True to Your Selfie

by Megan Mccafferty

  “No,” I say. “Why would I?”

  “He had the nerve to text me right after I got down here,” she says. “Sent a picture of himself with the deck crew on a charter somewhere off the coast of Croatia, I think.”

  I remind myself to find and cross off Croatia on my Secret Map.

  “Anyway, he wanted to wish me well in this new stage of my life.” Lauren’s voice drips with sarcasm. “I thought he might do the same for you.”

  My throat shrinks.

  “No,” I croak. “He didn’t.”

  Or if he had, I wouldn’t know because I don’t have my phone.

  “Well, lucky you, then,” Lauren says. “I told him to keep his well wishes unless they can help pay my tuition.”

  “But I thought you didn’t want him helping you. I thought you didn’t want his money because it gives him power over you. I thought you, um, valued personal freedom over material goods and that transactional relationships are a form of slavery.”

  Lauren delivered this speech many, many times over the years. I have the whole monologue memorized, even the parts I don’t understand.

  “I don’t want anything from him, but any money would help make Mom’s life easier,” she says. “It’s also the principle of the thing.”

  Lauren is frequently getting worked up over “the principle of the thing.”

  Lauren tells me about how much harder soccer practice is in college, tougher than any workouts she’s ever gutted through in her whole life. On the upside, her classes so far are actually easier, a benefit of going to one of the best public high schools in the country.

  “You should take full advantage of your educational opportunities …”

  “Uh-huh,” I say. “Sure.”

  She can totally tell that my mind is halfway around the globe, because she wraps up the conversation with classic Lolo efficiency.

  “Be good, okay?”

  “I’ll try.”

  And whenever Lauren forces me to make that promise—which is often—I always mean it.

  I hang up the phone, go to my room, and remove my Secret Map I keep hidden under my mattress. I’ve only shown this map to one other person, and even then only because she was so much better at geography than I was. From Antigua to Zanzibar, she always found all our father’s destinations faster than I ever could.

  You also knew I’d keep your map a secret, says The Best Friend in My Head.

  Okay. Yeah. For that reason too.

  I don’t remember our father, which is why I don’t miss him like Lauren does. According to her, our father wasn’t ready to be married with two daughters. He needed to see what the whole world had to offer while he was still young enough to appreciate it. According to my map, he’s been sailing at least three out of the five oceans ever since.

  I find Croatia. It’s opposite Italy’s boot, across the Adriatic Sea. I uncap my Sharpie and mark it with an X. Maybe when I’ve crossed off enough countries, our father will come back to Mercer, New Jersey, where my sister believes he belongs.

  I wake up an hour before my alarm.

  MIDDLE SCHOOL!!!

  I silently narrate my way through the morning, following a script that’s all in my mind for an audience that’s only in my imagination.

  Hey, guys!

  Morgan is filming a real video right at this very second. Apparently September is a bad month for traffic because even our biggest fans have less time to spend on the socials. But Maddy says back-to-school videos are the exception and can still get a lot of attention, so it’s important to get them just right. If I hadn’t lost my phone, I’d make a video too. Instead, I pretend.

  It’s my first day of middle school, and I’m superexcited for you all to get ready with me!

  I sit up, muss my hair, and mug like the Goofball Goddess I’m supposed to be.

  So … this is me when I just get out of bed looking like a zombie, but at least I’m still rocking my Riley Quick manicure!

  This video would be hashtagged something like Middle School Morning Routine.

  So … this is me eating a semi-nutritious breakfast of Bran Flakes and Cinnamon Toast Crunch, because vitamins are important but yumminess is too!

  No, wait. Back to School Beauty is way better.

  So … this is me brushing with a whitening toothpaste that tastes gross, but a winning smile is totally worth it, right?

  So … this is me with my straightener turned up to, like, 450 degrees, but watch out so you don’t burn all your hair off!

  So … this is me putting concealer under my eyes, on my nose, and on the bottom of my chin, but not too much because you don’t want to look fake!

  First Day Fashion, maybe?

