by Rae Earl
“Hi! Do you like my ears? So, basically, a whole load of you have been saying, ‘Erin, PLEASE do a vlog. Please.’ And yeah. Okay. With pleasure. And this is going to be about makeup and fashion and styling because … that’s what I do. I think when you come on here, you want to get away from all the awful stuff that’s going on in your life. You don’t want to be thinking about solving problems and how to deal with social embarrassment. This is all about looking good and feeling good and NOT—”
(And she laughs this really annoyingly sweet but EVIL laugh.)
“—about how you recover from falling over.…”
I turn it off.
I just don’t want to watch any more.
But I can’t stop myself looking. I turn it back on.
Erin demonstrates different ways to wrap a scarf so it can be a sarong, a top, a headscarf, and a skirt. She also shows how you can tie it to make a bag. THEN she gets a pair of thick tights and shares her secrets to the perfect rip.
It’s an epic watch.
Erin’s latest vlog is a fashion triumph.
My latest vlog is about dropping your lunch.
Already, she has had almost the same number of views as my cat vlog.
I think a break from vlogging is a very good idea indeed. I would also like a break from other people. Dave snuggles beside me. She may be wild, but she understands a bad mood created by a good vlog better than any human ever could.
#WrappedUp
The next day at school, Lauren isn’t around. Maybe she’s ill. It must be why she hasn’t replied to my messages.
I’m on my own, so I try to do a Bradley and hug the walls. And I don’t go anywhere near chips. I opt for a nice vegetarian wrap, as, even if you do drop it, the cheese, peppers, and avocado are all contained. There won’t be a food bomb. I’m just about to bite into it when someone sits beside me.
I assume it’s lovely Gracie, so I say, “Wanna bite?”
A very Canadian voice answers, “Er … no, thank you—but thanks for asking.”
I nearly choke. Danny Trudeau is sitting next to me.
“Ah, gone for the safe option today. The sturdy wrap. If it falls, it falls as ONE.”
My mouth and brain sort of refuse to work together. I just stare.
Danny carries on. “I was thinking about what you said last night. I like Hashtag Help, and I don’t want you to stop vlogging. It’s … interesting. It’s something new, and it’s different. I get kinda bored with all the makeup stuff or the wacky prankster vloggers. I think it’s great that you’re so real.”
(This is just what Bradley said—he was RIGHT!)
“It’s sweet to want to help people out. It’s a hard world. It’s nice to watch something that makes you laugh—especially after moving here and not knowing anyone. You know, I think the dinosaurs died out because they had no Internet or TV and died of boredom.”
“Really?” This is the only word I manage to say. I must look really confused.
“Yeah.” Danny smiles. “Just think, at the end of a hard day chasing stuff, you just want to get back to your cave and watch something.”
At first, I don’t laugh, because I don’t really get it. Then I remember—that vlog where I said that dinosaurs died out because they didn’t embrace feminism.
“Oh. Yeah.” I’m in a panic. “They needed a show featuring a really glamorous family of brontosauruses. They could call it Keeping Up with the Jurassics or something.”
This isn’t meant to be a brilliantly hilarious joke, but Danny tilts his head back and howls like a maniac. He laughs so loud that basically everyone who wasn’t looking before is now looking.
Including Erin. She’s staring at us HARD.
Oh, please don’t talk to me when she’s watching.
“Anyway.” Danny interrupts my head panic. “I just wanted to tell you that. It’s neat. You’re neat. And I like what you said about falling over not being the end of the world. It’s not. It’s just falling over. Life is falling over, you know, and getting back up again.”
So he’s not just good-looking; he’s sensible, too. And a philosopher. I want to snog him immediately. Like now. But instead, I say, “Thanks, Danny. That’s … good.”
I can’t really concentrate because now BRADLEY is walking up to my table, looking very grumpy.
Danny quickly leaves, and Bradley sits down. “Are you two going out?”
“No!” I sort of half yell and half whisper. “He just wanted to tell me I was … neat.”
