At lunchtime, I find my quiet, secret place. I need it sometimes. No. I can’t tell you. It’s secret.
Okay. Farthest cubicle to the right in the loo nearest the science classrooms. Trust me, it’s Zen Central.
Most people have no idea what power words have these days. Mum told me once that a group of girls used to stand at the end of her street and call her names. There were six of them. She told me that story like she was majorly traumatized. Six people on one street in one town. That’s IT! That’s all.
How can I explain to her that now there can be thousands and millions of people laughing at you within a minute of you doing something stupid? Or NOT even that stupid? The sort of people who follow Erin are going to be laughing at me, thinking I’m tragic.
I take some deep breaths. Sometimes it’s best not to think about things too much.
I don’t fire back and do something rash, because that’s not my style. You’ve got to plan, and I’m a thinker.
First, I’m going to think about my breathing. Normally, my lungs work just fine by themselves, but now I start noticing that my chest is going up and down and my body seems like it’s getting smaller. It happens every time I’m really worried. And I can keep it together by just being on my own for a few minutes. Nipping off to the Zen Loo is always a very good idea.
I come out. Lauren’s waiting for me outside. She’s used to this. She doesn’t say anything, but she knows.
I’m calm.
Or I am until I spot Danny Trudeau and his incredible vintage orange rucksack. He is heading my way, looking like a sexy tangerine, and my BFF is frantically digging me in the ribs. Happening now: panic.
“Hi, Millie!” Danny bounds over to me like we’re old friends. We aren’t. I wish we were. “I just want to say I absolutely loved your vlog with Dave the cat. Someone mentioned it in art this morning, and I was … it was FUNNY. I’m a cat freak, though. I love them. I had to leave mine behind in Canada with my uncle. His name is Benny. I Skype him, but cats aren’t great at the talking thing. A bit like the way Dave isn’t that great at attacking vegetables. Anyway, your vlog was … really good.”
I don’t really know what to say. I’m not hugely good at the whole compliment thing. But I don’t want to be giggly and stupid near men, so I try to change the subject. I jog around my head, trying to think of something funny and witty and magnificent to say. Something that will make this boy think I’m cool and smart and generally …
“You’ve got a great-looking lunch there!”
You’ve. Got. A. Great-looking. Lunch. There.
But no, my brain hasn’t stopped. It wants to say more.…
“Good container, too. Sturdy!”
Dear Sensible Millie’s Mind: Thanks for nothing. Good-bye.
Danny Trudeau looks at me like I’ve said something really random. This is because I have said something really random. Eventually, he replies with: “Yeah! Chinese mum. French dad. The world’s best food all in one box.”
“À la noodles!” my head blurts out. If Danny thought I was funny before, my brain has convinced him that I am actually not.
Danny smiles a bit and looks down. There’s a pause and then he says, “Well … I’d better be going to … finish this. Bye, Millie. Hello—is it Lauren? You were in that vlog, too! Bye, Lauren!”
Lauren manages to wave. My brain hasn’t recovered from the À la noodles! comment and can’t form a sentence.
Danny Trudeau and his gourmet lunch drift off like steam. I collapse on a bench. Lauren drops beside me with her jaw on the floor.
“What happened there?!” Lauren isn’t used to seeing me so utterly useless. “You were … oh, Millie! You really like him, don’t you?!”
I groan.
Lauren puts her arm around me. “Don’t worry! Perhaps he likes talking about … kitchen storage—”
In the middle of saying it, Lauren realizes she sounds ridiculous and tries something else. “He thinks you’re really funny!”
I have a bad feeling that Danny Trudeau and lots of other people are laughing AT me, not WITH me. I really need to get away from school as soon as I can.