  So … this is me wearing a sparkly peace-sign tee and dark skinny jeans, and this is totally not spon con, but I wish it was. Hey, Forever 21, hook me up with some swag!

  It’s so hard for me to know what title would get the most loves, but Maddy’s research says our fans like videos that are “interactive and instructional” when we are at our most “approachable and aspirational.” Fortunately, the pressure is off because this video only exists in my mind. But for some weird reason, pretending it’s real helps me stay focused. Thanks to Morgan’s Must-Dos, I’m good to go in half the time it usually takes me to get ready for school. She’s eliminated all the timesucking what ifs? and is this betters?

  Mom is impressed by my punctuality.

  “You’re off to a great start!” She beams as she hands over my lunch tote. “May the rest of our mornings be as stress-free as the first!”

  I used to show up late to Shadybrook Elementary quite a bit. For months, Mom had no idea because she left earlier than I did. It wasn’t until she got called in to discuss my “excessive tardiness” with the vice principal that she became aware of the problem. From that point on, it became Lauren’s job to make sure I showed up on time. Personally escorting me to school meant my cranky, sleep-deprived sister had to wake up a half hour earlier than she would have otherwise needed to.

  “Why is your irresponsibility my inconvenience?” she’d ask.

  Well, I bet she’s happy to be in North Carolina and not inconvenienced anymore.

  Our apartment isn’t far from any of the schools. It’s a one-minute drive, a four-minute bike ride, or an eight-minute walk to Shadybrook Elementary. I know this because Sophie timed the route two summers ago. It was her idea, not mine. She was always way more stressed out about my tardies than I ever was. Mercer Middle School is located a few blocks closer than the elementary school, so it should take me even less time to get there.

  If you know exactly when you need to leave, says The Best Friend in My Head, just leave no later than that.

  Well, no duh. Mom and Lauren would call that “a time for everything and everything in its time.” But I’ve got enough motivation without Sophie’s know-it-all assistance. I cannot be late for my meet-up with Morgan and Maddy, and I’m not taking any chances. By seven thirty, I’m headed for the door.

  “Bye, Mom!” I sling my backpack over my shoulder.

  “Oh, no you don’t!” She grabs a strap to pull me back. “I’m not letting you go without documenting the occasion!”

  I roll my eyes at her. “Moooooooom.”

  Mooooooom is not having any of my nonsense. She rolls not only her eyes but her whole head and neck to make sure I understand just how much she is not having it. Mom’s eye roll is the only one that comes close to giving The Eyeroll any competition.

  “You posted a million pictures of yourself this summer,” Mom says, reaching for her phone. “You can pose for one first-day-of-school photo for your mother.”

  Mom’s exaggerating. I didn’t post a million pics of myself. I—or, to be more accurate, Morgan & Ella—posted about 350 pics to our profiles between the end of June and beginning of September. Maddy’s research says five photos a day is “optimal for growth and engagement.” I can count on one hand how many of those pics are me solo without Morgan, Maddy, or our
fans filling out the frame.

  Maybe that’s why I’m posing so awkwardly right now. It’s like I’ve never been in front of a camera before.

  “Come on, Ella,” Mom says. “Loosen up. You can do better for me than that.”

  Without Morgan, I have no idea what to do with my hands.

  I show up to school ten minutes before I’m supposed to meet Morgan and Maddy. This has never happened before.

  At least I’m not the only one eager to get this year started. The parking lot is buzzing with busloads of seventh and eighth graders shrieking and shouting …

  “I MISSED YOU!”

  “YO! WHERE YOU BEEN AT?”

  Yelling and yelping …

  “SHUT UP! I DO NOT!”

  “DID YOU SEE HIM?”

  And basically making way too much noise this early in the morning.

  Everyone is asking,

  “WHAT HOUSE?”

  “WHAT HOUSE?”

  “WHAT HOUSE?”

