If there are two things my best friend loves, it’s makeup and our favorite vloggers. We both love them. Vlogging just cheers you up, doesn’t it? And our faves are always THERE—during the daytime or at 2:00 a.m. when you can’t sleep because you’ve got something on your mind.
“Come on, Lozza,” I say. I can feel her sobbing under the duvet. “He’ll find a new victim in the next five minutes. You’ll be forgotten by Monday.”
I don’t actually believe that, but I just want to make her feel better. People are still talking about Holly Graham’s skirt-tucked-in-striped-underpants Mr. Style Shame tragedy, but Lauren doesn’t need to hear that right now.
“Let’s watch Bella Fruity—the inexpensive beauty—and do some serious eyes.”
Bella is one of our favorite vloggers. She does SERIOUSLY low-budget but highly magnificent makeovers. We have nearly worn YouTube out watching her genius with eyes. We have tried her exotic-bird eye makeup, her showgirl brows, her Kardashian contouring, AND her Kate Middleton wedding makeup tutorials. After that, we could have basically married Prince William. We looked bride-aliciously fabulous.
Today, though, I think we should keep it simple, so I say to Lauren, “Let’s do Bella’s perfecto winged cateye look.”
Lauren finally comes out of her covers, and we do our makeup. She puts hers on brilliantly, but, just to make her laugh, I get hold of the foundation and liquid eyeliner, pick up my phone, and hit RECORD.…
“Okay. So today we are going for the panda look. A lot of you contact me and say, ‘Millie, I want to look like a big furry bear in a zoo.’ So what do you do? It’s EASY. First of all, just get some foundation that’s about five shades lighter than your actual skin tone. SMEAR it all over your face and then get some black liquid eyeliner and draw MASSIVE BLACK CIRCLES ALL OVER YOUR EYES. Now just grab a potted plant or some broccoli from the fridge, stick it in your mouth, and—BINGO!—you’re a panda! NOW, EAT THAT, BELLA FRUITY. I’m the BIG BEAR PANDA BEAUTY! I could go to any party at any zoo in the world.”
Lauren is howling with laughter behind me.
“Who cares what you look like?! Who cares if you trip over? If your BFF is upset because she thinks someone caught her looking stupid, just do something completely spoon like this to remind her that none of us are perfect. Also, there is no shame in trying something new, but there is shame in making people or bears feel bad about themselves. So THANK YOU.”
I’m on an emergency goofball mission here, and it’s worked. Lauren is laughing wildly. Going full silly to cheer up Lauren is totally worth it.
“Now I’m going to upload that. No one will care about your fall if they see THIS!”
Normally, I’d never do anything like this. Most photos or videos I share online are thought about, shot at least thirty times, and put through a really good filter. BUT, as Aunty Teresa says, desperate times call for desperate measures. My BFF needs the love.
And I do it! To be honest, I’ve got hardly any views on any of my stuff, so I don’t think anyone will see it. Also, I’m not sure it’s going to stop people talking about Lauren’s spectacular fall, but it’s worth doing it to show her that I’m WITH her. You’d do the same. I don’t mind doing really silly stuff if I’M in actual control of it.
Then Lauren says something really lovely. “You always cheer me up, Mills. You always know what to do.”
I sometimes do. I’m good at sorting things out for other people, like Lauren and Aunty Teresa. What I’m not so good at is sorting out my own life, like how to tell Mum I want to go live with my dad because her boyfriend is the most annoying person on this earth.
“Millie,” says Lauren. “Thank you. But do you want to take off your panda makeup now? It’s quite difficult to take pandas seriously.”
She’s right. Pandas are not good at discussing who they would like to live with, as they mainly live in zoos with one partner. In fact, pandas are very lucky when you think about it. I bet no one comes in and cleans up their bamboo with a portable dustbuster, GARY.
“You’re right, Loz. I need to look professional. Dave tried to kill McWhirter, and I’ve had enough. I’m going to tell Mum that I want to go and live with Dad for a bit.”
