by Rae Earl
“And that’s kind of what I want to say. I get people asking me about what to do when people say horrible or untrue things on the Internet. And something has happened to me this week—I know someone was having a go at me and basically making me out to be a Queen of Evil when actually THEY were the person who was … just being nasty and, oh … hugely a twonk. And some people believe that I’m like that because they want to believe it. There’s nothing I can do about that. I just have to know that the people who really know me know what I’m really like, and they are the ones who matter.
“The thing is, it still hurts. It REALLY DOES, but I look at Dave and I think about that time that my mum’s next-door neighbor called her the worst cat on earth and accused her of getting her pedigree cat pregnant till she found out Dave was actually a girl and not a lesbian, either. Dave just took the abuse and carried on using their cat flap to steal food. We’ve all just got to keep on being ourselves and ignoring the haters, and, as I always say, please tell someone. I know. I KNOW! Boring advice. Dullsville central, but seriously, it will be okay if you just talk to people you love and trust and um … yep. That’s it from me. Be more like Dave.”
(And at that point Dave attacks the phone because she feels like it. So I add—)
“But don’t attack phones or sit on freshly washed trousers and shed your hair. Also if you wake me up at five o’clock in the morning by punching my face because you want food, you won’t be popular.
“Thanks again. Millie out. Hashtag Help me to help you, even though today I think I need help more than anyone.”
This says everything I want it to, even though it suggests humans should be more like scabby, slightly insane cats.
I’m uploading it, though. At least it’s me doing something.
I give Dave a special hug. She may be full of fleas, but she really is an icon for modern women. And cats. And probably even dogs if they would just listen.
#BFFRescue
The next day Lauren is home sick. AGAIN. She normally likes Wednesdays, too. And as I have to avoid both Danny and Bradley, the day goes really slowly. I get to check the comments on my vlog once. They are mainly about Dave.
Dave, tho.
Cat BAE.
Both need thereapy
(Spell therapy right if you are going to suggest it!)
Nothing wrong with lesbian cats. Love is love.
I feel like replying, “I am totally for marriage equality.” Then I realize that cats can’t get married anyway. Or perhaps they do and just don’t invite us.
When I get home, I find Aunty Teresa dressed in Victorian clothes and talking to herself.
“And they say that if you come here at night, you will see the ghost of a man who drowned after tending an injured duck. If you close your eyes tightly, you will hear his gentle quacking. Oh, hello, Millie!” she says when she spots me. “I’m just practicing! Your dad and I are doing a ghost tour.”
“I didn’t know there were any ghosts around here.” I’m used to being confused by Teresa, but this is totally bizarre.
“Oh, there’s not!” Aunty Teresa says casually. “We’re just going to make them up.”
“You can’t do that!” I shout. “That must be illegal.”
“Yes, we can, Millie. Someone made it all up once. Why not us? We will live in legend. WE WILL CREATE LEGEND!” Teresa roars.
Dad thunders into the room dressed as a ghost. He asks Teresa, “Is this going to work?”
I answer for her. “No, Dad—it’s not. You don’t look like a ghost. You look like a sheet.”
“Actually, clever clogs,” Dad says, “I’m a Roman. This is a toga. I’m the ghost of Emperor Caesar!”
This is too much. “Dad! Emperor Caesar never lived around here. That’s just a load of…”
Teresa gets quite aggressive. “You cannot prove, Millie, that Caesar did not come here on holiday. And, anyway, there were lots of Caesars. We need to do ghosts of all historical eras.”
“There was only one Caesar around here,” I say, “and he was actually a salad.”
When Teresa and Dad are like this, there’s only one place to go: away.
I sit in my room and think about Lauren. This is the longest we haven’t spoken. And she wasn’t even away from school this long when she had conjunctivitis. I check all her accounts. She’s posted a photo of a rainbow meme on Instagram with some ridiculous message about how “There can be no rainbow without a storm.”
So she can’t look after me in my hour of total need, but she’s well enough to make other people feel good. I feel a bit … rejected.
I check my views. There are a few more but no new subscribers. And all the new comments are about Dave.
