Blondetourage

by Allison Rushby

  Uh oh.

  'We are going to have a little chat, just as soon as I'm done with breakfast. Until then, I'd lie low if I were you. You're not exactly popular this morning. Especially with me.' JJ speaks very slowly, so I understand just how deep in trouble I am. Quite deep, I'd say. Maybe only a few millimetres above the Earth's molten core.

  'Okay ...' I say meekly. 'Sorry ...'

  'You will be,' JJ fires me another look before she leaves.

  I watch the doorway she's just disappeared through for some time before I remember about the paper and turn my head to look at it again. With a gulp, I bring it up closer to my face so I can read the fallout. The picture says it all. I thought the photographers hadn't been interested in me, but there I am in all my daggy glory with one eye half-closed and my mouth half-open. Even with a cast, Romy looks a million times more like a celebrity than me. I stand out like a ... sore leg. With another, larger, gulp, I read the accompanying story. It doesn't say much, just that Romy was spotted out and about on the town, which shops she went to and that she finished off her shopping spree with a decadent afternoon tea at the Dorchester, accompanied by a mysterious, welldressed older woman. Her partner in crime, it goes on to say, is 'unknown', but could perhaps be a poorly dressed Romanian orphan, considering she has been wanting to adopt for some time now.

  Hey! And I was wearing my new clothes, too!

  I'm just starting to read the article for the third time, when Ashleigh sticks her head around the door. 'You're wanted in my mom's office,' she says, with her trademark smirk.

  'Thanks,' I throw her smirk back at her.

  'You're welcome,' the smirk is hurled back at me once more.

  Let it go, let it go, let it go, I tell myself. And maybe I could have if Ashleigh had turned around and left after her smirk to end all smirks, but she hasn't. She's still standing there, waiting for a reaction from me, enjoying the moment.

  'So, are you always this revolting, Ashleigh?' I ask her.

  There's a pause as Ashleigh sizes me, and my question, up. 'Only to people who aren't worthwhile,' she finally answers, leaning lazily against the doorframe.

  I bristle at this. What a thing to say! Who does she think she is? 'Worthwhile? Everyone's worthwhile, aren't they? Everyone's born the same.'

  Ashleigh laughs at this. 'Do you really think that?'

  I pause to think for a second and, as I do, my anger seems to flare as I think about how I've seen her treat George from day one, then it subsides for some reason, my gut kicking in as I realise something. Something big. Yeah, I think to myself. That is something I really believe. Everyone is worthwhile. Everyone is born the same. Sure, some people might have more money, or power, or whatever. What's that saying? We're all born naked and screaming. That's it. I meet Ashleigh's eyes. 'I think lots of people believe that.'

  'That's funny,' she replies, looking completely disinterested. 'How naïve of them.'

  I frown as I look up at her, wondering why she's like this. 'Don't you care what other people think, Ashleigh?' It bugs me that I still can't figure her out. Can't work out why she is how she is. 'Don't you want any friends?'

  'Sure I want friends,' she answers with a shrug. 'Worthwhile ones.' And, with another smirk, she's gone.

  I watch the doorway for a moment or two. Huh. So, there it is. All the answers I ever needed where Ashleigh is concerned. And I might not know how she got to be this way, but I can guess. Years of being on the road, watching different stars live their 'perfect' lives, years of moving about not really being able to form solid friendships, years of not having a proper home. She'd die if she knew it, but I feel sorry for Ashleigh and her 'worthwhile' existence. It sounds ... lonely. And after a few years in Vienna, I'd know. Hopefully I won't have to do that again. Though, er ...

  I look down at my slightly shaking hands. How could I have forgotten? I'm wanted in the executive producer's office! Eek! I mean, I wanted to go to school with other people my own age, but I didn't think I'd ever get called to the principal's office when we don't even have a principal.

  Okay, forget about Ashleigh for now. Stay calm, Elli. Stay calm.

  As if!

  Hurriedly, I pull on my jeans and a bra and polo neck and run my fingers through my hair. That'll have to do. Then, with a deep breath, I open the door once more and jog down the hall, and then down the two sets of stairs that will lead me to Ashleigh's mom's office.

