The Manifesto on How to be Interesting (12 page)

Bree held her hand up. “Wait. Dad works for a…cosmetics company?”

Her mum roared with laughter. “You don't know what your own father does for a living?”

She shrugged. “Whatever it is, it makes him grumpy. And never here.”

“He looks after the legal interests of major corporations and specializes in the patenting of new products. He's in charge of the Marvel brand relaunch. He is basically God of lipstick. And he will be around more soon…well in five years anyway, as he's promised to retire early.”

“Huh?”

“Here.” She shoved both tubes into Bree's hands. “Just take them and wear it tomorrow. All the girls in school will be queuing up to talk to you.”

Bree wasn't sure if she could trust this information. She twisted the pink lipstick back into itself and eyeballed it suspiciously.

“Why do you think I want girls queuing up to talk to me?”

“Come on, Bree. It's not rocket science. Girls need friends. Girlfriends. It can hardly be stimulating spending all your spare time listening to Holdo moan on about his computer gadgets.”

Hearing Holdo's name made Bree's heart hurt. She pushed the uncomfortable feeling to one side and looked at her mum. “Thank you.”

“Any time. I've booked the personal trainer to start next week.”

“Great.”

Then Bree escaped into the sanctuary of her bedroom to have a think.

She did apply the lipstick the next morning. It couldn't hurt, after all. Plus, it was a Friday and teachers were always a bit lax about make-up rules on a Friday. She matched her pink lips with another pair of statement tights – these ones had tiny flecks of hot pink in them. She hurried to school, still trying to work on her break-in plan.

What do I have that they don't?

There had to be something.

It was freezing. Winter was hurtling towards them and soon all the trees would be bare. It was a shame really, that she was so alone. This was a fun time of year to have a social life. Halloween, Bonfire Night…annual events geared towards the misbehaviour of under-eighteens. Apparently Hugo was planning a massive firework display for his eighteenth. She really needed to wangle an invite to that. Soon. She'd prefer it not to come from Hugo himself though. That would definitely piss off Jassmine Incorporated.

Holdo would think she was crazy for wanting to go to a Hugo party. She and Holdo always used to watch classic horror films on Halloween… God how she missed him.

She didn't listen in English. There was nothing Mr Fellows could tell her about Philip Larkin that she hadn't already taught herself. Class went much slower without her answering all the questions. He kept flicking her anxious looks, like a puppy wanting attention from its owner.

He was all “What do you think, Bree?” this, and “Bree, come on, you must know the answer” that, now she wasn't making her crush blatantly obvious any more.

She couldn't work out how it made her feel. Most of her felt warm everywhere with the thought that he cared; inside her head she was fist-punching in triumph that he was finally showing her attention again. But the cruel voice that always popped up to say
hi
whenever she felt good was saying:
He couldn't get you out of his classroom fast enough when you were a frumpy loser.

After yet more Latin, it was time for lunch, and Bree went to the ladies to reapply.

She put her make-up bag in the sink and leaned forward towards the glass to examine her reflection. Just as she was retrieving the Princess Pink, as if it were fate, Jassmine and Jessica sauntered in.

They gave Bree an unfriendly look and took a space two sinks down, jabbering inanely to each other.

“Oh my God,” Jassmine said. “I can't believe there's still, like, two whole lessons to get through until it's the weekend. I just wanna get drunk and let my hair down, you know?”

Jessica nodded furiously, while looking at herself in the mirror. “Totally. At least I've got drama this arvo. But double Latin? Poor Jassmine.”

Jassmine wrinkled her nose. “Tell me about it. It's so completely boring. Why do I need to talk like dead people who wore togas? My parents INSISTED I took it though. My teacher is such a div. She dresses like – I'm totally not kidding – like a cat lady on crack. I swear, everything she wears is crocheted. By herself. Probably while sobbing on a rocking chair, surrounded by pussies.”

Jessica almost giggled herself to death. “Oh my God, Jass. You are sooooo hilarious.”

Jassmine plumped her hair and smiled at her reflection. “I know.”

