The Manifesto on How to be Interesting (16 page)

“Have you really been in my form room since Year Seven? I'm sure I would have noticed you – I mean, look at you.”

She tried not to blush. Or smack him round the face.

“I honestly have…” She didn't want to tell him she'd just been a weirdo loner until a few weeks ago. “So what's happened? You run out of girls to hit on and now you're opening your eyes to potential new victims?”

He laughed again and mock-pushed her.

She was right. He liked having the piss ripped out of him.

“Tell me what you really think, why don't you?”

“I'm sure I'm the only person who ever has.”

“Woooooaaahhh. Personal attack. I'm offended.”

“
You're
offended? You didn't acknowledge my existence until sixty seconds ago.” She blew up her fringe and looked bored.

“Okay. I'm sorry. I can't believe I've never introduced myself. I'm Hugo.” He reached out his hand. “Nice to meet you. What's your name?”

She shook his hand. “I'm Bree.”

“Bree? Hang on…your name does ring a bell.”

“Yeah, right. Stop lying.”

He smiled another gorgeous grin. Ignoring it, she tossed her bag over her shoulder.

“I'd better get going.”

“What? Now? But we're only just getting to know each other.”

“You had your chance in Year Seven.”

He laughed again. “You're not going to forgive me very easily, are you?”

She shook her head and looked up at him through her eyelashes. “Nope.”

“Aww, man.” He threw his head back in defeat. Then: “I know. You forgive me and, in return, I'll invite you to my incredibly amazing eighteenth. It's gonna be more like a mini festival than a party.”

The invite! The invite she so desperately needed.

Bree wrinkled her nose, never missing a trick. “What? The Gash festival?”

“Oh. You heard about that? It's only a laugh, you know, with the lads.”

“The rugby lads?”

“Yes, well, you know what it's like…
tally-ho
mixed with rampant chauvinism.”

She actually let out a real laugh. “When did rugby players get so self-aware?”

He ignored that. “So you coming to my party?”

“Maybe.”

“That's the nearest I'm gonna get to an answer, isn't it?”

“Maybe.”

“Okay. Come if you like. Don't come if you don't like. I'll only cry myself to sleep…”

“Using another girl's knickers as a hanky.”

He completely burst out laughing at that. “Maybe. It is
my
birthday. But I'll make you the Queen of the Gash festival if you come.”

“And they say romance is dead.”

More raucous laughter. “You have BANTER, girl.”

Bree resisted the urge to visibly shudder. “I'd really better go.” She walked past him.

“Wait!” he called after her. “So is that a yes?”

She spun round. “Okay then. I'll see you there.”

“Brilliant. I'm texting round the details – you'll hear about it. See you there…Bree. See? I remembered.”

“Congratulations,” she called behind her, knowing he was watching.

Well played, Bree. Well played.

Jassmine dropped the annoying bombshell on the way to school.

“Bree, you'll never guess what? Hugo and me. We're back on.”

She was almost too shocked to notice the grammar mistake.
Hugo and I, HUGO AND I.
“Huh? What? I thought you were still on a break? Where did that come from?”

Jassmine giggled and hid behind her hair. “Last night. I invited him round after rugby practice to, you know, just catch up. And then he just came out with all this deep stuff. Like how he missed me. How rugby practice wasn't the same without me cheering him along from the sidelines. And how he wants us to get back together.”

Or he was tanked up on testosterone after the match and wanted to expel it.

“Wow. Jassmine, that's amazing! I'm so happy for you.”

Crap crap crap crap crap crap.

Seducing Hugo
–
the next rule on her list – was going to be painful enough, but if he had a girlfriend?
Ethics alert. Ethics alert.
Fair enough, ethics hadn't exactly been oozing out of Bree recently, but a girl's gotta try.

“I know. I'm so happy for me too. I really missed him, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.”