Gonna change my name to Dave. TRIBUTE.
More Le Chat. Less Chat.
I hate it when people try to be clever and funny and they are NEITHER. It’s just annoying.
Dear Brain,
Think about something that makes you feel good. NOT Bradley. Think about Danny. Please don’t let Erin’s post have made him think I’m a cow.
I catch up on Canada, which I know a bit about. We have the same queen, but they have better ice cream and it’s bigger. Also there are more things that can kill you in Canada, like snakes, spiders, and the West Nile virus, which makes your brain basically explode. And if that doesn’t get you, then the bears will, and the only way to stop them attacking is to pretend you are dead already and hope the bear is a stupid one.
I take a deep breath. I imagine what would happen if Danny and I ever became a “thing.” I would probably say we should live here. I can’t do bears. Or elk. They charge during the mating season. I don’t even want to watch things with antlers kissing. Don’t charge at me for accidentally stumbling on your love thing like a spoon. I didn’t mean to. It was an accident! Carry on kissing your moosey girlfriend.
Why am I talking to an imaginary elk?
You know why. Love makes you do crazy things.
Teresa walks into my bedroom.
“Sorry. Don’t mind me,” she tries to whisper. “We just need more paranormal props for the ghost tour. Does this Barbie seem spooky to you?”
I look at her. “She’s got one arm, so I suppose so.”
“Yeah,” Aunty Teresa agrees. “I’m going to say it was a voodoo doll that was used in a ritualistic murder that happened in this house.”
“There WILL be a murder here in a minute if someone doesn’t come and tidy up this front room,” Granddad yells from the bottom of the stairs.
“Be honest, Mills. What’s more disturbing: a one-armed Barbie, or a Furby with a pulled-out eye?”
“Why don’t you use them both?” I suggest. “You could call them a duo of death.”
“Millie!” Aunty Teresa rushes over and hugs me. “Every so often I sense that you have a spark of our entrepreneurial spirit, our joie de vivre, our—”
Now Granddad bursts in. Why is there no privacy in this house? “You’re being ruddy crackers. Don’t get involved, Millie. Never mind ghosts; these two will put me in an early grave.”
Granddad looks at me. “And will you be requiring my shed today for one of your things that you do for your friends on the phone?”
I say “no” without letting my entire face say I AM HIDING AWAY FROM THE ENTIRE WORLD.
Granddad just shuffles off. Sometimes I am tremendous at pretending things are okay when they are clearly NOT.
Five minutes later, when I am still feeling quite excellent about fooling Granddad, Mum texts me. She still texts. Even though it costs money. She says she doesn’t trust the other things.
Anything you’d like to tell me, Millie?
I reply.
No. Why? Love you x
She replies instantly.
No reason. No problem. I’m here if you need me. Love you. XX
I think Mum has got a mind-melding machine in her head and she knows everything that goes on in my brain. Which is a worry. For both of us.
I just reali
zed that mind melds are what they do in Star Trek. Sometimes it scares me how deep Bradley has got into my head. He’s there all the time like a small glowing lift, going up and down the floors of my brain. Never stopping. Just up and down. Waiting for me to get on and get in touch with him.
Which I still haven’t done since I kissed him.
And then I realize that makes me sound like the most full-of-myself, love-yourself horror girl since Erin Breeler and her elephant ego, and I stop.
I’m making this into something that it’s not. I’m sure he thinks that kiss was as weird as I did! Bradley loves the fact that I quite admire escalators. Not me. If he liked me he would have totally made a move now after I kissed him, and he hasn’t.
Erin. I wonder if she’s seen my vlog. I check Instagram. Sure enough, she’s at the top of my feed.