  Mercer Middle School divides every grade into two Houses. Students are randomly put in one or the other, so it’s not like the Dragonologist Chronicles where the magical Cauldron of Serpentyne sorts clans by disposition. Otherwise my school would be forced to create a Half House to deal with me. I’ve taken the Official Dragonologist Sorting Quiz a dozen times, and I always fall short of totally belonging anywhere. I’m not a FlusterWing or a FlutterFlame. I’m a FlusterFlutter. A mixed-up in-betweener.

  I’ll only have academic classes with the students in my own House, taught by our own set of teachers. Because all House One classrooms are on the first floor and all House Two classrooms are on the second floor, my contact with students in the other House is pretty much limited to lunch and gym, and before and after school. Luckily, Morgan, Maddy, and I are all in House One.

  “Of course we are,” said Morgan the morning in mid-August when we got our assignment letters. “House One is the Cool House. And who is cooler than us?”

  Everyone at Mercer Middle School knows House One is the Cool House. When someone asks what house you’re in and you answer, “House One,” the response is, “Oooh, lucky! That’s the Cool House.” If you answer, “House Two,” the response is, “Oh, too bad. Maybe you can switch?”

  I overhear this conversation at least ten times this morning as I lap the lawn, trying to look totally chill. The longer I’m alone, the harder this is.

  We could have walked to school together, says The Best Friend in My Head.

  And leave myself open to Morgan’s ridicule? I don’t think so. Showing up on the first day of seventh grade alongside Sophie would be worse for my image than swapping the Must-Dos for a Dragonologist Chronicles T-shirt accessorized with a sack of dragon poop.

  But there’s also no way I’m standing by the flagpole all by myself with so many seventh and eighth graders watching me, judging me, wondering why this dorky girl is standing all by herself at the flagpole. If I had my phone, I could text Morgan and Maddy or light up Fotobomb or just pretend to do those things if I didn’t actually feel like doing those things. It’s so much harder to look like you’ve got friends when you don’t have a phone.

  “You!”

  A cheery girl in double buns and a Riley Quick tee is pointing right at me.

  “Omigoddess!” She grabs my hand. “Your manicure is even more perfect in person!” She snaps a quick picture of my nails. “Where’s Morgan?” And before I can answer she throws her arm around me and pulls me in for a selfie. I’ve never seen her before in my life, but she has seen me. Many, many times.

  “I love your videos!”

  She’s not looking at me. She’s focused on her phone as she edits and enhances the pics before posting.

  “Please, please, please tag me!” she pleads. “A shout-out from Morgan & Ella would mean everything to me!”

  “Well … okay … but …”

  I don’t even know this girl’s name, and there’s no time to ask because she squeals and dashes off. I guess she assumes I’ll find out anything I need to know about her on the socials? The whole interaction takes less than five seconds, but it’s long enough to catch Morgan’s attention.

  “Too busy posing to meet us at the flagpole?”

  “Whew!” I spin around and hug her. “I’m so relieved you’re here!”

  She holds her arms stiffly at her sides.

  “Seriously, are my directions too hard to follow?”

  I’m wearing the outfit she told me to wear. I put on the makeup she told me to put on. I straightened my hair the way she told me to straighten it. Is she really mad because I’m not at the flagpole? And what does it matter when we’re all together now on the sidewalk?

  “Morgan, it’s 7:44! I’m still early! And we’re all here!”

  Maddy listens in silence, waiting to see how Morgan responds. I get an exaggerated winky emoji face and a shove.

  “Omigoddess! I’m just kidding!”

  And she laughs, and Maddy laughs, so I laugh too.

  “It’s just too bad for her that you didn’t wait, like, another five seconds, because she could have posed with both of us and gotten way more loves,” Morgan says. “I mean, who is Ella without Morgan, am I right?”

  She is right.

  “Let’s give the Oh-Em-Gees what they really want!” Maddy suggests.

  “The what?” I ask.

  “Not what! Who!”

  “Who who?”

  Morgan and Maddy laugh.

  “Who do you think? Duh! Our fans!” Morgan says. “The Omigoddesses! The Oh-Em-Gees!”

  This news takes me by surprise. I mean, just four days ago Morgan was annoyed because I wasn’t brainstorming ideas. And now the decision has been made without asking how I felt about it first?

