All That Glitters (42 page)

Which means Nat was right.

And so was Alexa.

I can see my entire new life at school teetering precariously on the edge, about to fall over with an almighty crash. For just a brief second I almost lie to keep it hanging there for a few more precious moments.
Oh, how funny! My supermodel boyfriend is just busy right now! He’ll totally come to the next one!

But I still want to believe in myself: even if nobody else does too.

Or, you know.
To
.

“No,” I say as firmly as I can, lifting my chin and meeting their eyes without a flicker. “Nick is not coming to this party. He won’t be coming to any of them. We’ve broken up.”

My insides are shutting down, piece by piece.

I can feel the room slowly changing. All the warmth is gradually seeping out, along with all the laughter. They think I lied to impress them. I’m not funny any more. I’m not adorable, or cute, or interesting. I’m just back to being what I always was.

A geek who got really, really lucky.

“Well,
I don’t care
,” a little voice says from the back. “Harriet’s still
amazing
and you’re all
horrible.
” Lydia comes charging through the crowd with her elbows out, cheeks pink. “And
look.
I just found the new Jacques Levaire watch advert on YouTube so you can
bite
me, sixth formers. Harriet Manners is more successful than you will
ever
be.”

And she holds her phone high in the air.

am graceful. I am elegant.

I am fluid and flowing and supple: moving with the grace of a ballet dancer, the poise of a gazelle, the lightness of a gentle
Diplulmaris antarctica
jellyfish gliding through the icy water.

Effortlessly, I move through the orange sands of the Sahara with total composure and confidence. As piano music plays, the wind catches my red hair and clothes and flings them gently around me: the light glows warm on my cheeks and my eyes are full of emotion, of hope, of joy.

Frankly, I have never been more beautiful in my life.

Or glittered so hard.

“That’s not Harriet,” somebody says, grabbing the phone and peering at it. “That’s not Harriet
at all
.”

The screen gets handed to me.

The perfect red-haired girl spins again towards the camera and grins. Her make-up is almost completely imperceptible. Her bright green eyes are framed with pale lashes and she’s flushed and natural, her freckles visible even on this tiny screen. Her dress is simple white cotton and knee length: as she laughs her hand comes up to cover her mouth and you see a bright, momentary flash of a gold watch.

It’s fresh. It’s modern. It’s captivating.

There’s no dancing. No monkeys or snakes; no camels or running or chasing. No krumping.

And it’s not me at all. Not even vaguely.

No wonder it’s so good.

JACQUES LEVAIRE CLASSIC TIMEPIECES flashes up at the end, and then a make-up blogger’s pretty face pops up as she starts talking about how she does her hair when she’s in a hurry.

“You lied
again
?” somebody says as Lydia’s phone gets passed around the room and the advert plays repeatedly. “Why on
earth
would you pretend you got a modelling job you didn’t get?”

“I didn’t pretend,” I say, blinking at them all. “I went to Morocco
.
I got the Levaire campaign. I
promise
I did.”

Except now I’m even starting to question that myself.
Did
I? Where
was
I last week? What was the shoot
for
?

“That’s kind of lame, Harriet.” “Seriously, who
does
that? Are you
that
desperate for attention?” “Oh my God, where did you get those Moroccan clothes from? I am
so
confused right now.”

“I …” My mouth is opening and shutting. “I don’t know what to …”

“And I just googled Nick Hidaka and found a recent interview,” somebody says, holding their phone in the air too. “I
bet
she lied about going out with him as well.”

A human body has enough iron in it to make a metal nail three inches long.

It feels like mine has just done exactly that.

“Please,” I say quickly, leaping forward. “Don’t. Don’t play it. Please don’t play the—”

“Funny you should say that
,
” a familiar, twangy voice jokes and I freeze where I am: every cell in my brain suddenly turning to ice. “Dozens of dolphins follow me everywhere I go, actually. It’s a bit of a problem. They’re such creepers.”

A faceless girl gives a little besotted laugh.

I have no idea what the question was – I’m guessing
Have You Ever Swum With Dolphins –
but at the sound of Nick’s voice it suddenly feels like I’m holding the nail at arm’s length and an incredibly strong magnet is starting to draw it back towards me again, point first.

“And what’s Australia’s favourite male model doing now he’s taking a break from the cameras? We’ve heard you’ve voluntarily gone back to full-time education. We have just one question for you:
why
?”

