Friendship Fails of Emma Nash

by Chloe Seager

  ‘OK, Emma,’ said Gary, reaching one arm out.‘When Dave comes towards you, like so, I want you to take this arm, and move under it, like so, putting one leg here so you won’t topple over, then put this arm around Dave’s neck, like so.’

  He very quickly did a series of complicated moves way beyond my comprehension, where he was somehow able to lower me to the floor. The group cheered.

  ‘Right, now, you try it with Dave.’

  My heart fluttered. I cleared my throat awkwardly. Dave, equally awkward and still smiling, started slowly coming towards me with one arm out. I managed to take his arm and move under it, no trouble, but when it came to putting my arm around his neck, I was just sort of feebly reaching up to him on tiptoe, as if I was trying to get something down off a very high shelf.

  ‘That’s it!’ said Gary. ‘Now lower him, lower him!’

  Big Dave obliged and I felt myself being crushed under his weight. If I could just… No. I couldn’t. We both fell over in a heap.

  Me on the bottom. Obviously.

  I could hear Mum snorting with laughter. Traitor. I thought that must surely be the end to my humiliation, but no, Gary made us keep going until we sort of got it right. Then, when we did get it right, he said, ‘OK, great. Now Emma, you have to lie like so, with one leg here, to keep your attacker in position.’

  Essentially, the position he was demonstrating was just spooning someone, with their arm twisted behind their back. Then he LEFT US THERE, whilst he went and demonstrated with other people.

  This is really not how I pictured my day going, I thought. Lying in the middle of a field, the sun setting, spooning a very large, friendly bald man called Dave.

  posted by EditingEmma 18.15

  Back Home

  In bed. Thank God. I was just dropping Steph off at her house when Charlie called.

  ‘Hey, question. WHY are you lying in a field spooning the biggest man I’ve ever seen in my life?’ He laughed.

  ‘Oh my God…’ I turned to Steph. ‘Steph, you put that on THE INTERNET?!’

  She smirked. And despite her complete and total disregard for my humiliation, I felt wildly, unreasonably happy. Were we still friends?

  ‘Long story,’ I said to Charlie.

  ‘Well, I want to hear it.’

  ‘Can we talk later?’ I glanced at Steph. ‘Bit busy right now.’

  ‘Yeah, sure. Message me.’

  ‘Bye, Charlie.’

  I hung up and she said, ‘Charlie who?’

  ‘Oh, Charlie. You know? Dark preened hair, doing the fashion show.’

  ‘Right,’ said Steph.

  I opened my mouth. All the other things I wanted to tell her were on the tip of my tongue. Like how I thought I was over Leon but how he kept creeping back into my thoughts. Like how stupid I felt for speaking to Dev. Like how nervous I was about the show. Like how I thought I’d freed myself from social media but seemed to have ended up in its clutches again. Like how someone was targeting me online. Like how much I missed her.

  But then she just turned around and went into the house. ‘See ya,’ she said.

  I guess we weren’t still friends.

  posted by EditingEmma 20.19

  Do I Even Exist?

  I’ve deleted literally every single social media account. Rash, you might say. Thoughtless, even. Cowardly.

  I say…BOLD.

  I feel so…anonymous. Sleuthy. If a tree crashes in a forest with no one to hear it, does it make a sound? That is me. Emma. I am that silent tree. If I have a funny thought, is it still funny with no one to tell it to? If I take a nice picture, is it still nice with no one to see it?

  I tell you what I have done, too, I’ve thrown that ‘slag’ dress in the bin.

  Now assessing all the other outfits I’ve made for the show. Are they slaggy, too? Am I a slag? What is a slag, really? I used to feel so sure about them, but now all I can see is what other people might think about them. I can’t remember how I ever loved making them so much.

  Monday, 15 December

  posted by EditingEmma 13.59

  Friends Are Too Nosy

  Am doing more French homework in the tech room. Well, actually, I ran out of homework quite a while ago so I’m learning more random French words.

  After lunch, Charlie and Gracie followed me out.

  ‘Hey, you never messaged me last night,’ he said. ‘I want to know who you’re spooning in fields!’

