The Exes

Chapter 1

1

Gossip spreads like ink in water.

Sudden. Swift. Staining.

A single rumour has the power to change someone’s reputation in a heartbeat.

‘Some aunty caught her snogging a guy in his car,’ Saliha whispered to me, lifting her chin in Hania’s direction. We’d all secured summer jobs in Selfridges’ beauty department, and Hania was working at the counter just opposite ours. ‘Apparently they were in the Asda car park.’

Saliha snorted but my eyes instantly widened with worry.

‘That is so messed up.’

My heart shuddered just thinking of all the ways Hania’s relatives would be shaming her, how mortified she must be feeling and the endless gossip that would follow her. What bothered me the most about these rumours were the double standards – practically everyone in our community had spotted Hania’s brothers with girls in the past and their parents probably hadn’t even bothered to mention it once.

‘Someone also sent Hania’s mum screenshots from her private socials, and we’ve both seen how revealing those pics are.’ Saliha paused to raise her brows and then tucked a stray hair back into her hijab. ‘I’m surprised she’s even allowed to leave the house for work.’

I stared at Hania’s red-rimmed eyes as she helped a customer.

Saliha laughed at my stricken expression. ‘Obviously I feel sorry for her too, but we all know how risky stuff like that is in our community. She should’ve been more careful.’

‘Should I let her know I’m here if she needs anything, or would that be weird since we don’t really talk?’

Saliha grimaced. ‘Definitely weird.’

‘But isn’t it worse to not say anything at all?’

‘Do you really think she needs us, Zara?’

Hania was one of the most popular girls in our school. With her curvaceous figure, sleek black hair and doll-like features, she had everyone flocking around her like sheep.

‘Guess not. I just hope she’s doing OK.’

Saliha rolled her eyes. ‘Everyone will move on when the aunties get hold of the next scandal. Do you reckon it was Imran she was caught with?’

I wrinkled my nose in distaste. With his temple fade trim, ear piercings and baggy tracksuits, my neighbour Imran Sayyid perfectly encapsulated the stereotypical ‘rude-boy’ image. He broke hearts left, right and centre, sometimes with as little as a wink.

As much as I tried to deny it, even I wasn’t entirely immune to his charm. I’d had a crush on Imran in the past, but things were different now. Since turning seventeen, I was no longer fooled by the ridiculous bad-boy act. I was focused on getting through my final year of sixth form and heading towards a brighter future.

Hania suddenly looked right at us and narrowed her eyes as though she knew we were talking about her. Awkward!

We leaped into action. Saliha tried to duck behind the counter, her head whacking into its corner, and I walked right into a customer, knocking the palette she was holding clean out of her hand. Bits of colourful, glittering powder scattered across the white marble floor.

‘I am so sorry,’ I exclaimed.

From the corner of my eye, I could see our manager death-glaring at us – an expression we were used to by now. I shrugged it off and began clearing up the mess. Just a few weeks ago, I would’ve been jittery for the rest of the day after receiving a look like that, but this job had helped me to come out of my shell, to realize that there was no pleasing some people and it wasn’t worth feeling anxious over them.

It got busier. Packs of girls came and went, and they all seemed to blend into one …

The nineties flared jeans that were in again; Louis Vuitton Neverfulls; lip fillers from some place over on Harley Street; long hair with summery highlights done at hairdressers in Fitzrovia.

When things quietened, Saliha approached me with a mischievous look. ‘Oh my God. I forgot to ask if you’ve read Mr Ex’s latest post.’

I’d recently broken the habit of opening social media first thing in the morning, so I wasn’t up to speed. With school starting soon, I didn’t want to be glued to my phone, and it had taken everything in me to keep myself from being hooked on the one site that everyone at school checked regularly: Mr Expose’s blog.

Mr Ex always had the juiciest gossip!

He exposed secrets about the top influencers in London that we all loved to watch, and he didn’t spare the details.

His main victims were The Exes: the five teenagers who collectively ran one of the biggest YouTube channels in Britain. It was common knowledge that they’d chosen the name ‘The Exes’ to convey how quickly they moved on from styles, lovers, locations and scandals.

Although they do possess some talent, The Exes are basically just famous for being famous. They post silly pranks, daily vlogs and plenty of couples content.

They first went viral with the vlogs of their lives at St Victor’s, an exclusive private school in West London, attended by the privileged kids of London’s elite. I enjoyed watching their antics when I was younger, before I realized these were the people I’d be competing with for a space at a top university. They’d got a head start with all their years of a top-tier private education and the bank of mum and dad at their disposal. I’d have to work twice as hard to get the grades and opportunities that just fell into their laps.

From the moment The Exes entered the scene, they took the internet by storm. Their refined accents, lavish lifestyle, glitzy panache – it was as though the world had been waiting for them.

Saliha came up close, interrupting my thoughts. ‘Apparently Chloe Clark just aborted Karim Malik’s baby.’

I gave her a sceptical look.

‘Oh there’s evidence … photos of her leaving the hospital!’ she exclaimed.

‘That doesn’t really prove anything,’ I scoffed. ‘It could’ve been for a blood test or practically anything else. Besides, a girl getting an abortion should not be the town’s gossip. Like ever.’

Sal pursed her lips. ‘Well, it’s already out there now. And I doubt Mr Ex would post about it if he didn’t have at least one reliable source.’

My brows shot together. ‘Oh yeah, because British tabloids and gossip blogs share nothing but the gospel truth . We’re literally in the era of fake news. And it’s insensitive of Mr Ex to blast something like that if it is true – just imagine what state Chloe and Karim must be in.’

‘They were together for such a long time,’ Saliha continued, looking into space thoughtfully. ‘I can’t even picture them with other people. If they split for good, it’s going to change The Exes forever.’