“Good!” Bradley snaps. I stare at him.
Bradley notices. “Well, I don’t think you’d enjoy going out with a Canadian. He’ll probably fly back there soon, and I know from my lift contacts that Canadians are very … different. They probably hide behind all those maple leaves and do their dating in forests.”
I think this is Bradley trying to be funny. It’s not really.
“Bradley, he was only being nice. He’s interested in the vlog. Right, I’ve just got to go and ask Gracie where she gets her mascara from. It wouldn’t run in a monsoon. It’s EPIC!”
I know any makeup talk will send Bradley away kindly. And it does.
I leave the cafeteria. As I turn the corner to the main block of the school, my path is blocked. What blocks me is solid, tall, and very scary. Glossy lips shine like very dangerous Olympic ski slopes, and teeth as white as gourmet ice cream frozen with liquid nitrogen gleam at me.
It’s Erin.
“Millie Porter,” she says. “It’s time you and I had a … talk.”
#Showdown
Erin does her beautiful head tilt and snarls. She’s whispering, but to me, her message is loud and clear.
“You think you’re cool. You’re not.”
I go all pathetic. “I don’t think I’m cool at all.”
“Yes, you do,” she whispers. “But YOU are small. My vlog has already had thousands of views. No one wants to see you giving us your advice. Who do you think you are?”
This makes me angry, and I have an attack of the braves.
“I’ve had loads of views, too. And I know you’ve looked at my vlogs because of your Instagram. And I think you’ve been doing some enormous trolling.”
Erin tilts her head to the other, equally glamorous, side. We should ALL be over girl-on-girl hate, but Erin makes it impossible.
“The trolling is nothing to do with me,” she growls. “I don’t mind telling you what I think of you to your face. Do you know what people say about you behind your back? That you’re DULLSVILLE! That you think not wearing makeup is a new thing that makes you some kind of amazing rebel. You are not going to change the world and get a prize, Millie. It’s all been done. And people are doing it BETTER.”
I start to lose it now. “I KNOW. All I’m trying to do is help people because I’m dull and sensible, Erin! And because being around you has totally taught me how to deal with twonks who only love themselves and want to make other people’s lives a misery.”
And then Erin goes all Disney evil queen and says, “I can destroy you. Never forget it. Leave this to the people who actually know what they are doing and have something to say. Leave Instagramming to people who want to make this world look better, not worse. Basically, Millie BORING Porter—WIND IT IN, GET LOST, and DISAPPEAR!”
She still isn’t finished, though.
“Oh, and don’t for one second think that Danny is interested in you. We are going bowling after school this week. That was a pity chat. He’s a nice boy, and he feels SORRY for you. He’s not attracted to you. Boys like him would never go out with girls like you. This isn’t a cute fairy-tale land where the gorgeous boy likes the clever girl. Go and have your happy ending with the lift geek. You can spend your time pressing buttons and misusing the emergency bell. Thrilling!”
Then Erin Breeler glides off.
My mind tries to find lots of amazing things to say. I reach right into my brain, but I’ve got nothing. So I stand there like the goldfish Dave brought in from someone�
��s pond once. All tragic and flapping and gasping for air. Erin has played with me like Dave played with that fish, and now she’s dumped me in the kitchen by the microwave, expecting someone else to clean me up.
I’m destroyed.
I’m having a full-on attack.
I need to get away NOW.
#Escape
I rush to the Zen Loo. My heart is pumping like it would if I’d been in a situation of extreme terror. I’ve googled this. It’s very unlikely that I will die from this Erin attack—it just feels like it at the moment. I splash water on my face and breathe in deep breaths. And then I go into a cubicle and cry and cry till my face probably looks like a red-lipped batfish.
WHERE IS LAUREN WHEN I NEED HER?! Trust her to have the flu when I’m having a minor meltdown.
When I leave, Bradley is waiting for me AGAIN. “Do you need more toilet paper, Millie?”