  I smiled. ‘Sorry, I got distracted.’

  ‘Are you OK?’ he asked.

  I nodded, hoping he would go away.

  ‘Are you coming to the design room today?’

  ‘Um, no.’

  ‘Right…’ he said. ‘Except the show’s on Saturday?’

  ‘I’m aware,’ I said, my heart stopping. I did not want to think about it right now. People looking at things I’d designed. People judging me, just like those comments.

  ‘So, where are you going?’ he carried on.

  ‘French in the tech room,’ I said.

  ‘Riiiiiiight.’ Charlie and Gracie looked at each other.

  ‘What?!’ I said. ‘French is important!’

  ‘So is the show,’ said Charlie.

  God, why did I want to make more friends again?! It’s just even more people to have an opinion on you. I’m going to stay here where it’s nice and quiet…without any of the usual blablater (whiffle whaffle) of my nagging amies.

  posted by EditingEmma 22.05

  Neuroses Increase with Age

  Mum came into my room.

  ‘I have presents for you,’ she said.

  ‘Presents?!’ I said, clapping my hands together. ‘Yay!’

  She sat down on the edge of my bed.

  ‘This,’ she said, reaching into a bag, ‘is a rape alarm.’

  ………

  ‘Oh,’ I said.

  ‘Why? What did you think I was giving you? A Barbie?’ she snapped.

  I sniffed. ‘Well, a Barbie’s not looking so bad right now.’

  ‘I’m giving you the gift of protection. Be grateful.’

  She reached into her bag, and pulled out a can.

  ‘Is that…is that pepper spray?!’ I squealed. ‘You know that’s illegal.’

  ‘I know. This is fake pepper spray. So your attacker will think you have it.’

  I shook my head. ‘Mum, seriously…’

  ‘Ah, ah, ah.’ She waggled her finger. ‘I don’t want to hear any more. They’re going in your bag.’

  Resistance was futile.

  ‘And remember,’ she warned darkly as she retreated from the room, ‘you’ve always got your keys.’

  What does that mean?

  It’s ironic, isn’t it, that my mum’s spending all this time trying to prepare me for ‘outside attacks’, and where I feel the most threatened right now is sitting in my bedroom. I glance over at my laptop, still banished in a corner, and turn out the light.

  Tuesday, 16 December

  posted by EditingEmma 16.34

  In The Design Room

  I’m in here pretending to make clothes, but actually doing more homework. Gracie and Charlie kept nagging me about why I wasn’t designing and at least this way they’re off my back. Anyway, it’s juuuuuuust me in here. All by myself in my nice, peaceful bubble. Social media less. Human contact less. Alone.

  Oh. Alone except Leon. Who just walked in. Great.

  Well, this is awkward.

  posted by EditingEmma 16.42

  Ughhh. Why doesn’t he just leave?! He looked like he was about to leave, when he first walked in…in fact, he sort of shuffled backwards and forwards a few times, clearly not knowing what to do. But then he sat down and carried on his work, and every now and then he looks up and we catch each other’s eye and AGHHH. I swear, he must think I’m staring at him. Which I’m definitely not. It’s just every time I look up, he happens to look up as well.

  Unless he’s staring at me?

  UGHHHHH. WHY did he have to come in here?!
This was supposed to be my peaceful time!

  GO AWAY, LEON.

  posted by EditingEmma 17.05

  Should I Say Something?

  In the half an hour he’s been in here, I’ve done nothing. Actually nothing. I can’t concentrate. I am literally just sitting here, feeling awkward and weird and upset and going over everything that’s happened between us, which feels like it’s too big for this room. Everything that’s happened is piling up around me, around the desks, across the floor, up to the ceiling until it’s blocked my view and I can’t see anything else.

  I’ve thought about leaving lots of times, too. But it’s like I can’t do that either. Because all the stuff is getting in my way. I’m trapped in my chair, with him, in this tiny little enclosed space, getting smaller and smaller as it fills up with all our history. I know he’s thinking about it, too. I can feel his brain working through the memories. I can feel his discomfort radiating off him in waves. He’s been painting the same bit of wood for twenty minutes.

