Adorkable – the book
I’ve also signed a two-book deal to write about vampires. Ha! As if ! But I am writing two books. The first one will be called Adorkable – How I Became Queen of the Nerds and it’s part manifesto, part memoir, part rant. It will have photos and recipes and also a comic strip. I have no idea what the second book will be about but let’s not tell my publisher that.
Adorkable – the column
The Guardian will be publishing eight hundred words from me every Friday. I will pontificate on how cupcakes took over the world, if puppies are the new master race, why the education cuts are an ideological ploy to keep us down and, oh, all the other things I love to pontificate on.
Adorkable – the website
Yes, I already have a website, but this will be a proper website that has a bit of money behind it so you don’t have to just sit and watch my DustCam for hours on end. I have so many amazing friends with amazing talents so Adorkable.com will be a place where they (and I hope YOU) can showcase your awesomeness. It will have articles and films and puppies and it will be a place full of love and snark.
Adorkable – on tour
I’m doing a lot of public events next year. Like, a lot, a lot. Some of them will be academic conferences but I’m also partnering up with a charity to go into schools and youth clubs to run workshops on self-esteem and empowerment. OMAG! So excited about this but also kind of terrified.
So, there it is. I have a nagging feeling that I might be selling out, but the way I see it is that there should be someone like me representing. Call me misguided, but I believe I’ve got some important things to say that people need to hear and if I can take an hour of screentime or a book sale away from the Snookis and the Jordans, then that has to count for something.
Right, I’m climbing off my soapbox now. There has to be a clip of a puppy doing something adorbs on the internet that I haven’t yet seen and I feel duty-bound to find it. Laters, ’taters, Jeane x
31
I hadn’t even started to find any new puppy videos when my Skype icon throbbed into life and I automatically turned on my webcam. Then I slid off my chair and crouched under the table in case it was someone I really didn’t want to talk to, until I heard a familiar voice say, ‘Jeane the Bean, where are you?’
It was Bethan! I shot up, banged my head and sat down again, hand massaging the sore spot on my temple. I didn’t have time to deal with a spot of brain damage.
‘Look at you in your hospital scrubs like you’ve just walked off the set of Grey’s Anatomy,’ I said cheerfully.
Bethan was perched on the sofa in the living room of her Chicago apartment. She looked tired and her blonde hair was scraped back in a tight bun, but then she gave me a daft little wave and a goofy grin and I did the wave and grin back and I felt like I’d come home.
‘I just read your blog so I know that you’re still alive,’ Bethan said dryly. ‘Thank God for that!’
‘But every time I’ve tried to Skype you, you were curing sick kids,’ I reminded her. ‘And if you will live on another continent then it just makes everything more complicated.’
‘True,’ Bethan conceded. ‘Little kids do have a nasty habit of falling out of trees and getting diseases, but hey, Jeane, Mum and Dad have been trying to get hold of you, I’ve had emails from your form tutor and your deputy head … what’s going on? You can’t just stop going to school.’
‘Well, I kinda can and I have,’ I said calmly. What’s done was done and there wasn’t anyone who could do anything about it. ‘Look, I could spend another eighteen months in school being forced to paint seascapes and write essays about The Fountainhead, neither of which are going to give me important life skills, or I could be making a real difference to people’s lives. There’s no contest.’
Bethan sighed and pushed back the hair that was escaping from her topknot. ‘But we had a deal. The four of us agreed that you could live on your own as long as you fulfilled certain promises. Like eating three proper meals a day and keeping the flat tidy and staying in school.’
‘But—’
‘And you still have that stupid DustCam and the amount of tweeting you do about Haribo makes me think you’re not getting your five a day and now it turns out that you’ve decided you don’t need an education.’ She sighed again. ‘This is not cool, Jeane.’
‘I am keeping the flat tidy,’ I protested. ‘Look!’
I turned the laptop round so she could get a sweeping panorama of the lounge, which was blates tidy. I was fed up with certain people acting like I didn’t live in the real world and couldn’t cope with real world stuff, which was, like, so not true. Anyway, in the real world, people had cleaners. So, I’d hired Ben’s mum’s cleaner to come round once a week. Lydia was from Bulgaria and she was scarily obsessed with vinegar and how it could obliterate most household grime. She was also just plain scary and shouted at me if I didn’t tidy up before she arrived.
