by Rae Earl
And Mum gets me in this incredible boa-constrictor-squeeze-hold cuddle, which is both lovely and slightly scary at the same time.
While she is holding me tight, I squeak, “Mum. Can I come home? I’ll try to keep things tidy for Gary.”
Mum pulls me closer and says, “Whenever you want, Millie. In my eyes, you NEVER left. And I think it will be better this time. You can have the Wi-Fi on till ten o’clock. And I’ve already had a proper chat with Gary about McWhirter. It’s your home, too, and he has to get used to your crumbs. And from now on, I’ll try to make Thursday night Mum-and-Millie night.”
We have a little cry until Mum wiggles her head from side to side, does a big sniff, and says, “Now, Millie Porter—hashtag helper or whatever you call yourself! I need to go and have dinner with my boyfriend, who is taking me to the cinema tonight in GOLD class! I’ll get wine and food, too. My days of popcorn and half a vat of Diet Coke are gone. Tell you what, Millie—if you want to work out what a good man is, then find a man who really thinks about YOU rather than what they would like to do. Good-bye. I love you. And remember that I’m here”—and she thumps my hand against her heart—“ANYTIME you want me.”
I give my mum another HUGE cuddle and thank her, but I don’t ask what I really want to ask.
I want to ask Mum about men, but I don’t. In a way, I don’t want to because just thinking about men is largely very confusing indeed.
I know Bradley likes me. In fact, I think I now have two boys who like me. But how do you tell one of them that you actually want to be with someone else? I don’t want to leave the heart of either one lightly smashed. Won’t I end up feeling dreadful? Won’t he feel rejected?
But I have to do something. Lauren was right. I have been a bit awful about it all.
I’ve been not exactly great about a lot of things. And now I’ve got to tell everyone in this house that I want to move back in with Mum.
I’m sure Dave knows already. She’s glued herself to my ankle. She’s made herself into a furry shoe.
#GrandSad
It takes a while to get everyone together in the front room. As usual, there is a big mess of people doing random and largely pointless things in different parts of the house. When I yell that I need to speak to everyone together, though, they all eventually come. Teresa thunders down the stairs, Dad tries to barge Teresa out of the way, and Granddad shuffles in holding a bubble level. He often holds a bubble level. It’s like his ultra-accurate, comforting teddy bear.
I look at them. They are all lovely in a strange way. I’m very lucky.
“Thank you so much for letting Dave and me stay here, but I’ve decided that it would probably be best if I moved back in with Mum. Not today, but, say, next week sometime. She really misses me, and I really love being…”
I can sense huge tears not just pricking but stabbing the sides of my eyes. My throat goes tight. I can see all of them smiling at me, trying to help me along, but it just makes me feel more guilty and sad. I hear myself squeaking. I sound like a really sick door.
Dad sees that I’m in trouble, gets up, and hugs me. “Mills,” he says, “I totally get it. You don’t have to explain yourself. I’ve told you before and I will tell you again—you’ve got a room here whenever you need one. Even if it’s just for a night.”
Teresa stands behind Dad, nodding solemnly. “Yes!” she whispers. “And don’t worry about Dave. My friend Julie just gave birth, and she is using craniosacral therapy to help her baby relax. All you do is massage the top of the head. I bet it works with cats, too. I am more than happy to come by your mum’s house and work with Dave’s feline acupuncture stress points to help her settle back in.”
Even though I know Teresa is deadly serious, this makes me laugh.
Dad giggles, too, but I see a flash of gray wool as Granddad, with his bubble level and his cardigan full of holes, slinks out of the room. He doesn’t say a word. He just disappears.
I look at Teresa and Dad. “Don’t worry,” I say. “I’ll go and talk to him.”
Dad gives me an arm squeeze and mumbles, “You know, you’re his favorite person on this earth. He’d perhaps never say it, but you are.”
I think I know this, too. I just want to give Granddad a huge hug. I know where he’ll be.
Even though he takes things slowly, Granddad can move fast. When I get to the shed, he’s holding a hammer, gazing at it like it’s a really cute puppy.
“Funny thing, hammers,” he finally says.
I don’t know what to say to this. I don’t think there is a right answer to how strange hammers are.
I go to speak, but, before I can, Granddad says quietly, “I’ll be glad to have my shed back, but I’ll miss you, you know.”
This makes me totally tear up again. I’m not moving to the moon, but I love my granddad. I put my arm around his shoulder, and he grabs my hand. It’s all lovely and uncomfortable at the same time, so I blurt out something to make us smile.
“Actually, I’d still like to use the shed if that’s okay.”
Granddad jokily shakes me off and shouts, “Oh! You would, would you, Miss Superstar? Well, I might start charging for this vog studio.”
I don’t bother correcting him. He’s being really sweet and funny and I love him.
“Just one thing, Millie,” he adds. I can tell he’s turned serious.
“When you’re giving people bad news, like you did today, always shoot straight with your arrow. Don’t be brutal with the truth, but…”—he hesitates—“shoot straight and true.”
I think he means be nice but tell it like it is. I tell him I will.
I know I’ve got to put a lot of things straight. Things like Bradley.
