Spot the Difference: World Book Day Edition 2016 Page 4

  ‘You like?’ Lucy asks.

  ‘I … I don’t look like me.’

  ‘Thank god,’ Naima says, before adding, ‘Joking, babes!’

  Scarlett scrutinises me. ‘Who is it you look like?’

  Erm … you?

  ‘I don’t know …’

  ‘I know who it is! That girl from the film with that guy in!’

  ‘Oh, her.’

  ‘You know who I mean! She’s gorgeous, and so are you.’ Downstairs, the doorbell chimes. ‘That’s the guys! You ready?’

  ‘Not really …’

  ‘It’ll be fine.’ Scarlett pulls off her pyjamas and slips into some spray-on jeans and an even tighter vest top. ‘Come on.’

  Lucy takes my hand as I give myself a final check in the full-length mirror on the wardrobe. I look a bit reality TV to be honest, but too late to change now.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Lucy tells me. ‘Seth is a decent guy.’

  I don’t really know how to put the cavalcade of worries I’m currently experiencing into English. I don’t even know where to begin.

  ‘I’m nervous.’ Seems like a good place to start.

  Lucy drags me over the landing towards the stairs. ‘Don’t be.’ She leans in closer and whispers in my ear. ‘And if it gets too crazy, just give me a shout and I’ll come and rescue you. I promise.’

  I can tell that she means it, and I feel about forty per cent better. I suddenly feel a little guilty for the hours I’ve spent calling Lucy every prostitute-related name under the sun … And to think I call myself a feminist. I still don’t understand why she hangs around with the other two, though.

  Booming, deep, male voices rattle up the stairs. Ugh, they’ve brought Rufus and CJ too. Well, of course they have. Lucy and I trot down the last few stairs and I feel like a debutante at the Evil Debutante’s Ball.

  The guys fall silent and I realise I’m the reason why. I stop them dead in their tracks. I’m a conversation killer. Their eyes scan me over. I must look like I’m about to audition for RuPaul’s Drag Race. I’m so embarrassed.

  ‘Oh, wow,’ Rufus starts but Lucy silences him with a gentle slap to his chest.

  ‘Stop staring,’ I mutter.

  Seth snaps out of it first. ‘Sorry, you look amazing!’

  Amazing? Is he kidding?

  ‘It took me a minute to work out who it was.’ He smiles warmly. ‘Is Avery under there somewhere?’

  I smile back.

  ‘Great job on the makeover, Scarlett,’ CJ says. ‘You look bang-tidy, Avery.’

  ‘She looks like you.’ Big dumb Tyler states the obvious.

  Scarlett stands by my side like she’s presenting me as her show-and-tell project. ‘We could be sisters, right?’

  ‘I don’t know which sister I’d rather …’ CJ begins before Scarlett’s frosty glare silences him. She and I both know I’ll never be hotter than Scarlett, firstly because she’ll never allow it, and secondly because I don’t know how to do that walk she does. The one where she thrusts her chest forward and bum back simultaneously. If I do that I look like a pigeon.

  ‘So let’s get the party started!’ Scarlett says. ‘My dad won’t notice if we steal a little tipple from his drinks cabinet. Seth, you know where it is, right?’

  ‘The mini-bar in the study?’

  ‘Sure! Avery, why don’t you go and help him choose something? But don’t steal too much or my dad will kill me.’ Scarlett practically pushes me into Seth’s arms.

  The others peel off into the snug and I follow Seth down the hall.

  ‘That was subtle,’ he says quietly.

  ‘Like a steamhammer.’ What? ‘I mean sledgehammer. Or steamroller.’

  He laughs and my shoulders unclench a little.

  ‘So you let Scarlett dress you up?’

  ‘Not quite.’ I have to fight the urge to hide behind my hair. Old habits. ‘The clothes are mine, but yeah, I got an inspirational makeover moment.’

  The door to the study creaks as Seth slips inside. He flicks on the light and I see we’re in a proper, oak-panelled study. It smells of cigars and money.

  ‘You don’t have to do everything Scarlett says, you know.’

  ‘I don’t intend to. I’m just a tourist. Seeing how the other half live.’

  Seth tousles his hair. ‘I know, right? Look at all this stuff. And you wanna see Naima’s house, it’s double the size of this place again.’

