Girl (In Real Life) Read online

  “There!” Mum said, carefully placing a couple of magazines on the coffee table. “Eva, can you go get changed, sweetie? You’ve got yogurt down your T-shirt.” I looked at the yogurt spatters on my chest, then closed the school books I’d barely looked at and headed towards the stairs. “Nothing grey!” Mum called. “You wore grey in the nail stickers ad last week.”

  “Sure.” I picked at what now looked like a beheaded cat on my fingernail. Then another notification flashed up on my phone.

  Alfie had tagged me in a photo of a gigantic white candyfloss:

  @EvaA2007 pubes!!!!

  My skin felt like it was being punctured with cactus prickles. So I came out with it. Right there. At the bottom of the stairs, with headless cats on my nails and blobs of coconut yogurt soaking into my T-shirt. “I don’t want to.”

  “Sorry, what, honey?” Mum said, not even glancing up from her phone. “That yellow T-shirt with the love hearts might look nice. I’ll be up in a sec.”

  “No,” I said. “I don’t want to do the photo.”

  Mum looked up at me then, confused. “You not feeling well, sweetie? I can’t say I’m surprised after eating all that yogurt.”

  “It’s not the yogurt,” I said. “The whole of TikTok is laughing at me for that vlog you did the other day, you know, about…” My cheeks burned. I couldn’t say the words “pubic hair” out loud.

  “Oh, you mean the puberty thing?” Mum gave me a sympathetic smile then poked her bottom lip out. I hated it when she did that. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, honey. And it was meant to be funny!”

  “It’s not funny,” I said. “It’s totally embarrassing. Look!”

  I was about to show her the candyfloss picture, but Dad suddenly chimed in. “Eva, do you think we’re embarrassed about our pubic hair? It’s totally natural – nothing to get uptight about!” Which made me wonder if my parents even went to secondary school.

  “They’ll have forgotten about it by Monday,” Mum said. “Anyway, you’ve got nothing to worry about with a photo shoot about yogurt. Now go on, sweetie, before we lose this beautiful light.” And she turned back to her phone.

  I looked pleadingly at Dad, but he jogged up to me and kissed my cheek with his stubbly mouth. “We’re so proud of you, Eva. But we are losing this morning light, so hurry up. You can talk to us about anything you like later, okay. Pubic hair or whatever!”

  Only that wasn’t true. I couldn’t talk to them about anything. Because they always made it impossible to tell them how I really felt about the channel.

  On the Sunday before I had to go back to school, I was supposed to be watching Hallie in a gymnastics competition. We’ve been best friends since Year Four. We used to do everything together. Her mum, Rose, even braided our hair together once. Only my mum kind of ruined it by putting the photo on the All About Eva Instagram without permission, and Rose made her take it down. Then in Year Six, I had to give up gymnastics because practice started clashing with the filming schedule. I didn’t mind that much. I used to get nervous in competitions and mess up anyway. But I miss doing them with Hallie. She was the first person in our age group to do a back handspring. I never even mastered the front one. So now she shares lifts to gymnastics with Gabi Galloney, and I watch from the sidelines.

  On Sunday morning, Hallie had messaged saying to arrive at the competition early, so I could get a seat on the front row. But Mum had arranged a last-minute photo shoot at Clevedon Hall, about half an hour out of town. She promised we’d be back in time to watch “at least the second half”. But it was already late when we arrived for the shoot so I knew it would be impossible.

  Me and Mum had to wear matching T-shirts saying PRETTY AND PROUD. And it was freezing inside Clevedon Hall. You’d think with all that money they’d be able to afford decent heating. My skin felt goose-pimply as the make-up lady pinned a gigantic bow in my hair and stuck little pink gems around my eyes. It wasn’t bad. I mean, I was being treated like a film star. Only the kind of film star who wears the exact same clothes as their mum.

  We had to pretend to have afternoon tea in this room called the Morris Suite that had a domed ceiling and low-hanging chandeliers. Tiny cakes and triangular sandwiches were laid out on four-tier stands in front of us. They were real, but we just had to pretend to eat them. Mum said I could have some sandwiches at the end of the shoot. Only by then the corners had curled up, my face was aching from smiling and I wasn’t sure how many people had touched them. As the photographer showed Mum the pictures, I wiped off my make-up. All I could think about was Hallie searching the crowd. And seeing an empty seat where I was supposed to be.

