Siobhan's Sporking: Billy and Me, Chapter 22

I’ve been quiet on the lives of Sophie May and Billy Buskin for a while, haven’t I? Look, I’ve read Chapter Twenty-Two, and I’ve been debating how to approach this one best.

In some ways, Chapter Twenty-Two shouldn’t exist in this fic. In some ways, it’s the culmination of some elements that I think Giovanna intended to have as beta-storylines and actually, because of its positioning, its length, its subject matter ... somehow, Giovanna has made this the climax of her story.

There’s a couple of issues within this chapter, and I feel I should split the chapter and talk about each issue in each posting, maybe. These issues are fairly serious, so I’m sorry if I’m not my usual self talking about them. Because somehow? The climax of Giovanna’s first romance novel is a dialogue on social anxiety and the effects of depression, as well as being about the devastating effect of cancer.

The chapter starts with Sophie going up to her childhood room, where she acknowledges that it looks the same as when her father helped her decorate. But the recent events have given a new edge to the familiarity, and there’s not the same comfort that there was. There’s some really deep stuff here, and I can understand and relate to it:

After finally allowing myself to leave Rosefont Hill behind to experience what else life had to offer, my room feels tiny and dingy. I feel as though I’ve worked my way backwards – it’s humiliating.
But I’m safe here, I remind myself.

Sophie then draws the curtains, and hides under her covers, clutching her childhood toy.

Look ... I’ve had to work to not judge this moment. I’m not saying anything bad about depression, and I’ve certainly been there, but before I got ill. And one of the most frustrating things for me after the TTP was that I had to get better, there was no other choice, I wasn’t allowed to wallow in self-pity. And yet my brother, who I don’t have a fantastic relationship with, claimed that my illness made him depressed and he couldn’t function.

I can understand the whim to do this, the craving for denial and the chance to just float. I get it, I do. We’ve all wanted that, right? Some days, on my bad days, that feels like a reward for opening my eyes, like ‘hey, you did the hard work today and woke up, have the rest of the day off’. But I also know how unhealthy this is. Sophie, you’re just perpetuating a dangerous cycle. Get the fuck out of bed and pick up a book. Jilly Cooper, you’d like her. Bake a cake, you used to love that!

Sophie spends an awful long time in her bed. She expounds on things I’ve been saying all along. She says she feels inadequate to Billy, and although she knows that he never meant to make her feel like that and that those feelings are coming from another source, she’s more inclined to blame the other people in his life. She names Paul and Heidi.

She spends a long time – and I mean, a LOT of pages – expounding on all the events that have been chronicled in this story, all Sophie’s moments with Billy, and analysing why she felt so out of place. It feels like even more déjà vu for me, because it’s pretty much what I’ve been saying all along, but it’s taken until this moment for hindsight to set it. Still, she doesn’t accept her role fully in those situations, talking about how no one really wanted to talk to her when Billy was there and they got lumbered with her.

You know what, time out. I’ve just started a new job, one that is actually pretty different from my old one, although there’s enough similar that I can get on with it. But one of the biggest changes is that I’m going from a huge community of people I’ve worked with for years, to a small one where I only know the manager. And the fun bit about being the new girl is that you kinda get lumped on people while you’re learning the job. Now, you can be the silent newbie who never interacts then whinges when no one’s friends with them, or you can damn well make the effort. At least that way, if no one wants to spend time with you, then you know it’s you.

Sophie makes one attempt at self-realisation, and even then, it sounds like another editor’s note written in:

You could say I’d made myself ‘not enough’ from the start. It was always in my thoughts, eating away at me.

I could, and I do. I know how scary it is to push yourself to go for what you want, even if it seems small. I’m still the girl who hasn’t cut her fucking hair in months (I’m really pissing myself off with that one) so I know exactly what Sophie must have been feeling. But here’s the thing: she got dressed up, she did her makeup, she got to those places in the first place. Even as overwhelming as awards ceremonies etc are, she’s made such a push to even get there that I don’t understand why she would give up at the last minute. Surely the adrenaline would be pumping and she would try to use that to speak to people? People don’t speak to people who don’t respond.

Sophie then laments pushing aside her own dreams and ambitions. I don’t remember Sophie having any. She enjoyed baking, and working for Molly, but that was pretty much it. If she had any dreams, she’s been ignoring them a lot longer than she’s known Billy, and she’s being unfair to attribute that to him. She still manages to whine for well over a page about how Billy’s career came before her own, but never once says what she wanted to do. It wasn’t her saying to have her own cake business, that was Carter and myself.

I don’t think Giovanna ever re-read her work and adapted it, not properly:

Occasionally, I think certain thoughts and I wonder if they’re real, or if my brain finds it easier to look back and see all the faults in a bid to get over the heartache I feel. After all, I didn’t always feel bad, I wasn’t always made to feel like nothing; that occurred in only a handful of tiny moments; however, the feeling they cased lingered, because I always saw the truth in them. They helped to feed my own insecurities.