  I notice that the whole of one wall is devoted to the trophies and certificates the Drake family have accumulated. ‘Are all these Scarlett’s?’

  ‘Some of them. She’s got two sisters and a brother.’

  Accomplished ones at that. The eldest sister seems to be a doctor, like her father. The brother appears to be some sort of pro rugby player, and Scarlett’s other sister has just won an award at the Cambridge University debate society. Quite the family of overachievers.

  Seth is busy at the mini-bar, rummaging around half-finished bottles. ‘Any requests?’

  ‘None for me, thanks.’

  ‘Cool.’

  I’m glad he doesn’t push it. The absolute last thing I need is to get drunk and make a fool of myself.

  ‘What about you?’ I change the subject. ‘You don’t live in a mansion?’

  ‘Are you kidding?’ He swipes an old bottle of Kahlua that looks like it’s been there since the eighties. ‘After Dad died, Mum decided to sell the old place. We live in the Old Mill apartments by the river.’

  What? With the amount of time I’ve spent staring at Seth Curran, how did I not know his dad had died?

  ‘Oh. I’m sorry.’

  He shrugs it off, but I can tell his brevity is hiding something. ‘It’s OK. He was really sick. I know it’s a cliché to say it’s a relief when an ill person dies, but it kind of was. Does that make me sound awful?’

  The sound of the grandfather clock ricochets off the wooden walls, counting out awkward seconds.

  ‘Erm … no.’ I don’t know what to say. ‘Do you want to talk about it?’

  Seth comes close and places a hand on my bare arm. At the touch of his skin, colours suddenly become more colourful. My chest feels hotter.

  ‘I really don’t, but you’re the first person in a long time who’s offered to listen.’

  We’re in a MOMENT. I can feel it. I almost drift up out of my body and watch us like we’re in a soap: neatly framed profiles, face-to-face. I never, ever thought I’d get a moment. But I have, and it’s with Seth.

  Is this where we kiss? Am I about to get a kiss?

  No. Naima barges through the door.

  ‘What are you doing? We’re thirsty!’

  The air changes in an instant and Seth holds out the Kahlua.

  ‘Will this do?’

  Uh. Kiss fail. Epic kiss fail.

  Chapter Nine

  The debrief is at Lois’s the next morning.

  ‘So did you sacrifice something to Satan? Does she have a burn book? Is she really a … a lizard person?’

  ‘A lizard person?’

  ‘I dunno. What happened?’

  We’re sat in Lois’s back garden and I’m very aware that Scarlett is but three fences away.

  ‘Nothing. They got tipsy on Kahlua and watched YouTube videos of people falling off things.’

  Lois blinks. ‘That’s it?’

  ‘Yep.’

  I decide against telling her about the MOMENT with Seth. I don’t know why, she’d be thrilled, but it just makes me seem so shallow, like all of a sudden I’m totally preoccupied with thoughts of a boy. Or, more specifically, his lips.

  I spent all last night wide-awake, fantasising about what the kiss would have been like. The MOMENT has changed to a panoramic cliff-top, complete with Hollywood rain and a violin crescendo. Does it make me a terrible person to want a kiss? Answer: yes, if it means sucking up to Scarlett Drake.

  ‘I’m almost disappointed that she didn’t do anything evil.’

  ‘I wouldn’t go that far. You mi
ssed her diatribe about why overweight people are doomed. It was all very Katie Hopkins.’

  ‘Did she say anything about me?’ Lois grimaces.

  ‘No. I swear.’

  ‘That witch. I’m not even relevant enough to talk about.’

  I laugh out loud and throw a Scarlett-sanctioned grape at her head.

  Monday starts, as ever, with assembly. Once again we’re joined by Kapitán Collins so I guess we’re discussing the upcoming election.

  ‘Good morning Year 10.’

  ‘GOOOOOOD MOOOOORNING, MRS COLLINS.’

  ‘Mr Topping is actually taking assembly this morning, but I wanted to remind you that this is the last week to nominate yourself for the head boy and head girl election. I must say, Year 10, the response has been somewhat underwhelming. So far only the following people have put themselves forward …’

  There’s a mumblation as people start to speculate.

  ‘That was not an invitation to start talking. So far for the boys, we have Tyler Broomfield, Seth Curran, Rufus Shelton and Stewart Parris.’

