My Life Uploaded

by Rae Earl

  Lauren is right, but it’s a bit of a major life-role reversal when she is the sensible one.

  “I bet you can’t stop yourself checking it!” I snap.

  “Bet I can!” She laughs as she deletes the YouTube app off her phone and off mine, too.

  “Lauren!” I yell. “This is INSANE!” And it is, but I feel like being totally insane.

  “RIGHT! No checks till lunchtime tomorrow on any device! HASHTAG PINKIE PROMISE!” Lauren giggles as she curls her little finger around mine. This is our sacred bond. I can’t break this. I think that if I do, something dreadful will happen.

  It probably won’t.

  I hope.

  I try to have an early night. Dave walks on my forehead, pleading with me to give her some tuna-flavor luxury cat snacks. It’s hard to relax.

  A MASSIVE part of me says this has been a terrible mistake. It may lead to glory, or it may lead to …

  #ChemicalReaction

  I spent last night reading too many articles about terrible diseases. But I managed not to look at the vlog. Now it’s Monday morning, and I’m sitting in science with Lauren, watching Danny Trudeau.

  And I’m not the only one. He’s been picked to perform an experiment in front of the class. Never in the history of school anywhere in the world has potassium permanganate been put on a dish so perfectly. The way Danny picks up a spatula is poetry. He follows instructions on the whiteboard with tiny glimpses and, without even looking properly, manages to scoop just the right amount. Danny Trudeau: Scoop Master. If this were a YouTube video, the comments section would be all heart emojis and jealous scientists saying they could do it better. They couldn’t.

  “Mills,” whispers Lauren, “he’s about to add the glycerin. In a few minutes, we’ll see the fire. The true fire of Trudeau.”

  This makes us both giggle a lot. I don’t know what it is, but there’s something about Danny starting a small chemical explosion that is just about taking my mind off my vlog. It has been itching around in my brain now for hours. All night. ALL day. I am desperate to see how many views we’ve had, what comments we’ve got, who has seen it, and who hasn’t seen it. Now I FINALLY have the perfect distraction. Doctor Danny and his spatula of love.

  After the lesson, Lauren and I are walking behind the Canadian scientist of dreams and I realize I have the perfect opportunity to talk to him about something clever. I understand everything that just happened. I paid TOTAL attention to all of it. It’s like things have all come together to make this one moment. It’s like …

  It’s like Bradley Sanderson is straight in front of my face. Completely blocking the view of Danny’s brilliant, atoms-changing body.

  “I saw it,” he says. “I saw your vlog.”

  There are two problems here. I really want to see Danny, but I also want to hear what Bradley thought about the vlog.

  “What did you think?” I ask. I try to split my eyes to keep one on him and one on Trudeau’s magic. It doesn’t work. I just go cross-eyed.

  Bradley stares at me hard. “It’s really, really … brave.”

  I find this a bit worrying. The way Bradley says “brave” doesn’t make it feel like a massive compliment. In fact, it makes me feel like I’m doing something really stupid—like riding a bike over a really tall cliff with just a big shirt as a parachute.

  Bradley can see my face has slightly collapsed and tries to reassure me. “No. I thought it was, like—honest and fresh. I showed my mum, and she really liked it.”

  Lauren nudges me in the ribs and makes I told you so eyebrows.

  “Great! Mums like it!” My sarcasm explodes with more fizz than Danny’s experiment. I feel instantly bad, though. Bradley seems almost hurt.

  I go all enthusiastic. “How come you saw it? Did you go hunting for it?”

  Bradley looks down and sideways and up and everywhere eyes can possibly go. “Er. No. That girl in your year who’s always posting on Instagram shared it.”

  Lauren and I stare at each other.

  Oh no. This is not good.

  Danny has stopped to talk to someone. We walk past him. He grins in our general direction. If I wasn’t feeling so worried, I could almost think he was smiling JUST at me. But that’s the thing about my anxiety—it changes the entire world and how I see everything. He was probably just generally happy at making a small bomb that teachers approve of.

  I want to go to the Zen Loo and check my phone immediately, but I can’t. I have to sit through half an hour of Mrs. Caldwell going on about binary code. I usually love Mrs. Caldwell and her amazing glasses that have interchangeable color inserts for different days of the week, but I NEED to see what Erin has said.