‘I can’t even imagine how Chloe must be feeling. Imagine every aspect of your relationship being available to the public! We’re talking about an entirely different level of gossip here. I’d never survive – the whole world watching and judging my most intimate decisions.’

A shudder ran through me at the mere thought of it. My parents’ judgements were distressing enough without the thought of my peers, the wider community or random trolls on the internet chipping in as well.

Sal’s eyes widened. ‘Can you imagine if this kind of news broke out among the aunties in our area?’ She sniggered into her hand. ‘They can’t even handle bare shoulders and stolen kisses. They’d have a collective heart attack and be holding on to their dupattas for dear life.’

It seemed that even if you were incredibly rich and beloved, you couldn’t escape the unfair expectations that society placed on girls and their bodies. I let out a sad sigh.

‘Relax, Zara. These people live in a very different world from us. Scandalous news is normal for them. They choose to put themselves out there, and they know this comes with the territory.’

‘They’re human too!’ I retorted. ‘I know Mr Ex can be funny, but sometimes he’s just plain awful. If the abortion news is true, he’s provoking his hordes of followers to harass them on top of everything else they’re going through. The Exes’ comment sections must be looking unhinged right now.’

Saliha snorted. ‘Oh honey, but that’s how you know you’ve made it these days – when you’ve got haters. Just so long as you’re still hustling from the hype. I’m gonna be that kind of a hustler someday. You just wait and see.’

Social media stardom really did seem to be the dream for everyone I knew these days. It was something I never really understood.

But in Saliha’s case, with her sassy personality, soft Bangladeshi features and incredible modest fashion sense, I didn’t doubt that she would one day realize her dream. Her Instagram had recently hit five thousand followers. She was even making some sales from driving her internet traffic to a website she’d set up called Saliha’s Style, which sold jersey hijabs.

‘Yup, just a few more crazy clickbait YouTube videos and you’ll be up there with The Exes,’ I replied sarcastically.

She glared at me for a whole two seconds before we could no longer hold our laughter in, mostly because I knew we were both thinking about her latest video, ‘Super Spicy Noodles Mukbang’. After uploading it she’d glumly stated that two thousand views hadn’t been worth practically burning her insides and prancing around like an idiot in pain for an hour.

‘The Exes may use a lot of filters,’ Saliha said. ‘But you can’t fake everything. The money, the travelling, the freedom. It is real. They get to shop rather than work here. Don’t you want to know what it’s like to have all of that?’

‘Sure,’ I murmured.

I’d imagined countless times what it would be like to be an Ex. Those daydreams of perpetual banter, romance and travelling had provided the perfect temporary escape from the suffocating reality of my home life, where I could never really let loose.

‘Oh, another key piece of evidence,’ Sal added smugly. ‘Karim Malik hasn’t posted anything on his socials in over a month. Now we all know why.’

My heart fluttered at the mention of him.

I’d certainly missed his presence on my feed these past few weeks. Karim Malik was so charming that I felt myself blush every time I watched his videos. As embarrassing as it was to admit it, I’d had my fair share of fantasies about him, like pretty much every other teenage girl who’d seen him online. He was even my screensaver at one point; when Mum had seen it, she’d said it was inappropriate and made me change it.

Saliha, on the other hand, was obsessed with Chloe Clark’s style. When Chloe started wearing a classic pearl necklace, so did Sal. Even I felt the urge to grab one. I made a mental note to have a look in a high street jewellery store when I was paid at the end of the month. Anything from Selfridges would be out of my budget.

The Exes were leading all the current trends in fashion, beauty, lifestyle, content creation and everything in between. It was impossible to get away from the power of their influence, and by the time you managed to hop on to the latest trend, the next one was already in full swing.

When Mr Expose’s blog had first gone viral, everyone had assumed he was connected to The Exes in some way, but it quickly became obvious that he was just an anonymous blogger with a similar name, who had a flair for dissecting their outfits, talents and lives.

Mr Ex immediately captured everyone’s attention with his sassy and scathing exposés of the country’s ‘it’ crowd.

Everyone wondered why The Exes even allowed Mr Ex’s gossip blog to keep running. They were the children of England’s elite, so surely they could have had it taken down with one phone call if they’d wanted to? Then the darker rumours began: people were convinced The Exes were staging the entire thing and running the blog themselves, doing it for publicity and views.

It wouldn’t be the strangest thing someone had done in the cause of social media success. And it certainly made sense. How else would Mr Ex be getting access to all those private photos, videos and conversations? He seemed to know the most intimate details …

‘Any new theories on who Mr Ex might be?’ I whispered to Sal.

‘Didn’t you just say he’s awful?’ she quipped.

‘Even though he’s a feisty blabbermouth, he has a way of getting under your skin,’ I admitted reluctantly.

Sal kissed her teeth. ‘I’m sick of running around in circles with my ludicrous theories. But I’d bet all my scanty savings that Mr Ex is one of The Exes, most likely Abeo Okon – can’t you just imagine him doing Mr Ex’s voice perfectly? Anyways, I hope the snitch fesses up soon so I can shout I told you so from London’s rooftops. You’ll definitely have to help me capture that for my YouTube.’

The elusive, most-followed UK gossip blogger was so good at being anonymous that it seemed no one would know their identity until they chose to unveil it themselves, which they might never even do. And there was certainly no way of us knowing what really went on behind the scenes in the lives of the scandalous quintet. What we did know, however, was that The Exes were swiftly becoming the biggest influencers in the world, with the power to set and destroy trends with more sway than any celebrity.

Regardless of the rumours that spread about them, they would never really be harmed, because they’d already made it. All the world’s luxuries and opportunities lay at their feet.

They were untouchable, happy, free .

Saliha was right.

I did want to know what it was like to have all of that.