“No, I’m okay,” I sniff. “How did you know I was here?”
“I guessed,” Bradley whispers. “The whole school is talking about it. There’s a photo of you and Erin. It was a Snapchat, but it’s been screengrabbed. I think she probably had someone waiting to take it. It was a planned attack. An ambush.”
“Is it bad?” I don’t really want to know the answer.
“No, it just looks like you’re talking.”
“We weren’t. She went for me.”
“Of course she did, Millie! You are totally being successful by just being you, and you’re getting attention. Sometimes getting bombed is a sign of success!”
I sniff. I can’t stop crying.
“I think I’m the stupidest person in the world. I don’t feel wise anymore.”
Bradley smiles at me and gives me a big hug. It’s surprisingly nice being hugged by Bradley. “No, you’re not stupid. I’ve had my trousers on inside out for two hours today. Everyone knows my mum shops at Tesco now and that I am size fifteen.”
This makes me smile a bit. It reminds me of the sort of thing Lauren would say. Lozza is a queen. And she is sweet and funny and kind and her occasional toolness only hurts her. Never anyone else. Except that time with the squirrel. And we don’t talk about that.
Why hasn’t she messaged me? I MISS HER.
“Come on, Millie,” Bradley says. “Don’t let her see that she’s made you feel bad.”
I look up at him blearily. “What I really need now is some cucumber. Not to scare cats with—but to put on my eyes to reduce inflammation. Or tea bags. They tend to be more common than cucumbers in schools and in life, generally.”
And then something comes over me. Rushing and real. Confused but all certain at the same crashing time. I kiss Bradley Sanderson hard on the lips. And just as he puts his arms around me, I pull back.
Bradley has gone bright red but seems quite pleased.
“OR,” I quickly continue, “I should wear my enormously glam and exceedingly slightly ludicrous sunglasses ALL day. Though that will make me look like I’m hiding after a scandal.”
Bradley pauses. “Well, um—you are, really, Millie.”
Bradley is right. This is what everyone will be talking about for months. The day that Erin completely took down Millie Porter. It will become legend. I bet Erin is already planning the statue that will go on the spot. I will forever be cast in bronze as—
Okay, my head is probably going a bit overboard there. But still. This is big.
And why did I kiss Bradley Sanderson?
#Twisted
“You can’t be beaten by her!”
At the end of school, I call Aunty Teresa and tell her everything—apart from Bradley.
“Do you want me to have a word with her, Mills?”
I have a vision of Aunty Teresa turning up to school in her ice-cream van and shoving a giant Cornetto in Erin’s FACE. It’s a lovely fantasy that I may think about for days.
Gracie comes up to me mid–Aunty Teresa’s anti-Erin ranting and makes a motion that I need to get off the phone FAST.
“Millie. I don’t know how to break this to you, AND PLEASE DON’T TELL ANYONE I TOLD YOU, but … Erin is telling everyone that you were having a go at her. The Snapchat shows you and her arguing. The fact is, you look very cross, like you’re the one who is laying into her and telling her to back off. Look!”
Sure enough, when I see them, what I thought was my blank expression of spoon actually seems like a death stare. Bradley was COMPLETELY wrong when he said it looked like we were just talking. I’m like a cheetah eyeing up a gazelle before getting it by the neck and ripping it to pieces, then eating it in front of a really excited cameraman.
“It does look a bit … bad.”
I can’t believe how she can twist things.
“What can I do about it?”
Gracie goes very quiet and then says, “Nothing, Millie. You can’t fight that. You can’t beat her. She’s amazing.” Gracie realizes what she’s said. “Horrible, don’t get me wrong, but amazing.”
I look over to the edge of the mobile classrooms that were meant to be temporary but have been there since Roman times and see a crowd of girls comforting Erin. She shakes her head and wipes her eyes, but when she catches me looking at her, she flashes a perfect grin. There are already sharks with cameras walking around, menacing people. I’ve seen them. They are called Erin. That’s what I would have told Bradley. If I hadn’t kissed him.