  An Erin takedown could take me down. FOREVER.

  #MeanGirl

  As soon as the lesson ends, I rush to the Zen Loo to scroll through Erin’s Instagram. She’s posted a link to my vlog and a selfie of herself made up in her usual perfect way. She’s tilted her head to the screen, there’s metallic shadow on her eyelids, and her lips are red. It shouldn’t work, but it’s Erin, and it does. She’s written:

  There’s a really interesting new vlog called #Help @MilliePorter that basically says people who like makeup are shallow. Girls, I don’t think another girl should tell you what you can or can’t do. Are you with me? I think it’s empowering to use makeup to make the best of your features. If you are anti-makeup, you are anti-freedom, anti-girl, and anti-feminist. #Feminist #GIRLPOWER #Makeup #Eyes #Lips

  I don’t even bother to check my vlog. I take the biggest breath possible, leave the bathroom, and show it to Lauren. She’s standing with Bradley. Lauren puts her arm around me. Bradley puts his arm around me, too. What is going on?!

  I manage to blurt out, “That’s not what I said at all. I just said that…”

  “Look, Millie,” Bradley says matter-of-factly, despite the fact that he’s still got his arm around me. “To Erin, you’ve basically declared war. ANYONE who does anything half decent on social media threatens her. Unless it’s about lifts. BUT she’s also given you loads of publicity that you wouldn’t have had otherwise.”

  Bradley is peering at me through his huge glasses in a way that makes me feel a bit confused. He’s sweet. And reassuring. And Lauren is looking at us both VERY suspiciously.

  “Also, Millie, I, er … I, er … wanted to know if you wanted to meet up on Saturday again—to discuss your next vlog?” Bradley continues, going quite red. “I know it doesn’t seem like the world of escalators and the world of problem-solving have a lot in common, but I think that after seeing your … thing … that I know a way you could reach even more people.”

  I can’t believe I am saying this, but I agree and tell Bradley that Saturday sounds lovely. Bradley immediately rushes off, doing his usual cling-to-the-wall disappearing act.

  After what’s happened today, I need all the help I can get. I know I’ve got Loz, but she’s not an expert. And she’s currently exploding, grinning from ear to ear.

  “Now, Millie,” she whispers, “you can’t say that is not a date! He totally, utterly likes you, NOT JUST IN THE FRIEND WAY! He put his arm around you!”

  I’m about to yell at Lauren about the difference between professional business meetings and dates when Danny Trudeau taps me on the shoulder.

  “Hi, Lauren! Hi, Millie! I liked Hashtag Help. Nice work! It’s good to know that I’m not the only one with a weird family. My dad is currently trying to build a model tank from scrap metal. He’s been watching too many killer-robot movies and is prepping for their takeover.”

  I play it cool. “Do you know what sort of tank?”

  Danny shuffles his feet, tilts his head slightly, and says, “Kinda big. Gray. Noisy when you’re chilling. Are you a weaponry expert, Millie?”

  He beams at me. All of a sudden, I feel slightly hilarious in the good way.

  “Not really. I know a lot about Nerf guns. I can SLAY with a Nerf gun.”

  Danny looks me square in the face. “Now THAT I woul
d love to see,” he says.

  There is a huge, drive-a-bus-through-it uncomfortable gap. Am I meant to say, “I would love to have a pretend battle with you!” or “Anytime!”? In the end, just to break the silence, I blurt out, “I’m not really good with Nerf guns. In fact, I’ve never tried one.”

  I don’t know why I say this. Danny looks a bit sad.

  “Anyway,” he drawls, “I’m gonna do what you suggested: not try to change Dad. Just accept him. Even though he fired a toy grenade at me when I was doing my homework last night! It was a good vlog, though. I liked it. Gotta go. Bye, guys.”

  Once he’s gone, Lauren and I turn to each other.

  “Don’t, Millie,” Lauren snaps. “You’ve already got Bradley fancying you. Danny is ERIN PROPERTY. Don’t you DARE mess with him. He will be the icing on the cherry.”

