Editing Emma Read online

  Lying very still on my bed, trying to stay calm.

  Doodling with some pens and paper in my room. Is this what I’ve been reduced to? I doodle a little Leon and Emma. In paper world we are together, and we have nothing to do in the vast expanse of white except kiss. And I’m wearing an amazing dress.

  It really is an amazing dress.

  I’ve sketched out the dress on another sheet of paper, in more detail. It’s black with a couple of see-through stripes. I remember that I used to do this a lot, and I was quite good at it (well, as good as it’s possible for ten-year-olds to be at anything). It feels a bit weird. It’s been so long since I designed anything… I remember one time I made Mum this really gross, mint green skirt out of a pair of old kitchen curtains and made her wear it. And every time she took it off I cried, so she wore it to the cinema with Heather.

  Thinking back, she probably took it off en route to the cinema.

  Still sketching

  How did I forget that I liked doing this so much? When did I stop? Why haven’t I even thought about this in years? What happened?

  Possibly it was when I got a mobile phone.

  I’ve made a couple of designs that I’m really happy with. Childishly, I really want to go and show them to Mum but I think she’s probably still upset from earlier.

  Going to Bed

  For a moment I feel peaceful and safe in my room, like nothing matters because the outside world can’t touch me and I am enough. Alone and secure in my own company. But just for a moment, and then my fingers burn to type.

  Admiring my drawings before I go to sleep. This was definitely a more positive use for my time than crying on the street. I maybe feel a little bit, slightly, almost imperceptibly, better about myself.

  On the downside, I’m still unable to masturbate successfully.

  Sunday 28th September

  Woke up from a dream where I was kissing Leon (obviously) but then he started getting smaller and smaller and disappearing in my arms, and then I looked down and there was a baby sitting on the floor. Then the social services lady from The Sims came to take the baby away, and then Steph appeared shaking her head and saying that she couldn’t be my friend any more.

  I feel so dirty.

  Now I’ve got all my paper and pens spread out on the floor. I’m hoping to block out the fact that somewhere, out there in the world, is a small, scared thirteen-year-old I have technically been out with. I’ve been designing a shirt. Mum came in and looked over my shoulder.

  ‘That’s pretty,’ she said.

  Trying to Make Clothes

  Mum suggested that we go to Cloth House so I can start actually making the stuff I’ve been sketching. It was actually really… nice. We avoided all other topics, and just talked about fabric. Now we’re back with loads of lovely materials… She’s got her old sewing machine down from the attic, and we’ve put it in the front room. I’ve ripped out pictures from magazines and stuck them on the wall around the window.

  Failing to Make Clothes

  I was feeling quite positive, looking at the space I’ve created. It’s almost like having my own studio. Then I started attempting to make stuff and felt instantly grumpy again. I’ve messed up almost all of the fabric we bought earlier. Why didn’t I make a first attempt using old sheets or something??! I even used to do that when I was a kid. I thought as you got older you were supposed to learn stuff, but it turns out I’ve actually LOST wisdom over the years. I forgot all about leaving a centimetre allowance for stitching and just started sewing bits together. They look AWFUL. I was just sitting staring at it in a ragged heap on the floor when Mum came in and said,

  ‘I guess it’s harder to make stuff than it is to imagine it.’

  ‘That’s helpful, thanks,’ I said through gritted teeth.

  ‘You probably should have made a toile.’

  ‘A what?’

  ‘First attempt.’

  ‘You don’t say.’

  But I have nothing else to do so I may as well keep going.

  My emotions are going round and round in circles. One minute I feel tragically invisible and angry at the world for going on without me. Then I feel angry at myself for being so pathetic, and realising that my only apparent source of self-esteem is from outside myself. From the amount of likes I get. From Leon. Why doesn’t it come from me? Then I stop thinking for a while, and carry on attempting to sew things (and failing), and then it starts all over again.

  Hours Later

  I have spent nearly five hours attempting to make clothes and all I’ve got to show for it is a single sleeve. Nonetheless, it is a good sleeve and I am immensely proud of it.

