My Life as a Hashtag

by Gabrielle Williams

  I shouldered past Mum, knocking into her, and started walking towards the street. Yelled, ‘I’ll be in the car,’ over my shoulder – loudly.

  I sat in the front seat, trying to settle my breathing, my chest pounding as if my heart were being held prisoner in there behind the bars of my ribs.

  So, my friends had always planned on going to the party, and Mum was making a serious play for Mr Yumi. My life was shit, and I felt like I had less and less room to move. Certainly fewer and fewer people to vent to.

  In fact, make that no people left to vent to. I couldn’t tell anyone how I felt. No one.

  Inside, the pounding against my ribs grew louder.

  I was all I had left.

  Chapter 12

  The day of Anouk’s party, the air had a freeze through it, like someone had closed the door on the worldwide fridge and we were all living our lives on its shelves.

  I felt as popular as limp lettuce.

  I didn’t see anyone. Didn’t go round to Liv’s, didn’t see Yumi, didn’t reply to their texts. Everyone was getting ready to go to Anouk’s that night, and I couldn’t bear listening to them get excited about it – or not-talk about it because they didn’t want to hurt my feelings.

  I hated Anouk.

  Mum always says you shouldn’t say you hate anyone. But Mum was wrong – you should hate someone if they made you hate them.

  In fact, ‘hate’ was too kind, too sweet, a word; it didn’t properly capture the level of venom that I was feeling towards her. My shoulders had risen up to bracket my face, as if trying to physically block the sound of any Anoukness from reaching my ears. There was a dry, brittle Anouk-lump in my chest. I couldn’t eat because of all the Anoukness churning in my stomach.

  Yeah, ‘hate’ didn’t even come close.

  I kept scrolling through my phone, looking through everyone’s feeds to see what they were doing. Hattie was over at Anouk’s. Liv was at Yumi’s. Everyone I knew, pretty much, was getting together, getting geared up to go to Anouk’s massive party.

  And me. I was at home. A lettuce.

  #

  That afternoon, Mum and Prue and Maude barged into my bedroom.

  ‘Oh,’ Mum said, stopping short when she saw me in my bed, Prue and Maude walking into her back like they were part of a cliched seventies comedy sitcom: ba-doiiinnngg, laugh-track, exaggerated expressions. ‘What are you doing here, MC? I thought you were at Yumi’s.’

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘I’m here. In bed. Obviously.’

  ‘You’re not going to that party tonight?’ Prue asked me, looking confused.

  Relief lapped at my chest. The fact that Prue hadn’t expected to see me at home meant Liv hadn’t told her anything. Which was good. Mr Yumi saw us at school every day; he’d watched the dynamics shift. It wasn’t that surprising that he was onto the situation. But if I’d thought Liv had sat down at her kitchen table and said to her mum, I’m worried about MC and Anouk; not sure how I should handle it. MC’s not invited to Anouk’s party. How should I play it? I didn’t think I could have dealt with it.

  Besides, you know, parents – they’re always trying to step in and fix things, as if we’re not capable of sorting stuff out ourselves.

  Yeah, parents, guess what, we can.

  ‘I’ve got a cold,’ I said.

  Mum came over and put her hand on my forehead. ‘You’re not going to Anouk’s?’ she checked.

  I shook my head.

  ‘Is everything alright?’ she said to me, softly, like it was just between me and her. ‘When Yumi’s dad said yesterday …’

  ‘I’m fine,’ I said, pushing her hand away. ‘I’ve got a cold, that’s all. I’ve got a headache. I don’t feel like going to a party tonight. So sue me.’

  She put her hand under my chin, thumb one side of my neck, fingers the other side.

  ‘Your glands aren’t up,’ she said.

  I pushed her away again. ‘I just don’t feel good. Anyway, what are you all doing in my room?’ I said, swinging the spotlight away from me and back over to them – because hell, what were they all doing in my room, barging in like they’d thought I’d never catch them?

  ‘Well,’ Mum said, looking slightly embarrassed, ‘the thing is, we didn’t know you were home.’ Yeah, I’d figured that part out for myself. Then she put the back of her hand to the front of my wardrobe, like she was trying to sell it to me, and said, ‘And … uhhh … I’m going out tonight.’