  Lauren means “the icing on the cake.” Danny Trudeau is out of bounds. I know it. Lauren knows it. Instagram knows it. THE WORLD knows it.

  We hear a lovely dressage-horse clopping sound. Erin swishes by us and breezily calls out, “Hey, Millie! You know, I could see what you were trying to do: something powerful and … real. Only, it didn’t quite come off, did it? You just looked a bit … tragic. Still, there’s time to get good. Keep working on it! Danny, wait!”

  And Erin catches up with Danny. I see his face light up. Erin flicks her phone out to show him something. I look at Lauren. Surely they are dating. It is inevitable.

  “The Danny cake is burnt, Millie. Move away,” Lauren sighs.

  The Queen has bagged her Prince, and I’m Cinderella with a vlog in a shed and no Fairy Godmother.

  #Comments

  On the way home from school, Lauren and I finally read all the comments underneath my vlog. It has nearly five hundred views. Not terrible.

  The comments? Er … they’re … mixed.

  Good advice … if you are stupid

  This helped with Mum, thanks!

  Okay, this is a nice person who deserves a response.

  Don’t talk about things that you don’t understand

  OMG pretty gurl

  #Angst

  Bit weird but quite good really

  Who do you think you are stupid cow?

  Lose 34lbs a week on the guava diet

  Why are you in a shed? LOL

  Respect from Brazil!

  Hot. How old are you;)

  Are you a feminist? Is that why you are bare-faced?

  I take a few deep breaths.

  “Mills! Don’t be sad, that’s a really good question!” Lauren says. “Answer that and also say you’re not being anti-makeup. You’re just saying it is fine not to wear makeup.”

  Between you and me, I’m feeling a bit flat and angry. Erin has managed to twist everything I have said, ignore the main bit of advice about insane adults, and make it somehow all about her. AGAIN.

  I start ranting at Lauren. “You know, next time I will do half of it in makeup and half not and that will shut EVERYONE UP!”

  Lauren stops us both dead in the street. “Hang on, though. That could be a great idea.”

  I gape at her. “If I do that, EVERYONE will think I’m a complete and utter idiot. Everyone will be talking about it. Everyone…”

  Hang on. When you think about it, it’s the most perfect way to make my point. This is actually a fantastic idea.

  “LAUREN”—I hug her tight—“YOU ARE A GENIUS!” We dance up and down outside McDonald’s for a bit.

  Lauren nods her head, very proud of herself. “I’ll do one side of your face made up and one side not. You’ll look great both ways. Everyone will love you. You will answer Erin without deliberately going for her. Feminism and makeup will be saved. You may even become a sensation.”

  And then she gives me some serious head-swaying sass. “And now you think Bradley is the vlogging BOMB—”

  “Well, er, yes, but no, but … bye, Lauren! See you tomorrow!”

  I quickly run away before she can ask me anything more. Perhaps wanting to see Bradley ISN’T just about vlogging. Perhaps I am having major feelings for someone brainy and sweet and perhaps …

  When I get to our street, I see that Mum is waiting on Granddad’s front porch. She is not happy.

  It’s very easy to lose the ability to talk when my mum is giving The Stare.

  “Millie,” she says as she guides and sort of pushes me into the house. “We NEED to talk. NOW.”

  #Lecture

  I take Mum to my bedroom. I’ve managed to push nearly everything left of Aunty Teresa’s underneath the bed, including her wooden stable and play food that she can’t bear to throw out because it reminds her of her first play set for horses. Not many horses I’ve met like plastic pizzas, but there is no point arguing with Aunty Teresa.

  Mum sits on the end of the bed. “Your dad called me, Millie.”

  I look at her. That is surprising.

  “I’ve heard about this because Granddad told your dad, who told me…” She corrects herself. “In fact, I’ve seen that you’ve become one of these people on the Internet who films themselves. And you talked about Gary and me!”

  “I didn’t!” I shout.

  “You spoke about Gary. It’s not nice to talk about people behind their backs.”

  “I didn’t say his name, Mum.” I sound right AND calm.

  “Millie. You know I don’t like to be treated like an idiot.”

  Why, then, is she acting like one by living with one? I can win this argument EASILY.