Bree twisted up the tube of lipstick. She leaned further forward and carefully smeared some on her top lip. Then her concentration was interrupted.

“No…effing…way.”

Jassmine was at her side.

“That's not the limited edition Princess Pink you've got on, is it?”

The first time you ever speak to me and it's because I have lipstick?

Bree didn't miss a beat. She looked down at the tube like she was almost surprised at it being in her hand. “What, this? Oh yeah. I suppose it is.”

“But it's a rip-off, right?”

Bree gave her most confident
Oh please
face. “I don't do fakes.”

She didn't even do lipstick this time last week, but last week could've been ten million years ago judging by the ecstatic look on Jassmine's face.

“Can I try some on?”

Bree shrugged. “Sure.”

A high-pitched yelp escaped Jassmine's mouth and the lipstick tube was swiped from Bree's hand. Within seconds, Jassmine had a matching pinky pout.

“I can't frickin' believe you have this.” She kept making kissy faces in the mirror, turning this way and that. “Where did you get it? Did you rob someone?”

Bree maintained her aloof delivery. “Er…no. My dad's kinda, like, a big deal in the cosmetics industry. He's helping with Marvel's relaunch.”

Like
. She had just unnecessarily used the word “like”. Just as the films had subliminally told her to.

“No frickin' way.”

She nodded. “Way.”

Bree watched Jassmine struggling to digest all this new and confusing information. It must've been hard for her. Until Monday, Bree had been easily categorized and plonked on the “loser geek” shelf. Not to be worried about, concerned with, or really bother acknowledging. Now she was a trendsetter with the ultimate “in” to a prettier world.

“Didn't I see you in my body combat class?”

Yes. You saw me and looked at me like I had leprosy.

Bree made her eyes wide. “Was that you? I thought I saw someone I recognized.”

Jassmine nodded like a bobbing dog, while Jessica swung her head from side to side like she was watching a bewildering tennis match.

“It totally was you! I arrived late, otherwise I would have come over and said ‘hi'.”

Like hell you would.

Bree batted away the comment. “Ahhh. It's alright.”

“Do you go to that class regularly?”

“Not really. Usually I just work out with my personal trainer…”

It wasn't quite a lie.

“No way? You have a trainer? I've been begging my mum for one for yonks.”

“I actually work out with my mum.”

“Really? That is so cute.”

There was an awkward silence and Bree waited for Jassmine to fill it. She couldn't get over how right her mum had been about the lipstick. This was better than anything she could've planned herself. She must make it up to her somehow…

“So. What you up to tonight?”

Nothing. Sitting at home and blogging about how horrible you are.

Another shrug. “I'm not sure yet…I've not made up my mind.”

“Do you…” Jassmine hesitated. “Do you wanna come over to mine? We're having a girl's night in. I would love to raid your make-up bag.”

Bree pretended the thought bored her. “Erm…maybe…I could do, I suppose…”

“Come on. It will be fun!”

“Alright then.”

Jassmine gave her a big beaming smile. A rare sight for anyone other than Hugo. “Brilliant. Here's my address…” She grabbed an eyeliner and scribbled on Bree's hand. “Come at seven. No need to bring drink.” Then she turned back to her reflection. “God, this colour really is amazing. They say it suits everyone, you know?”

“I know.”

Jessica was still reeling from the display of utter unlikeliness. She stumbled on her words for the first time ever.

“Er…Bree, is it? Could I try some of your lipstick on too?”

Bree confidently tossed her hair back, made a face, and made her voice sickly sweet – the sort of sugar-rush sweet reserved only for the bitchiest of comments.

“Oh? Really? I would but…well, it's kinda special and I don't wanna use it up too quickly. You get that, right?”

Jessica looked like her world had just fallen in. “Right…of course.”

“See you at seven? I've got some old lipsticks I can bring for you to play with?” And, with that, Bree scooped up the contents of her make-up bag and sashayed out into the corridor – a lifelong power balance completely reversed in one toilet break.

Her Princess Pink lips couldn't stop smiling.

Bree took aaaaages getting ready. What do you wear to a girl's night in? She had absolutely no experience of such things. In the end, she swallowed her pride and asked her mum.