  A Glimpse into the Dark Ages

  Mum comes into my room holding a brick or something.

  ‘Are you going to kill me with that?’ I ask.

  ‘Don’t tempt me.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘This is for you to take to school.’

  I look closer at the black object. ‘Is that… Is that a phone?’

  ‘No, it’s a puppy.’

  ‘No offence, Mum, but I don’t want to carry around some dinosaur phone from the eighties or whenever you grew up.’

  ‘I would have been so lucky to have a mobile phone when I was a teenager, Emma.’

  I put the phone in my blazer pocket and it looks like a massive, square boob. I burst out laughing.

  ‘Mum, I can’t go into school with this…’

  ‘You’re taking it. But not until tomorrow morning,’ she said, snatching it back.

  This is absolutely ridiculous.

  Going to Bed

  With my sleeve. Now beside the plaster. I wonder what Leon has been doing this weekend? I have no idea. I can’t check. And he does actually feel ever so slightly distanced from me. Like he’s standing a millimetre further away than he was before. Maybe I should block his profiles when I’m allowed the internet back.

  Then again there are lots of things people should do which they absolutely never will. Like hoovering under the bed.

  Monday, 29 September

  posted by EditingEmma 08.37

  Registration

  ON A COMPUTERRRR. In spite of my productive weekend, I’m so happy to see other human beings I could cry. I hugged Gracie really tight when I saw her and she looked very startled. I almost hugged Mr Morris and I even forgave Steph. When I came in she grovelled like a worm.

  ‘Emma!! You’re alive!!’

  I sat down next to Gracie.

  ‘What is that buzzing sound?’

  ‘Emma, I’M SORRY.’

  ‘Can you hear that, Gracie?’

  Then Steph came and sat on my lap.

  ‘I’M SORRY. IT WAS A JOKE. FORGIVE ME. EMMAEMMAEMMAEMMAEMMAEMMA.’

  Then she licked my forehead.

  ‘Ugh!!!’ I pushed her off.

  ‘Aha!’ she said. ‘You spoke!’

  Then she threatened to follow me around licking me and my belongings all day, and resistance seemed futile.

  In the middle of pulling my things out of my bag and dangling them in front of her tongue, Steph came across dinosaur phone.

  ‘What is that?’ she shrieked.

  ‘Emma, give me the walkie-talkie,’ said Mr Morris, taking it from me. ‘This isn’t allowed.’

  ‘That’s my phone.’

  He raised one fluffy eyebrow at me.

  ‘No, really,’ I said.

  posted by EditingEmma 11.12

  Break

  No one’s said anything about the Alex–Charlie incident, which is highly unusual. Faith clearly instructed Steph and Gracie not to mention it.

  I wonder how long that will last.

  posted by EditingEmma 13.17

  Five hours in total. Real Alex just came into the Sixth Form Centre and headed for the pool table. He looked over here and Gracie was practically wetting herself.

  ‘So… what do you think that look said, Emma? I fancy you or… I heard she preys on thirteen-year-old boys?’
>
  Can’t say I blame her. Oh God. I can still see his brother’s terrified little face peeking up at me from behind his mum.

  Where can I hide?!

  posted by EditingEmma 13.51

  Hiding Like a Mole in the Ground

  Found refuge in the ‘Tech Lab’ i.e. Laurence Myer’s Lair. I’ve never been in here before. It’s actually quite calming… Apart from Laurence Myer staring at me over the ridge of his computer.

  At Home

  I started making the dress I designed on Saturday. Still not finding this part as easy as the designing. I was wearing my second, slightly mangled attempt and feeling quite pleased that it at least sort of resembled what I drew, and Mum came in and laughed.

  I thought I might start off a bit easier, and make a pattern from a pre-existing dress. Then I had a light-bulb moment. MY BLANKY DRESS. I can recreate it!!

  I’ve laid out the dress on the floor, and have started to lovingly draw around it. I’m so excited!

  Tuesday, 30 September

  posted by EditingEmma 11.18

  Damn You Steph

  Steph was being very cagey, and then I spotted her phone under the desk, her screen full of boy pictures.