It was warm, not really a winter day at all. Both of them had their blazers tossed over their shoulders. Bree had invited Jass over that morning to work out with her personal trainer – always worth upping your collateral. She could just about keep up with Jass, and her mum now. Lunges had become a routine part of life, alongside jogging on the spot while waiting for the kettle to boil. As a result, her body had slowly morphed into something she hardly recognized. Limbs were gradually being sculpted, and she couldn't poke her cellulite dimples with her finger whenever she sat on the toilet any more. She'd started to actually look forward to her morning workout. Not so much because she cared about her body, but more, with all the new-life madness around her, it was the only time she felt entirely in control. Well, then and when she tucked herself up each night with one of her favourite books, easing away the stresses of not-being-her all day with soothing, beautiful words.

“So…did you and Hugo talk about that girl at Seth's party?”

Jassmine flashed her a look and launched into an overly-prepared speech. “He said nothing happened. It was just a silly rumour. I trust him. We're in love.”

With yourselves.

“Aww. That's so romantic.”

“I know, right?”

“Hugo's just such a great guy.”

“I know. Isn't he? I'm so lucky.”

They turned the corner and there he was. Waiting for Jass, leaning against the school gates in an oh-so-cool James Dean way. Jassmine ran over.

“Hello, you.”

She leaped into his arms and they launched into a passionate snog, perfectly timed so all arriving students got a full view.

“Wow. Look at that.”

“They must be back together.”

“But I thought he cheated on her?”

“Didn't she cheat on him?”

“They look so good together.”

“Such a sweet couple.”

“I wonder what happened?”

The whole school was enthralled. It was all Bree heard about in lessons. Jassmine this and Hugo that. Blah blah blah blah. People were behaving like the two of them were A-list celebs who'd just announced their engagement. And in a way they were – the A-list of Queen's. It was depressing how excited everyone was when, really, nothing of interest had happened at all. Boy meets girl. Girl meets boy. They fall in lust. Have an argument. Boy cheats on girl. Girl forgives boy. They live happily ever bloody after until a) they start uni, or b) – the more likely option – boy cheats on girl again.

HOW WAS THAT INTERESTING TO PEOPLE?

But Bree didn't make the rules. If she did, everyone would be raving on about how Holdo would be a self-made millionaire before he hit twenty-five. And how Bree was likely to get a book deal before she graduated uni. How Hugo obviously had a severe case of narcissist disorder. And that Gemma Rhinestone was, in fact, evil. And Bree's life could go on as normal and she could wear shoes that didn't hurt her feet, and a face that didn't need to be plastered on every morning, and she could raise her hand in English and say,
Actually, I think one could argue that Christopher Marlowe is a technically better writer than Shakespeare, but his untimely murder meant he wasn't able to evolve to produce his best work,
and everyone would go,
Yes, but of course,
and lift Bree onto their shoulders, chanting her name.

Or whatever.

But instead she clopped after Jassmine in her heels, yelling, “Wait up!”

An annoying side effect of the Jassmine/Hugo reunion vom-a-thon was that the girls now sat with Hugo and “the lads” at lunchtime. Time not spent groping through school jumpers was time wasted. So, the next day, Bree found herself in the company of complete cavemen. It was hot again, a final gasp of sunshine before the full force of winter hit, and everyone was making the most of it by “sunbathing” while trying not to shiver. They had prime spots, on the sloped bank next to the lacrosse field, which caught the most sun. Hugo lay with his hands behind his head and Jassmine on his lap. The other girls arranged themselves carefully in a semicircle facing the blokes, tucking their skirts around themselves.

Matty Boy – usually known as Batty Boy when the “lads” were teasing – gave them all a full-on perv.

“You see,” Matty said, lying back in an imitation of Hugo, “this is what I love about the sunshine. All you gorgeous things get your skin out. Mmmm, loving your legs, Gemma.” He winked at her.

Gemma grabbed a tuft of grass and chucked it at him. It fluttered to the ground aimlessly and Matty laughed.

“Oooo, I'm really scared of some grass.”

“You should be, you perv,” she said, half-scowling, half-smiling.

“Your legs are a bit hairy though.”

“Hey! My legs aren't hairy.”

“Hmm, hang on, let's check.” He reached over and quickly stroked them.

“Get off!”

“I was wrong, Rinestone. You're a Gillette Goddess.”