  “Don’t worry, Mum,” I say quietly, “I’m sure lots of people have got a robot hoover that they treat like a child. No one will realize it’s Gary.”

  Mum gets her strop face on and her voice gets higher. “You also know I don’t appreciate sarcasm, Millie. And I’m worried about you. On the Internet, there are evil people pretending to be people who are really nice. They want to hurt you. I mean, do you know who you are talking to? Do you really?!”

  I try not to be cross at Dad and Granddad. I try not to be cross at Mum. She is patronizing me to death, but I know it’s because she loves me, so I keep calm.

  “Mum, seriously! I am talking to them. They are not talking to me. I don’t say where I live—not even the country I come from. I know what I’m doing.”

  Mum’s face goes red. “Does it make you a target for really terrible people, though, Millie?”

  I still keep calm. “I think you’ve been watching too many films with Liam Neeson, Mum. Honestly, I promise that if I had any worries, I would come to you. I always have, haven’t I? Like that time when someone at school told me that Father Christmas took all your teeth away if you’d been naughty that year. I was sleeping facedown all December. Remember?”

  “Well,” Mum says, “to use that story, these Internet people, like Father Christmas, are basically coming down the chimney, and they—”

  There! I knew she was going to overreact! I have to shut her down before I lose it.

  “Mum. Honestly. I’m fine. And all the homework’s still being done.”

  And it is—I make time. I’ve got time. I still haven’t got an actual desk in this house, but I just use Aunty Teresa’s TV-dinner Despicable Me 3 tray.

  “Oh, Millie…” Mum sounds a bit sad now. “I’m missing out on what you do. Come home. I know I can’t make you. Please just remember that I AM HERE. ALWAYS. ALWAYS.”

  And she does her heart fist pump, where she bangs her chest and then pats mine.

  This makes me want to cry.

  My mum is lovely, really. I know I should be hating on her and loads of my friends don’t get on with their mums, but mine is cool. Apart from the fact that she is going out with a really clean dictator. Like a lemon-fresh Stalin.

  If you love someone, it’s often better if you have different houses. It just sorts it ALL out. I may do a vlog on it.

  “By the way,” Mum asks me as we go downstairs, “where is your dad?”

  “Oh, he’s out doing some work.”

  Bet
ween you and me, I have absolutely no idea where he is. As per usual.

  #Honest

  After Mum’s gone, I feel a bit down. It doesn’t help that it’s Monday, when you just feel like you’ve got so far to go till the weekend.

  If I were doing an honest vlog tonight, this is what I would talk about:

    1.  Those comments really hurt. They sting inside and make me feel sick. I KNOW they shouldn’t, but they do. And I want to keep the vlog going so Erin and all the haters don’t win. BUT IT’S HARD.

    2.  My dad is never here! Granddad acts more like my dad. I see Dave the cat more than I see my own father—and she’s always out doing the feline party thing. I know Dad loves having me here, but it’s just like my mum said: Dad is completely … his own man. He is not a bad man. He is not a bad dad. If I were in trouble, I know he would be here for me. But in normal life, he just lets me get along with things, and he does his own thing, and I …

    3.  Okay, I’m only telling you this: I sort of miss a clean home and knowing people are going to be around when they say they will be. I don’t miss McWhirter and CONSTANTLY being treated like an actual ball of fluff on laminate wood flooring, but I do miss all the … organization. The stuff that makes you feel safe and not … panicky. I AM SO DULL. If only the Neat Freak Gary Woolton would DISAPPEAR and take his special antistatic flat-screen wipes somewhere else.

    4.  I love Danny Trudeau, and I’ve got no chance. And this isn’t me wanting you to say, “Of course you have, Millie!” in a fish-for-compliments special, because if you’ve seen Erin, you’d know what I mean. ZERO chance.

    5.  If all that wasn’t enough, I’m confused about Bradley Sanderson. I didn’t want to admit it to Lauren, but I think I like him. In what way, I don’t even know. I need the sensible part of my head to detach from all the squiggled-spoon-confused bits and sort it out. Or I could tell Mum. But that would mean admitting that I can’t really cope and I’m not that … clever. Or wise. Or anything my vlog claims.