  On Monday at school, Hallie said it was fine I didn’t make it, but I could tell she was annoyed with me. Because when Kahlil called, “PRETTY AND PROUD!” and Alfie shouted, “BIG HEEEEEEEAD!!!” as I walked into form, Hallie didn’t say anything.

  I sat down and scrolled through the All About Eva Instagram. There were loads of nice comments. But there’s only so many times HappyMelon3000 can post the love-heart-eyes emoji without it feeling kind of creepy. Then I read one that said, UGLY AND STUPID you mean, and I put my phone back in my pocket. I don’t know why I read the comments. Mum and Dad told me I wasn’t supposed to. But it was like trying not to scratch an itch. I wanted to know what people were saying about me, even if it did make me feel worse.

  Alfie shouted, “BIG HEEEEEEEAD!” at me about a hundred times that day. It was almost as bad as when Mum and Dad made me wear a giant avocado costume on World Vegetarian Day in Year Seven. There’s still an avocado scraped into the paint on my locker – a permanent reminder of the most embarrassing day of my life. If I printed out all the avocado emojis I’d had posted on my personal social media that week, I could probably wallpaper my entire bedroom.

  I’d told Mum about Alfie so many times. But she always said, “Ignore him, sweetie. He’s just jealous of all the attention you get!” and would go back to tapping out replies on her phone. Most of the time, All About Eva takes priority over my actual real-life problems.

  No matter what I said, my parents didn’t seem to notice the disaster All About Eva was turning into for me. They have this habit of forgetting that I also have to live in the real world. I’d figured out ages ago that I was not the CEO of my life. But now it felt like my life didn’t even belong to me. And I really needed to figure out a way to get it back.

  The weekend after the Pretty and Proud shoot, I spent most of Saturday lying on the sofa in the snug with Miss Fizzy. It was raining and I had the worst stomach ache ever, so I was watching old episodes of The Vampire Diaries and doodling raindrops on my notepad instead of revising for the physics test Mr Jacobs was giving us on Monday. I’d googled Isaac Newton, but so many pages came up I couldn’t face reading any of them. If Mr Jacobs liked Newton’s theories that much, they were probably kind of boring.

  I sent a message to Hallie asking her if she’d started revising for the physics test yet. Stupid question.

  Hallie: You mean you haven’t even started??

  EVA!! Test is MONDAY!!

  She sent a link to a revision site called Bright Sparks.

  Thanks x, I typed back, but I still had pains in my stomach and Mum had put new scented diffusers around the house and they were giving me a headache.

  Another message from Hallie popped up:

  Want to get a milkshake?? I’ve just finished my homework. I can help you revise?

  I wondered if Gabi would be with her. She’d been stuck to Hallie like a wart ever since Kaja left at the end of Year Seven. Gabi had even asked Miss Wilson to put her name on the student council waiting list – which wasn’t even a real thing – just because Hallie was on the council too. I knew Gabi was trying to push me out. But Hallie couldn’t see it. She thought we could hang around together as a three. Which maybe would have worked if Gabi wasn’t so annoying.

  I checked the time on my phone. Dad would be back from his bike ride soon.

  “Mum?” I
said. “Can I meet Hallie for a milkshake? I need her notes on…” I scanned my brain for something scientific-sounding, “…the pH scale.”

  Mum frowned at the rain outside. “Mmm, it’s a bit wet to be walking into town, sweetie.”

  “I’ll take an umbrella!”

  “Can’t Hallie email her notes? I wanted us to sort out our wardrobes using those organizers I showed you last week. For the Sunday vlog?”

  “But my test is on Monday,” I said.

  Mum sighed through her nose. “Hallie could always come over and film it with us! And you could revise afterwards.”

  I put my head on one side. “You know her mum won’t let her be on the channel.”

  Mum shrugged and removed an invisible piece of fluff from her sleeve. “I thought Rose might have changed her mind by now.”