  ‘Girls’ night,’ Maude added quickly.

  ‘And … I thought maybe I might have a look at what you’ve got in here,’ Mum said, opening my wardrobe door, ‘because all my clothes are old. I need a revamp. My shoes have heels on them that haven’t been seen since the eighties. And I remembered those shoes I bought you last year for your formal – remember those? I don’t think you even ended up wearing them …’

  She leant over and pulled out a shoebox and, yes, she was right, I’d never worn them because, well, if you could see them, you’d know exactly why I’d never worn them.

  ‘… and I thought they might go with the dress I was thinking of wearing tonight.’

  She flipped the shoebox lid in a tada moment and showed the contents to Prue and Maude.

  ‘They’re perfect,’ Prue said, pulling one of the shoes out of the box and holding it up to examine it.

  ‘You think?’ Mum said.

  ‘Take them,’ I said. ‘Consider them sold, to the highest bidder.’

  ‘A couple of those necklaces might be nice, too,’ Maude added, unhooking some sparkly strands off their nail on my wall.

  ‘Whatever,’ I said and burrowed my head under my doona.

  Because when you’re feeling unpopular and unloved, it’s great to know your own mother has a better social life than you do.

  #

  Mum left money on the kitchen bench for a pizza, but even lifting the phone seemed like too much contact with the outside world; too much of an admission of what a loser I was.

  Even just to the pizza guy.

  Instead, I went through the cupboards to see if I could find anything to eat. There was an opened bag of spiral pasta with not much in it, a handful at most, although once it was cooked it would expand and probably be enough for a meal for one.

  Add a tin of tuna.

  Grate some cheese.

  Pasta, tuna and cheese. One of my favourite meals.

  I plugged my phone into the stereo and put Hockey Dad on, cranked up loud and proud. Maybe the night wasn’t going to be as bad as I’d thought it would be. I’d have some spiral pasta, watch a movie, avoid social media, make my own fun.

  In fact, I didn’t even care that I wasn’t going to Anouk’s stupid party. And there was a pretty good chance that I’d call the cops and put in an official noise complaint, because why wouldn’t I, and yeah, she was a bitch but I didn’t care because I had the entire house to myself, and there was always something good about that.

  I was dancing round the kitchen to ‘I Need a Woman’ when I heard a knock on the door.

  I stopped dancing, as if I’d been sprung.

  If Mum or Harley had have been home, I’d have left it for them, but it was just me, on my own, and I couldn’t not answer it because the stupid music was playing.

  Stupid Hockey Dad.

  I opened the door. Standing there were a couple of girls from school, and some guys I knew, friends of Jed’s.

  Not great friends of mine. Kind-of friends. People I knew. Not people I wanted to have coming to my house on the night when I was missing out on the biggest party of the year.

  I stared at them. ‘Hi,’ I said, and frowned.

  ‘Hey,’ one of the girls, Nique, said, holding up her backpack, the clink of bottles coming from inside. ‘We thought we’d come here, have a couple of drinks. Then go with you guys to Anouk’s.’

  I felt like I was suddenly in a whole different dimension or something. A place where I was invited to Anouk’s, and friends were turning up at mine to have pre-drin
ks beforehand.

  But I wasn’t in a whole different dimension. I was here. In Melbourne. Right now. ‘What are you talking about?’ I asked.

  ‘You know,’ Nique said, uncertainty starting to fog her face, mirroring the cottony confusion I was feeling inside my own head, ‘you put that thing on Facebook a couple of weeks ago, saying you were having a party tonight? I mean, obviously not a full party, seeing as Anouk’s is on, but yeah, you know, remember, a couple of weeks ago? So we thought we’d come here, and have a couple of drinks with everyone’ – she leant in through the doorway to see my house; to see the party of exactly zero – well, one if you included me – ‘and then go with, um, you guys to Anouk’s. Ah … did I get something wrong? That thing you posted? You know. And Della and Audrey and a few others said they were going to come round here before Anouk’s too. But I don’t know, has everyone …’

  And she didn’t even finish her sentence, because her brain was farting with the effort of understanding exactly what was going on.