  When I get there, Ashleigh's mom and JJ are already waiting for me. I don't see the third person until I'm well within the room – Anouschka. Oh, wow. Here we go, I think to myself. And it must look as if I'm checking to see if there's anyone else in here, because Anoushcka pipes up then. 'Romy's at a doctor's appointment,' she says, eyeing me off curiously.

  'Elli, come and have a seat,' Ashleigh's mother beckons.

  I try not to throw up as I make my way over and sit down in the rose-print armchair that's waiting, empty, for me. Everyone's eyes bore into me – JJ's actually feel red hot on my skin. Before anyone speaks there's a moment's silence in which I spot the papers piled up on the desk. Not just the paper JJ had swatted me with, but others. Maybe three or four others. Oh ... um ... dear.

  'Is there anything you'd like to say?' JJ gives me a 'there'd better be and it had better be good, too' look.

  I gulp for what feels like the five hundredth time this morning. 'Just that, um ... that I'm really sorry. I know I shouldn't have lied about going to the dentist, but I was trying to help Romy out.'

  'Help Romy?' Ashleigh's mom pipes up now. 'Help her how? In what way?'

  I take a deep breath. 'Well, I kind of noticed that she was good with scent. As in, really good. And JJ has a friend who's a perfumer and I thought Romy might like to know more about it and ...'

  Ashleigh's mom laughs a nasty laugh that's a little too close to her daughter's for comfort. 'And Romy needs you to fix her up with people, does she?'

  I shake my head. 'No ... it's just that I noticed it made her happy, you know, smelling things – unusual things. And she didn't seem very happy, so ...'

  'She didn't seem very happy?' I turn to see Anouschka sit forward in her seat.

  'Well, I ... she ...' I panic, not knowing what to say. But then I realise Anouschka doesn't seem angry. Instead, she seems kind of intrigued. 'I think she might be a tiny bit unhappy ...' I start, but then censor myself. I don't want to give too much away about what Romy's told me. After all, I don't know what goes on between her and Anouschka. Not really. Still more than a little panicked, I meet her eyes again. And she's still not angry. Weird. I'd thought when I saw Anouschka in here that I'd be roasted alive. But she honestly doesn't seem angry at all. Unless she's beyond angry. Like, livid. But there doesn't seem to be steam coming out of her ears. No, she seems sort of ... calm. But why would she be like that? Unless ... unless it was Anouschka who told the media where Romy was going to be in the first place. Now, there's a thought. But why would she do that? When they're such good friends? I don't even know why I thought that, either – the idea simply popped into my head from nowhere. It's just that out of everyone in the room, she seems to be taking Romy and Elli's girls' day out in her stride, while everyone else wants to lynch me.

  JJ chimes in now. 'I'm really disappointed in you, Elli. We spoke about this. At Ladurée. About getting too involved. And I know this is more freedom than you're used to, but I didn't think you'd abuse it like this.'

  Oh, no. Not the disappointment thing. That was a low blow. She knows that always cuts deep with me. I try to stop my eyes from welling up. 'I am sorry. And I won't do it again. I really did just want to help her out.' I don't mention I'd wanted to help myself out as well, by stopping Romy from quitting the show.

  'Melinda tells us your grades aren't the best in some subjects,' Ashleigh's mom adds.

  'Geography,' I nod. 'I haven't studied it before. But I'm doing extra work.'

  Ashleigh's mom stares at me in the quiet. 'Right, then. So you can assure me there won't be a recurrence of
this nature?'

  'Yes. Of course. I promise,' I assure her.

  'All right then,' Ashleigh's mom rises from her chair. As she does so, she eyes the pile of papers before her kind of smugly. Secretly, I think she's pretty happy with the inches of print Romy's and my little jaunt has delivered. Don't expect me to go telling JJ that, though, because I feel her nails dig into my back as she steers me out of the room. As I pass Anouschka, I catch her non-angry gaze again and am weirded out once more. I'd kill to know what's going on in her head.

  That's if someone doesn't kill me first ... the door to the study slams shut behind us and JJ crosses her arms as she stands in front of me in the hall, her lips in a thin, thin line.

  I don't know how to make it better. 'I really am sorry. I just wanted to help her find something she's good at. You know, like you.'

  'Ugh.' Is all JJ can say in response.