‘Well, it looks OKish, and what about the eating of fresh fruit and veg?’
I stuck my tongue out at her. ‘Rome wasn’t built in a day, you know.’
‘Jeane, you promised you’d do your A-levels. You actually promised.’
Bethan in guilt-trip mode was awful. She’d get this sorrowful, disappointed note to her voice, which always made me feel terrible.
‘Bethan, don’t be mad at me,’ I pleaded. ‘I have all these amazing opportunities that won’t be there if I wait until I’ve done my A-levels. It’s all good – I get to travel the world and do interesting things and have experiences and write books and get paid stupid amounts of money.’
‘You’re too young! No one is looking out for you and, God, this is all my fault. I should have stayed in London and forgot about the fellowship because—’
‘No! You deserved the fellowship and you got to follow your dream and now I’m getting to follow mine. There’s nothing to feel bad about.’
‘There are so many people who must be taking advantage of you …’
I loved Bethan. I loved her more than all the Apple products and Haribo and fab second-hand dresses in the world, but when she was being all earnest and pained, it killed me.
‘No one is taking advantage of me,’ I told her. ‘I’m not stupid. I talked to people like my friend Molly, who got taken for a ride by her record company when she was my age, and I signed with a really reputable talent agency and I have an accountant and a lawyer. I’m even VAT-registered. Everything’s fine, Bethan. Really, really fine.’
‘Oh, Jeane …’ Bethan looked like she was going to cry. ‘None of this is fine. Things shouldn’t have turned out like this.’
‘Things have turned out just great and if you’re still pissed off with me when you fly over next week, I’ll let you spank me. You can even pretend to send me to my room if it will make you feel better.’ At least that made her smile, even if it was a pretty sad smile. ‘Actually, is there anything you want me to add to my Christmas shopping list? Maybe another yule log and more mince pies? You can never have too many mince pies. We usually have a six-a-day habit by Christmas Eve, don’t we?’
I expected the mention of mince pies to perk Bethan up where all else had failed, but she slumped on her beige sofa. ‘Oh God …’
‘Why oh God? Have you developed a fatal allergy to mince pies?’
Bethan looked to her right and said something that I didn’t catch and then Alex, Bethan’s boyfriend, who was almost rippling with as many muscles as Gustav and wanted to be a neurosurgeon when he was all grown up, sat down next to her.
‘Hey, brat,’ he said. ‘How’s tricks?’
‘Hey, Mr Apple Pie, Bethan’s mad at me, can you tell her to stop because it’s beyond boring?’
Alex took Bethan’s hand and they nudged each other a bit and whispered until I had to rap my knuckles on my monitor to get them to stop.
Bethan took a deep breath. ‘Well, do you want the good news or the bad news?’
I knew right away that the bad news
was far going to out-weigh the good news. It always, always did. ‘Bad news, please.’ They both glared at me. ‘You’ve got to have the good news first,’ Bethan said.
‘Fine, whatevs. Hit me up,’ I said impatiently.
Bethan held up her hand and I waited for the good news and I waited and then I waited a little longer. ‘Can we hurry this up, please?’
‘Look at my sodding hand!’ Bethan demanded. ‘Third finger.’ I squinted at the screen and on her finger was a ring. Possibly a diamond, though it could have been cubic zirconia. ‘Um, are you engaged?’
Alex beamed the smile that was a credit to his orthodontist. ‘I asked Beth last weekend and she agreed to make an honest man out of me. How do you feel about having a brother-in-law?’
Honestly, I wasn’t sure how I felt. I guess I was pleased for them. But Alex was American and Bethan was British and when her residency at the hospital was over, they were going to have to make a decision about which continent they were going to live on. I mean, I liked being independent and that Bethan could only breathe down my neck via Skype, but she wasn’t meant to stay away for ever.