  ‘Is that… Steph, did you not delete that yet?!’

  ‘Er…’

  ‘STEPH. Please delete it NOW. I mean it!!’

  ‘OK, OK. I promise I will. I just wanted to have a look.’

  ‘NO.’

  ‘Come oon. Play with me!’

  ‘I’m really not in the mood. Plus Mum would kill me.’

  ‘She’s already grounded you and taken away your phone. What can she do?’

  ‘Home school me.’

  Then Gracie looked over Steph’s shoulder. ‘Oh my God! I know that boy. He went to my brother’s college. Oh that’s so weird!’

  And before long they were all crowded round Steph’s phone, giggling.

  ‘“I’ll probably kiss you on the first date”,’ Faith read. ‘Do I have a say in this? Because that sounds like sexual harassment.’

  ‘Myles Henderson loves food, drink and sleep,’ Gracie suggested.

  ‘Yes, we have so much in common… I am also a human being.’

  ‘What about him?’ Faith pointed at a boy holding a puppy. Steph clicked on him and read,

  ‘“I am a keen racist.” Do you think he’s trying to be funny?’

  ‘Hmm, either way I’d rather go out with the dog,’ replied Faith.

  ‘What about him?’ Steph’s eyes widened at a good-looking boy, who also looked like he knew it.

  ‘“Hilarious dude. Six-day per week gym routine. Give me a bench and I can press the world”,’ Faith read.

  ‘Ooh!’ exclaimed Steph.

  ‘You’re joking, right?’

  ‘No. He’s got a really nice body.’

  ‘And about fifty pictures of his really nice body.’

  ‘What’s your point?’

  ‘Oh look, “Luke” looks quite normal.’

  ‘Yes, not to be confused with the last Luke who “love wild girl!!!!!!”’

  ‘I suppose it’s better than “Donz” who simply says “hi, women”.’

  ‘Enticing.’

  ‘Oh my God. Emma, LOOK!’

  ‘What?’

  ‘It’s Charles Manson boy! We saw him on Jess’s Tinder, remember?’

  ‘Ugh, he looks creepy!!’ squealed Gracie.

  ‘Oh, I know him!’ said Crazy Holly, elbowing her way in.

  (Of course she does.)

  ‘Are you OK, Emma?’ asked Faith.

  ‘I’m fine, sorry,’ I mumbled.

  But I’m not really fine. I want to be having fun like normal, and joke around about Charles Manson boy. But today, all I keep thinking about is Charles Manson boy in reality. He’s probably just lonely, looking to find someone. And here we all are sitting mocking him. Like he’s not a person… Like he’s completely disposable. One glance and someone says ‘no’ and dismisses another human being with an entire life and mess of feelings in the tap of a finger. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. It isn’t so much like dating as a game.

  If this is what I’ve got to look forward to in adult life then count me out. Not that it matters, because I’m never going on another date anyway. Ever.

  posted by EditingEmma 13.43

  I’m in the Tech Lab again because I can’t watch Leon and Apple any more. He was leaning all over her and they looked very… together. Mr Morris walked past and told them to stop ‘canoodling’, but they didn’t. Does no one have any respect for teacher authority any more?? He gave her a Chewit and she ate it without a second thought. Like it was just food to her.

  I said, ‘I bet she doesn’t store all the wrappers under her bed like I do.’

  Faith said, ‘That’s probably in her favour, Emma.’

  I sat there in disbelief that I could be feeling this deeply, and no one else knows. No one else can feel what I am feeling. Why isn’t there some tangible sense for other people’s internal life? Why can’t we smell when someone is feeling very sad, or happy? Everything would be much easier. Maybe then they would know how truly awful they are making me feel and go and do their ‘canoodling’ somewhere private.

  ‘Emma, you have to stop staring at them.’ Steph’s voice penetrated my somber shroud. ‘You are the least subtle person.’

  So maybe people notice a bit.

  posted by EditingEmma 13.57

  Steph came bounding into the computer room.

  ‘Emma!! Emma!!’ she called.

