Lauren plods into the shed. Her eyes are a bit red. She must have been using her witch hazel wipes to redo her mascara. She squishes up her face, holds out her makeup bag, and points at me. “Now. Do you want some foundation just to make you look a bit less like actual death?”
Before I have the chance to say anything, a brush is on my face.
I very gently move Lauren’s hand away. “No. Let’s keep it natural and real and … us.”
Lauren squeals. “Mills! I’ve just got a massive splinter from the shed.”
Lauren shows me her finger. There is literally a tree sticking out of it.
“Lauren! That looks terrible! Have you had a tetanus shot? It’s this disease that’s in plants and wood and stuff. It makes your whole body lock up. You can’t speak or anything!”
It’s amazing how many things can kill you horribly. Even sweet things like blades of grass and daisies. And mushrooms. There is a type of mushroom that basically makes your liver explode. It’s called a death cap. There’s also a destroying angel. It sounds like something out of a horror film but it can grow in forests near your house. This is why I like living in a town. These are the sorts of things that I wish I didn’t know. My head goes a bit odd and my breathing feels …
“So tetanus locks up your entire body? If only Erin would get it!” Lauren giggles.
This is an evil thing to say but it stops my brain spiraling down into fungus doom.
Lauren looks guilty. “Well, I don’t want her to die, but it would be nice if she could shut up for a while. Though, knowing her, if she got tetanus, her face would freeze in a massive beautiful grin and she’d take a selfie from the hospital and get a million likes.”
This is probably true, but I say to Lauren, “Let’s just get your splinter out.”
“OH!” Lauren leaps into the air. “Should will film it?! Should we do, like, a first-aid advice thing? Medical procedures get loads of views and stuff, and we—OUCH!”
It’s out.
Lauren sighs, disappointed. “We really missed an opportunity there, Mills. Splinter vlogging could be massive. Do you want me to give myself another one so we can film it?”
“No, Lozza! Don’t hurt yourself! Let’s just do my vlog.”
“Do you know what you’re going to say?”
The truth is, I have a very good idea, because I haven’t been thinking of much else.
“Yeah. I’ve got a rough idea,” I mumble.
The thing is, after talking with Bradley, I now know there are people waiting to hear what I am going to say. They will get alerts when I post. Their phone will ding! Or beep! Or vibrate!
I take a deep breath. Lauren gets out of shot and sticks up her thumb.
“Hello! Millie Porter here! ‘Hashtag Help Me Cope With Trolling.’
“I’m just going to read you some of the comments that have been left on my vlog recently:
“‘Talentless ugly cow. Delete your account.’
“‘Why bother???? Fat and not funny.’
“‘Typical woman telling us how to act. Sort your own life out.’
“‘Ugliest fake ever.’”
(Reading them out loud again makes the sides of my eyes feel itchy. Got to keep bright. Got to keep sensible. I swallow.)
“It’s really hard to read stuff like that, but here’s what I try to remember. These people don’t know me. They are just really sad, horrible people sitting in their bedrooms or at bus stops with no friends. And they probably feel dreadful and useless about themselves. If they see someone doing something fun or interesting, they just want to hurt them and bring them down.
“I’m not saying that I think you should be nice to trolls. Just ignore them, or imagine them standing in a shopping center in their underpants. That’s what my mum does before big meetings, and it makes even scary people totally silly. Focus on the good stuff or the nice comments instead.
“We can all be tools. I’m not saying it’s right! I’m saying inner toolness can erupt like a volcano and spew twonk magma all over your … shirt. Like that project I did in elementary school.
“Anyway, SERIOUSLY, bullying is horrible, and it makes your life a living misery. It could be being called names or getting slapped. It could be to your face or online or BOTH. The point is, you shouldn’t take it. Tell someone IN POWER, because you deserve to feel … good. No one should feel like rubbish because of other people. I KNOW that sounds preachy and dorky, but look: It is FACT. Just like it is a fact that you can’t lick your elbow. Look!”
(And I try to lick my elbow.)
“And I know you’re probably watching me now, thinking, ‘She looks like a massive goof with no makeup,’ but that just goes to show that looks can be—what’s the word?—a bit wrong and um … just … just … don’t think that you’re on your own. You are NOT.
“So that’s me, Millie. Hashtag Help me to help you, and leave any comments below. Unless you’re a troll. You can hashtag OFF!”
It sounds good. I’m pleased. Then I hear an odd noise in the background. It’s my best friend, and she is crying.
I rush over to hug her. “Lauren. What’s the matter?”
Lauren sniffs. “Oh, it’s just you talking about not letting other people bring you down. It makes me think of my mum and dad. I spoke to my mum, Mills, and she said I’m not allowed to stay here tonight, but you know, I honestly dread going home. What’s the point of me being there? It’s like when I had that piñata for my birthday and my mum started smashing it in a temper? There were Haribo gummy bears everywhere. I know that sounds sort of funny now, but it wasn’t. The thing is, Mills—”
At this precise, dreadful moment for bursting in, Aunty Teresa bursts in and says, “HELLO, GIRLS!!! Oh! Lauren, are you okay? It’s boys, isn’t it? Don’t worry, I get it. Boys do make you cry. The fact is, they do not mature till they are about twenty-three, and honestly, they are not worth crying about. Is it kissing? It’s difficult, isn’t it? The best thing to do is practice on your own hand. Just stick your tongue out and kind of—”
“Teresa! We don’t need to hear this right now!” I yell.
Teresa actually shuts up. For four seconds.
“Okay. I’m going, but if you want to know ANYTHING about boys, just come to me. I am your woman for any information about men and ice cream. They are very similar things. Nice, but they melt under pressure. And you—”
“TERESA!” I find myself properly yelling in a way that is slightly out of control and hurts my throat. Teresa just nods her head and dashes out of the shed.
I look at Lauren. I don’t really know what to say.
“Sorry!” Lauren sniffs. “It’s just … all very hard. Anyway, listen, I’d better get home. It will only make it worse if I’m late.”
I give Lauren a hug, and we go back into the house. She grabs all her stuff from my room and says a slightly teary good-bye.
I can’t imagine what it must be like to go home to actual war. I know what it’s like going home to total neatness and now total chaos, but THAT … The only really horrid stuff in my life is trolling, but at least that’s the outside world. It must be horrible if your family isn’t there for you. You need to look after the people you love.
My mind feels so full at the moment. There’s the vlog and there’s Erin and Bradley and Danny and Lauren’s parents and Gary and the trolls and my head is spiraling a tiny bit.…
My chest feels like someone is sitting on it.
That’s when I decide to call my mum.