Chapter 7
Maple
I listen to Mom’s footsteps on the stairs, and then the twins squealing at her no-school news. It makes me smile, my first real one since I watched the content Taylor sent me yesterday. I still feel so sick about it.
How can a video of people watching another video be so excruciating?
But that’s a stupid question when the video they’re all watching is two-year-old me in a leaky diaper.
And the audience is my classmates, laughing so hard that half of them are bent over with it.
Worst of all is that Theo Williams is there.
We were on an eleven-day Snap streak before yesterday and I was thinking maybe …
but how can anything happen between us now, when I’d rather die than face him?
Oh God, the shame.
Even Taylor, my supposed best friend, was giggling silently. I could tell from the way the footage jerked up and down.
I pick up my brush and run it through my hair.
When I was little, I hated my hair, wanted it to be blond like my mom’s.
But everyone goes on about how gorgeous it is now.
Rich, warm, red tones, gold tones. The compliments keep coming.
And it’s true that brunettes are owning it on Instagram right now. Maybe I need to start liking it too.
Eventually I place the brush back on my vanity and eye the door.
I know I need to go downstairs. That if I don’t, Mom will be back here, reminding me what a beautiful day it is, how the light is just right for filming, and how much my subscribers will love to see some new content from me.
But I’m not in the mood to pretend life is perfect today.
I don’t have it in me to smile for the camera.
Which I know is how quitters talk. If I want to be a famous influencer, I need to put content out every day; it’s like the first amendment of the social media constitution. And I have to expect some rough treatment too – from people who are jealous or attention-seeking or just plain mean.
But it’s still a lot, that video, especially when I wasn’t at school to defend myself.
Except, what would I have done if I had been?
Screamed at Tabitha – the girl who shared it, according to Taylor – to fuck off and die, then watch that scene back on TikTok?
Because someone would film it and post it, tag me in it too probably.
And everyone who watched it would share it.
And I doubt Maddie, or Studio 88, or Azione would want to work with me after seeing that.
At least I don’t have to face anyone at school today. I won’t go in tomorrow either – Mom won’t care; she never does – and then eighth grade will be over, and middle school will be done, and hopefully everyone will have forgotten about it by the time we start high school in August.
That thought lifts my mood enough for me to pick up my phone.
My mom still runs my YouTube channel – she set it up when I was a baby, back when it was called Mom & Maple instead of Maybe Maple like it is now – and no one has ever suggested that she lets go of that control.
I supposedly run my own TikTok and Instagram accounts, but Mom has all my login details and seems to interfere on a daily basis.
Which is why I click into Snapchat instead.
The platform which is all mine. There’s a load of messages from my so-called school friends – Taylor, Scarlett, Milly, Martha – but I slide to delete them all.
If they’ve sent me apologies, it’s too little, too late.
And if they think I’ll see the funny side, well, they’re too dumb to be friends with anyway.
I know I’ll forgive them at some point because I can’t do school without them.
But right now, they are part of the problem, and I’m not ready to move on.
And anyway, I have other friends. Online friends like Coco.
It’s crazy, but I sometimes think I’ve become closer with Coco than my girlfriends in real life over the last few months.
I guess she understands me better because she’s trying to build her profile on social media too.
And luckily there are five new snaps from her.