. Spirit Pokemon: Jigglypuff.’

  ‘Oh my God. Mum… what is that?!’

  ‘You tell me.’

  ‘I have no idea.’

  ‘No more lies, Emma, OK?’

  ‘I swear. I’m not lying. I’ve never seen that before in my life… I don’t know…’

  Then I stopped.

  Steph.

  ‘Go upstairs. I’ve heard enough.’

  ‘No really, listen…’

  ‘Just go upstairs.’

  ‘Mum, WHY would I use that picture? Why would I refer to myself as a JIGGLYPUFF?!’

  ‘I have no idea what that even means.’

  ‘Why do you ask me to explain, then not listen to me?!’

  ‘I decided I don’t want to hear it.’

  ‘Ugh, even if I was doing it, which I’m not, YOU do it all the time!!!’

  ‘I am an ADULT. Those websites are NOT for people your age. That’s why there’s a little click box that says ‘I am 18 years and over.’ Or did you just miss that?’

  ‘All right, fine, so in one and a bit years it would be OK, would it? What’s the difference, really?’

  ‘One and a bit years is the difference.’

  ‘All right, fine, well when you tell people that you’re thirty-nine I’m going to point out the five and a bit years difference there.’

  ‘GO UPSTAIRS NOW.’

  And now I’m in my room, which is minus one laptop.

  ‘Mum, where’s my laptop?!’ I call out.

  Mum storms in. ‘Aha, if you think I’m letting you anywhere near that computer you’ve got another thing coming.’

  I can just go on my phone. Ha.

  An Hour Later

  I can’t say the exact time, because Mum has taken my phone. And I don’t own a watch, because who owns a watch? I am writing from a scruffy old notebook, stuffed at the back of my wardrobe. My hands are all covered in dust.

  So, she barged back in and snatched my phone right out of my hands. ‘I’ll be taking this too.’

  ‘How dare you!! Give that back!’

  Desperation. Fear.

  ‘I’m only using it to talk to Steph, honest. I… I… It doesn’t even have the internet!’

  ‘Do you think I was born yesterday?’ she snorted and stalked off.

  ‘No. I think you were born forty-four and a bit years ago!!’ I called after her.

  My cheap shot fired into the cold, technology-barren wasteland.

  Then once again I heard footsteps thundering along the hallway. She stood in the doorway rubbing her temples. She was shaking.

  ‘Do you even know how dangerous what you’ve been doing is, Emma? Going to meet complete strangers, and I’d have no idea where you were. You’re a young, vulnerable girl, you’re a target. People put up different pictures, people lie about their age. Not just like I do, I mean really lie. You could have been going to meet someone really dangerous today, Emma.’

  I wanted to laugh out loud at the irony.

  ‘Mum…’

  But again, she left before I could get another word in. Does she not realise I was born in the twenty-first century? That I’ve seen Catfish? That I’ve grown up on internet safety workshops? That in Year 7 we did a somewhat disturbing play where Crazy Holly pretended to be a predator lurking on the other end of a computer?! I know, OF COURSE, that what she’s saying would be true, if she was right. (Though somehow her warnings can’t carry any weight accompanied by the image of Baby Charlie wielding a knife at me.) But I’m not an idiot, I was being totally safe. Agh, why didn’t I just tell her about the stupid ‘date’ before I left?!

  I’m going to KILL Steph when I see her.

  God, my hand hurts… I think the last time I opened this book I must have been about ten or eleven. I’m just looking at all my old drawings of different outfits and little bits of material stuck in like a scrapbook. There’s a bit of my old duvet I tried to make into a mermaid tail, and I thought Mum wouldn’t notice. (She did notice.) It’s sort of giving me the urge to cry, though I’m not sure why.

  I Will Never Be Able to Masturbate Again

  I can’t because every time I try I see Baby Charlie. Stopitstopitstopit. I’ve tried doing it with Mr Allen but every time he morphs back into Charlie. What kind of cruel world is this where a) I have no one to have sex with except in my own mind, and b) even in my own mind I cannot choose who I want.

