Thirteen
At night
I lie awake in my bed
Remembering the words you said
And I wonder, with a twist
Do you remember me like this?
‘Midnight Musings’ from Dreamers
You’re going to try for tickets, right?’ I ask Ollie.
It’s the first time I’ve managed to get hold of him on FaceTime since school started over a week ago.
I miss talking to him every day, but once a week will do.
He’s still my Ollie. I’ve grabbed him on a Wednesday evening, after school.
It seems to be the only day he doesn’t have any after-school activities.
‘Of course,’ he says, with a million-watt smile that tugs at my every nerve. ‘It’s your favourite artist. I’ve registered. How could I not help my oldest friend in her quest?’
‘Okay, because this is a really big deal, and it’s in exactly two days, and I’m slightly panicking.’
‘You’ll be fine. You’ve got, like, ten people trying for you.’
‘It still might not work out,’ I say.
‘It’ll be fine,’ he says. ‘You love Rose Conrad, surely that alone should go far.’
‘It doesn’t work like that,’ I say impatiently. ‘Loads of people love Rose Conrad. She’s the biggest pop star in the world! But you’ll still try, right?’
‘Yes,’ he says, laughing. ‘Selena, how many times do I have to tell you?’
‘Have you met anyone in Manchester who loves Rose Conrad?’ I say.
‘Er,’ says Ollie thinking, and I immediately know the answer is no, otherwise they would have been talking about the ticket sale. ‘No, I don’t think so. The friends I’ve made are really into electronic music.’
‘What, EDM?’ I say, confused. Electro music to me sounds like noise. How am I meant to scream my heart out when there aren’t any lyrics?
‘Yeah, or DJs. I actually don’t mind it – it’s kinda soothing. I’ve started working to it.’
‘What? Since when have you been into electro?’ I say, dumbfounded.
For as long as I can remember, Ollie has loved indie and rock bands.
Men singing about smoking cigarettes and swooning over their girlfriends who eventually break their hearts.
When he was twelve he tried to dye his brown hair black in ode to his favourite band singer, Damien Dylan.
I never let him live it down. I’ve tried to get him to listen to my music for years, but he always said he was set in his ways.
And now he’s listening to EDM?
‘I realised I needed to loosen up a bit. And my new friends, they’ve been helping me to realise that . . . well, I don’t need to be so uptight, I guess.’
‘Ollie, you’ve been at the new school for less than two weeks. How have you had some life-changing revelation?’
It’s not that I’m not happy for Ollie . . . it’s more that I’m jealous. He’s had a breakthrough and I’ve not been a part of it.
‘It’s not a life-changing revelation as such. I’m trying to fit in here. The rules are different at this school. The people are different. And I want to get along with everyone, which means following their rules, not the ones I had before.’
This sounds more like Ollie. He wants to be a lawyer; he likes rules. And if in his new school the rule is to like electro music, then Ollie will learn to like electro music. He sees order in following the majority.
‘Makes sense. Just don’t change too much, okay?’
It sounds like I’m joking, but deep down, I don’t think I am.
***
The next day, I walk into the common room after French. There’s a stack of printed papers on the front table. The first edition of The Common Room of the school year, released every Thursday. I grab one as I wait for Kira and Faye to meet me for lunch, and turn to the opening page.
★ The Common Room ★
New School Year - New Look - New Features
Contents
· Inside the staff room: Mr Edwards tells all
· Our favourite 10 apps to help with focusing
· Today’s Take: All-girls’ schools are the best for IOUs
· Into the archives: Weird school rules of the past
I immediately turn to ‘Today’s Take’. There it is, word for word – my Selena Says from last week. Underneath is a note from the editor:
I absolutely loved this take from an anonymous writer. Short, sweet, to-the-point. And it raises a few different topics for discussion. Our secret sender has some interesting points on women . . .
Tori proceeds to go off on an editorial rant about women’s rights and feminism and solidarity, using my words as a springboard for an opinion piece that has nothing to do with my initial point.
My first thought is How did my Selena Says get into The Common Room? Followed immediately by the answer.
Faye and Kira walk in together, and I beeline for Kira.
‘Did you do this?’ I say, pulling them to the side and pointing at the article.
She glances down at it, looks back at me and shrugs.
‘Yeah,’ she says.
‘Why?’ I demand.
‘You’re the one who said they’ll never publish it. I wanted to test out the theory. So I submitted it from an anonymous email account. And look, now it’s published.’
‘You can’t take our texts and publish them,’ I say. ‘That’s like . . . an invasion of privacy.’
Kira rolls her eyes. ‘I don’t know why people think I’m the dramatic one out of the two of us.
Look, I know it’s a bit morally sketchy to do this without telling you in advance, but I did it for your own good.
You were never going to submit anything by yourself.
And look, it’s in print – and also, nobody knows it’s you. ’
‘But what if they find out?’
Kira shrugs. ‘It’s a harmless opinion,’ she says.
‘But it’s still my opinion. Also one I amped up for comic effect – I don’t really believe in blackmail. And I wasn’t planning on sharing it with the school!’
‘Okay,’ says Kira, holding up her hands. ‘I am sorry I did this without telling you. But look around, people are discussing it.’
She nods towards Alia and Tasmin, who are having a very animated discussion.
‘Look, if someone used something I told them in secret against me, it would be blackmail.’
‘But what if they witnessed you doing something bad, is that not fair game?’
‘Two wrongs don’t make a right!’
‘It’s not that straightforward.’
‘Who are you blackmailing?’
I watch them animatedly discuss my Selena Snap. They’re discussing my thoughts, my words.
‘I mean, the blackmail point wasn’t really the take,’ I say. ‘The point was I thought all-girls’ schools were a good ground to get favours.’
‘Well, if you’d actually written the opinion piece afterwards, and not Tori, maybe you could have said that,’ says Kira.
‘Tori’s piece is garbage,’ I say. ‘It’s not what I was writing about at all.’
‘You do realise there’s a way of correcting that,’ says Faye.
‘How?’ I say.
‘By submitting a follow-up,’ says Faye, with a coy smile.