  Should I go over? Should I do it? Should I try to talk to him, like my mum said?

  I stood up.

  And sat back down.

  Stood up.

  Aaaaand back down again.

  AGHHHH. This is ridiculous!!!

  posted by EditingEmma 19.07

  Saying The Things You Want To Say Is Very, Very Hard

  Walking home now. Eventually, I did it.

  I stood up. My chair fell to the floor with a sudden clatter. Leon leapt back like I might be about to stab him, which was quite amusing.

  I walked over to him quickly. Boldly. I did not once stumble.

  I stood before him…everything I wanted to say on the tip of my tongue.

  I opened my mouth.

  And nothing came out.

  … NOTHING came out.

  Leon stared at me. I stared at Leon. At first, there was fear in his eyes, which started slowly turning to general amusement. The sides of his eyes crinkled in a warm, open smile and I started melting, because I realized just how much I’ve been missing him. Then I started to feel indignant, because when he smiles at me like that it always feels vaguely like he’s playfully mocking me. Then I started to feel my body reacting to him because DAMN I FORGOT HOW CUTE HE IS. Then I started to feel angry at my body for reacting like that, against my will.

  It sounds like we stood staring at each other for quite a long time, but really this was probably all happening within a second.

  ‘You look like a goldfish,’ he said.

  I closed my mouth.

  ‘Stand up,’ I ordered.

  He stood up. We were standing quite close together, now, and stared each other in the eye. I opened my mouth again. But instead of speaking, which I promise, was absolutely my aim when this started… I leaned forward and kissed him.

  It was so incredibly familiar, in a way, and the memories of kissing him a million times before came flooding back in, like a strange kaleidoscope of fragmented Emma and Leons throughout time. The way his lips pressed again mine in the same patterns and pressures as they did before awoke all these old sensations in my body…it was like my lips were finding their way home and taking the rest of my body with them. But it also felt new, strange, alien…like kissing him was opening up all these new spaces I didn’t even know I had inside me. And they were just getting bigger and bigger and emptier and emptier the more I kissed him, like I could never get enough, and it would never be enough to fill me. I was…hungry for kissing him, like I hadn’t been before.

  It wasn’t just kissing like all the other times we kissed when we were actually going out. I mean…it was kissing kissing. Sort of…um, rabid kissing. Fierce kissing. Messy kissing. Sinking into each other kissing. Grabbing parts of each other kissing like you’re trying to grab as much of the other person as you can…sort of like if you stop, they might disappear.

  We kissed harder, and fell back against the set. I was pressing on top of him and my hands were in his hair and then on his chest and then round his waist and…

  Then there was a cracking sound. Something split underneath us and we went tumbling to the ground. We both sat on the floor for a moment, looking a bit stunned. I’m not sure if it was the kissing or the fall.

  ‘Um, sorry about your set,’ I said.

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said, looking at me. A strand of hair had fallen in one eye, and he looked a bit hot and bothered.

  And then, suddenly, everything felt very overwhelming. And I got up.

  And I ran.

  Then I remembered I had left my bag, so I ran back in to get it, and ran back out again.

  ‘Bye, Leon!’ I called over my shoulder. ‘Go home! It’s late.’

  He just sat on the floor staring after me, all bewildered in confused. Ha. WELCOME TO MY WORLD, MATE.

  Oh God. Oh God. Oh God oh God oh God. What have I done? Or is it a good thing? Or a bad thing? I don’t know. I don’t know what came over me. I just had the strongest urge to kiss him and I was about to walk away when I thought… why?! If you want to kiss him…just kiss him. Ugh, I’m pretty sure when my mum said ‘sort stuff out with Leon’ she meant verbally. This was definitely…the opposite of verbally. And we didn’t sort ANYTHING out.

  posted by EditingEmma 19.37

  Something Bad Has Happened

  On the walk home I got my phone out; just to send a message to Gracie, because I really needed to talk to someone about what had just happened, NOT to go on any form of social media. Instead of turning on my data I wrote her a text. It felt practically Shakespearean. Anyway, I wrote, ‘I JUST KISSED LEON. WHAT DO YOU THINK IT MEANS? His lips are as soft as a baby rabbit.’