#LikeANiceArrow
I wait till Saturday morning and then I message Bradley.
Do you want to meet up?
Bradley replies like he has been sitting on his iPhone.
If you can fit me in, global celebrity. See you at 2 at the mall
I look at my vlog. Loads of views already, and it’s only been up for half an hour. People must be looking as soon as they get notifications. This is great, but …
Aunty Teresa comes in and tells me that, with my dad’s help, she has finally got her ice-cream van finished and is thinking of rebranding it as “Ice Scream” and using it as part of her new nowhere-near-the-posh-flats ghost tour.
This is actually a great idea, but I still can’t think of anything but Bradley. I’m really nervous.
When I get to the shopping center, the clock moves as slowly as Dave the cat when you want her to do something, and then finally, eventually …
It’s 2:00 p.m. and forty-three seconds.
I see Bradley. He’s never late.
In almost silence, Bradley and I go and sit down on his favorite bench between his favorite lift and the double-fronted Otis lift that secretly goes to the basement if you press the right buttons.
I stutter, “Bradley … I, er, really like you.…”
“I know,” he says, “but you really, REALLY like Danny. Mr. Normal. And I suppose he doesn’t bore you with lifts. And escalators.”
“Actually, Bradley.” I stare at him intently. “I want you to know that I do have a newfound respect for lifts that I never had before I met you. I like to think that if I can open one mind up to the gift of lift engineering, then…”
Bradley looks gutted.
“Don’t tell me. You should never have kissed me.”
“No. I shouldn’t have,” I whisper. The fact that I did makes me a cow.
“Don’t worry.” Bradley sighs sarcastically. “What girl can resist such geek talk? And now I suppose you just want to be friends.”
This is awful. I cannot describe how terrible I feel. I would HATE it if someone did this to me.
“Please, can we?” I whisper.
“No,” Bradley snaps. Then he becomes gentler. “No. No. No. It doesn’t work like that. Because right now I want to be horrible to you and say the worst
things ever, and seriously, I just need to go before I say something, because … just … just—I need to go.”
Bradley disappears into a Sigma Solon MRL (he’s taught me a lot). The doors shut behind him really slowly. You can’t slam a lift. That’s the problem.
Horrible. Horrible. Horrible.
That’s how I feel.
I call Mum and explain. I just need some advice right now.
“Did you mean to hurt him?” Mum asks.
“Of course not!” I shout.
“No! But you still did, Millie, and that’s life. He’ll be okay after a while. Male pride is a very complicated thing. In fact, ANY pride is a very complicated thing. You’re going to hurt people, and people are going to hurt you. But you can’t live a lie. Look at Lauren’s parents. Hearts rule where heads fear to tread, Millie. Get used to it.”
In the middle of a shopping center, I ask Mum a very important question. “Mum, does this get easier?”
“Oh, no!” Mum says, and she’s brutal. And then she corrects herself a bit. “Yes, it does, darling. You learn to manage it a bit better. And you can see the problems galloping down the road before they knock you over. Usually. Not always. But here’s a tip—don’t you DARE share what happened with that boy ANYWHERE. NOTHING. No vlog. No ‘vaguebooking’ or whatever it’s called. Some things, Millie, are not and never will be for public consumption. Sharing YOUR thoughts is one thing. Sharing the pain of others without their permission is just cruel. DO NOT do it. You’re not my Millie, the girl I know and love, if you do.”
I know she’s right. Even though it would make the best subject matter ever for a vlog.
“Don’t worry, Millie. Bradley will find someone else! And then YOU’LL be jealous and wonder what is happening and if you’ve made the right decision. But you should be happy that such a lovely young man—and he sounds like one—has found happiness.”
And I will be—it’s just that …
You know, when I started this whole thing, I thought I knew loads. But it’s by sharing what I thought was loads that I realized I’ve got quite big gaps of things I have no clue about. Although escalators now aren’t one of them.
Life is very confusing. Or, as Granddad says wrongly, trying to sound very clever indeed, this whole thing seems to have led to a great deal of “confusement.”
Now I’ve just got to wait around for Danny. Two boys in one day. I feel slightly cow, and I hope Erin isn’t around. I hope no one is around. I might go and hide at the florist’s. It’s like a mini jungle in there.
#Danny
I see Danny floating toward me, and honestly, I know I’ve made the right decision. Don’t hate me. I know this is shallow, but he is GORGEOUS.
“Hello, my lady of global fame. How are you?”
“Well, not really global fame. But. Yes. Doing quite well vlogging-wise. I’m good. I wondered—”
“Yes,” he says. “The answer is ‘yes.’ I would love to buy you an ice cream.”
What follows is a stupendous kiss. It is the equivalent of a million likes on every social media network ever. A mass of emoticons and hearts and a huge THUMBS ALOFT firework that sends me off my head. Do they teach kissing in schools in Ontario? I think they must, because Danny has elevated the kiss to a school subject, passing with the best grade possible.
It’s a kiss that makes me feel brave and brilliant and …
“Danny, I really like you.”
We kiss AGAIN. This is truly magnificent.
“I really like you, too, Miss Porter, problem sorter. Can I take you to Wagamama this evening?”
