Friendship Fails of Emma Nash

by Chloe Seager

  Then I frowned. ‘Huh? Who?’ I said, dimly.

  ‘Oh, now what’s his name… Charles?’

  ‘Do you mean Charlie?’ I scoffed.

  ‘That’s the one,’ she said. ‘Isn’t he on the design team with you? You mentioned him a few times. I just assumed.’

  ‘Oh,’ I said. ‘Well, yeah, he is. But…’

  Suddenly, I felt another light-bulb moment coming on. Only this one didn’t make me feel like I was on the brink of a great discovery. It made me feel like I’d been a huge, gigantic idiot.

  … Had I really been ignoring an actual potential friend?!

  I started thinking about it. Who did I meet this term who I actually had something in common with, rather than trying to force a conversation with? Charlie. Who had been supportive of everything I’d been doing? Charlie. Who found my mishaps entertaining, instead of cringeworthy? Charlie. Who noticed when I was upset and asked me if I was OK?

  Charlie.

  AGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

  How can I have been so UTTERLY STUPID?!

  All this time… All this time I’ve been trying to make friends with bloody Anika Khatri because she was loud and…and… Hannah Condom, because her last name was Condom! All this time I’ve been abducting cats and…and…drinking with strange boys who wear Matrix coats because I was lonely… through all that, I had an actual friend just waiting there?! All this time, I’ve been ignoring that actual friend purely on the basis that he knows Leon?!?! Leon who I said WASN’T GOING TO AFFECT ME?!

  I can’t believe it. I can’t believe in trying not to let Leon impact my life, I’ve actually let him impact it more.

  I have to fix this.

  The friend mission is BACK ON!!!

  posted by EditingEmma 19.30

  New Day, New Friends

  I’ve been feeling so down and defeated, but I’m starting to see a ray of hope. It’s time to ‘get back on the horse’, as it were. I am capable of making friends…I made one without even realising!!! Welcome to OPERATION: BEFRIEND CHARLIE.

  Step 1: My New Maths Buddy.

  The plan: Charlie’s in my Maths class where, conveniently, I currently have no one to sit with. So, my devious scheme is to start talking to him about something urgent when I come into the classroom. We’ll get so distracted and caught up in our wonderful, engaging conversation that when Mr Crispin comes in, I’ll just have to sit down next to him.

  Ingenious.

  I’ll say that I was in the design room, admiring the beginnings of his new jacket, when a button came off in my hand (which, obviously, I ripped off). I’ll apologize profusely and say I have no idea how it came off, and then offer to sew it back on for him so he thinks I’m super nice.

  The jacket will be fixed, and we’ll be on track on our journey to Friend Land. It’s win-win.

  Monday, 1 December

  posted by Editing Emma 13.58

  It All Went Wrong, But Sort Of RIGHT!!!

  No one will be surprised when I report that, incredibly predictably, Operation: Befriend Charlie did not go down as I planned. However…I think it might have actually gone better?

  I hung around in the design room for ages after lunch, just waiting for the chance to cut a button off his jacket. Everyone had left the room so I finally seized my opportunity…and the scissors.

  I headed towards the jacket with a deranged look in my eye, the instrument raised above my head, poised to cut…my shadow looked like Edward Scissorhands.

  I descended on the jacket, pulling it towards me. But, as I pulled, about to snip off one tiny button…the rail came with it.

  I cut.

  Right through the jacket.

  And then…THEN…is when I hear a little cough.

  I turned around.

  Charlie was standing behind me. Looking totally, totally confused. And a little bit upset. And a little bit like how you might look if you were standing in front of an escaped tiger at a zoo.

  We stared at each other for a moment. I still had his jacket in one hand and the scissors in the other.

  ‘What…are you doing?’ he asked.

  And then I burst into tears. I just BURST into tears. In front of him. It all came pouring out. I just stood there crying and crying and crying. Charlie looked even more afraid.

  ‘Oh God,’ he said. ‘Oh God, I…um.’ He came towards me. ‘There, there,’ he said, patting me on the shoulder.

  I cried harder.