Her latest photo is a STUNNING one of her and her friends. They are angled and contoured immaculately. Erin’s cheekbones look like they’ve been created from a really lovely bit of a marble kitchen counter—pale and perfect with a flash of pink. It must have taken about five attempts to get it just right, but it was worth it. Underneath she’s written:
I am BACK!! I decided that you can’t let the haters win and today I had such a wonderful day. After school some BFFs and I went shopping (YES! I have more than one BFF!) and all the love was there. I will share what we bought later (I think you will LOVE it—but don’t get too excited. Just one jacket but a WONDERFUL one). I just want to thank you ALL so, so much for your support during this tough time. I came back from my break to find so many beautiful messages from all over the world encouraging me to carry on sharing. And I am going to. You have made me feel like a total superstar. Thank you SO MUCH. I will never again let the jealousy of some people stop what I’m doing or who I talk to. I LOVE YOU x
YET AGAIN there is nothing in that I can moan about. But underneath it all I know there is a message to me that says, “BACK OFF, MILLIE. I have the power. I have the masses on my side. If you attack, I will find not just one but a hundred ways to hurt you.”
Right now, I am the stranded whale of the social media world. Everyone will come to look at me on the beach as I struggle desperately to get oxygen. Some will feel very sorry for me, but they won’t be able to get me back to the sea. And all the time, Erin will be by a sand dune taking selfies with me in the back, flapping.…
And I am getting myself into a right state about everything.
I pick up the phone and call Lauren. FINALLY, she answers! I tell her what has happened, but she doesn’t seem to listen. There are lots of “yeah”s and “mmmm”s, which are totally unhelpful. She almost seems in a bit of a diva mood—which is very unlike Lauren.
“The thing is,” I say to her, “I need to do SOMETHING!”
“No, you don’t,” Lauren snaps. Now I’m really worried. She doesn’t get how serious all this is.
“Lauren! All my followers will be waiting for me to respond to her!”
“No, they won’t, Millie. You can do a one-minute-long vlog. ‘What to do when you’re caught out. Well, you just have to take it on the chin and move on with it. Thanks. Bye.’ That’s what you should do.”
Lauren sounds angry. Almost … nasty.
“You think it’s as simple as that?”
“Probably, Millie. Anyway, stuff is going on here, so I’ve got to go. Bye.”
I say, “Okay. Bye!”
But I don’t really believe that at all—inside I am broken and absolutely gutted. And what stuff is going on that Lauren can’t speak to me about?! That’s total spoon behavior from her.
Or …
Or perhaps she’s been kidnapped, and she’s being held hostage and can’t talk to me.
Perhaps “stuff” was a code word for really bad stuff involving extremists who want to make the country YouTube-free or Lauren-free or something.
Or perhaps she’s cross with me. Though, I can’t think why she would be. I’ve told her everything that’s happened with the vlog while she’s been away.
Either way, I can’t sit here and let my friend become a statistic or fall out with me. I need to go over to her house and find out what’s going on. I wonder about taking backup, but in a house full of ghosts and old people, it’s better, as Granddad says, to be a lone soldier of fortune. With a phone. I take my phone, obviously. You can’t be without that. That would be insane.
#BFFGoneBad
This is scary, and midweek should not be about face-to-face combat. It’s a drastic measure, but some things need sorting right now. As I get around the corner to Lauren’s house, I start to case the joint. I watched this on a private investigator’s vlog once. You assess the hostility and the threat.
I see that Lauren’s dad is mowing the lawn, so I decide that perhaps I may have overreacted to any threat, but I was right to check. You can’t be too careful.
Lauren’s dad can’t hear me over the hum of the mower. It’s odd, because the grass doesn’t need cutting, but you can’t argue with gardeners. I know that from Granddad.
I run upstairs to see Lauren. She’s sitting on her bed and barely looks at me when I walk in. “Oh, you’ve remembered that I exist,” she says.
“Lauren! What is up with you? Why haven’t you replied to any of my messages or been at school? Are you ill? You’ve been acting like a TOTAL cow.”
She gives me a look that she’s never given me before, like she’s about to explode. Then she sneers, “I’m surprised you’ve noticed. You’re so in love with those people on your vlog. Or Danny. Or Bradley.”
OH. So she isn’t in any danger from a terrorist group. She’s actually just JEALOUS. This makes me LIVID.