I would love to go and slurp noodles with Danny, but I have to be honest. “I’d love to, Danny. I can hang out this afternoon, but there’s something really important I’ve got to do this evening.”
Danny looks disappointed.
“Look: I really like you, Danny. I’m thinking you want to sort of try to be my boyfriend … thing.…”
Danny smiles. “Yeah.”
“Well, me, too. I mean, I want to be your girlfriend, but—”
Danny interrupts, “But you’ll have lots of options now that you’re a global sensation.”
This takes me totally by surprise. “Oh no! It’s not that. The thing about vlogging is, it’s wonderful, but … I just want to enjoy people who I can actually … poke in the arm.”
I jab Danny’s bicep. He must work out. It’s tough, but he pretends my poke hurt.
“I’ve just learned that to be a great vlogger, I’ve also got to … I wanted to be famous, and I tried a bit too hard and then when Dave did what she did, it just proved it.”
“It proved what?” Danny asks me.
“I’m not sure.” This makes us both laugh.
“Can we do something tomorrow?” I ask him. “Maybe the cinema? I’ll message you. But there’s just something I’ve got to do now that’s really important, and it’s important that I do it tonight.”
I can see Danny still looks hurt, so I tell the truth. “It’s not vlogging or anything. It’s family. Do you know what I mean?”
Danny grins and winks. “I know exactly what you mean. I’m away from a lot of mine, and I miss them. You want to make sure you catch up!”
“That’s just it!” I say.
Danny and I then have another terrific kiss. When I open my eyes, two beautiful pools of lovely are smiling back at me.
Sorry. Vomfest. But the boy is magical. “Message me,” he whispers, and blows a kiss.
It’s hard to leave such a hero of pure beauty.
But there’s someone I really need to spend time with.
#GirlTime
“Mills, HOW DID IT GO?!” Lauren screams through the phone. “I’ve been sitting here, actually feeling sick. What happened? What did they say? Was it basically Hollyoaks?”
Lauren sounds as if she is about to explode. I’m back home and more chill.
“I wondered if you wanted to come by tonight and eat pizza and try to get Dave to do tricks for pepperoni.”
“For your vlog?” she asks.
“No. Just for us,” I say. “‘The sisters in crime, talking in rhyme.…’”
Lauren picks up our rap that we made up when we were eight years old. “‘Don’t eat lime. Don’t taste fine.’”
We both finish it together: “‘Give up talking. Just do a little mime.’”
It’s RUBBISH, but it’s our theme song, and we start giggling a lot.
“Can I come by now?” Lauren asks. “My mum is back, and it’s like a war zone again.”
I tell her “yes” and that I will see her in ten minutes.
While I’m waiting for Lauren, I look at the comments on my latest vlog and nearly drop dead.
Hello, Millie. You can see by my verified account that I represent some of this country’s biggest vloggers. I’d be interested in talking to you. And your cat. I think you are both wonderful. Thanks. Lydia Portancia
This is BIG. Really BIG. I mean, we are now talking about someone who could really take me on. Move things forward. Someone who …
Someone who can wait.
Tonight is about my best friend. We’ll discuss it later. Perhaps. For the moment, everything can wait. I need major time with the Loz.
I think the key to a sensible life is just putting all the cutlery in the right space and using it at the right time. Don’t you?
That and having a cat that doesn’t think she’s a trapeze artist. I can see Dave walking along the washing line and every so often swinging around it. And no, I’m not filming it. Not now. But maybe check my vlog later …
Acknowledgments
Thank you, as ever, to the usual suspects. With special love to the legendary Jordana “Retainer Linda Hamilton alike” Green, Jo-Anne Green, and Gracie Upton.
Lenah Valley Post Office forever.
About the Author
Rae Earl was born in Stamford, Lincolnshire, in England. After graduating from Hull University, she did every job in a radio station except “accou
ntant.” Rae has written articles for The Guardian, Marie Claire, and Elle, and she has been featured in The Telegraph and The Times, among others. She has also appeared on BBC Breakfast TV, BBC World Service, and countless local radio stations. Her books My Mad Fat Diary and My Madder Fatter Diary have been made into a TV show that is shown in over fifty countries worldwide, including the USA. Millie’s experiences with anxiety in My Life Uploaded are based on Rae’s life when she was a young teen.
She currently lives in Hobart, Tasmania, with her husband and son. You can sign up for email updates here.
Thank you for buying this
St. Martin’s Press ebook.
To receive special offers, bonus content,
and info on new releases and other great reads,
sign up for our newsletters.
Or visit us online at
us.macmillan.com/newslettersignup
For email updates on the author, click here.
Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
#RobotWars
#StyleShamed
#BearEyes
#FamilyMatters
#NotADiva
#Heartache
#MyFam
#GlowStickDad
#LikeAvalanche
#YOLOSBC
#GrumpyCat
#GirlPower
#Favorite
#ParentPlan
#Copycat
#ZenLoo
#DadRescue
#Parasol
#OnLocation
#Burglars
#ShedOfSense
#GeekHelp
#Predictable
#TwoFaced
#FakeFeminism
#Shook
#Butterflies
#LoveLifts