The Weird Friends Fan Club Page 6
Best,
Erin
JANE AUSTEN LETTER OF COMPLAINT — ERIN
Jane’s House
Winchester
Hampshire, England
Twenty-seventh of January 1815
The Serious Inn
Sombre Street
Really Not Laughing Town
England
Dear Sir or Madam,
I do not wish to be seditious, but I must tell you that I had a most grievous experience at your Inn on my way to M—shire last week.
My allotted room stank dreadfully of the pungent miasma of death. It was the most noxious aroma I have ever had the misfortune to inhale.
It was like the very walls themselves were built of halitosis and decaying shellfish. I feel my nose is still cicatrised from the experience.
Furthermore, your host did nothing to propitiate me, and far from being lachrymose, was instead most pertinacious.
I am usually of a phlegmatic disposition, bordering even on diffidence, but I can tell you this episode has left me splenetic, edging toward bellicose.
I demand to be compensated for the full fee of my stay, and I should like also a letter of apology.
I await with interest your response.
Yours faithfully,
Jane Austen
GRACE
EMAIL
10.26
FROM: GRACE ABELLA
TO: CHARLOTTE BRONTË FAN CLUB
SUBJECT: RE: RE: RE: JANE AUSTEN LETTER
Dear Mrs Wilson and Erin,
I haven’t made any changes to mine because Erin said it was already brilliant. She said I went in strong and was using a hammer to crack a nut! What happens now?
Kind regards,
Grace
Sunday 3rd March
EMAIL
20.58
FROM: MRS WILSON
TO: CHARLOTTE BRONTË FAN CLUB
SUBJECT: RE: JANE AUSTEN LETTER
Dear Both,
Well done! Let’s meet at start of lunch on Monday (tomorrow) again, to discuss.
Best,
Mrs Wilson
Second in Department for English
Monday 4th March
GRACE
Had a wonderful Sunday lunch with Daddy at a Michelin-starred restaurant in London’s Mayfair!
The great thing about living on the outskirts of London and the borders of the Home Counties is that one can just pop into “town” to do such things.
Everything is going pretty well at the moment: Chloe is still happy with her new hamster; we’re all going to go out next weekend – probably Saturday – and have dinner at Byron Burger, and then maybe have a sleepover at either my house or Sylvie’s.
Erin and I are getting on OK too. My friends are usually pretty good at doing what I tell them (I’m kind of a great team leader that inspires loyalty that way). And Erin – to her credit – has been behaving much more normally herself.
Like, when she’s not scared of us, she actually makes eye contact and answers questions without stuttering.
And she’s even – dare I say it – quite shrewd and funny. She’s actually made some insightful points in English, now that we’re giving her a chance.
I’ve really turned her life around. I’m magnanimous like that. Giving other people a chance to shine.
Bizarrely, the only person not completely happy is Mrs Wilson. She seems to think that I didn’t do the assignment properly by not making any changes at all. She thinks I misunderstood what Erin meant, and that “using a sledgehammer to crack to nut” is a bad thing! Like, it’s unnecessary force, or something.
Poor Erin, using the wrong phrase to describe my writing!
ERIN
I actually, in some ways, really admire how Grace is so confident that she will believe the earth is flat before she will believe you have insulted her. (And then at other times she is ridiculously sensitive.)
I mean, Mrs Wilson said she couldn’t imagine Jane Austen using the phrase “I will destroy you”, but Grace literally took that to mean she had a better imagination than Mrs Wilson!
To be fair, Mrs Wilson had lots of praise for both of our letters – she loved my use of flowery words, even if she thought they came slightly from out of the blue. (But when I explained about my Charlotte Brontë word list she was impressed.)
Thursday 7th March
GRACE
Honestly, the way Erin reacted when I tried to take a selfie of us outside the theatre last night – you’d think she’d never seen a phone before! And the girl knows nothing about posing or angles.
She was all, “What are you even doing?” And when I explained, she seemed to think it’s only appropriate to take selfies if it’s funny. (Which actually would explain her insta feed.) She has no decorum.
And yet she had the nerve to be critical of me, and seemed to think I was the one being “over-the-top”!
I literally showed her how to do filters when we sat in the café before the play started. “How do you not know this stuff?” I was astonished.
She sort of sighed a bit sadly and said, “I guess I’m a rubbish teenager.”
And then I felt bad. Even though it’s not my fault if she has low self-esteem and a high level of online ignorance.
But because I’m magnanimous and kind I said, “Don’t be silly,” although I couldn’t think of anything concrete to back that up with.
“I just … you know.” She sounded weirdly wistful. “Sometimes I wish things were simpler. Can’t we ever just enjoy a moment anymore? Charlotte Brontë didn’t have to worry about social media.”
I felt like she’d raised an interesting point. But the thing is, diary – we have NO WAY OF KNOWING how Charlotte Brontë would have reacted to the internet. Sure, it doesn’t tally with her nineteenth century persona, but if she’d been born now, she might have loved it. And therefore, it is not for us to judge.