  “I doubt it,” I said, mostly to myself. Hallie’s mum is a child psychologist. She thinks the channel is damaging me psychologically. Last summer, she said if I ever wanted to talk to her about it I could. She gave me a card with her email and phone number on it in fancy writing and her initials RW in a gold circle at the top. Mum got kind of annoyed about that. And Hallie stopped coming over so much, because her mum didn’t want her to be “exposed to public scrutiny” like I was. While I was stuck doing dumb stuff for the channel, Hallie started hanging out with Gabi more outside of school. It got even worse when Mum and Dad got a bunch of new sponsors. I had to do even more photos and even more filming – and I started missing out on everything real.

  “Please, Mum?” I begged. I really didn’t want to miss this milkshake with Hallie, especially if there was a chance Gabi wouldn’t be tagging along.

  “Mr Jacobs will put me in detention if I fail another test.” That didn’t get a reaction. “I could go to that new crêpe place that’s opened. Didn’t you want me to take some photos there?”

  “Oh, the Crêpe Cabin!” Mum said, suddenly interested. “Actually, that’s not a bad idea. I’ll let them know you’re on the way. But take the big umbrella. Your hair always goes flat in the rain.”

  I silently sighed. I was sick of Mum obsessing over my hair. I’d asked if I could get it cut short before Christmas, but she’d said no. They’d just agreed some sponsored posts with a new hair-mask company to Refresh and rejuvenate dull and lifeless hair! Which I was trying not to take as a personal insult.

  I messaged Hallie telling her to meet me at the Creep Cabin – which is what everyone at school had been calling it – and put on my trainers.

  “Eva!” Mum called. “Wait a sec. You can’t go like that.”

  I rolled my eyes. Even meeting my best friend for a milkshake required a costume change. I followed Mum upstairs and waited while she picked out a new jumper and restyled my hair. As she dotted concealer on my chin I looked down at the jumper she’d chosen. It said SRSLY? in massive letters.

  I looked at Mum in the mirror. “Seriously?”

  “Very funny.” Mum kissed my forehead then pouted and repinned a strand of hair so it dangled in front of my eye. “Get that jumper in the pics, okay?”

  I nodded, and swept the hair behind my ear when she wasn’t looking.

  My stomach was still aching when I reached the Creep Cabin, and my trainers were soaked from the rain. Inside, about a hundred light bulbs dangled from the ceiling. I could just make out Hallie through the steamed-up window. She was sitting on a stool by herself and waved when she saw me. I felt instantly relieved Gabi wasn’t there.

  “Oh my God, you have to see this!” Hallie said, spinning on the stool and holding out a menu. She had her gymnastics leotard on under her hoodie and her brown cheeks had a warm glow. The hoodie has her name in capital letters on the back. Mine’s in a drawer somewhere at home. I thought maybe I’d be allowed to go back to training one day, but it’s been so long I doubt it would even fit me any more. Maybe it would have been different if I was any good at gymnastics, like Hallie. But the general rule of my life is that I’m rubbish at just about everything. Mum says that’s what makes me so relatable. So now me failing at stuff is part of their brand.

  “They do flavoured popcorn!” Hallie said. “I’m so getting jalapeño pepper flavour.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “That sounds gross!”

  “Eva!” said a man standing behind me. He had pens tucked behind both ears and his apron said The Crêpe Cabin. “I’m John. Thanks so much for coming!” He didn’t look that creepy to me. But then he smiled and one of his canine teeth poked out over his bottom lip, like a fang. “Order whatever you want. It’s on the house!”

  Hallie let out a small whoop and I accidentally snorted.

  “I’d appreciate it if you could photograph our signature crêpes. We can do…vanilla bean with peaches and ice cream?”

  “Amazing!” Hallie said.

  “And maybe the Strawberry and Chocolate Extreme for you, Eva?”

  “Thanks,” I said. “And can my friend try the jalapeño popcorn?”

  “Sure! But I’m warning you – it’s pretty spicy!” He did a double eyebrow raise as he took our menus then headed through a door that said Crêpe Cabin Crew Only.

  Hallie stretched out her arms until her back clicked. “This is so awesome,” she said. “And all for free.” I smiled. Sometimes it felt like there was a different kind of price to pay for all the free stuff though. “Honestly,” Hallie said, giving me a sideways glance as though she could read my mind, “if you complain about All About Eva right now, I’m going to slap you in the face with my crêpe.”