  Gave up. My mind is too clouded. Sometimes I wish I could just look at porn and get on with it, instead of having to use my ‘imagination’. It’s such an effort. But me and Steph watched porn once and very quickly turned it off again.

  The Five Stages of Phoneless Grief

  1 – Boredom

  I have absolutely nothing to do except twiddle my thumbs and think about what a crappy day this is. Found an old to-do list that says ‘Make Mum a hot cross loaf’. I don’t remember this happening… Did I bake?! Who am I?!

  Oh, no, it says ‘Make Mum buy a hot cross loaf.’ That makes much more sense. Identity crisis over.

  Apple’s GREAT at baking. Ugh. What a boring skill.

  God, look at me… mocking Anna for taking an interest in something. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with baking and I am just a bitter old lemon. At least she HAS a skill. Maybe I should be thinking less about masturbation and more about how I feel when someone asks me what I like doing and the only answer I can come up with is ‘watching TV’. I could easily answer for Faith (art) or Steph (sports). I have nothing. Sitting here in this room, stripped down to just… me, that is really, painfully obvious.

  2 – Isolation

  I REALLY want to talk to someone, even if it’s just to have Steph laugh at me again. I keep having the urge to reach out to someone with a message, or even just look at some pictures and comment on something. I think of
everything going on without me. Everyone contacting each other and having fun whilst I am here, being left out. Totally invisible and forgotten. I start thinking about how lonely I feel, how deeply, deeply lonely, and I start crying uncontrollably. Because that’s the truth, isn’t it? I am alone. Everything is carrying on without me because no one really cares. Leon definitely doesn’t. All this time I’ve been keeping us alive in my head, but that’s not real. It’s just an illusion created by the fact that I still, technically, know what he’s doing. So do his other 567 Facebook friends.

  3 – Frustration

  I am sobbing so, so hard I can’t breathe. I can’t face being left alone, without any distractions. I can’t face myself. It occurs to me how ludicrous it is that I’m feeling like this. But that just makes me feel even lower.

  4 – Rage

  And now I’m just angry. How dare Mum cut me off from everyone, from my life, what gives her the right to lock me up here whilst she can go around doing whatever she wants?! She’s such a hypocrite.

  Left the house. I’m sitting on a wall a few roads away, watching some kids kick a ball around. When she realises I’m gone she’ll be sick with worry and I won’t have a phone that she can contact me on.

  Ha-ha.

  5 – Inevitable Descent into Madness

  I keep walking across roads without even looking. I don’t care if a car hits me or not. I feel blank. And also like that would really teach Mum if I got killed or seriously injured. I’m just wandering up and down the high street. Bored and a little bit cold because I left without a jacket.

  I hear some guy say, ‘Listen, mate, if I HAD a fridge…’

  At least I’ve got a fridge.

  What am I doing? I feel more alone than I’ve ever felt before in my life. I sit down by a wall and start sobbing again. People keep asking me if I’m OK and it just makes me cry more. A couple of people assume I am homeless and give me money. I hear one girl say, ‘What if she’s been mugged or something?’

  I hear a car screeching to a halt and I know it’s Mum before I even look up. She slams out of the car and drags me up off the floor by my arm (which really hurt).

  ‘Go away!!’ I yell. ‘I don’t know you!!’

  ‘Get in the car, Emma,’ she warns. I can see that she’s been crying.

  ‘You can’t make me,’ I say.

  Am now in the car driving home.

  Neither of us says anything.

  Back in My Room

  Now with the ‘Emma lock’ on the front door. Caged in like a prisoner. Slamming out of the house and walking around like Cathy on the moors distracted me for a brief period but the loneliness has taken over again. I’m also not sure the Cathy reference works because then Heathcliff would have to be my laptop. It’s just not as romantic somehow.