The Making of Mia (2 page)

‘She was eating Mars bars, miss,’ Jemima sang out, giving Jo a characteristically bitchy look before smirking at her friends.
‘I think Joanne has eschewed formal education in order to beat a world record in the number of chocolate bars she can cram
into her face in an hour. If my memory serves me correctly, she ate at least four of them.’ Jemima looked smug, and Jo wanted
to die. It was true, but she couldn’t help it: writing articles for the magazine made her hungry.

‘Now, Jems, I don’t think that’s fair,’ added Susie, casually. Jo looked on in surprise – Susie and Jemima were best friends,
and Susie had never stuck up for her before.

‘It wasn’t four bars of chocolate, it was at least forty, and I’m sure Joanne isn’t doing this in lieu of her homework. From
what I heard she’s doing a sponsored eat-a-thon to raise money for impoverished children that walk around in rags. Like she
does.’

Jo surreptitiously looked down at her tatty Pop Swatch – one she’d bought with two years’ worth of pocket money when she was
ten – and worked out how much longer the lesson would last. Despite loving English Literature she hated Miss Montgomery, and
she couldn’t wait to get to PE – which was unheard of for her.

‘Girls,’ Miss Montgomery warned, with a hint of amusement in her voice. ‘Please can we not discuss Joanne and get back to
Hamlet
. While there is an important lesson to be learnt
with regard to Miss Hill’s enthusiastic eating habits, you’ll be tested on Ophelia’s beauty, not Joanne Hill’s weight.’

The teacher let the giggles subside and turned back to the whiteboard, starting a soliloquy about Hamlet and Horatio’s relationship.
Jo tried to take in what was being said, but she felt too numb to concentrate. When she’d passed the scholarship exams at
the age of eleven to come to the school she’d never imagined it would be like this.

The day got worse – with Susie hitting a lacrosse ball at her stomach in PE, and her maths teacher making her do algebra in
front of the class – but the discrimination shown towards her by teachers and pupils alike didn’t affect Jo as much as it
used to, and she supposed it was because it was all she’d ever known. Jo wandered up and down the hallowed halls of her boarding
school pretending not to notice groups of girls giggling as she walked past, and wondering – for what felt like the billionth
time since she’d been at school – what her life would be like if the others stopped being so bitchy.

While the other girls spent recesses in the lavatories sweeping MAC blusher on their flawless skin – made possible by pots
of Dr Sebagh Breakout Crème sent in bulk from Space NK – Jo sat in the library reading as many books as possible in the hope
that they would take her mind off the delicious smells coming from the school’s kitchen. She couldn’t help it – she was hungry
all the time. But even dinner, sometimes, didn’t give her that fix like a bag of Maltesers always could.

That evening – after dinner, but before prep – Amelia wanted to make sure Jo was all right. As she walked into the dorm she
struggled not to wrinkle her nose; there was a nasty smell coming from the bathroom that was, unfortunately for Jo, at the
same end of the room as her bed. Jo glanced up at her friend and smiled weakly. Even if everybody else hated
her she must have been doing something right if the most popular – and beautiful – girl at school liked her.

‘Are you OK?’ Amelia asked, dropping her expensive-looking cardboard shopping bags on to the floor and flopping on to the
bed next to Jo.

Jo shook her head, unable to get the words out, as Amelia Gladstone-Denham, with her pretty face, designer clothes from Harvey
Nichols and Selfridges, and boyfriends at Eton, Harrow and even Radley, looked concerned.

‘I heard about Jemima and Susie being bitches in your English set – you mustn’t pay any attention to them. They’re just jealous
because you got to do that email interview with Justin Timberlake from *NSYNC for
Saint
. They have a massive crush on him.’

Jo let out a wry laugh. ‘Ames, that doesn’t account for the time they locked me in the chapel in the first year.’

Amelia was silent for a moment. ‘Well … no … but … I think they find it weird that you don’t even try to fit in any more.
Have you ever thought about coming to do your homework with us in the common room instead of spending every evening reading
magazines?’

‘Yeah, I tried that years ago along with sucking up to everyone but it didn’t do any good. We both know the real reason nobody
likes me is because of this.’ Jo gestured at her body and tried not to feel depressed. Amelia tried to be tactful.

