posted by EditingEmma 11.18
Dissecting The Meaning of ‘The Kiss’ At Break
Talking to Faith and Gracie about my kissing Leon. When I told them, Gracie clapped her hands dramatically to her cheeks and Faith raised one eyebrow as if to say, Knew it.
‘What do you think it means?’ I asked.
‘For God’s sake, Emma.’ Faith shook her head. ‘You initiated it. Surely that means you don’t have to ask.’
‘You would think that, Faith,’ I replied. ‘But apparently my own actions are just about as mysterious to me as someone else’s.’
Faith sighed.
‘Well let’s try and figure it out,’ said Gracie helpfully.‘What were you thinking when you did it?’
‘Um. His lips look nice.’
‘Right. And how was the kiss?’
‘Good.’
‘And how did you feel afterwards?’
‘Umm…Good.’
‘I’ve got it!’ said Faith. ‘I know what it all means!’
She leaned in to us. I waited with baited breath for her pearl of wisdom.
‘It means…you wanted to kiss Leon,’ she said.
Then I got my fake pepper spray out of my bag and threatened her with it.
posted by EditingEmma 12.31
CAN Girls And Boys Be Friends?
I don’t believe it. After all my objections and eye-rolling and total, complete confidence in Gracie’s breathtaking wrongness…she has actually managed to seed doubt in my mind. A tiny, tiny seed…barely visible…but still in existence. An amoeba seed.
‘Emma,’ she started cautiously, as we were walking to class. ‘Feelings about Leon aside. How do you think Charlie’s going to react to this?’
I groaned. ‘Gracie. Charlie. Does. Not. Like. Me.’
‘Are you sure about that?’ she asked.
‘Yes, I’m sure,’ I said. ‘I know in my bones that we are just friends, in the way I know in my bones that you and I are just friends.’
‘OK,’ she said. ‘But he seems to really care about you. You know, constantly asking why you’re not going to the design room, which I would also like to know, by the way, and letting you dress him in those stupid graph paper hats.’
‘Hey! He likes those hats!’
She wrinkled her nose. ‘If you say so,’ she said. ‘But I think you should talk to him about the Leon thing.’
And suddenly, there it was…the seed. It formed. And now I can’t un-form it.
Is it possible he likes me? Am I really that blind?
posted by EditingEmma 14.27
Faith Is WAY Too Honest
‘Claudia’s coming on Saturday, by the way, Emma,’ said Faith on the way to Art. ‘She’s excited to see your stuff.’
The thought of the show sent me into mild panic, so I changed the subject.
‘Is she sleeping over at yours after?’ I asked.
She raised her eyebrows. ‘What do you think?’
‘But really, you could have her over for sleepovers. My mum would put up a penis-repellant force field around my bedroom if she could. But I mean…your parents wouldn’t know she was anything more than a friend, right?’
‘If I lied, you mean, then yes.’
‘But…given that you’ve had to sort of lie this whole time and it’s been so rubbish for you…might as well use it to your advantage now?’
‘That’s Emma logic. I’m not interested in Emma logic.’
‘Fine, fine. I was mainly joking anyway.’
‘Sure you were.’
I thought for a moment.
‘Seriously though, is having a relationship making it harder for you? You know, to omit the truth? Do they know about Claudia at all?’
Faith paused.
‘They’ve heard of her. Did you finish your textiles piece?’
And that’s all I was getting…
posted by EditingEmma 16.59
The Mythical ‘Slag’
After school I tried slipping off to the tech room instead of walking home with Faith and Gracie like normal, but Gracie caught up with me.
‘All right, that’s it,’ she said. ‘Emma, what are you doing?!’
‘My homework,’ I said.
‘I can see that,’ she said.
‘Then why did you ask?’
‘I meant it like, what are you doing?’
‘I thought you loved homework, Ms Cambridge Immerse.’
‘I love homework,’ she said. ‘But you don’t.’
‘Well, people change. Isn’t this a positive improvement?’
She made a face. ‘Yeah, it would be, if you were actually doing it because you wanted to do your homework.’
‘Why else would I be doing it?!’ I rounded on her.
‘Because you’re avoiding your phone.’
I opened my mouth. I closed my mouth.
‘You haven’t posted anything in days,’ she carried on. ‘You aren’t replying to anyone’s messages. You just sit around burying yourself in French verbs… and… and…secretly kissing Leon!!’
‘Je yaourte,’ I said.
‘What?’
‘It means, literally, I yoghurt. It describes the act of singing in a language one doesn’t know very well or is making up.’
‘Don’t try to cute your way out of this. I’m not dropping it.’
‘But if I hadn’t studied so much, how would we ever know about yoghurting?!’
‘I…’
Then Faith came over.‘Why are you shouting about yoghurt?’
‘I’m trying to get Emma to tell us what’s up,’ Gracie said.
They both looked at me. I sighed.
‘All right, fine,’ I said, and told them about what happened.
For a moment they both said nothing.
‘Oh, Emma!’ said Gracie. ‘Why didn’t you say something?’
‘That’s horrible!’ said Faith.
‘Can I see the picture?’ asked Gracie.
I showed her.
‘You don’t look like a slag at all!’ she cried.
‘Ugh, SO not the point,’ said Faith.
‘What do you mean?’ asked Gracie.
‘A “slag” is not a thing.’
‘What?’ repeated Gracie.
‘It’s a term that perpetuates the ideal of a virginal, virtuous woman and shames her for her sexual enjoyment and choice of clothing.’
Gracie blinked. ‘Well, maybe, but it still exists.’
‘No. It doesn’t. Because if you call someone a slag, thus perpetuating this ideal, you’re implying something negative about anyone who doesn’t conform to it, and FACT: enjoyment of sexuality and…daring clothing…are not negative things. Therefore the word refers to something that doesn’t exist.’
Gracie blinked again.‘Well, whatever, but the word still exists.’
‘Ugh, fine, OK,’ said Faith, ‘the word exists but it’s a gross word and refers to something that doesn’t exist so shouldn’t be a word that exists.’
‘How are you doing at Philosophy, Faith?’ I asked.
‘Got ninety per cent on my last essay, thanks.’
‘So what about a girl who slept with ten men in one night? Would you call her a slag?’ continued Gracie.
‘Ugh!! And there’s my main problem!! You said “girl”! You would never call a man a slag.’
‘I would,’ said Gracie, ‘I would call him a man-slag.’
‘Exactly!!!’ cried Faith. ‘Man-slag already implies something different. Makes it like a joke. As if a guy can’t really be a slag but a girl can.’
Gracie considered. ‘I’ve never thought of it like that before…’
‘A slag is not a thing,’ continued Faith. ‘Emma, that outfit is sexy, and daring, and you can dress however you want to dress. Come on, let’s go home.’
I agree with her logically. I really do. But whilst my logical brain is telling me she’s right, I think about that comment and I get this knot in the pit of my stomach, made up of shame and insecurity, and then my illogical brain thinks maybe it would be easier to stop designing clothes and stay offline.
I think I’m glad I told someone and I appreciate them trying to help, but neither of them seemed to quite get it. Gracie sort of missed the point, and Faith’s intellectual responses don’t always work for me at solving feelings. I keep thinking about what Steph would have said.