  Morgan makes a hand heart to match her sequined LOVE T-shirt.

  “When was that decided?” I ask.

  “I dunno. Yesterday?” Morgan shrugs.

  “It was, like, crucial to get done before the launch of your back-to-school socials,” Maddy adds, holding up her phone.

  “Come on, Ella.” Morgan knocks her shoulder into mine. “Make peace.”

  Isn’t that what I’m doing by not complaining about being totally left out of a major decision for Morgan & Ella?

  “Ella,” Morgan repeats in a sharper tone. “Peace.”

  It takes a moment to understand what Morgan really means. She wants the pose to match my T-shirt. I lift my hands, make a V with two fingers, and smile.

  clickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclick

  #GoalzGirlz #Omigoddesses #OMGs #FirstDayFierceness

  clickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclick

  #Love #Peace

  Morgan links her arm in mine. “Let’s do this thing!”

  Morgan & Ella march to the front of Mercer Middle School, every step of the grand entrance captured by Maddy for the OMGs.

  cliquecliquecliquecliquecliquecliqueclique

  It’s a good thing we agreed to meet up fifteen minutes before the homeroom bell. We’re not making much progress down the hall, because we’re stopped every few seconds.

  “I MISSED YOU!”

  “YO! WHERE YOU BEEN AT?”

  The “noise” isn’t as annoying when I’m a part of it.

  “SHUT UP! I DO NOT!”

  “DID YOU SEE HIM?”

  It’s comforting to be greeted so enthusiastically by familiar faces from Shadybrook Elementary. I know Morgan is supersocial, but I’m still surprised when she’s high-fived by an eighth grader from the travel soccer team, hugged by a girl from her equestrian center, and asked “What house?” by a boy from her hip-hop class wearing way too much body spray. Every time I’m on the verge of lost, left-out, alone loserdom, Morgan takes a moment to introduce me to her friends.

  “Brianna! This is Ella! The Goofball Goddess! She’s the best!”

  “Hailey! This is Ella! The Goofball Goddess! She’s the best!”

  “Jonah! This is Ella! The Goofball Goddess! She
’s the best!”

  I stick out my tongue. I suck in my cheeks. I cross my eyes.

  I play along because it is so much safer on the inside of Morgan’s circle than outside of it. Though I kind of wish that maybe Morgan would say something a little more specific about why I’m the best. Like, maybe mention my ukulele skills or something more flattering than goofballing. But I’m grateful for the intros, because Morgan doesn’t even acknowledge Maddy’s existence as she records it all for the socials. She’s grinning wider than the emoji on her HAPPY T-shirt, so I guess Maddy doesn’t mind? After all, she always says “act as if I’m not here!” when she’s recording us.

  “I toooooold you.” Morgan posts the latest round of pics. “We’re the most popular girls in seventh grade, and we haven’t even gotten to homeroom yet.”

  And to be honest, I’m not really in a hurry to get there. Homerooms are alphabetical. Middleton, Morgan and Monroe, Madeline are lucky enough to be grouped together in Room 115. Plaza, Ella is located right across the hall in 116, but it sort of feels like I’m headed for Croatia or any of the other faraway destinations on my Secret Map. By the time we reunite after our ten-minute homeroom, Morgan and Maddy will have compared schedules. I’ll already be behind and need catching up.

  So I’m sort of feeling sorry for myself again when Morgan reminds me that my situation could be so much worse.

  “Check out your Beeeeee Efffffff Efffffffffff.”

  She points a finger and elongates every letter for maximum mortifying impact. I know she’s referring to Sophie before I even spot her down the hall. She’s peering intensely at the school map on the wall for who knows what reason, because I know for a fact she’s had the floor plan memorized since fifth grade.

  “She’s not my BFF,” I say curtly.

  “Are you sure?” Morgan says. “I mean, I would understand if you wanted to quit Morgan & Ella and go back to singing in talent shows with Ickface.”

  Maddy shudders. “Don’t even joke about that!”