So, I put that thought in a box and decided not to try to even reconcile my two favourite things. No paradox for me today. No thank you.
And then I realised there was stuff that meant Erin was kind of a cool teenager. “Isn’t this a picture of you at a gig?” I pointed on my phone.
“Oh, The Crumples? Yeah.”
“Is that a cool band?”
“Nicole thinks so.”
I said that I thought there was something exotic about going to an intimate, dirty, grunge venue with a mosh pit. I’d only ever seen my favourite pop stars at the giant O2 Arena.
“Well, there you go then, I must be pretty cool,” said Erin, laughing. Then she leant in. “Do you want to know a secret?”
“Always.”
“I was wearing earplugs.”
I spluttered incredulous laughter. She’d caught me off guard. But then she grinned, too. “Being cool can be very loud, Grace.” And we chuckled.
Oh, and we both LOVED the play.
ERIN
OK. Such weirdness!
I’m starting to find Grace really easy to talk to.
And Nic increasingly hard to talk to.
It’s like they’ve swapped.
Nic mocks everything I say. And Grace has stopped mocking anything I say. I now live in opposite land.
Everything is sort of OK, though.
And I really enjoyed the Charlotte Brontë play. Though I was kind of embarrassed about Grace taking so many selfies. We got judgemental looks from the other patrons. Not that I should care.
Mum has even been stealing consistently good food from work. (They’ve had some coeliacs in for meetings and gluten-free food is much better than it used to be.)
So, it was about time some drama happened, and it happened today (Thursday).
Nic invited me back to her house after school AFTER Grace had already invited me back to hers!
We’ve been given a new English project (not just the CBFC) where we have to get into pairs and learn some of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. (Déjà vu from Nic much?)
Anyway, Grace said, “Shall we just p
artner up? You can come to mine after school tonight and we can get ahead of this? I have a window and I’m usually very busy.”
I think Sylvie and Brianna exchanged a slight look. But maybe I imagined that?
And then when I had to turn Nic down, she said, “I can’t believe you’re choosing her over me!” And I said I wasn’t, but that Grace asked first. And Nic said, “Oh ho, I see how it is, don’t worry.” And then she stormed off.
GRACE
Erin seemed really impressed that I get picked up from school in Daddy’s car with my own driver. (Adorable.) She seemed shocked that I’ve never been on a bus. At least I don’t think I have…? Can’t remember anyway.
I think Erin was a bit surprised I’d suggested working together. But I just figured that if I chose the next cleverest person in the class, we’d definitely get the best grade.
I am not just a pretty face. And I am a very pretty face. (Not boasting – just practising self-love, babes.) #lovetoanyenemies
Erin is naturally bright and fast at memorising lines. Possibly a bit faster than me, but then I am busier than her in general, so I have more going on in my head.
I think Erin thinks she did a good job of not being too outwardly impressed with my house, but she could not stop gaping at it and I honestly felt a bit like I’d invited Oliver Twist to The Ritz.
I figured to stop it being distracting I’d give her the grand tour, but if anything that just made it worse. Maybe I should have dropped some of the historical points of interest and not mentioned the Jacobean staircase.
I made us both a snack. Well, I took the cold tapas that Mona had made earlier out of the fridge. (Mona is Daddy’s housekeeper – sort of like a cleaner and chef, and she looks after me when Daddy’s away.)
So, Erin and I sat at the high stools at the breakfast bar, in our contemporary kitchen, and I forced myself not to point out the Italian marble.
We decided to go to my bedroom to work, as Erin said the kitchen felt kind of too big and spacious.
“Wow,” said Erin, appraising my room properly. “You have your own – wow, just so you know, your en suite bathroom is bigger than my bedroom.”
“I don’t know what to do with that information,” I said.
“Fair enough,” replied Erin, still looking around. “Your bedroom is amazing. You’re very lucky.”
“Hashtag blessed,” I joked, feeling even more awkward. “I’m sure your house is lovely too.”
Erin actually laughed for about a minute then.
“It’s a flat and it’s more or less the exact opposite of this. Tiny and cramped, no privacy. I share a room with my little sister. Which is fine. Mainly.”
“I’m sure I’d love it if I ever saw it,” I said politely.
Erin chuckled. “Oh mate, you can never come to my house.”
“None taken,” I said primly, half joking.
“You don’t want to come round. Believe me. Wow, look at your beauty corner! It looks like a vlogger’s dream! I don’t even know what half that stuff is.”
“I can show you?” I offered. Erin nodded and gingerly approached my vanity unit.
I’m actually really into makeup and beauty at the moment. But all my friends are already well put together. Erin could actually be kind of a fun project…
“We will totally do our work in a minute,” I began, “but do you want a makeover first?”
Erin grinned for a moment, then looked unsure. “I can’t really … um… I get spots, I’m not sure I can really wear makeup, won’t it make them worse?”
“OMG, you’ve come to the right place!” I enthused. “Yes – heavy foundation would not be your friend with acne, but light tinted moisturiser stuff, here…” I started getting out some products. “Bit of concealer…”
I looked up at her seriously. “And please, for the love of god let me fix your eyebrows!”