  I looked at her.

  I was having spiral pasta and tuna and cheese for dinner. There wasn’t even a full bag of pasta; it probably wouldn’t even fill a small bowl. And here they were, turning up, their backpacks full of booze. And here was me, the only person any of us knew who wasn’t going to Anouk’s party. One of them, Jack, even had the gall to be one of Jed’s good friends, the fucker.

  I looked at them, the smug lot of them, and said … okay, maybe I shouldn’t have done this, maybe I should have said that I was sick and left it at that, but I looked at the five of them with their smug, going-to-a-party faces and I said, ‘I’m not going to Anouk’s because she’s a fucking bitch. Hope you have a shit night.’

  And I slammed the door in their stupid faces.

  #

  Harley came into the kitchen through the back door.

  ‘There’s a bunch of people standing out the front,’ he said.

  I stared at him. Felt nothing – blankness.

  It was so many months since I’d had any kind of proper conversation with Harley, I didn’t even remember how to do it. And I didn’t care anymore. I didn’t care that things were weird with us.

  I didn’t care that ten minutes ago I’d yelled at Nique and all those guys to have a shit night.

  I was a void.

  A void.

  Someone to avoid.

  ‘One of them said to me,’ Harley went on, talking even though I wasn’t responding, ‘The party isn’t on. Then when I said, What party? and that I live here, one of the chicks said, Whoa. Good luck, and said you lost it just before.’

  I didn’t move.

  ‘Is everything okay?’ he asked.

  I blinked. I was a void no longer. ‘Who’s outside?’ I asked him. ‘How many people?’

  ‘I don’t know. Ten or something. Fifteen.’

  ‘Tell them to fuck off.’

  Harley looked at me, then walked out of the kitchen. I heard him open the front door, shout, ‘Fuck off,’ into the street, then shut the door and come back into the kitchen.

  ‘Sorted,’ he said.

  I looked at him in a rush of wanting to cry, and then we both burst out laughing, the sort of gut-busting laugh that physically hurts all the way down your sides; laughter that organs weren’t built to withstand; laughter as pain, as torture, which was exactly what I needed.

  ‘That’s so great,’ I said, clutching my stomach to keep my body stitched together. ‘You’ve told the entire world to fuck off on my behalf. I love it.’

  ‘It was my pleasure,’ he said, leaning back against the kitchen bench, a grin splitting his face.

  ‘Omigod,’ I said, putting my hand over my eyes, as if by not-seeing, I could make it not-real, ‘I can’t believe I just did that. What a dick. I seriously lost it. How embarrassing. And what if other people come over? I can’t abuse everyone. I’d be exhausted by the end of the night.’

  Harley laughed again. It felt good seeing a smile on his face. It had been so long.

  ‘Let’s go out,’ I said to Harley suddenly. ‘I don’t want to stay here by myself tonight. And we haven’t hung out for ages. Let’s go see a movie or something.’

  He hesitated. ‘Where’s Mum?’

  ‘She’s on a girls’ night. Come on, let’s go somewhere.’

  I could hear the smallness in my voice. The need for my brother that I usually kept so well hidden these days.

  ‘I can’t,’ Harley said. ‘I would if I could, but I just dropped home to pick up some stuff. I’m meeting people in the city.’

  ‘Oh, right.’ I stepped back, out of his personal space. ‘It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.’

  Harley stepped forward. ‘I would,’ he said, putting his arm around my shoulders. ‘I really would, but I’m meeting people. You want me to take you to … what are Liv and Yumi doing?’

  ‘They’re at the party,’ I said, ‘that I’m not invited to.’

  ‘Oh. Okay. Bummer. Well, how about I take you round to, I don’t know, Grandpa’s?’

  You’d think he’d have suggested Dad first up, but Grandpa was as close as Harley got to referencing Dad these days.

  ‘Yeah,’ I said, the idea appealing to me as soon as it landed in my brain. Hang out with someone who thought I was amazing. Perfect idea. ‘I’ll give him a call and tell him I’m coming over.’

  ‘Okay. I’ll drop you round there on my way into the city,’ Harley said, and he ran upstairs, taking them two at a time, to get whatever it was he’d come home for.

