The Manifesto on How to be Interesting by Holly Bourne Page A

you’ll just become pretty and vacant like everyone else now?”
    She was losing her temper. If only he knew what she was planning to sacrifice to become a writer. If only he knew about the scary rules she’d scrawled in her notebook, ready to live out, for the very purpose of being a great writer.
    â€œCome on, Holdo. It’s just a bit of make-up. It’s not like applying mascara makes your brain fall out. Plus…” She tapped her finger on his new crop of spots that had popped up around his mouth over the weekend. “Maybe you could use a bit of make-up yourself.”
    It was nasty. No excuse really – it was just sheer nastiness. And as Holdo’s face fell, Bree felt the heavy drop of guilt blob into her stomach. He tried to cover the worst of the acne with his hand.
    â€œFine. You’ve made your point.” He wouldn’t look at her.
    They had always bantered. She’d teased him about his skin before and it’d always been okay. He would just say, “Think this spot is bad, look at that big oozer on your chin.” Or, “Well, I may be uglier but I’m much smarter than you.”
    Back and forth. Back and forth. Swear words and teasing and name-callings and piss-takings. One after the other after the other. And it had been fine.
    Why was it different this morning? Why did she suddenly feel like a massive bitch?
    And Bree realized it was because a bit of make-up, some highlights, and nice-fitting clothes had changed the power dynamic. Attractiveness puts you automatically on a higher social plain. You’re immediately winning some sort of invisible game. And though Holdo was, perhaps, just as smart as her, their relationship was now unequal just because she looked better. And piss-taking about his, now inferior, looks wasn’t friendly banter any more. It was downright cruel.
    They walked in silence – the journey slower than usual because of Bree’s new shoes. She struggled to think of something to break the awkwardness.
    â€œYou got computer science this morning?”
    Holdo just nodded.
    â€œHow’s the game coming along?”
    â€œAlright.”
    â€œWatch any new films over the weekend?”
    â€œNothing new.”
    Bree sort of felt like crying. But she couldn’t. Today, and how she played it, was too important. She couldn’t take him along on this journey, but she hoped, oh how she hoped, he’d understand at the end. Whenever that was.
    You always need to make sacrifices for your art.
    They reached the school gates and Bree stared up at them like they were the doorway to another world. They were really, weren’t they?
    â€œSee you at lunch?” Holdo’s voice sounded hopeful. She’d been forgiven, far too soon as usual. And she was about to hurt him again. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, feeling emotion and loss gurgle up her windpipe.
    â€œEr…I can’t. I’ve got stuff to do.”
    â€œOkay.”
    He didn’t even ask what stuff and that broke her heart even more. He just swung his bag heavily over his shoulder and walked sadly away from her into the sea of students queuing at security with their cards.
    Bree stared after him sadly, wondering what the hell she’d let herself in for. And how she was ever going to do this on her own.

chapter fourteen
    The corridors were the worst part of Queen’s Hall. It was best to run through them, head down, trying to avoid predators, until you reached the safe(ish) sanctuary of the classroom where a teacher could tell people off.
    Anything of any note – good or bad – was played out in the theatrical staging of that narrow strip of carpet, overlooked by the gold-framed antique portraits of headmasters and mistresses past. It was where fights broke out and losers were deliberately tripped over; it was Jassmine’s catwalk for showing off her latest “look”. Hearts were broken there every