  ‘You’re not allowed to talk in here,’ someone muttered.

  ‘Oh, sorry,’ she stage-whispered, putting her finger over her lips.

  She clambered over to me, waving her phone around.

  ‘I’m not interested,’ I whispered.

  ‘Look!’

  She shoved her phone in my face. There was a picture of ‘Greg Seymour’.

  ‘Is that…?’

  ‘Yes!’

  Oh my God… Greg.

  ‘I was on your Facebook changing your age to make the, er, joke profile.’ She looked sheepish. ‘And he added you. Forgot to tell you, soz.’

  I paused for a moment. ‘Why would he do that? I yelled in his face and puked on his coat.’

  ‘I know, I was confused as well. But I thought…’

  ‘What? You thought what?’

  ‘Might as well say hi?’

  ‘STEPH!!!!’ I hissed.

  ‘Anyway, he just said hi back, KBYE,’ she said, retreating from the room. ‘You really should change your password now and again!’ she called over her shoulder.

  ‘My’ Conversation with Greg

  Emma: Hey :)

  Greg: Well you’re keen ;) only two weeks later!

  Emma: Haha. Well, same to you…

  Greg: Ooo yeah awkward, was kind of avoiding you but, since you couldn’t keep away… :/

  Then we exchanged numbers.

  I swear to God, if I had more friends I’d consider getting Steph arrested for fraud.

  posted by EditingEmma 21.00

  I’M BACK

  Moaned so much about dinosaur phone that Mum gave me back my regular phone. But she called my network and froze my data. I was pretty impressed. Obviously I can still connect through Wi-Fi, but she was halfway there.

  posted by EditingEmma 21.29

  For some reason, I’m still thinking about Greg. Here’s my internal debate:

  Reasons Not to Talk to Greg

  1.I’ve gone past caring about dates.

  2.I was a bit put off by how drunk and full on he was at first.

  3.I’m technically still grounded.

  Reasons to Talk to Greg

  1) Though I do feel lethargic about dating, I’m nonetheless still very horny.

  2) Although he was full on, he was quite sweet, and it’s not like I can talk about being drunk, is it? Why was I so harsh? Hadn’t I resolved to give some different people a chance? Isn’t that what this whole blog is about?

 
; 3) Really, if Mum wants me not to lie about my whereabouts, she shouldn’t ground me and then I wouldn’t need to.

  Hmm. I’ll sleep on it.

  Wednesday, 1 October

  posted by EditingEmma 10.19

  In English. We’re still talking about the ‘dangers of knowledge’ in Frankenstein. How much more can we possibly analyse this?

  ‘But is it science itself that is the danger, or what it becomes through abuse by society?’

  I’ve already written an entire essay on this. Why do we only read one book a term? Are they trying to bore us? It’s almost like she’s forcing me to blog instead…

  My Actual Conversation with Greg

  Earlier on I got a message from an unknown number. My heart started pounding and I didn’t open the message for a good thirty seconds, just to savour the excitement… which is when I realised I must have shockingly little excitement in my life. Anyway, it was Greg.

  So, did you have fun at Andy’s party? x 09.42

  Did he see me at the party? Best to just gloss over that.

  Yeah, did you? 09.45

  Well, I can’t remember anything past 11… So that means I probably did 09.45

  Uh huh 09.47

  Teacher has seen me on my phone so gotta go 09.47

  See you 09.47

  Oh OK, see you xx 09.48

  Of course, I was in Maths so could’ve got up and done karaoke if I felt like it. But basically, what he’s saying is he doesn’t remember kissing me, or more likely he doesn’t want to remember. So I thought it best to just end our conversation there. I’m never going to find the answer to the world’s dating problems, no one wants to date me in the first place. Except a thirteen-year-old who brings his mum along for moral support.

  posted by EditingEmma 23.38

  I was just drifting off when my phone buzzed. Recording it here before I fall asleep again. Too tired to analyse it.

  Hi, it’s Greg. I think I might have offended you earlier… I was really drunk, and I don’t remember a lot, but I do remember one thing… Night night x 23.27