  I called Grandpa’s house.

  It went through to his voicemail. I left a message, then called his mobile. No answer. Texted him. No answer.

  Then again, he was a grandpa – he wasn’t tethered to his phone like I was.

  I called his home phone again. Still no answer. Then I remembered that Grandpa and his buddy Tony often went to the movies on a Saturday night, the two old friends – both of them wifeless – going to an early session, scoffing a glass of wine afterwards, then heading home to bed.

  Even my grandpa had a better social life than me.

  A message came up on my screen to say that Liv had just tried to call me – but my phone hadn’t rung.

  It was still doing that sometimes, going straight through to voicemail, for some reason. Texts had gone missing. The battery had been dying faster than it should have. It was driving me crazy.

  I wondered, for the millionth time, whether maybe Jed had tried to call me a couple of times after his party, and when I hadn’t called him back he’d thought I wasn’t interested. Because otherwise it didn’t make sense, him being so into me before we’d got together, and then afterwards, nothing.

  Jed would be going to Anouk’s party tonight, thinking that I’d be there. Maybe he was looking forward to seeing me. Maybe he was thinking that tonight, we’d hook up again.

  I stared at my phone. Maybe I should text him. Just a quick little something, to say I wasn’t going tonight, and seeing if maybe he wanted to hang out with me at my place, instead of going to Anouk’s.

  My screen lit up for a second time, reminding me that Liv had just left a message. I wondered whether she was at the party already, and if so, whether Nique had told her about my freak-out. I went into messages and saw that Liv had left a voicemail.

  ‘Hey MC, just ringing to see if you’re okay. You sure you don’t want us to come round?’

  I wasn’t going to call her back. There was only so much insincerity a girl could stand – especially from someone who was supposed to be her best friend.

  Harley came back into the kitchen, his car keys dangling off his pointer finger, a backpack dangling off his shoulder.

  ‘You right to go?’ he asked.

  ‘Grandpa’s not home,’ I said, holding up my phone to face him, as if Grandpa’s non-answer was written up there on the screen. ‘And my phone’s been weird lately – like, Liv tried to call just now, but it went straight through to voice message – and the thing is, there’s this gu
y I like’ – Harley raised an eyebrow – ‘and I was with him, this guy, at a party a few weeks ago, but I haven’t heard from him since, and I was thinking maybe it’s because my phone’s been messing up and he’s tried to call me but I never got the message and now he thinks I’m not into him, but I am, at least I guess I think I am, and I’m wondering whether maybe I should text him and see if he wants to come round tonight and maybe he could hang with me here. What do you think?’

  Harley looked away from me a moment, and then back.

  ‘Well, first up,’ he said, ‘Mum might have put a tracking app on your phone. I found one on mine, so she could have done the same thing to yours.’

  ‘What? WHAT? She’s been spying on me? Are you joking?’

  The prisoner that was my heart ran a tin mug back and forth against the bars of my chest, furious at yet another example of how shit everything in my life was.

  ‘I’m just assuming,’ he said. ‘I don’t know for sure.’

  ‘Seeing everything I do? Everywhere I go?’

  Harley looked at his watch, then put his bag down.

  ‘It’s easy enough to get off,’ he said, taking out his phone and sending a quick text message to whoever he was meeting. ‘We can fix it, if you want.’

  I nodded, anger making my breath shorten into quick puffs.

  ‘I can’t believe she would do something like that,’ I said as we walked together up the stairs to my bedroom. ‘She’s psycho. She’s seriously lost it, since Dad moved out. What did she say when you told her you’d found a spy app on your phone?’

  ‘She said she didn’t know what I was talking about.’

  ‘So does it mean she can read my emails, see all my text messages, see everything on my phone? I can’t believe she would do that.’

  Harley shook his head as he sat down at my desk and plugged my phone into my laptop. ‘She can’t see into your phone. She can just see where you are when you’re out.’

  Watching the icons pop up on the computer screen to show my phone was plugged in, I remembered a small thing from weeks ago – that day I’d gone into the city to meet Dad for lunch. Mum had asked me where I’d been after lunch. Like she’d known I’d gone somewhere else. To get a manicure.