  I know better than to look away.

  'Ugh.' I get again. 'I am not very happy with you right now.'

  'I know,' I mumble.

  'Go on then,' JJ points in the direction of the study. 'You're supposed to be in there studying. Geography, hopefully,' she gives me a pointed look, which I think is decidedly unfair. It's not my fault Frau Braun had never been introduced to a Geography textbook! I also know better than to say this, however. 'We'll have another, longer chat later.' Given the all clear from JJ (for the moment, anyway), I scarper. And I'm not looking forward to that chat. Not at all.

  I make my way down the hall, turn right and I'm at the study door. I stop as five pairs of eyes turn to look at me. Five pairs of not very happy eyes. I'm ashamed to meet those eyes. Of course they're unhappy with me. No one's been in on my secret, they all think I've run off to simply have a good time and now we're all probably going to pay for my naughtiness by having the little freedom we're allowed tightened even further so something like this doesn't happen again. Of all of these pairs of eyes, George's and Melinda's look the most displeased of all. Rhys doesn't look particularly happy, either. But wait ... make that four pairs of not very happy eyes, because there, on the other side of the room, Ashleigh looks more than pleased. In fact, she looks like she's having the time of her life seeing me in trouble. And I'm sure she is.

  'I'm sorry,' I say, still rooted in the doorway and direct my apology mostly to Melinda and George. George doesn't say anything, but just slides her eyes away from mine. As for Melinda, she gives me a good hard stare to check how sorry I really am, then realigns her face when she sees that I really am.

  'Fine. Come on in. Biology. Page 234.'

  I get the feeling I'm going to be unpopular for some time to come. I take my seat next to George and, as I do so, I can actually feel her body shrink away from mine. Even Fluffy seems to be disgusted with me – he doesn't appear from his hiding spot behind the curtain, but I know he's there, because I can see his tail.

  I think it's going to be a long day.

  $$$

  No surprises – it does turn out to be a long day.

  Fluffy remains hidden, George won't speak a word to me and the other students are stand-offish all day. Well, except for Ashleigh, who gloats at my misfortune at every opportunity and lets me know everyone else thinks that I now consider myself to be 'all that' and 'Romy's best friend'.

  At the end of the long day, when our lessons are over but we have an hour or two to kill before dinner, I head outside into the small backyard and sit under the apple tree that's out there. It's cold. But at least out here no one will give me the evil eye. I'm sitting and staring up at the tree's bare branches when I get a text.

  Need sme rsrch help if poss. Busy? R

  I take a quick look around me before I text back. I was wondering how Romy was getting along with her research. She said she'd be doing some today on all the courses Madame Morel had pointed her towards. I don't exactly want to be seen heading up to Romy's suite, though. I mean, I want to help out, but I don't exactly want to get into any more trouble, either. I text her back:

  Sure. Will sneak up soon.

  Just as I push myself up from my bed of leaves, however, I hear the conservatory door bang shut. As I dust my hands off on my jeans, I look over to see someone approaching. George. Across the yard, her dark eyes stare at me menacingly.

  'Do you want to go for a walk?' she finally asks gruffly. 'We need to talk.'

  I almost take a step back I'm so surprised at her words. The last thing I expected was for George to be asking me to take a walk with her. 'Um, sure ...' I start, then remember Romy's text. 'Hang on a second, I just have to send a text.' I'm sure Romy won't mind waiting a few hours till after dinner. I pull my phone out of my pocket once more and open a new message.

  'Have to text Romy, do you?'

  I look up to find George's face twisted into an unflattering sneer.

  I freeze. 'I ...'

  George snorts. 'Are you serious? You really were texting her, weren't you? I can't believe it. You really were! Wow. You've got it bad, don't you?' She takes a few steps forward, closer to me now, rather like a charging bull.

  'Got what bad? I ...'

  'Don't lie to me!' George yells, stamping one foot. 'You were texting her.'

  'Fine,' I yell back. 'I was. And so what? I'd tell you why, but you wouldn't want to hear what I've got to say, anyway.'

  'No, I don't!' George's voice raises another level and I'm suddenly thankful we're outside, even though it is getting a bit too cold. She starts to say something else and then thinks better of it, flings one hand up and turns to leave, stalking back inside.