  ‘No, no!’ I yelled. ‘Don’t comfort me! I just wrecked your jacket.’

  ‘Right, yeah,’ he said, but he kept patting my shoulder anyway. ‘And why were you doing that, again?’

  ‘I…I wanted to make friends with you,’ I sobbed.

  ‘By…cutting up my jacket?’

  ‘Aghhhhhh!’ I wailed. ‘It was an accident! I thought it would give us something to talk about! I’m terrible at making friends!’

  ‘Er, well, if this is anything to go by…yes.’ He laughed.

  ‘And I’m terrible at keeping friends,’ I carried on.

  ‘Hey, no, I’m sure that’s not true.’

  ‘It is! It is!’ I wailed.

  ‘What about your mates? The fit girl who looks like Rihanna and is always changing her hair?’

  ‘Steph,’ I replied. ‘I… We… I don’t think we’re friends any more.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘Well, it started…when…’ I took a breath between sobs.

  ‘Go on.’ He sat down, gesturing for me to sit next to him.

  ‘My other friend…Gracie…’ I started, sitting down. ‘Said Steph might not be…a virgin any more…and I was upset she didn’t tell me.’

  Then Charlie burst out laughing.

  ‘What?!’ I stopped crying. ‘What’s funny?!’

  ‘It’s just, if you were a group of guys, there wouldn’t be any question of not telling your friends. Everyone’s bragging about losing their virginity before it’s even true.’

  ‘Really?!’ I asked.

  ‘Really,’ he laughed. ‘Anyway, go on.’

  And I told him. And I actually calmed down. Afterwards I felt so much lighter. I told him about how I’ve been feeling like I should give her space… whilst sort of feeling hurt that she would want space. And then accidentally giving her too much space, partly because she’s dating Gracie’s brother and I’ve had to keep some things from her for the first time ever, and partly because I didn’t want to bother her with being upset when she was off having a great time…and then accidentally missing her birthday because of this…but then it seeming like she didn’t care anyway and that she was fine just taking Andy, and feeling generally like she was outgrowing me.

  ‘Wow,’ said Charlie.

  ‘I know,’ I said.

  ‘And…what’s happening now?’

  ‘Now, she’s not even sitting next to me in Maths any more,’ I said. ‘She’s sitting next to Boring Susan.’

  ‘Oh my. That is a slap in the face.’

  ‘Right!!!’ I said.

  ‘I mean…God…I think if someone stole from me or… attempted to murder me…I’d probably still rather sit next to them than Susan.’

  I smiled. I knew, then, that we were going to get on.

  ‘Anyway, look, it will be fine. I’ve seen you two together. You’re like, in love or something.’

  ‘Really?’ I asked.

  ‘Yeah, I saw you once doing cross country. You’d collapsed by a tree and everyone was stepping over you. And then, from way ahead, Steph ran back and started poking you with a giant stick, until you started crying. I remember thinking… that’s real love.’

  ‘She gave me a piggyback in the end.’ I smiled. ‘Steph could’ve won but we crossed the finish line together. Last.’

  ‘See. You’ll be fine.’ He patted me on the shoulder again, more confidently this time.

  I smiled.

  ‘And I think you’re ignoring lots of good stuff. I mean, you have other friends right? Gracie? And the blonde one?’
<
br />   ‘Faith.’ I nodded.

  He was right. I do have Faith and Gracie, and this time last year I didn’t really have Gracie at all. I’m not a total friend fail.

  ‘And I’ll sit next to you in Maths,’ he went on.

  I almost started crying again, but managed not to. ‘That would be nice,’ I said. ‘I’m sorry I ruined your jacket.’

  ‘It’s fine,’ he sighed, looking wistfully at it.‘Maybe I can sew it up. Just promise never to come up with any devious plans to make friends with me again. You don’t need an excuse to talk to me.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I said.

  ‘Now…wipe your make-up. You look quite scary,’ he said. ‘Especially holding those scissors.’

  I think… I think I officially have a new friend. Sort of. A fledgling friend. I can hardly believe it.