  And just as I hit ‘send’ I realized something awful.

  I hadn’t sent it to Gracie.

  …

  …

  …

  … I sent it to Leon.

  I SENT IT TO LEON.

  ‘No! No! No!’ I screamed, stopping in the middle of the street. This old couple turned around in fear, as if I might eat them.

  ‘Oh my God! I take it back!! I take it back!! Unsend!! UNSEND!!’

  I looked up at the old couple, who were still staring at me.

  ‘Do you know how to unsend a text message?!’ I asked in desperation.

  They looked a bit baffled and started walking away.

  ARGHHHHHHHHH.

  HIDE ME AWAY IN A HOLE. FOREVER. OR AT LEAST UNTIL I AM EIGHTY AND EVERYONE I KNOW IS DEAD AND THEN MAYBE I CAN COME OUT AND LIVE TWO HAPPY BLISSFUL YEARS OF LIFE BEFORE I DIE TOO.

  Aghhhhhhhhasfnnbnbngfjoirtuhthdaknscnvn.

  Oh God. Maybe he hasn’t seen it yet. Is there any way to get it back?! Can I ring O2 and ask them to recall it? Can I break into his house and steal the phone?!

  ‘Delivered.’

  NO NO NO NO this isn’t happening!!!! THIS ISN’T HAPPENING.

  posted by EditingEmma 20.30

  Why hasn’t he replied yet?

  posted by EditingEmma 20.33

  No seriously, why?

  posted by EditingEmma 21.05

  I’ve Been Discovered

  I was still staring at my phone, willing it to buzz, when Mum came in holding something made out of burgundy fabric in her hands. For a moment I thought, Oh, that’s nice fabric. Then I realized.

  It was the dress.

  ‘Emma,’ Mum said, sitting on the edge of the bed. ‘What’s this?’

  ‘Um, a dress,’ I said.

  ‘Why was it in the bin?’ she asked. Her eyes were boring into me.

  ‘I… I decided I didn’t like it any more.’ I glanced down, and then back up at her. She looked really confused.

  ‘Emma, what’s wrong?’ she carried on. ‘This isn’t like you. You spent ages on this. Is something the matter?’

  ‘No,’ I lied.

  ‘And why have you deleted your Instagram account?’

  Crap. I forgot she had Instagram now.

  ‘Is this about Leon again?’ she asked.

  I
rolled my eyes. ‘Not everything is about Leon.’

  ‘Well, what is it?’ She sounded strained.‘I’m worried about you.’

  I took a breath, still considering whether to tell her… And then I didn’t. It was like saying it out loud made it real. And saying things to a parent always makes things this massive deal. I thought of the way she reacted about Adam turning up at school, and somehow I just couldn’t face this yet. I wanted to keep it at a distance.

  ‘I just need a bit of a social media break,’ I said. ‘And I really just didn’t like that dress.’

  ‘Well, OK.’ She shrugged. ‘But next time give it to charity.’

  Then she kissed my forehead and went back to her own room. I kind of wanted to call for her to come back. I wanted to ask her for a hug.

  But then she’d definitely know something was up.

  posted by EditingEmma 22.40

  Message from Leon. Finally.

  I don’t know, Emma, what do you think it means ;) rabbit kisser 22.38

  Oh this is so embarrassing.

  posted by EditingEmma 00.07

  Still Awake. Still Thinking About The Kiss

  It felt so different than it did before. Like, all the same feelings were there and stuff, but it felt less…PG. It felt like I could have taken all my clothes off then and there, whereas in the old days with Leon it used to be more innocent. Potentially, this is my long and enduring sexual frustration talking. Or, I don’t know… maybe in all this time I’ve become less nervous? Maybe…I’ve taken him down off his pedestal a bit?

  Do I want to be with him, now?

  Does he want to be with me?

  What does this mean?

  At least this has distracted me from the comments on my blog. And the way Steph turned around and went back inside her house, leaving me behind without a second glance.

  Wednesday, 17 December

  posted by EditingEmma 11.18

  Dissecting The Meaning of ‘The Kiss’ At Break