The Manifesto on How to be Interesting (30 page)

“You look almost…cute. But then also really filthy. I'm in awe,” Emily said. She was dressed as King Herod, wearing a tiara instead of a crown.

Bree opened her arms. “Do you want a hug? I'm so comfy.”

“I want one!” Jass yelled and launched herself on top of her. They both fell backwards, laughing like tipsy teenagers. Probably because they were tipsy teenagers. Jass stroked her belly. “You're so soft. I can't stop stroking you.”

“Back off, lezzer.”

Bree hated to admit it, but she was having fun. The impossible had happened and the perfect posse weren't taking themselves very seriously. Okay, so each nativity costume had a sexy twist, but at least they'd been up for it.

Jass picked up yet another glass and stood on the bed. “I want to make a toast.”

“Oh, no. She's getting wasted again,” Gemma muttered. Loudly. Deliberately.

“Shut up, Gemma.”

And she did.

“Christmas is about the year coming to an end. And I don't know about you, but at the beginning of this year I never thought Bree, aka Twatty McGeek, would be here, drinking with us, and making us dress up as nativity characters.”

Bree felt herself go a bit dark peach.

“But, for whatever reason, Bree, you somehow got a life. Joined our friendship group. And, I don't know about you guys, but I'm really glad you did.” And, to Bree's utter shock and despair, Jass's voice broke. “Bree, you're, like, brilliant. We all love you, don't we, girls?”

The others chanted their agreement and Bree's face went peachier and peachier.

“So Happy Christmas, everyone. Now let's go and make Queen's Hall wildly jealous that they're not us.”

They all clinked their glasses before necking their drinks. Then Mariah Carey's “All I Want For Christmas Is You” came on Jassmine's massive stereo and they all whooped and danced like strippers. Bree couldn't join in. She was still stunned by what had just been said. And a little touched. She'd done it. She'd actually done it. Bree, total loser extraordinaire, had successfully hacked into the inner circle. Not only were they scared of and influenced by her, they actually liked her.

Bree wasn't used to being liked. It felt so great she felt instantly vulnerable.

Would they still like her if they knew the truth?

The school looked fantastic. Any worries about it being a dowdy school dance evaporated when they saw all the upside-down Christmas trees blinking with fairy lights and hanging from the ceiling.

They made their entrance together. The boys and the girls.

“No bloody way.”

“They've come as the nativity.”

“That's so…random.”

“That's so…awesome.”

“LOOK AT ME!” Hugo yelled at everyone, his face already pink from being half-drunk. “I'M THE VIRGIN MARY.”

He yanked out a toy doll from nowhere, and held the mini-Jesus above his head like it was the FA Cup.

By the response he got, you would have thought the guy had just won an NME award.

“That is siiiiiiiiiiiiiick.”

“Woooooah, go Hugo!”

“I can't believe Hugo's come as the Virgin Mary. Virgin? Hugo?”

“I can't believe Seth's come as Joseph.”

Seth, keen to show off, ran after Hugo to share in his glory, but tripped on his dressing gown. The room cracked up.

Matty Boy, a shepherd, shuffled over to Bree with a shy smile. “Aren't I supposed to be looking after you?”

“It's okay,” said Bree, still a little pissed off at him for telling everyone she was a lesbian. “I'm a very independent sheep. Plus I'm a lesbian, apparently. Which if you think is an insult means you're one very shallow-minded shepherd.”

“Sorry.”

“What was that?” She leaned towards him overdramatically with her hand to her ear.

“I said I'm sorry.”

“Oh yes. Brilliant. About what?”

“Erm. About being a bitter bastard and spreading rumours about you?”

“Oh, that. Well, you should be sorry.”

He grinned. “Will it make it up to you if I tell you you've somehow made a sheep costume very sexy?”

She was about to rebut but Hugo jumped over, picked her up and squeezed her tight.

“Well, call me Welsh, but I may have to become a sheep-shagger by the end of the night.” He spun her round while she tried hard not to grimace. Even through her protective layer of cotton-wool balls, his touch turned her stomach. “You look so hot,” he whispered, his mouth right in her ear, making her shudder.