‘But it’s not because they’re being shallow about your weight – it’s how we’ve been raised. It just doesn’t do to be overweight
in families like ours. And it’s not all about good looks, you know,’ Amelia said with an air of authority. ‘It’s about being
healthy, too. We go skiing, and sailing, and lots of us have ponies. Why, if I was a stone or two overweight there would be
no way I could compete in horse trials at the weekend – old Brownie would never be able to carry me!’

As soon as Amelia spoke both girls pictured Jo – who was at least seven stone heavier than Amelia – climbing on to a horse
only to find it collapsing beneath her. It didn’t amuse either of them, and Amelia blushed.

‘Sorry, Jo.’

Jo gave her a grin. She knew Amelia meant well, even if her words sometimes came out badly.

‘What I’m trying to say is that it’s all about fitting in, making the most of yourself and being the best you can be. If you
just lost a bit of weight, perhaps rinsed your hair to make it darker …’

‘You mean if I tried to look like an overweight Joey from
Dawson’s Creek
people would be friends with me?’ Jo joked feebly.

Amelia stared at Jo for a second, unable to gauge her mood. Jo took this silence as Amelia not thinking she was taking her
advice seriously and rushed to make light of the situation. She didn’t want to offend her one true friend. ‘I suppose I could
try and look like Britney Spears, instead.’ Jo stood up and struck a pose. ‘What do you think, could I be a sexy singing schoolgirl?
Hit me, Susie, one more time …’ Jo sang, before she realised she’d lost a button on her itchy BHS blouse. She quickly crossed
her arms over the huge grey bra that showed through the straining gap around her breasts, and pouted.

Amelia laughed. ‘This is exactly what I mean! You’re fun, and when you let your guard down you’re as cool in person as you
are in those articles you write for
Saint
… If you just made a bit more effort with how you look and what you eat …’

Jo thought about how she’d stopped eating puddings for a week and had gained five pounds in the process. It was a lost cause.
‘I do make an effort, but I don’t have unlimited pocket money to spend on all those expensive lotions and potions
you get. And besides, all the effort in the world wouldn’t make much of a difference … I’m not pretty enough to fit in, I
know that.’

‘But you have gorgeous green eyes …’ Amelia pleaded, tentatively. She’d had this conversation before, and Jo always shot her
down.

‘Look, nobody’s given me a chance here in seven years, and if I’m brutally honest I’m counting the days until the exams are
over and we leave. If I was meant to be friends with everyone it would have happened, and let’s face it, Ames, you’re the
only one who even bothers to speak to me.’

For once Jo let a wave of self-pity wash over her, and she fought not to cry, knowing if she did, like last time, she wouldn’t
be able to stop. She was stronger than that. She was determined to be.

Amelia could see Jo’s eyes shining with tears and she played her trump card. ‘Here, this will cheer you up – the new
Cosmopolitan
, just out today. It’s got a great piece where they give a girl a make-over … You should email them and see if they’d do a
make-over for you – could be a great chance to make some contacts for when you start your career.’

Jo shook her head, but Amelia dragged her over to the mirror and forced her to look at herself properly. Jo cringed.

Her mousy-brown hair lat flat against her head and limp on her shoulders, and her eyes, set against the frown of her face,
were dull. Apart from her wide nostrils, her nose wasn’t too bad, as noses went, but her lips were too thin, her eyebrows
too thick, and Jo knew that even if she lost some weight she’d be one of those girls who are lost in the crowd. She was average
– not ugly, not pretty, just nondescript. Jo wished with all her heart that she was stunningly beautiful like Amelia.

‘I bet the beauty department could made you look great in just a couple of hours,’ Amelia said, lifting Jo’s hair from
her shoulders to see what it would look like if it was up. ‘And you could pitch them that idea you were telling me about the
other night – about how girls should be made-over and PhotoShopped so they look like celebrities, so they don’t feel so bad
about themselves.’

Jo shook her head, and her hair fell from Amelia’s hands. She’d be too terrified to have a magazine make-over – because no
matter what they did to her, she’d still be overweight and she’d still be plain old Jo Hill who didn’t have class and never
would. She refused to look at her reflection any longer – it hurt too much. Jo eyed
Cosmopolitan
longingly, and Amelia got the hint.