“Because over the last year I’ve been reminded repeatedly just how much of a thicky I am,” Nick says with a small laugh. “Seriously, though, a very special English girl inspired me. I realised how much of the world there is I still want to know about. How much I still want to do.”

A huge lump suddenly rises up my throat.

“You’re a mad person. Who gives up a successful career as a supermodel to go back to
school
?”

“I do,” Nick says calmly. “And I am honestly loving it.”

“So how’s the
romantic
situation?” I can literally hear the optimism in the girl’s voice. “Is this
very special
English girl still on the scene? Or should we all start sending you our CVs?”

Oh my God. No. No no no.
No no no no nonononononononono …
For just a fraction of a second the iron nail quivers, then it starts speeding towards me.

Turn it off. Turn it off turn it off turn it off turn it off turn it off turn it—

“Please,” I whisper, holding my hand out towards the sound. “I don’t want to hear this …”

“I don’t really want to talk about it,” Nick says after a short pause. “But no, we broke up. I’m just focusing on the future now.”

“Awwwww,” the interviewer says insincerely. “Well I’m sure there are lots of girls out there who would happily take her place.”

“I don’t want them to,” he says simply. “She kind of broke my heart.”

With a final shudder the nail I made completely out of myself glints slightly in the light.

And plunges straight into my chest.

here’s a long silence.

The video’s finally been turned off, but it doesn’t really matter: I’ll be hearing it for the rest of my life anyway.

She kind of broke my heart.

My brain is starting to switch off, but on the edges of my vision I can see everybody in the room now whispering at each other uncomfortably. “English girl …” “It
was
her”, “Harriet dumped
him
? I did
not
see
that
coming.”

Then they turn self-consciously to face me.

Another deep silence.

“Well,” a voice finally says from the back of the room. “This is a bit
awkward
, isn’t it?”

With one blink I refocus my eyes just enough to see Alexa, sitting at the back in one of the little plastic seats I carefully put out, wearing black jeans, a plain grey T-shirt and enormous black heels. She’s the only thing in this room that isn’t bouncing rays of light in every direction.

I don’t know when she arrived or how long she’s been sitting there.

Frankly, I no longer care.

“I think that’s enough
drama
for me,” Alexa says, standing up. “Girls, my parents are away for the weekend, the home cinema is set up and I’ve got an unlimited supply of pizza. Coming?”

There’s a short pause while Ananya assesses Alexa.

Something unspoken is passing between them.

It’s not
friendship
, exactly – or not my definition of the word – but it’s similar. Understanding. Respect. Eleven years of shared history and experiences that aren’t going anywhere.

“Yes,” Ananya says finally, looking me up and down. “What a total waste of time. You were right, Lexi: Harriet’s not who we thought she was. What a
geek.
Let’s go.”

Ananya’s not a minion, I realise dully as she gives me one more icy assessment: she’s Alexa’s equal and always has been.

“OhmyGodthisissuchareliefI’mso
hungry
whatfilmare wegoingtowatchanddoyouthinkwecangetpepperoni because …”

Olivia, maybe not so much.

I look at Alexa emptily for a few seconds. There’s a snake found in Mexico and Central America called the Cantil. It has deadly venom, but instead of chasing prey it simply stays where it is and wiggles the yellow end of its tail. Birds, frogs, little mammals and lizards assume it’s a worm and approach enthusiastically.

They never even see it coming.

Alexa didn’t need to destroy me this time. She just had to sit back quietly and watch me destroy myself.

My nemesis gives me a little
told you so
shrug.

Then – without another word – she and the two girls I thought were my friends walk out of the room without so much as a glance over their shoulders, taking five or six other girls with them.

I look vaguely at the only one of my ‘gang’ left.

India’s face is twisted in disgust, her top lip is curled and disdain is pretty much dripping from the tips of her fingers. “
So
disappointing,” she agrees coldly, narrowing her eyes at the room.

Then she grabs a sandwich off the table, pulls the door open, shouts “
ANANYA, WAIT!
” at the top of her voice and slams it behind her.

I turn slowly towards the rest of the party.

They’re now shifting awkwardly from foot to foot, trying to work out where to look. Frankly, I’m not surprised they’re so uncomfortable. In 44 BC Roman conspirators threw a big gathering for Julius Caesar and then stabbed him to death.