“You can … fix them?”
“Uh, yas kween!” I affirmed. “Is the Pope Catholic? Does Mr Rochester have a wife in the attic? Of course I can! I’m an expert.”
Erin laughed and we sat down cross-legged on my plush wool carpet. I set to work.
“OK. Two things you need to know about eyebrows. One: your eyebrows are sisters, not twins, they are never going to look exactly identical and that’s fine. Two: only pluck the stray hairs that come down, don’t pluck the top of them or you’ll end up with crazy shapes. OMG, you know what? I’m going to curl your hair!”
We still got all our work done. Obviously. But not before I turned Erin into a bona fide snack and instagrammed the whole thing. It was the most fun I’d had in ages.
“You look amazing!” I held up my oval, silver-framed mirror for her to see. “You should come out with us on Saturday!”
“Wow!” She was speechless.
I change lives. #lifechanger #itsagiftIhave
Friday 8th March
ERIN
Well, I left Grace’s house a new person. (Both physically and perspective-wise.)
OK, I’m not quite sure how I let Grace talk me into the whole makeover thing … except, she didn’t really have to talk me into it at all. I had no idea I even wanted one.
Grace was weirdly so generous as well. She gave me loads of free samples that she doesn’t need, and a few bits and bobs she says she doesn’t use any more. I basically have a makeup bag now. Me!
It was bizarre to see that Grace has such a kind side, after everything that happened before. She must be lonely, I think. Spending so much time all on her own, rattling around in that giant house.
I actually felt a bit sorry for her. (Which I KNOW sounds insane.) Her house is incredible. She’s super wealthy. She has literally everything a teenage girl could possibly want.
Well, not quite everything. I had half expected the tour to include the room she had written about in the Three Bears story, but it didn’t. I felt like that room was there somewhere, though.
I have things that she doesn’t: a mum and a sister. I am fortunate.
I complain a lot. But maybe I’m actually the lucky one? Maybe I should hug my mum and my sister and tell them I love them?
At least, that was what I was thinking until I got home and Kiera said, “Oh my god, nice hair! What happened? Did you get electrocuted?” And then laughed loads. Like, too much.
But I still secretly thought that I loved her, even then.
You know who agrees with Kiera, though? Nic. As I found out this morning in the form room.
“Um, are you feeling all right?” (This was her version of “hello”.)
“Yeah, why?”
“Cos it looks like you’ve had some kind of meltdown on insta.” She held up her phone. “Why are you tagged in all these photos? Why is there a photo of you with your hair in rollers? What’s going on with you?” She paused. “We usually laugh at people who insta their hair appointments.”
“Well yeah, but that was hardly a hair appointment. I was at—”
“I know where you were,” she interrupted me. “And why are you suddenly fine with cutesy, unironic captions?”
“Eh?”
“‘Thanks for sticking with me throughout this crazy journey babes! #blessed #goodvibes #whyareyousoobsessedwithme’.”
“Well I didn’t write that, but it’s just a bit of fun,” I explained. “And I think it’s still a tiny bit ironic… Anyway, you said yourself I was dowdy. What’s wrong with experimenting with different looks?”
“Uh, I didn’t say you were dowdy. Your new best friend did.”
“You said you weren’t dowdy.” I tried to remember it accurately.
“Yeah, so?”
“So, I don’t want to be dowdy.” I realised as I said it. “I’m allowed to do stuff, Nic. What do you care who I hang out with, anyway? You’re making new friends, with Liz being everywhere all the time. Why can’t I make new friends too?”
“Liz hangs out with you as well. You’re always invited. We don’t go off and do secret stuff behind your back.”
“I didn’t insta my amazing transition to some stupid Barbie doll!”
Though Nic did insta a picture of her and Liz in front of a big advert for a donkey sanctuary at the bus stop with the caption, “Liz is an ass. Shakespeare innit mate #livingmybestdonkeylife”, which I had thought was funny at the time. I even liked it.
“Look I can’t win, can I?” I accused her. “If I say I miss you in English, you say I’m complaining and being negative. If I have fun in my new situation you get jealous. What am I supposed to do here?”
“I don’t like you complaining because I’m sad you’re gone!” Nic suddenly had tears in her eyes. “I’m sad too.”
“Oh, don’t cry, Nic!” I instantly felt terrible. Nic hardly ever admits she has feelings. She’s almost always joking.
Liz appeared from nowhere, put her arm around Nicole and said accusingly to me, “Maybe you should just go.”
So I did. Even though there wasn’t really anywhere to go, because we all sit at the same clump of desks. I just went to the toilet and then came back. And felt like a weirdo.
Saturday 9th March
GRACE
Decided to write a poem because I’m good at all sorts of things.
I saw a bird
I saw a bird
From far away
It looked so big like it might eat me
I saw a bird
Up close by
It looked so small like it could barely fly
I saw a bird
It looked so sad
It looked so mad
It looked so bad
It looked so glad
I don’t know what kind of bird you are
I don’t know if we will travel far