She pushed him off and looked around. Everyone was watching, especially Jassmine, who looked quite rightly suspicious.

“Don't you need to be looking after your child? He is the son of God, after all.”

“Who, this?” And he was about to drop-kick the baby Jesus across the dance floor when Jassmine ran over and grabbed it off him. She shrieked with fake laughter and used Hugo's hilarious behaviour as an excuse to stand right between them.

“Hugo. You can't treat the son of God like a rugby ball. You'll upset people.”

“I can do whatever the hell I want.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

And then Jass was upside down, her dress falling over her head, showing off her white thong. He ran with her to the bar, her tinsel halo falling to the floor as she screamed. Loving. Every. Moment.

Bree took the moment's peace to analyse her surroundings. They were all being stared at by jealous faces. Somehow, from the outside, this soap-opera existence looked appealing.

For what was effectively a school disco, the place really did look pretty damn good. As well as the trees hanging from the ceiling, there was a chocolate fountain, and a huge four-metre right-way-up Christmas tree covered in candy canes. A giant ball of mistletoe hung suspended over the middle of the dance floor and some students were already using it to maximum effect. She looked for Logan, wondering what he made of it all, and located him standing behind “the bar”, guarding the punch from a-spiking. He wore a suit, but scruffily – just how she liked it. His hair poked out from underneath a Santa hat. His eyes met hers at the same time and it passed between them again – the sexual tension – careering across the giant room. He nodded, silently acknowledging her and what they were. Her heartbeat went nutso and she was relieved when Gemma grabbed her round the waist and pulled her towards the bar.

“Come on, we need to hit the punch while it's still spiked.”

“How's it been spiked? It's being guarded.”

“Yeah, but it's being guarded by that pathetic ‘I'm down with the kids' English teacher. He deliberately turned a blind eye when Hugo poured in half a bottle of absinthe.”

“Absinthe?!”

“Yep. For massed pissed-ness, one needs to spike punches with absinthe.”

Gemma's description of Logan dented Bree's pride. He wasn't “down with the kids”. He just had a soul, unlike every other teacher. Her Latin teacher, in charge of distributing sausage rolls, was wearing tweed, for God's sake!

When they got to the bar, Logan dipped a cup into the punch and held it out to Bree.

“Punch, girls?”

God – he was so good at this.

She took the plastic cup and took a sip. It was definitely alcoholic. “Thanks, Mr Fellows.”

“You girls go easy now,” he said, handing one to Gemma. “Too much fruit juice can make you hyper.”

“I'll bear that in mind,” Gemma said sarcastically.

“See,” she whispered as they walked away sipping. “He's so cringe!”

Bree felt like a porcupine that had just put all its prickles up. “He's not. He's cool…” She saw the look on Gemma's face. “For a teacher, anyway. Shall we dance?”

After Bree's second glass of punch, things got a bit hazier. She remembered them playing a LOT of Christmas songs, especially The Pogues, her absolute favourite. Then, at her suggestion, the lot of them cleared a space on the dance floor and re-enacted the entire nativity scene. To music.

It was ridiculous. But cool because it was them doing it. Jassmine was surprisingly hilarious, grinding up against Hugo and fake-flying about the place. Gemma demanded the DJ play the eighties tune “Gold” for a dance solo. And Bree spent a lot of her time running away from Matty Boy, who kept catching her with his shepherd's crook. She could tell the evening was peaking when “Merry Christmas Everyone” came on and the nativity scene wrapped their arms around each other and bellowed along.

She had to admit it – it was fun. This wasn't the ice-cool, perfect, popular crowd she'd loathed from afar. These weren't the twisted vindictive people she'd hated. This group of people were intelligent, up for a laugh, self-deprecating…and she couldn't help but feel just a little bit responsible for the change. Well, she was definitely responsible for the decrease in bullying levels. Gemma had even closed her “Dirty Gossip” account the other day.

Maybe Bree wasn't so uninteresting after all. Maybe she was an…okay person? Maybe it was the absinthe. Maybe it was the Christmas spirit. But, for once, Bree was really actually proud of herself and who she was.