I managed to plaster a smile on my face. ‘Hey! Yay! That’s great news. I’m so pleased for both of you and, Alex, if you don’t get on my case about eating vegetables then I’m happy to offer you the position of my brother-in-law.’
This time Bethan smiled like she almost meant it. ‘There’s something else,’ she said. ‘No easy way to say it so here goes: I’m pregnant.’
‘Oh, wow! Right. Is that why you’re getting married?’ I asked baldly.
‘Part of the reason, but mostly because I love this big old lughead,’ Bethan said, rubbing Alex’s crew cut while he beamed toothily at me. ‘And, well, there’s a whole immigration issue so it makes sense to get married before the baby’s born.’
There were so many questions that I should have been asking, like when was it due and did they know what sex it was and did they have any names picked out, but I couldn’t ask them because I was sure that as soon as I opened my mouth, I’d say something awful. Something like, Why the hell would you even want a baby? Aren’t you worried that it will get ill like Andrew? And aren’t you scared that you won’t love the baby like Pat and Roy never loved me? So, why the hell are you actually keeping it?
How could I say any of that? My smile was slipping and before it fell off my face altogether, I managed another, ‘Yay.’
‘It’s a shock, isn’t it?’ Bethan asked me gently.
I nodded. ‘Yeah, I’m kind of processing. So, was that the bad news?’
‘Oh, Jeane! You have such a dry sense of humour.’ I’d never heard anyone guffaw before, but Alex was doing it right now. ‘Of course it’s not bad news. We’re both so excited – it’s just that, well, it’s good news when we needed it. My mom’s really sick.’
‘Oh! I’m so sorry to hear that.’ I was and I meant it. ‘Is there … like, will she get better?’
Alex’s smile dimmed and he shook his head. ‘She’s got about three months, though she reckons she’s determined to see her first grandchild.’
Life sucked sometimes. It wasn’t enough that parts of it could be really good, like winning-the-lottery good – something equally bad had to happen just to keep you in your place. ‘I’m so, so sorry. It’s not fair, is it?’
‘Really isn’t,’ Alex agreed, and he looked at Bethan and she looked at him, then she turned her head to me and I saw tears trickling down her face.
‘I know it’s all horrible but the baby is a good thing,’ I told her. ‘You have to focus on that.’
‘Oh, Jeane, I can’t come home for Christmas,’ she blurted out. ‘I just can’t. It’s Alex’s last Christmas with his mum and we’re having to get married really, really quickly and there’s so much stuff to arrange and as it is I’m working twelve-hour shifts. Please don’t hate me!’
‘I don’t. I never, ever would,’ I assured her. ‘There’s nothing you could do that would make me hate you.’
‘Even when I tell you that we tried to get you on a flight to Chicago, even if it meant having to stop over in Canada, but everything’s booked up?’ Bethan sobbed. ‘Will you spend Christmas with Dad? Please! I can’t bear the thought of you spending Christmas on your own.’
‘Jesus! I’d rather spend Christmas on my own than with Roy and Sandra! They’d probably book Garfunkel’s for Christmas lunch,’ I shrieked, and it wasn’t even a joke but Bethan giggled and sobbed at the same time.
‘Jeane, I feel bloody awful about this, but the wedding’s probably going to be in January and—’
‘So I’ll see you in January and, just so you know, any vile bridesmaid’s dress you pick out for me in puce-coloured satin, I’ll probably love. Just don’t make me wear anything … tasteful.’ I gave a mock shudder and Bethan and Alex both laughed. ‘You’re not to worry about me because I can crash Ben’s family’s Christmas dinner or my friend Tabitha always has an open house for anyone who’s at a loose end. Honestly, I’ll be fine.’
‘I hate myself for this.’
‘Bethan, it’s very boring when you’re being all self-effacing so please don’t,’ I drawled, and I could feel all the disappointment and the bitterness welling up inside me and I had to swallow it down like bile because I’d been counting the days until Bethan rocked up in the Arrivals hall at Heathrow and I could hug her very, very hard and have her all to myself for a whole week. She was never going to be all mine again. I’d come way down on the list after Alex and the new baby. ‘Stop crying, it can’t be good for the sprog. It will come out with a really mopey disposition.’