  Interesting. Tyler I expected, and Rufus I understand, but I wouldn’t have thought it’d be Seth’s thing. Stewart Parris is the Year 10 store’s-own brand version of Dylan Caldwell. It’s one thing to be out-and-proud, it’s another to be an obnoxious, two-faced gossip. He holds sway in the theatre group, but otherwise doesn’t stand a chance.

  ‘And for the girls, it’s even worse. So far only Maddy French, Alice Deevers and Scarlett Drake have put themselves forward.’

  As Mrs Collins goes on, my heart sinks. Scarlett’s got it in the bag. Maddy French is the netball captain so will probably drum up some support from the sporty girls, but no one else. Alice ‘The Beaver’ Deevers (on account of her prominent teeth – nothing rude) is an almost sociopathically righteous do-gooder. There’s no one she hasn’t alienated in her fervent quest for ‘social justice’. Literally only Alice will vote for Alice.

  This is so bad. Scarlett as head girl? I think about all the horrible things she said about Jessica, the time she told her friends she couldn’t eat while looking at my face, the countless times she’s hummed the Jurassic Park theme in earshot of Lois. Bestowing a title on her somehow validates her, makes it all legitimate. It makes me feel nauseous.

  ‘Are you OK?’ Lois asks me.

  ‘No. This is the actual very worst.’

  Mrs Collins is still talking. ‘Oh, come on, Brecken Heath! Where’s your school spirit? If nothing else, just think how wonderful this will look on your university applications. You have until the end of the week to get your name in the ballot box. Please consider it.’

  The next lesson is maths and I take the opportunity to grab Lucy.

  ‘Aren’t you going for head girl?’ Realistically I know Lucy is the only serious contender who could dethrone Scarlett.

  ‘Are you kidding? Scarlett would skin me alive.’

  I fight the urge to shake her by the shoulders. ‘Really? I think she can handle some competition.’ This is a lie, but I’m getting desperate. Seeing Scarlett lose would be too exquisite.

  Lucy scrunches her pretty nose. ‘No way. It’s a major deal for her. You know, like, her sisters and brother were all head boy or head girl.’

  ‘You shouldn’t be scared of her – you’re best friends! She’d understand if you wanted to go for it, I’m sure.’

  ‘I’m not scared of her,’ Lucy says so defensively she has to be. ‘It’s just more hassle than it’s worth. If you’re that bothered, why aren’t you going for it?’

  I snort in a very un-pretty manner. ‘Are you kidding?’

  ‘Well, why not?’

  For about seven thousand reasons, the first of which being that I’m definitely scared of Scarlett. Right on cue, she struts in, clutching Tyler’s arm.

  ‘How cool is this?’ she purrs. ‘Head boy and head girl!’

  The knife twists between my ribs.

  I’m becoming pretty certain that most business happens over toilet sinks, and not in boardrooms. Case in point: I’m washing my hands when I realise reigning head girl Suriya Kaur is standing right next to me.

  ‘Hey, you’re Avery Morgan, right?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Nice to meet you. I’m Suriya.’

  Oh, I know.

  ‘Hi.’

  ‘Sorry to be so nosy, but everyone’s talking about your Sebavectum. What was the name of your doctor? My little sister has really bad acne, bless her, and I thought it might help.’

  ‘Oh. Dr Hong at The Well Clinic.’

  She types it into her phone. ‘That’s awesome. Hey, you should totally go for head girl by the way, you’re way inspirational. The transformation thing – it’s a great angle.’

  ‘Ha! I don’t think so.’

  ‘Go on. It’s fun and I’d much rather it was someone who stood for something instead of Scarlett Drake, who, let’s face it is a total and utter b—’ She’s interrupted by some Year 8 girls bounding into the toilet. ‘Look, just think about it, yeah? I’m out of here, but I don’t want to leave Cersei Lannister in charge. I’d vote for you.’ She smiles and swings her handbag onto her shoulder.

  ‘I’ll … think about it.’ Suriya leaves me at the sink, head buzzing with ideas. Suddenly I realise that it’s not that I’ve never been brave, it’s that I’ve been in hiding.

  But now I have nothing to hide.