She also needed a wee quite badly.

She made her way to the toilets blearily, stopping to chat to people as she passed. It was only when she sat on the loo seat that she realized she was a bit drunk. So she sat there until her head stopped cartwheeling and took a while washing her hands too. Looking in the mirror, she saw her sheep costume was getting a bit tatty but she still looked awesome. She smiled at her reflection, dried her hands under the dryer and walked out, only to bump straight into Mr Fellows. He was leaning against the wall, his Santa hat all askew.

“Logan.”

“Shh,” he whispered, with a wicked smile. “Is there anyone else in the loos?”

Miraculously – for a girl's toilet – it was empty. Although she had, for some unknown reason, staggered to the “crying toilets”, like a homing pigeon, which were further away from the hall.

Bree shook her head.

“Brilliant.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her back into where she'd just left.

“Logan, what are you doing?”

He didn't answer at first, just pushed her into a toilet cubicle and locked them both in. He pushed her against the wall and frantically kissed her, every inch of his body pinning her to the door. He tasted like absinthe.

“Logan,” she giggled into his mouth. “Have you been drinking?”

“You. Are. So. Gorgeous,” he replied, between kisses.

She closed her eyes as the sensation of his lips took over all rational thought. “Logan, we'll get caught.”

“I don't care.”

She gave up and kissed him back. More than that, she jumped up slightly so he was holding her weight and wrapped her legs around his waist.

“Oh my God, Bree.”

She took that to mean he liked the leg-wrapping. He let out a man-sigh and slammed her body back. Everything was a blur of hazy lust and hormones. She loved the taste of him, she loved the way they could be caught at any moment, she loved that she felt so…wanted. There was only kissing and touching and stroking and groaning and all the other “ings” that happen between two consenting adults – but not so much between student and teacher.

Eventually, Logan broke off.

“What?” she said, suddenly all shy as he gazed at her adoringly.

“You're really something, you know that, right?”

She looked down bashfully. “What do you mean?”

“Did you see everyone in that hall? How they looked at you? How they circle you?”

“Don't be stupid.”

“It's true.”

He hugged her tight. “I can't believe I'm kissing the most popular girl in school…”

Bree's trouble-detector kicked in. “What? Is that why you came in here?”

“I was just joking.”

“Oh…” The words still jarred with her. “That's not why…is it…?”

“SHHH,” he whispered urgently. “Somebody's coming in.”

The bang of the door made adrenalin surge through her. The clip-clop of heeled shoes racketed off the lino floor.

Oh no oh no oh no oh no. Logan's hand clamped over her mouth. She could feel the frantic beat of his heart pressed against hers.

If they got caught…

“Jassmine Dallington looks like such a tart,” a voice said. Bree didn't recognize it – just someone from their year, maybe. The smell of the girls' collective perfumes wafted under the gap at the bottom of the door.

“At least she's tried to look sexy. Have you seen the state of Bree? A sheep's costume!”

“I know. I don't get why they're mates with her.”

“Such a weirdo.”

“Always has been. And suddenly we're all, like, supposed to forget, just because Jassmine had a lobotomy or something.”

“Hold my bag, will you? I'm dying for a wee.”

They listened, both their hearts thudding, as one of the girls clopped into the cubicle next to them and started peeing like a carthorse.

“Hugo looks so fit, as always,” the girl called through the cubicle door, mid-wee.

Despite the urgency of the circumstance, Bree couldn't help but roll her eyes.

“And doesn't he bloody know it,” the girl's friend replied.

It was so hard to breathe quietly. Bree had never noticed before just how noisy an activity it was. Or how her heartbeat appeared to have an amp attached.

Logan wasn't much quieter, his breath was quick and rasping. His hand over her mouth was shaking so violently, she was surprised it wasn't making tap-dancing noises against her teeth.

The girls argued amongst themselves a bit longer, discussing the physical merits of Hugo, Seth and Matty Boy.

God
, Bree thought,
girls really do take ages in the bathroom.

Finally, after an eternity, they left, the door swinging shut heavily behind them. Logan and Bree stayed in silence, listening out for any stray noise that may indicate someone had stayed behind