#Revenge
At home, things seem a bit better. Teresa and Dad are doing a dance routine to an old song called “Groove Is in the Heart.” Granddad is tutting and shaking his head but looking impressed at the same time.
Dave is sleeping on top of a perfectly ironed pile of washing. She’s shedding, and she’s created a new teensy, tabby hair sweater on top of a pair of granddad’s pants. He’ll be so mad when he sees them, so I take Dave to the back garden for a brush. Dave purrs and rolls with pleasure, then bites me when she’s had enough. If humans treated their hairdressers this way, they would be sent to prison.
When I get back inside, there’s a message from Gracie on my phone.
Millie. Don’t get freaked out again
(This means there’s totally something to get freaked out about.)
But take a look at Erin’s Instagram
My heart goes in my mouth. There’s a beautiful black-and-white photo of Erin looking sad. What is it about black and white? It makes anything artistic and serious. Even Dave the girl-cat-thug would look artistic with that filter. Erin has hashtagged it #Sad, #Leaving, and #Unhappy and has written:
So anyway I’ve been really struggling with some of the things that have been said to me on here and in person today. Someone attacked me today and said that I should leave all this to the people who do it better. Look at me. It hurt. IT HURTS.
I know people are aiming stuff at me and it’s just too much so I am going to come off social media for a time. I think that way I can just get my head together. And that means my vlog, too. I only ever started it as a bit of fun and I do not deserve the abuse I am getting from certain people. Plus I have to tell you that I need to concentrate on my personal life a bit more. I know lots of you are going to be very disappointed by this but the truth is everyone has their limits and I have reached mine. Love you. Erin x
I cannot believe people are falling for Erin’s total “I am a victim” nonsense. All the things SHE said to me, she is now saying that I said to HER. I didn’t. I wouldn’t. That’s just not me. I wish it was. But it’s NOT.
The comments that have already been left are unbelievable:
Don’t let the haters get you down.
Name and shame the bullies here. I will personally go after them.
After my dog died your Instagram page was the one thing that made me smile again. You bring joy to millions. Don’t stop.
That is totally her making up her own comments.
I ring Lauren. There’s still no answer.
I can’t believe Erin is making me out to be completely evil and horrible when SHE is the one
who is causing all the problems! SHE is the one who is having a go at me, and now she is making out that she is the victim. Some people might actually believe that I’m like that, and YES, I do mean Danny.
Danny.
Danny would want me to do a vlog now. Wouldn’t he?
So would Bradley.
I’m going to do a vlog. It doesn’t have to be aimed at Erin. It can just be about how people can say what they like about you on social media and that you’ve got no control over that.
I’ve got to say something.
#Catastrophe
In Granddad’s shed, it’s just Dave and me. Everyone in the house is either dancing or pretending to not enjoy dancing, so this is the best place to be.
I don’t feel like vlogging, but I do.
“Hello. Millie here, and I’m feeling a bit rubbish.”
(At this point Dave jumps on my lap. I think she feels bad about biting me after I’d made her look good.)
“‘Hashtag Help Me Cope When People Say Bad Things About Me Which Are Clearly NOT TRUE.’
“So Dave and I are just sitting here, and I’ve just been wondering about all this and what you might think about what I’m doing on here. The thing is, I can’t bear the thought of anyone hating me. I make out that I don’t care, but I do. And it’s the hardest thing, because I really like people to like me. God, that sounds PATHETIC. I’m aware of that, but I do.”
(I look at Dave. It’s random, but I have an idea.)
“This is Dave, my cat. She’s a girl, but she’s called Dave. You might have seen her in some of my other vlogs. Anyway, Dave doesn’t really care about anyone and what anyone thinks. She does what she likes. And yes—she’s a cat, but I think there’s a lot to be learned from her attitude. I know people who HATE Dave and think she’s a walking fur menace, er … a bag of fleas, a pit bull in a cat body—people say all sorts of things about her, and she just carries on doing her thing.