“And you're a sex offender.”

He smiled. “Guilty as charged.”

Bree could never work out why Matty Boy was popular. On all aesthetic points, he shouldn't have been. He was short. A bit chubs. GINGER. He had freckles all over his face and almost-white eyelashes. Plus he had a tendency to dress like a wannabe gangster, all gold chains this and baseball hats that, which looked ridiculous on his Caucasian-as-HELL skin. But he was a cocky little gobshite and that appeared to be his salvation. Never, on any account, underestimate the power of egotism. Bree had heard him referred to as “fit” and “well hot” by actual girls with actual working pairs of eyeballs.

“Now, Bree, I'm most disappointed by your lack of efforts in showing some skin today.”

Bree had been busy thinking about how Shakespeare invented the word “eyeball”, so did that cartoon looking-around thing before she realized Matty was talking to her. For the first time ever.

Her legs were clad in a sweaty pair of tights covered in tiny lipstick prints today – her scars still needed to heal up.

She looked at him over the rim of her designer sunglasses. “Excuse me, do I know you?”

Hugo laughed and Jassmine's head bobbed up and down on his stomach.

“Yeah, Batty Boy, where are your manners?”

Matty wrinkled his nose. “I'm only polite to girls who've got their legs out.”

“Well, I'm only polite to boys who don't need to dye their eyelashes.”

Hugo pissed himself laughing, so much that Jassmine's head lolled onto the grass. The boys clocked his reaction and all laughed too. Then the girls joined in.

Bree dug into her bag and chucked a mascara at him. “Here, you can borrow this if you'd like.”

More laughter.

Matty lobbed the mascara back at her. Quite hard. Luckily, she caught it before it hit her face.

“Oooo, calm down. Someone's got man PMS.”

The laughter continued.

“Who
are
you anyway?”

Bree held out her hand. “Lovely to be introduced to you, Matty. My name's Bree.”

He looked at her hand like it was dirty but shook it anyway.

“There. That wasn't so hard now, was it?”

The laughter died down, with Seth the last to quieten.

“Damn. This new girl has proper banter,” Seth said.

Bree beamed inside. Her planned transition from flirty to backchat seemed to be working. They respected her lack of fear. She lay back next to Jessica and relaxed behind her glasses, glad the conversation was no longer about leg-showing. Jassmine reclaimed her spot on Hugo and kissed his cheeks while he ignored her. Jessica and Emily both looked a little lost without her guiding them.

“So what are the latest plans for the party then?” Seth asked.

Hugo batted Jassmine away.

“My dad's hiring some kickass DJ and a massive marquee. It's going to be epic. Like, apocalyptically epic.”

Jassmine ignored the rebuff and started stroking his hair.

“Man, I'm so excited I might get an erection,” Seth joked.

“Really? Cos Batty Boy here told me you had trouble getting it up in your shower session with him last night…” Hugo raised an eyebrow.

The laughter Bree had generated was nothing compared to this. Jassmine and Emily cackled the loudest, making shrill shrieking sounds.

“You're hilarious, Hugo!” Emily shot him an admiring look but was instantly stared down by Jass. “I mean…ha ha. Seth, you're not really gay, are you?”

He blushed pink, while trying to look like he didn't care. “Why? You're not coming onto me, are you? Cos I think if you did, I definitely wouldn't be able to get it up. Yuck much?”

Emily's face recoiled into itself, her eyes blinking madly to hold in sudden tears. Seth looked round eagerly for hilarity. He got none.

“Seth, you are such a dickhead,” Jass said. “Like Emily would shag you anyway.”

“Yeah, mate. Calm down, no need to make it nasty.”

“I'll happily shag you, Emily,” Matty Boy piped in.

“Oooo, thanks, I guess,” Emily muttered, and everyone giggled.

“What's with the tension today, boy?” Hugo said. “This is our last chance to catch some serious vitamin D before, like, next century. Can't we all chill and stop being mean to each other? I've decided that the following topics of conversation are the only things acceptable: the Rugby World Cup, Jassmine's tight arse—”