Chapter 8
HARRIET
I am ridiculously late for our first Tawney training session after Easter break.
‘It’s four-twenty,’ says Edie as I push open the court gate. ‘Where have you been?’
She is looking fabulous as usual: Chanel sunglasses on, hair drawn up high, the Tawney Shield sloppy joe over her tennis gear giving her an elite athlete charm. I unzip my bag and draw out my racket: a Wilson Blade 104, the same one the Williams sisters use. ‘The library,’ I tell Edie. ‘You want this end or the other one?’
Edie bounces a ball on the court. ‘You never go to the library. What were you doing up there?’
I begin a quick warm-up. ‘An assignment,’ I say, drawing one arm then the other across my chest. ‘I’m happy to go up the other end. I brought a visor, so the sun won’t bother me.’
‘What assignment?’ says Edie, smacking the ball methodically.
‘Just a little class thing for Ms Bracken, that’s all. On Egypt under Hatshepsut. I had to wait until the librarian got the book I needed out of storage. Sorry.’
This is not what I have in fact been doing at the library. What I have been doing is creating an Instagram account for Amelia Westlake on my tablet: entering some basic information, then uploading a picture for her – a silhouette of a schoolgirl sitting by a window.
Then feeling a sudden tightness in my throat.
Then looking over my shoulder to make sure no-one’s been watching.
Then calming myself down with a few breathing exercises.
Then looking back at the screen and noticing my new profile’s zero follower count.
Then noticing my new profile’s zero following count as well.
Then putting ‘Beth Tupman’ into the search box and finding her feed and hovering the cursor over the ‘follow’ button.
Then thinking: No. Beth will remember the cartoons from the school paper, and if Amelia Westlake follows Beth and Beth looks at Amelia’s profile and sees she has no followers, she will know she isn’t a real person. Real people have followers. Most real people, anyway. Certainly the real people Beth hangs out with. And if Beth gives anyone a hint that Amelia Westlake isn’t a real person, people will start asking who Amelia Westlake really is, and Natasha Nguyen will refuse to publish our next cartoon.
Then going to close the screen window.
Then not in fact closing the screen window.
Then typing ‘Will Everhart’ into the search box.
Then wondering: why on earth am I looking up Will’s feed? What interest could it possibly hold? She probably isn’t even on Instagram. She probably isn’t on social media at all. She is probably one of those privacy crusaders who has taken herself completely offline and communicates with people via carrier pigeon instead.
Then pressing ‘enter’.
Then seeing four Will Everharts pop up: three of them male, and one of them female with a bio that reads: ‘bios are bullshit.’
It was Will, all right.
I studied that awful uneven haircut of hers, her dark hair all short on one side and long on the other, like her hairdresser had been called away to a family emergency mid-job, and her brown eyes, which were glazed over like she had never been so bored in all her life.
In all of her photos she wore the same expression: Will Everhart looking bored in a park. Will Everhart looking bored in a canoe. Will Everhart looking bored on a beach. Will Everhart looking bored with a groovy-looking older man – probably her boyfriend. It would be just like Will to have a boyfriend who wore a leather jacket. Will Everhart looking bored with Natasha Nguyen, who had her arm tight around Will’s shoulders and was leaning in very close.
My heart rate quickened. It was probably the sugary biscuits I had eaten for lunch. I was taking some deep breaths to calm myself down when my phone buzzed.
What hole have you fallen into, Bubble?
I’m at the courts.
I am not sure why, exactly, I don’t tell Edie any of this. I am not sure why I have not told her anything at all about Amelia Westlake. I know she would be incredibly supportive of the project. Possibly she would be concerned I was putting my future at risk, but once I assured her there was no way anyone could find out I am involved she would absolutely applaud it. She would understand that the aim is simply to provide some gentle commentary to remind people about Rosemead’s genuine values.
Still. I’ve never mentioned the cartoon about Coach Hadley that Will and I published in the Messenger. Nor have I mentioned the two cartoons we have published since.
We published our second cartoon a week after the first one. It centred on the practices of Rosemead’s uniform shop. The idea came to me after a remark Will made that day in detention about how unfair it is to require students to buy all aspects of their uniform there. The rule doesn’t just apply to our tunics, but also to accessories like socks, gloves and scarves. As Will pointed out, it gives the uniform shop a monopoly, meaning it can set its prices as high as it likes.
This was not something that had occurred to me before. I wondered if the school’s administration had properly thought through the consequences of the rule. I knew that if we pointed it out to them they would see the problems it caused. So I agreed to workshop a few ideas with Will.
The cartoon we came up with pictures two Rosemead students in conversation. ‘I love your new regulation Rosemead hair ribbon,’ says the first girl. The second girl says, ‘Thanks! I got it from the uniform shop for just $200!’
The cartoon was wildly popular, and we followed it up with another in the week before Easter: one about how female authors are underrepresented on Rosemead’s English syllabus. It depicts a Rosemead student reading a book by Jane Austen. Another student walking by remarks, ‘Jane? That’s a funny name for a fella.’
I have to
