All That Glitters (26 page)

Now I just need to find a way to coax the rest of her out, that’s all.

nfortunately, the Inner Star list’s author hasn’t given any more details on exactly how to do that.

Which is a shame.

Because, as of 8:30am on Monday morning, I could really do with a little more guidance.

By the time I reach the end of my road, there are four first years following me with huge eyes, like barn owls in too-big dark green blazers and little white ankle socks.

Every time I speed up, they speed up.

Every time I stop, they stop.

Until my only options appear to be: a) run b) crawl inside a bush or c) curl up on the floor in a ball like a hedgehog until they either lose interest or accidentally stand on one of my fingers.

Except that’s exactly what the old Harriet Manners would do, so instead I take a deep breath and spin round.

“Yes?” I say as brightly as I can. “Is there something I can help you with, ladies?”

Brilliant.

Now I sound like a Gap assistant after somebody has just tangled up my jumpers.

“Umm.” The little redhead has started hopping from one foot to the other, glancing at her friends. “Is your name
Harriet Manners
? Are you really a
supermodel
? Because my sister’s in your year and she says you’re famous but Fee thinks you’re not pretty enough so we’re not sure.”

She points at a blonde girl, who immediately goes red.

“I didn’t say that! Oh my God, Lydia, you’re
so embarrassing
!” Fee looks at the floor. “I just said you’re quite normal-looking for a model, that’s all.”

Normal-looking.
Honestly, that’s probably the nicest thing anybody at school has ever said about me.

“Yes, my name is Harriet,” I say as we start walking again. “The rest, I’m afraid, is massively inflated.”

“
Massively inflated
,” they breathe to each other. “
Cooooool.
”

Then they start skipping down the road next to me.

“Do you live in a
castle
?” “Does it have turrets?” “Have you ever been to Jamaica?” “My aunty’s been to Jamaica and it rained.” “I’d rather go to Barbados. It
never
rains there.” “Don’t be stupid, Lydia, it rains
everywhere
.”

“Not in Antarctica it doesn’t,” I interrupt automatically. “The Dry Valleys are the driest spot in the world as winds of speeds up to 200 miles per hour blow there and evaporate all surface water, snow and ice.”

They stop skipping and stare at me with round eyes until I can feel myself flushing bright red.

Then they explode again.

“Oooooh.” “200 miles per hour is
so fast.
” “That’s faster than a
car
.” “That’s faster than a
speedboat.
” “What else do you know, Harriet Manners? Do you know
everything
?”

To my surprise, I can feel my chest puffing out like a little pigeon. I’m not used to strangers enjoying my facts quite so enthusiastically. “Not at all. But I have a lot of books like this one which really help.”

I reach into my satchel and pull out
Wise Up In The Bathroom
. I really wish publishing companies would stop assuming the only place to learn trivia is on the toilet.

“
Ooooooh
.” They crowd around it. “This is
so awesome
.” “This is, like, the
awesomest thing
I’ve ever seen.” “My mum says fact books are only for nerds but she’s so
wrong.
”

I study their faces carefully, but there isn’t a trace of sarcasm or facetiousness. They’re not mocking me or being ironic. They honestly think my fact book is super cool.

Even weirder, they appear to think
I
am too.

We’re outside the lower building now, and for a few crazy seconds I’m tempted to go in with them so we can discuss interesting facts about bridges. They might actually be my kindred spirits.

Or – at the very least – my spirit animals.

Instead I say: “Would you like to borrow my book for the day? There’s a
really
interesting section about sharks on page 143.”

They take it as if it’s some kind of holy grail.

“When I’m grown up, I want to be
just like you
,” Lydia says, staring at it reverently.

There’s suddenly a little lump in my throat. I’ve never been considered a goal before.

Or – who are we kidding – a grown-up.

“If you like it there’s
plenty
more where that came from,” I beam at them. “And if you want to meet me before school tomorrow at the bottom of the road I can give you some more.”

They’re going to
adore
my humorous potted history about the Tudors.

“Yay!” they squeak, jumping up and down. “We love you, Harriet Manners!” “You’re the best, Harriet Manners!” “See you tomorrow, Harriet Manners!”

And – waving shyly – the four girls run through the lower school doors.

Leaving me lit up with pleasure behind them.

wait a few minutes until they’ve gone.

Mainly so I can wipe the stupid grin off my face and compose myself into a more sophisticated sixth form kind of mentality.

Then I glance down at my outfit.

Bright purple linen trousers, turquoise kaftan, a yellow shawl, enormous silver earrings with orange stones, three scarves – pink, green and blue – and little red leather slippers. There are sequins on at least four of those items, and tinkling bells on three.

Yup:
nailed it.

With a satisfied sigh, I get my list out of my pocket and draw little ticks beside the next two items.

Be Stylish!
Shake it up and try something new!

Inspire!
Lead, never follow!

Then I anxiously contemplate the next goal:

Don’t try too hard!
It just looks desperate!!!!

Hmm.

Of everything on this list I’ve attempted over the last few days, this is going to be my biggest challenge yet. In Year Seven, I leapfrogged so hard I flung myself into a wall and dislocated my shoulder; in Year Eight I debated colonialism in history so enthusiastically I started crying; in Year Two I played Mary with such conviction I stole baby Jesus and …

Well. You get the picture.

Whichever part of the brain allows you to participate in anything half-heartedly, I just don’t have it.

I try too hard at
everything.

But there are four exclamation marks, which means this must be pretty important. So I stick my nose in the air as high and nonchalantly as I can physically get it.

Be confident, Harriet! You are a creature unlike any other! Unique! As special as a snowflake! As exceptional and rare as a …

A …

Northern Hairy-nosed Wombat, of which there are only 115 left in the wild.

Yup: that should do it.

And I push boldly and carelessly back into my classroom.

r try to, anyway.

I’m so careless one of my three scarves gets caught on the classroom door handle and Miss Hammond has to untangle me patiently before I accidentally strangle myself.

So far not trying hard has nearly killed me.

“Harriet!” my form teacher says cheerfully, releasing me from the furniture. “You’ve returned yet again! It’s very exciting, wondering if you’ll be at school or not. A veritable Russian roulette of attendance.”

In the meantime, the entire class has stopped talking and spun round to face me.

“Harriet! There you are!” “How was your weekend?” “Your earrings are
lush
!” “
Loving
this look, Harriet! It’s so
quirky
!”

“Retty, you’re back!” Liv squeaks as I blink at them all. She elbows Ananya sharply. “Yay! We were so worried you’d moved back to New York!”

“Where
were
you?” Ananya says, politely moving her feet so I don’t have to step over them. “Did you do something exciting, Ret?”

I make my way shakily to my seat.

The urge to tell them every single thing I have ever learnt about camels and snakes and how the mortality rate if bitten by a black mamba is over ninety-five per cent is
immense
.