  Chapter Ten

  That night I turn on my music, and sit on my bedroom floor with a pad of paper. Is there any possible way I could be head girl? As Suriya pointed out, Brecken Heath Academy is very much like Game of Thrones, with various factions and power plays at work. I consider each in turn.

  The A-List

  Hold considerable sway with bottom-feeders who aspire to their lofty heights. Without Lucy in the running, all of the B-List and C-List will vote for Scarlett. The boys, foolishly, have split their vote. If I threw myself into the race, I couldn’t rely on any A, B or C-List votes. Except maybe Seth. Maybe.

  Sports Teams

  Many of the teams are loyal to the A-List: Tyler will, almost certainly, become rugby captain next year. They also make up a lot of the B-List, to be honest – sports participation is a sure-fire way to bolster popularity. The girls, however, are harder to call. Maddy French, star netball player, will absorb some of the sporty votes, but not all. The teams have their own politics and Maddy’s co-captaincy was controversial at best. If Scarlett didn’t perpetually refer to them as ‘sports dykes’, she’d be the alternative, but as she does that means I could steal a few dissident votes.

  Theatre and Band

  Two distinct but influential houses. Simmering resentment undercuts an uneasy truce. Theatre kids get all the on-stage glory; band know they possess the real musical skill. The theatre kids also tend towards diva-like behaviour, but as with the sports teams, band has its own weird hierarchy set by the relative difficulty of each instrument. Some of the theatre lot are desperate to win Scarlett over, but the majority will see right through her. I could do OK with the arts vote.

  Bad Boys and Bad Girls

  The likes of Jake Williams and Ebony-Jade Fletcher are unlikely to vote at all, to be honest, as they’re usually on suspension. If they do vote, it’s impossible to say which way they’d go.

  Freaks and Geeks

  My group. Surely I’d get their vote, right? I mean, the freaks do look down on the geeks, and the geeks are a little scared of the freaks, but we huddle together for safety despite our different tastes in music. We have all suffered at the hands and tongues of the A-List – there’s no way they’d vote for Scarlett.

  Background Artists

  The only way I can think to describe the rest. The biggest group by far, these are the people who don’t subscribe to any teams or societies, don’t fit any stereotypes, like mainstream music, perform moderately well in class … just exist day-to-day at Brecken Heath. God, how I envy them their anonymity. I wonder where they’d place themselves on my little chart
.

  I do some maths. I guess how many people I could sway in each group – and I’m conservative in my estimates – and then multiply it by five so I’m taking each year group into account.

  Wow.

  If I could convince even half of these people from outside the upper echelons to vote for me, I could do it. If I’m even close with my numbers I could win it.

  I could actually win it.

  ‘You’re not serious?’ Lois asks.

  ‘Hundred per cent.’

  Lois has come to mine, and I’ve shown her my estimates over hot chocolate and double choc-chip cookies. She looks over the plans sceptically.

  ‘You realise you’ll have to campaign and do posters and talk to the whole school …’

  I shrug. ‘Yeah. Why not? I have spent four years literally hiding my face, Lois. If it weren’t for Sebavectum I would have probably done nothing with my time at school except hide. This feels, I dunno, like destiny or something. Like all this was meant to happen. The universe sent me clear skin and a clear message: “Now what?” If I can stop Scarlett from being head girl, I should. I’d be a trillion times better than her.’

  ‘I don’t doubt it,’ Lois says. ‘But what do you actually want to do as head girl?’

  ‘What does Scarlett want to do? She hasn’t got policies, she just wants a title to validate her popularity contest.’

  ‘Exactly, so you should come up with some policies.’

  ‘I will. But first I need to nominate myself.’

  Which is exactly what I do the next day. I collect an application form from Mrs Collins’s office and fill it in over break. It’s simple enough – I just have to write, in no more than a hundred words, why I think I’d make a good head girl. I concoct some jazz about being a good listener, which means I’ll be able to feed back the views of the whole school.

  I feel empowered, like I’m finally claiming a life that’s been lost in the post. This is the real version of the soap opera I’ve always daydreamed about – I’m acne-free, popular and using my powers for good.

  Seconds before the bell peals, I slip my application into the golden ballot box. And I’d have gotten away with it too if Seth, Scarlett and Lucy hadn’t been on their way to graphic design.