  I laughed, which made my stomach ache even worse. Hallie once said that other people have to work really hard to get a life like mine. I get everything handed to me, and I never did anything to earn it, except get born. So that dread in my stomach I’d been getting about the channel – thick and murky, like Dad’s potato soup – I hadn’t told Hallie about that. It had joined the other stuff that no one ever sees about me. Like the little patch of eczema behind my left knee and the spots Mum hides under concealer.

  Anyway, I thought as Creepy John brought our food over, Hallie is right – the channel does have its upsides. I tried to take a photo with both the crêpe and my SRSLY top in the shot. Which wasn’t exactly easy, particularly when Hallie was trying to smear chocolate sauce on my face. I chucked a piece of jalapeño popcorn at her then sent the photos to my mum. Hallie twirled round on the stool and pulled a gigantic smile. I took a video and uploaded it to my TikTok. Then I scrolled down and accepted follower requests from names I recognized, and deleted the ones from total strangers. I kept all my own accounts private. I didn’t want any of my parents’ followers seeing my actual life.

  “So, are these your physics notes?” Hallie asked, picking up my notebook.

  “Oh, they were meant to be,” I said, sucking chocolate sauce off my fingers. “But I ended up doodling instead.”

  “Good job I brought mine, huh?” She pulled out a wad of coloured cards. “They’re ordered by topic. Don’t mess up the order because it took me ages and Mum’s testing me on them later.”

  I nodded, and noticed a comment from Gabi flash up on my phone:

  hey where are u at with Hals???

  I turned my phone over so Hallie didn’t see. It had been ages since just me and Hallie had hung out together. I did not want Gabi turning up.

  Hallie put a spoon of ice cream in her mouth and flicked through my notebook. “Your doodles are seriously good, Eva. You should show Miss Wilson.” She tossed a handful of popcorn in her mouth.

  “Maybe.” I was looking out of the window at people trying to avoid the rain. Maybe, because art is the only subject I’m any good at. And maybe, because I didn’t want everyone knowing. It would probably be another thing for the channel to ruin. Like water parks and gymnastics and avocados (although I was never that keen on avocados).

  “Oh my God,” Hallie said, grabbing another handful of popcorn. “You have to try this.”

  I took a piece and tossed it into my mouth. It was like che
wing fire. I coughed and gulped down my milkshake while Hallie laughed and patted my back. It did not help my stomach-ache situation.

  “Hallie!” I said, after I’d gulped down half my milkshake. “I now have third-degree burns on my tongue!”

  “Sorry, I forgot your lameness about spice! Oh my God, remember that time at my house you thought hot pepper sauce was tomato ketchup.”

  “Remember?” I said. “I think the inside of my mouth is still scarred. I’m going to the toilet. Don’t eat all that ice cream, okay? I need it to cool my throat down.”

  I could still hear Hallie chuckling as I went through the door to the bathroom and into a cubicle.

  Then I saw my underwear. I wasn’t one hundred per cent sure what it was at first. I’d expected it to look like regular blood. But this was a brownish-red, like the colour of the Birkenstocks Farmor wore in the summer. So it took a few seconds to sink in. I’d started my period.

  I sat there for a minute, not really sure what to do. I had this weird feeling, a mixture of relief and fear. It meant I wasn’t the last girl in my class to start, because Jenna Bextor and Dinah Jackson had told me a couple of weeks ago that they still hadn’t started either. During PSHE, Miss Wilson had said, “Puberty isn’t a race!” But, like most things adults tell you, that’s not true. I felt so glad I didn’t start at school. Susie Greenwood started hers the first week of Year Seven in a German lesson. By lunchtime she was crying because everyone had found out about it. I still don’t think I’ll ever forget the German word for period, I heard it so many times. And Susie’s not even in my class. She always changes into a sports bra for PE apparently. I wondered if my boobs would magically spring into action now I’d finally started my period. I peered down my top at my flat chest. Nothing seemed to be happening.

  I texted Hallie:

  Emergency! Need you in toilets xx

  I made a wedge of loo roll, put it in my underwear then pulled my jeans back up. It felt a bit bulky. I prayed no one would notice.