  Now I just need to not destroy any more of his possessions, and we should be OK.

  posted by EditingEmma 19.07

  Muting People Who Are Better Than You

  So initially, I followed Claudia because I thought it might inspire me. But I regret to report she is actually having the OPPOSITE effect.

  Is there anything she isn’t good at?! Does she ever sleep??? I mean, seriously? Last weekend she and her mum went to a political rally together. Last weekend, me and my mum watched Howard the Duck (an underrated classic, I don’t care how many Worst Movies lists it features on) and ate a multi-pack of Twiglets for dinner.

  I’d only just started to feel pleased about my own productivity levels. But with Claudia spamming me with all her stupid brilliance, I see how pathetically low they truly are.

  Rang Gracie.

  ‘Poetry reading?!’ I exclaimed. ‘POETRY READING?!’

  ‘It’s OK,’ soothed Gracie. ‘We’ve got our “things” and that’s much better.’

  ‘HOW?!’ I shouted.

  ‘Well, I mean, if you think about it, Claudia’s got so many talents… How’s she going to know what to do with them?! How’s she going to know who she is? What’s her brand?’

  I don’t care what Gracie says, I’ve muted her. She is INVISIBLE to me. Now I won’t have it thrown in my face what an unworthy human being I am every five minutes… I can bury that fact way, way down in my psyche, and then start to believe again that I am a good person.

  posted by EditingEmma 23.38

  Going to bed. Despite having spent the evening being taunted by my own inadequacy’s I am actually feeling in an alright mood. I’m so happy that I finally noticed Charlie. I think of how he made me feel so much better about stuff today, despite barely knowing me, proves I’m onto something potentially great here.

  Tuesday, 2 December

  posted by EditingEmma 10.41

  When Charlie came into Maths today, I’d prepared him a special graph paper hat.

  ‘You can do better than that,’ he scoffed. ‘It’s a graph paper fedora or nothing.’

  We made SO MANY graph paper hats. Graph paper boater hats…graph paper berets…even a graph paper capotain!! Now that’s my kind of maths lesson.

  I hope Steph’s having fun doing her work next to Susan.

  posted by EditingEmma 13.45

  Having High Standards Is Good – But How High Is Too High?

  Was sitting in the sixth form centre with Gracie when I remembered, in being totally wrapped up in all this Steph stuff, I’d forgotten to ask about her ‘scoping’.

  ‘So was there anyone who caught your eye at Battle of the Bands, in the end?’ I said.

  ‘No one who met all my criteria.’ She shrugged.

  ‘Criteria?’

  ‘Yeah, you know, dark hair, good sense of style, funny…’

  ‘Haha, oh right, that criteria. Let me just get out my checklist and we can compare,’ I joked.

  Then she legitimately pulled out a check-list from her blazer pocket.

  I kid you not. Here it is:

  Gracie’s Boyfriend Criteria

  •Between six foot and six foot three, because I need a tall guy, but over six foot three is a bit too tall.

  •Dark hair. Preferably wavy and short.

  •Dresses well (smart, never scruffy). Chest size 39 in.

  •A bit hairy, but not too hairy.

  •Funny. But not immature humour à la Emma. Understated, witty jokes.

  •Smart but not so smart he’s impossible to understand.

  •Puts people at ease – lovely, kind. But popular too.

  •Good at fishing, sporty and at least Grade 8 violin.

  •Ability to speak another language.

  •Good time management skills.

  •Meat eater.

  I gaped at the list.

  ‘OK, first of all, my sense of humour is not immature.’

  She raised her eyebrows. ‘The other day when someone farted in assembly, you literally didn’t stop laughing about it until the next morning. Then we went back into assembly and just being in the room set you off again.’

  I bit my cheeks. Just the memory of it was making me… No. I would prove I could rise above fart humour.

  ‘That aside. I have many other questions about this list.’

  ‘Mmhmm.’

  ‘Well, you’ve underlined popular.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘To go out with a popular person, doesn’t it follow that you would be popular?’

  She looked blank.

  ‘Moving on. Meat eater?’

  ‘Mmm, I’m just not sure I could be attracted to a vegetarian. What if you were having a steak, and they ordered an… omelette?’ She shuddered.