  As I watch her go, I shake my head. What's the big problem here? It's not like Romy and I are best friends, but so what if we were? What's the big problem with that? Am I not allowed to be friends with her because she's famous? That's just stupid! As George gets further away from me, I get angrier. She hates me talking to Romy ... why? Because it means I like her less? It doesn't. And why does everyone assume I'm some stupid little girl who's just caught up in the 'ooohhh, they're the Rich Girls' thing. Give me some credit, already!

  George's hand reaches out to push the conservatory door open and then stops. She stands, unmoving for a second or two, and then whips around and starts to march back over to me, her angry expression mirroring mine. She stamps into place in front of me, her arms crossed and her eyes flashing.

  'You know what? You explain it to me then, if you've got all the answers.' She flings one arm around again. 'I thought you were different. I thought you saw through the whole Rich Girls thing – how pathetic it is, justifying your existence on this planet by buying things and grooming yourself like a bored monkey. All about the outside and nothing on the inside. But you're not different. You're the same. The same as the rest of them. Maybe even worse because you did see the difference and then you went right ahead and became one of them anyway.' When she's finished her little speech, she goes to turn on her heel again, but I catch her arm.

  'Oh, no. No, no, no,' I tell her. 'Don't think we're done. Because we're not.'

  'Is that right?' George's eyes flash once more as she turns back around.

  'Yes, that's right.' I don't back down. I'm so angry I don't even consider backing down as an option. I'm so angry, I don't know where to start. But I find somewhere anyway, picking up on the comment that makes my blood boil at the highest temperature. 'So you think Romy's all about the outside, do you? And that I'm going the same way? Well, if that's true, what do you think of yourself? Hiding behind your black clothes and your thick eyeliner and your angry little "I hate the world" bit. I've seen your MySpace page. You used to have the coolest outfits. You used to be different. And now look at you, emo girl. Little miss Rich Girls opposite. I mean, that's fine if you want to be different from the Rich Girls, but why can't you do it in your own way. Like you used to? What is this,' I wave one hand up and down her outfit, 'some big statement?' I pause to take a breath before I continue.

  'And you know something else? I don't like the Rich Girls thing. But not for th
e same reasons as you. That day you asked me why I don't like it, in the park, remember? You didn't believe my reasons? Well, I'm quite sure of them now. It's because I know all these amazing girls who don't want enough for themselves. I have a cousin who just wants to be "famous". I meet you and you're so smart and funny and then you go and say the stupidest things about yourself like you're not the "dating type" and that you're "B-list". I get to listen to Ashleigh compare starving kids who obviously aren't "worthwhile" to the price of luggage. The truth is, I know all these girls who are bigger and better and brighter than they think they are. Well, I'm sick of it. I don't want to be friends with someone who tells me she's "B-list", because I think you're pretty "A-list", George. I'm sorry I lied about the dentist. I didn't like lying to you about that. But I did it because Romy needs some help. I just wanted her to be able to see she can be really good at something – that she's not what people say she is and she's more than just the handbag she's carrying. And ...' I pause for another deep breath. 'And that's ALL!'

  And with that, I stomp off this time. I stomp off past George, who's standing stock still, like she's five minutes behind me and still taking all of this in. I stomp off through the conservatory and up the two flights of stairs and down the hall into my bedroom. And then I flop onto the bed and start studying Geography.

  I never thought I'd actually want to study Geography, but right now anything that takes my mind off everything else looks like a pretty good option. I've studied for almost half an hour when I notice someone hovering about in the doorway. I look up, expecting to see George and see Ashleigh instead.

  Oh, great. That's all I need right now. 'What?' I say, rudely.

  Ashleigh leans against the doorframe. 'I wanted to see if you were okay.'

  I snap my book shut and push myself up to sit on the bed. I eye Ashleigh in an unbelieving fashion. Ashleigh checking in on me? I seriously doubt it.

  'Well, okay ...' she starts. 'Maybe I didn't. But we need to talk.'

  That's more like it. 'Take a seat,' I say, warily, motioning to JJ's bed. Ashleigh does what she's told, perching on the end of it like it's got some kind of disease that might rub off on her pristinely pressed Ralph Lauren ensemble.