CHAPTER
TWENTY-FIVE

Invisible Rule #16:
Girls are supposed to show more emotion than they feel; boys are supposed to hide all the emotion that they feel.

So, that’s all rather nice. It is good beyond ANYTHING to eat again without feeling stressed about calories or losing weight. But nothing else is okay.

My phone buzzes on and off all day. Every time I snatch it up, thinking it will show Matt’s name in glowing letters. But it never is him. I spend hours reviewing the gig. The rehearsal. How right his skin felt the few times I touched it. How he stared into my eyes and laughed long and hard at what I said. But then, like a video clip I can’t erase no matter how hard I try, there’s Zara, standing in the open door. In the end, I turn to what generally cheers me up: food. I skim through all my old posts about the great things that I’ve cooked and see which one has the most likes.

I see one of my last ones — my favorite. The school made from gingerbread. It was only a few weeks ago, but it feels like a different girl posted that. Underneath it, my stupid comment. #thegirlwhoeatslife. More like the girl who’s eaten by life at the moment.

My thumb twitches as if to swipe ever onward but I’m drawn back to it. How did I feel when I wrote that? Well, great, in fact. Okay, I was angry at school and Mum. But at least I knew who I was.

Maybe the old Jess wasn’t so bad after all? She certainly liked herself more.

My phone buzzes but I turn it off. It’s just tormenting me now. Nothing good is going to come from that phone today.

But tomorrow, I’m going to start making happier choices and then I’ll see what happens to my battered heart.

Next morning, it’s dark and wet outside, so I stay in bed as long as is humanly possible.

Mum stands outside my room and hollers.

Then the door shuffles open and small footsteps whisper over the floor.

Mum’s played her key card — Lauren.

The light blazes on.

“I can’t see you,” Lauren says.

“Turn off the light,” I say, “it hurts my eyes.”

“You should go to the doctor’s then,” she says. “You’re not normal. You must be part girl, part vampire.”

I pull the duvet over my head.

Like a trained torturer, she rips it back. She’s four — how did she learn all this?

“You are annoying,” I say.

Her bottom lip sticks out and it starts to quiver.

Tears start to roll down her cheeks. “Alice doesn’t love me, and now you.”

I can’t take any more. “Okay,” I say, “I give in.” I sit up. I mean, I’m not going to sleep now, am I?

And with that, she leads me downstairs as she shouts in triumph, “I got her up!”

In the kitchen, there’s an amazing sight. Cat is eating breakfast. Well, if you call a small selection of fruit breakfast, but even, this is the first time she’s been seen eating before twelve p.m. in a long while. Even Mum seems happy.

“Due to the intervention of the world’s most annoying child, I might have time for fluffy pancakes if anyone wants them?” I say.

Mum looks tempted. “I am doing Body Combat followed by Ultimate Spin so perhaps I can have half of one.”

“Knock yourself out and have a whole one,” I say. “Cat?”

“A very small one.”

“I shall make you a pancake only visible under a microscope.”

And off I go, whisking and whipping, and after a while, when everyone is around the table eating food, an old feeling just flickers up inside me. A moment of happiness. Just a twinkle, mind. But it’s there. That is enough to get me dressed and out the house for school.

But I don’t climb the small hill that leads me to St. Ethelreda’s with any enthusiasm. I refused to text or join any group chats about the party. As far as I’m concerned, I’d like to just delete it from history. I know Sana and Bex will want to hear every detail, but I’m not sure I can bear to go through it all again. And then there’s that little bit of drama that only two people know about. Alex and me. I’m definitely keeping that one to myself for the moment. Think I’ll stick to exams and cooking.

Sure enough, as soon as I walk through the form room door, they crowd around me.

“Tell us everything. I’ve heard so many different stories.”

“Did Jack really dump Cat?”

“Did you really throw water all over Jack?”

I take a deep breath. “I was merely acting in accordance with concepts of universal justice.”

Hannah picks up my theme. “You mean it’s a truth universally acknowledged that idiot boys need to be doused in water?”

“Something like that,” I say.

Izzie asks, “How’s Cat? Do you want me to do a healing potion for her?”

“She’s had some of my pancakes today. That’s healing enough,” I return. “She’ll be okay. She’s best rid of him. He really didn’t treat her well.”

Bex is all big eyes. “At least she’s had a boyfriend though. Even if he was a rubbish one.”

I have to shut this down. “No. I think he’s really hurt her.”

Hannah backs me up. “You should have seen him. He just turned up with his ex draped round him. They were practically having sex in the kitchen in front of everyone, and Cat walked in.”

“She didn’t know before?” Izzie asks.

The old guilt turns in my stomach. “I had a suspicion. But that was all. I didn’t know for sure.”

“Would you have said something?” Sana says.

I shrug. “I like to think that I would. I would now. But at the time, I didn’t want to make her mad with me. We’ve only just started talking again.”

After a small silence, Bex says, “I saw a photo of Zara and Matt looking very close.”

“I missed that,” I say as lightly as I can. “But yeah, they seemed to go off together. Make a very good-looking couple.” I can feel Hannah’s and Izzie’s sympathy but I don’t want it. “Sorry, Bex, I didn’t snog him for you. Seems like I’m not his type.”

“Such a waste though.” Sana sniffs. “You can have the personality of a sewer rat, but if you’re good-looking, you get the boy.”

“I think you’re being a bit rude to sewer rats, aren’t you?” I say. “What have they ever done to you?”

The bell goes and propels us off and out to our various lessons, and I take a deep breath. I can just drift through this day.

At home time, I lean against a tree full of blossoms, waiting for Hannah to walk home with. She’s deep in conversation about satire in early nineteenth-century novels, so I could be here awhile. My phone buzzes and it’s Imogen’s name that lights up the screen. She wants to go shopping with me! Now that is something to think about. I start to plan my witty response.

Then Zara is here, all hair and smiles, surrounded by her posse. There’s a screech of tires and the revving of an engine. A dark red Mini squeals to a halt next to them and a door swings open.

I’ve been in that Mini. I’ve sat with my hand so close to its driver’s I nearly passed out.

Maybe I should hate Zara even more now. But I don’t, I realize. I don’t hate Matt either.

If someone chooses her over me, then there’s something wrong with them, not me.

I know that. I just don’t always feel it.

I can’t choose my feelings but I can focus on the positive. After all, I was — or I am — the girl who eats life.

So, that’s what I’m going to do.

Devour life up.

I start to text Imogen. Maybe new clothes will be a fresh start.