‘Oh, shut up,’ Bethan sniffed but she got the tears under control and we chatted for a few minutes about the awesome Christmas present she was going to buy me and how they shouldn’t have a stodgy boring fruitcake at their wedding because no one actually liked it, before they had to go.
As I finally started to trawl through YouTube for puppies or anything that would make me smile, I knew that I’d been right to leave everything behind in pursuit of my dreams. Adorkable made me part of something and without Adorkable I had nothing.
32
And then on the morning of Christmas Eve, after I’d made Mum and Dad approximately two hundred and thirty-two cups of tea as part of my penance and the week after I’d been to Cambridge – and, though I didn’t want to tempt fate, the professor who’d done my final interview had shook my hand and told me that he looked forward to seeing me in September – I was given an early Christmas present.
The Wi-Fi was reinstalled (I didn’t have the heart to tell them that I’d hacked into the router whenever I’d wanted to go online), my PS3 was ceremonially reinstated and so were iPod, TV and car keys.
I had my freedom back. I also had three hours to finish buying Christmas presents before I met up with the gang for lunch. ‘If you’re taking the car then please only have one drink,’ Dad said as the entire family trooped into the hall to wave me off.
‘Taking the bus. There’ll be nowhere to park,’ I said.
‘And don’t forget to buy tinfoil,’ Mum reminded me, and we were back to normal. There had been about a fortnight of only speaking when I was spoken to, but as the Cambridge interview got nearer, Mum and Dad had needed to speak to me frequently about mock interview questions and did I know who was interviewing me and should I buy some of his books to be properly prepared and so it went on.
But now Mum pecked me on the cheek and Dad smiled when he saw Alice and Melly clinging to my jeans. ‘Have you got our list?’ Melly asked me yet again. ‘Percy Pig, not Peppa Pig. That’s very important, Michael.’
‘Be home in time to watch The Muppet Christmas Carol. We’re making special Muppet cupcakes,’ Alice added. Mum shuddered as she contemplated the havoc they’d wreak in the kitchen. I was still grinning as I walked to the bus stop.
Because I wasn’t a girl and because I’d done most of my gift-buying when I was ‘allowed’ online, I was done in three hours. An hour of t
hat was spent in Claire’s Accessories being elbowed, kneed and punched by tween girls who’d all inhaled too much glitter. Laden down with bags, I turned up at the gastropub owned by Ant’s dad.
I was trying to fight my way through the crowd at the bar when Heidi suddenly appeared and threw her arms around my neck. ‘Michael! I’m so glad you could make it,’ she said, and then she kissed me. Like, on the lips, because she’d obviously decided that the ‘Thanks, but no thanks’ speech I’d given her at the Duckie gig had just been me playing hard to get. ‘Oh! Look at all your bags. You got a little something for me in there?’
I managed to shake her off before she strangled me. ‘Depends on whether I got you for Secret Santa, doesn’t it?’ She pouted and I could tell she was about to slip her arm through mine, but I did a nifty sidestep and turn, spotted our table and left Heidi teetering after me in her nosebleed-high heels.
‘I saved you a seat,’ she called, but there was an empty chair next to Scarlett so I threw myself on to it and shared an eye roll with her and Barney.
During the weeks of the ‘Go directly to school and do not pass Go’ regime, which I still think was an overreaction because it wasn’t like anyone died and Mum has been boring all her friends about my ninety-nine-per-cent-confirmed internship in Palo Alto, I only got to hang out with my friends at lunchtime. But mostly, I’d hung out with Barney and Scarlett.
I mean, they already knew about me and Jeane so they hadn’t driven me to the edge of despair by bombarding me with questions and asking me to confirm the rumours that Jeane was pregnant/had emigrated/been expelled. Even though Scarlett had been dying to know what had really happened and would look at me with a really perplexed expression on her face, then frown and squint, but as soon as she opened her mouth, Barney would glare or nudge her and once he’d even thrown a Cheesy Wotsit at her when she’d uttered the words, ‘So, you and Jeane …’