Lauren looks taken aback. “Millie! Why do you want to leave your mum?! You two are like sisters, really, but sisters that get on! I know the Neat Freak is a bit—”
This makes me cross. “Gary is not ‘a bit’ anything. He is a FULL-ON pain. And Mum obviously doesn’t want me there unless I’m doing school stuff. It would only be for a little while.…”
Lauren looks at me and then softly says, “Millie, are you sure you’re not just being a little … jealous like a spoiled only-child? Your mum deserves to be—”
I lose it slightly. “Lauren, this isn’t about Mum being happy. It’s about her deciding that a man who uses hospital-grade hand sanitizer as shower gel is the ONE.”
Lauren backs down and changes the subject.
“By the way”—she now has her duvet wrapped around herself like some kind of very warm poncho—“have you seen the new boy?”
Have I seen the new boy? Yes, of course I have. New people at school are interesting. We know Reuben Stubbs can still fold himself up into a locker. It used to be impressive, but we’ve seen the same trick a hundred times now. Anyone NEW is a very good thing.
Lauren looks very proud of herself. “I have information on the man!” She attempts a swagger. “He’s called Danny Trudeau, and he is Canadian.”
“Ohhh…” I put on our MAJOR GOSSIP ALERT voice. “Is he? How did HE end up HERE?”
Lauren starts to whisper. “Well. The rumor is that he could be related to”—Lauren looks around to check that there aren’t any other people listening—“the president.”
“The president of what?” I ask her. It sounds like a film.
“I don’t know,” Lauren says before realizing she sounds ever so slightly ridiculous and crumpling into a giggly mess on the floor.
“LOZZA!” I throw a hamburger pillow at her.
Lauren gets up and angrily slams the hamburger down on the bed so hard that it loses its bun. “Now, guess who’s already following him on Instagram!”
We both know: Erin Breeler.
How can I explain her?
Erin Breeler is the queen of Instagram at school. She is guaranteed hundreds of likes on everything she posts. She could put a pic up of her avocado salad and get total adoration from every breathing thing on this earth. Even non-breathing things, like the avocados, would probably like her posts.
On her account, she has the most perfect photos of her totally amazing, glowing life. Selfies like you’ve never seen. Her angles are perfect. Her eyebrows are sculpted. HER BUM IS A CELEBRITY ON ITS OWN. She smiles with perfect teeth (even when she had braces, she looked unbelievable) and wears clothes that the rest of us don’t dare to. She does yoga poses in jeans. It looks GREAT. You think I’m exaggerating? Go and look. The girl is phenomenal.
And even though it’s all about what she looks like on the outside, she writes stuff like Feel the inner glow radiate out and I can be more mindful in this mohair cardigan, so you can’t even call her shallow.
She’s really clever about what she posts. When she had a zit, she made it into a good thing. She put her little finger over it, puckered her lips, and posed with a No apologies! No one is perfect! caption. She acts like she doesn’t really know what she’s doing, and everybody falls for it. It’s so FALSE, but everyone seems to love her.
Girls like Erin don’t hang around with girls like Lauren and me. She’s too cool. Too edgy. And if you get in her space, she will take you down in SUCH a whip-smart way. Yet, a weird part of me still wants her to like me.
I know—pathetic. And, honestly, I’m scared of her. And I hate that in myself. She’s superconfident, both at school and in her posts, and it’s like—
“Millie! Come back to the room!” Lauren is calling out to me.
“Sorry,” I say. “I was just thinking about Erin Breeler. Beautiful people can make you drift off, can’t they? Erin and Danny. Lovely Danny with his lovely—”
“Bag!” Lauren interrupts. “Have you seen it, Millie? That boy has serious stationery.”
Lauren likes paper and pens more than anything. She has a Pinterest board that is just fluorescent markers.
“I was going to say his eyes, but anyway, Loz, I’d better go.”
Lauren gives me a huge hug. She also wishes me luck, which I’m going to need.
The truth is, I could stay here forever.
I feel sick. I don’t want to go home.