‘Shall I leave you to fawn all over your magazine, then,’ she joked, and after she’d gathered her bags and had gone Jo breathed
a sigh of relief – not because she didn’t like Amelia’s company, but because by picking up the magazine she could finally
escape real life and disappear into the glamorous world of models, make-up and fantasising about what it would be like when
she was finally an editor of a glossy magazine. She would wear Manolo Blahnik heels, Versace suits and, as well as being thin
and beautiful, she would be powerful.

As Jo settled down with the magazine she instinctively analysed it – memorising how to write pithy features and learning what
worked on fashion shoots. She opened her bedside drawer and found some Jaffa Cakes, and as she ate her way through the packet
she read the top make-up tips from her favourite beauty editors, and worked out what colours she’d use on her eyelids if she
were going to a celebrity-packed party. In reality she would never dare use make-up – she believed she was so ugly that a
touch of shimmering colour wouldn’t make any difference, or worse, would make it look like she actually cared – but when Jo
retreated into the glamorous world of fashion magazines she could pretend she was just like any other girl: carefree, young,
pretty and slender.

Because the truth was that Jo was more than just overweight. She was sixteen stone and she was finding that even her extra-large
school uniform was straining at the seams.

Jo knew she had to go on a diet – she wasn’t stupid – but she couldn’t seem to stop herself eating, and even though she hated
the rolls of fat that collected sweat under her uniform, she was always hungry. The kind dinner ladies didn’t help matters
either. Every day they piled more and more food on her plate in the hope of getting her to smile, and even though Amelia frowned
at the heaped plates of food, she never said anything about Jo cutting back, not even when the bitchier girls laughed as Jo
went up for seconds. She was the one person at school who didn’t seem to mind too much that Jo was more than chubby, the one
person who could see Jo for who she was: a sweet, fun, bright girl who was driven by ambition and the desire to succeed. But
even Amelia couldn’t protect her from being the odd one out in a school where everyone had to be perfect.

‘Oh, look, there’s Jo Hill skipping her homework again so she can be in bed with a magazine, what a surprise!’ A nasal voice
interrupted her thoughts, and Jo turned to see Dominique and her group of blonde, identikit friends. Dominique had the bed
closest to Jo’s, and since the first year she’d picked on Jo to make herself feel better about her slightly rounded stomach
and large bottom.

‘You’re never going to lose your virginity if going to bed with a magazine is all you’re interested in,’ she said cattily,
as her friends giggled and nudged each other. ‘Men don’t like girls who just lie on their backs – they like a bit of movement.’

Jo stared at the girls coolly. ‘Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m hoping that when I do get a boyfriend he’s going
to be impressed by the fact that I have ambition and am not an airhead like you.’

Dominique doubled up with fake laughter. ‘If you call lying on your back while reading trashy magazines “ambition”, then I’m
sure you’ll find someone to sleep with you. Especially if he can put the magazine over your head before he climbs on top.’

Jo felt her good mood vanish, and she turned towards the wall, desperately trying to ignore the giggles and the slumber-party
atmosphere of bedtime that never included her. The magazine fell out of her hands and opened on the editor’s letter page,
and Jo stared at it, imagining her slimmed-down and made-up face looking back at her in place of the current
Cosmo
editor. One day Dominique – and Jemima and Susie and all the other bitchy girls at school – would be fat from having babies
with philandering City bankers, and they would all turn to her magazine for love-life advice. Jo would be thin, stylish and
the most revered magazine editor in the UK, and when the girls opened the magazine and saw Jo’s beautiful face in prime position
on the editor’s letter page they’d wish they’d never bullied her at school. She’d show them.

August 2000

Jo woke with a jolt. The sun was streaming through her thin My Little Pony curtains, and for a minute she didn’t know where
she was until she realised she could smell burnt toast rather than Dominique’s overbearing perfume. She glanced around the
bedroom and breathed a sigh of relief: she was at home, and she was never going to have to go back to St Christopher’s School
for Snobs again. Old posters of Kurt Cobain hung limply from the pale pink walls, and her curtains blocked out the view of
the rest of the Peckham council estate. Jo never opened them – they acted as a barrier to the gangs of teenagers outside who
taunted her for being ‘posh’ and fat. Jo often wondered if she was the loneliest person in the world. She didn’t feel like
she fitted in anywhere.