It took a while for the excitable shrieks to stop.

“Ouch. Mum. Eardrums, remember? They're prone to perforation?” she said, unable to keep from smiling at her mum's obvious delight.

Her mum ran into her bedroom uninvited, flung open her wardrobe and started tossing random articles of clothing over her shoulders.

“Right…where are those jeans I got you from Diesel? Here they are. Oh my God, Bree, you've not even taken the label off! Well, these are perfect…” She ripped off the tag and chucked them over. They hit Bree's chest with a thump. “And you need a nice jumper – not too tarty, mind. It's only girls. Where's that gorgeous cashmere I got you last Christmas?” She ripped open another drawer. “This has the tag on too. Seriously, honey, I don't understand you.”

An hour later and Bree was walking the short journey to Jassmine's house. Most Queen's students lived in the same area, where a collection of privately-owned roads were surrounded by the best of the suburban countryside. A few students lived “out in the sticks” – to have even more land – and were driven in each day by their mothers in blacked-out four-by-fours. Hugo's home apparently had numerous acres, an actual boating lake, and he was always whingeing about how much he rinsed on taxi fares. But Jassmine's was only five minutes away.

And, this time last week, an alternative universe away.

Not any more.

Bree's house was bigger. She noticed that straight away and it surprised her. There was no security gate here either. It was also a little bit tackier – all fake columns this and lion statues that. But none of it made ringing the doorbell any less daunting. She took a couple of deep breaths before yanking the ornate chain.

Remember why you're doing this. Even if tonight's awful, it's material.

It took a few moments of anxious waiting – was this a trick? – before Jassmine opened the door.

“Bree. Hi. You came.”

Bree switched personalities and gave a beaming smile. “Yeah, of course. You invited me, remember?”

Jassmine laughed and stepped aside to let Bree in. “Come on in.”

The tackiness was emphasized indoors. Everything was painted a shiny white; there was marble everywhere and blown-up professional canvas prints dominated the staircase. There were several of Jassmine, posing with her hands under her chin or flicking her hair back while pouting.

“Oh no. I can't believe you've seen these,” Jassmine said, as they walked upstairs. “How embarrassing.”

Her humiliation was totally fake. She looked incredible in all the photos. No matter how cheesy they were.

“Wow, Jass,” Bree said. “These are gorgeous. You should totally be a model.”

Jassmine looked delighted but at least pretended to be bashful. “Shut up. No way. I'm not tall enough.”

“I still think you'd have a great chance.”

Jassmine beamed. “The rest of the girls are already here.”

And she held open the door to her bedroom.

Jassmine Dallington's bedroom. The inner sanctum. How many boys and girls had dreamed of accessing this place?

It was just as tacky as the rest of the house. The walls were bright purple. And there were fairy lights over the bed. Bree bet Jassmine thought she'd had an inspired design moment coming up with that idea. The worst bit was the stencilled mural on the focal wall. Someone had carefully painted:
“Dance like nobody's watching, love like you've never been hurt, live like it's heaven on earth.”
It was in a garish calligraphy script and took up the whole wall.

The perfect posse were all there already. Sitting on the four-poster bed. Staring.

“Hi, guys,” Bree said confidently, giving them a half-wave.

None of them smiled.

Undeterred, Bree gestured towards the wall. “Wow, Jassmine. I love that quote!”

“Isn't it the best? It was on the front of a birthday card I got for my super sweet sixteenth and I just read it and got, like, tingles, you know? And I just thought,
What a wonderful message for living your life.
So Daddy hired some local artist to paint it on my wall.”

“What a clever idea. You want to be an interior designer?”

“I dunno. Maybe. I got a B in Art GCSE.”

Bree had got twelve A stars. “Wow. That's amazing.”

The others were still staring. Gemma looked like she was chewing a lemon covered in salt. Jessica was snarling, still stung by the lipstick denial earlier. And Emily just looked utterly confused – like she couldn't handle the sudden reversal in instructions from L
augh at this girl
to
Make friends with her.