“Well, Lauren. Sorry to tell you this, but people on there actually need me for a bit of good sense and stuff. A bit of—”
Lauren gets off her bed and starts screaming. Actual, total RAGE. “I need you, and I’m actually real! I helped you make that vlog WHAT IT IS! Have you noticed that I’m having the worst time at home ever?! My parents are at war. I don’t even know where my mum is right now. My dad isn’t speaking to anyone and is mowing dirt. HE IS TRYING TO MOW ACTUAL MUD. I am going through HELL. And all you care about these days is your views. Your views?! Who do you think you are?! WHY DO YOU EVEN BOTHER?! You’ve been totally taken in by it all, Millie. Everything you say and do is about your YouTube channel and your friends on there. And I was happy to help, but now it’s taken over. You don’t need my advice. Go and speak to one of your many friends.” (Lauren keeps making little quotation marks with her fingers every time she says the word friends.) “YOU don’t need a best friend. You need a public-relations manager!”
This makes me cross. I’ve totally been there for Lauren. All the time. Okay, I might have got a bit distracted lately. But she obviously can’t deal with the fact that I have different friends and different interests, and YES! I have done something that a lot of—well, some—people are getting comfort from. Perhaps I haven’t asked her about stuff as much as I should have, but I’m so cross at her for ruining it all that I end up yelling, “Your parents have been rubbish for years. What’s new?!”
Even as I’m saying these words, I know they sound totally awful. Enormous levels of awful, too. But I can’t stop saying them. And when I do say them, Lauren goes a funny color.
“You know what, Millie. You’re right. Yes, they have been. And you’ve been really great about it. You’ve really helped me. But recently, it’s just been all about you. Or you and Erin. Who cares what she thinks ALL the time? And also, the way you’ve been treating Bradley is just…”
“Just WHAT?” And this I really want to know, because … this will totally prove that Lauren is just being completely HORRIBLE and is really just upset at her mum and dad. That’s fine, but be angry at them! Don’t have a go at me!
“You KNOW Bradley likes you,” Lauren shouts. “You KNOW he does! But you keep on pretending that he doesn’t and hanging out with him so he’ll help you with your vlog. And if Mr. S
exy Maple Leaf wasn’t already dating Erin Breeler, you wouldn’t even talk to Bradley, Millie! That’s not fair!”
I’m not having this.
“Lauren. We. Are. Friends. Are you saying women can’t be just friends with a man? I’m sorry, Lauren, but that is totally unfeminist. Bradley is responsible for his emotions, not me!”
(I saw that phrase in an article online—it sounds good.) I’m also trying really hard not to think about the fact that I’ve snogged him and not told my best friend.
“It’s got nothing to do with feminism, Millie! It’s got everything to do with not being a cow. You always bring up the clever stuff when you want to win a row or look cool. How about just not being an idiot that only cares about herself and her PROFILE? I know I’m not the only person with parents who have split up, Millie. I know that. But today I’m the only ex–best friend of yours that has. I’m the only person I know who woke up to her mum crying and packing a suitcase and saying ‘sorry’ repeatedly. My mum left home today! She left my DAD and left HOME! But don’t worry—I understand that, to you, YouTube is more important.”
Now I feel DREADFUL.
“It’s not!” I whisper. “I’m not a mind reader! Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I couldn’t get a word in!” Lauren says through tears. “And you haven’t asked me what’s going on in my life for ages. I’m sorry that Erin is not very nice to you, but so what? So you’re the person she got today. There will be another one tomorrow. And the next day. That’s what Erin does. You can’t change it.”
I start to think. “Do you really think I’ve treated Bradley badly?”
Lauren throws her hands in the air. “Oh, we’re back to YOU again! Do me a favor, Millie. Just GO! GO! You’re not a person I like right now. You’ve been completely messed up by a tiny bit of fame. HASHTAG DREADFUL USELESS COMPLETELY POINTLESS BEST FRIEND.”
I start to cry. Lauren starts to cry.
As I leave, I notice that Lauren’s dad has been mowing the same bit of mud during the entire time I’ve been with her. He didn’t see me arrive, and he doesn’t see me leave. I think Lauren could get kidnapped and he wouldn’t notice. Perhaps I wouldn’t notice, either. I’d be too busy uploading or recording or something.