  ‘Would that legitimately stop you from going out with a person?’

  ‘Yes.’ She nodded.

  ‘Right. And what is too hairy?’

  ‘When you can’t see the skin underneath.’

  ‘How will you know if they’re hairy or not? Isn’t that something you find out later? Would you go out with them for a bit then dump them as soon as they took their shirt off?’

  She snatched her stupid list back and blinked at me furiously.

  ‘No no, um, I wasn’t…’ I said, cautious of slipping back into our old dynamic, ‘I just…it’s quite specific.’

  ‘You’re being mean about my list.’

  ‘I’m being mean? I think the list is mean.’

  ‘Yes, well, you would say that.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?!’

  ‘Nothing.’ She bit her lip.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘No please. Do go on.’

  ‘Well, I just think it’s fine to have standards…’

  I paused.

  ‘Are you saying I don’t?’

  Silence. Her lips were so thin now you couldn’t even see them.

  ‘Are you saying I don’t have standards?!’

  ‘No, but…well, yours are just…lower.’

  EXCUSE ME?!?!

  ‘Yes, well, I suppose you don’t have to pass an exam, solve a riddle and navigate your way out of a maze whilst juggling flaming knives to go on a date with me, if that’s what you mean.’

  Then we both sat in silence and stewed in our bitter juices. Just because I want a boyfriend, not a personal assistant, doesn’t mean I have ‘low standards’. I mean ‘time management skills’? What is that? It would really serve her right if she met a candidate (yes, candidate, not fellow human being) who finally ticked all her stupid little boxes, and then he broke up with her because she eats her peas one at a time, or something. (Which she does do and it is very, very annoying.)

  Evidence: Dating is clearly a struggle for everyone. Not just me.

  posted by EditingEmma 16.50

  Another Mysterious Package!!

  Was just putting my key in the door and heard Mum bounding down the corridor towards me.

  ‘What is it?’ I said, stepping inside.

  ‘Come into the back room,’ she said.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Just come!’

  ‘Is this about
carpets again? Because I’ve told you before, I can’t see all the different shades of beige like you can. It’s all just beige to me.’

  ‘JUST COME.’

  So I followed her into the back room. And there, sitting in the middle of the floor, taking up half the space, was a GIANT teddy bear. I mean, really giant. Almost like a real bear. It had a love heart necklace around its collar, that read ‘BE MINE’ on it. The love heart was about the size of my head.

  ‘Ugh!’ I screamed. ‘What is that?!’

  I take it you didn’t order this, then?’

  I just looked at her.

  ‘Did I order this? Did I order this? What on earth would prompt me to buy this monstrosity?’

  ‘I don’t know, you might have been punishing me for that time I didn’t get you the giant lion at London Zoo.’

  ‘I…What?!’

  ‘You were very upset. You wanted to ride its back and pretend to be a warrior, or something. But it was a ridiculous amount of money…’

  ‘No, Mum. I have not been biding my time for ten years, waiting for the right time to exact my revenge, because one time you wouldn’t buy me a giant lion.’

  ‘Well I don’t know! Where did it come from?!’

  We paused, looking at the humongous bear. It looked back at us. Its black, beady eyes were sort of haunting.

  ‘Wrong address?’

  ‘It had “Nash” on it.’

  ‘Was there a card?’

  ‘Duh, I didn’t think to check for that.’ Her voice dripped with unnecessary sarcasm.

  ‘I’m just thinking aloud!’

  ‘Is there anyone else? What about that Greg boy? Could he be trying to woo you back?’

  I refrained from commenting on the word ‘woo’ with great difficulty.

  ‘Really, really not. Greg, quite rightfully, will probably be happy to never see my face again, let alone spend money on buying me presents.’ My stomach clenched, thinking of our hands breaking apart.

  ‘Leon?’

  ‘Pah!’ I snorted. ‘Aside from all the other reasons it’s definitely not him, Leon would never be this tacky. What about your new man? The pumpkin carver?’

  ‘Vegetable artist.’

  ‘All right all right, vegetable artist.’

  ‘Definitely not. He’s against corporate capitalism. He did make me this, though.’