I actually do not know what she’s saying there. Can anyone else work it out? Because this paragraph seems to contradict absolutely every other word in this damn story, without being any real self-actualisation.

Sophie carries on whining, and the next paragraph truly makes me feel ill.

If Billy was plucked out of his life and able to exist as the man I first met and fell in love with, I know we’d be happy together, if the relationship was more balanced. However, I know that equality could never be struck with him staying in his profession. Quite frankly, he has too many people blowing hot air up his arse, telling him how wonderful he is and what he should be doing with his life. He’s never able to live just for himself.

Guys, I can’t even. First of all, I loathe the message that you should only fall for the first guy you fall in love with. We’re going to break down a really successful book for a second, which is aimed at 8 years old and above, and see how relationships were handled in this book. I’ve mentioned this on Jenny Trout’s blog, because the above notion makes me sick. Harry Potter got healthy relationships down pat, better than this kind of drivel. Observe:

Lily Potter: Did not actually fancy James Potter until he grew up. Had a best friend – Serverus – who could have been a potential love interest if he hadn’t listened to his other friends and their fascination with the dark arts so much. She made her relationship choices not based on how twoo her wuv was, but the ideals that her partner had in relation to the situation they were in. Yes, James could be a dick, but he was never dangerous. He even saved Severus’ life when Sirius endangered it. This is one of the major reasons as well, as to why Harry’s eyes get referenced as being like his mothers. He has her outlook on life.

Harry Potter: Was a little freaked out by a younger Ginny Weasley’s attentions. Didn’t pay much attention to girls until third year, when he became aware of Cho Chang. Cue typical teen-boy-with-no-clue behaviour. His first date was with Parvati Patil, and only under duress. I got the feeling throughout the books that he was pretty amiable with Parvati most of the time, despite a difference in opinions a lot, but still, there was no feelings. He finally got with Cho in fifth year, and realised that maybe idolising a person wasn’t the same as being their partner, when sad-about-Cedric Cho was all he got. He couldn’t handle her grief because he felt responsible for it, and because it confused him. Eventually, he realised that Ginny was his type of girl, since she wasn’t overtly feminine, she understood his situation, and she’d calmed down and grown up. Personally, I totally shipped Harry/Luna and thought Harry on-screen had more emotional connection with a snitch than on-screen Ginny, but I was okay with books six and seven and Harry’s relationship.

Ginny Weasley: Girl was walking hormones at one point, wasn’t she? She was besotted with younger Harry, partially because of his reputation and partially because Ron made friends with him easily. After a conversation – or perhaps several – with Hermoine Granger, Ginny decides that as much as it hurt, she should accept Harry wasn’t a possibility. I don’t think she ever stopped caring, but she gave other boys a try. Michael Corner, Dean Thomas, even Neville Longbottom are on Ginny’s list of conquests. And while she was dating these boys, she actually got to be friends with Harry, and eventually they got to the point where they could have the best kind of relationship; they were essentially dating their best friend.

Hermoine Granger: Fell in love pretty much at first sight with Ron Weasley. I don’t think she realised, I know he didn’t. Her first words to him were antagonistic, and oh my Hermoine, I’ve been there sweetie-pie. You like him, you can’t channel it properly, so absolute butt comes out of your mouth. He didn’t like it (they never do) and Hermoine had to re-evaluate. She settled for being his friend. She accepted dates from other guys who didn’t confuse her so much when she was with them, like Krum, and eventually Ron woke up and realised that Hermoine was the girl for him. I think Hermoine was aware when his feelings towards her changed, but he’d made life so hard for her until that point that she wasn’t going to make it easy for him, even if it prolonged their time apart. In a way, Ron never stood a chance.

Ron Weasley: Oh, Ronald! Ron was pretty oblivious to girls until Fred and George teased him mercilessly, wasn’t he? And then the pressure he felt from his older brothers made him terribly misogynistic (“even Eloise Migeon is starting to look good”) so that girls were ranked and he had to be seen with someone cool (that’ll show Fred and George!) and he refused to settle, lest he be teased even more. He accepted the double date with Padma Patil out of duty to Harry, and because the Patils were at least semi-cool. But by then, he was already into Hermoine, even if he wasn’t aware (but you can bet she was) so he treated Padma abysmally. Eventually, he got to date Lavender Brown, mainly to make Hermoine jealous, and realised that snogging did not make a decent relationship, you needed to be able to communicate. But realising that he was already sort-of in a perfect relationship with his perfect girl, and being able to communicate that? Not a Ron Weasley forte. He had to dick around until he realised just how badass Hermoine was, and she stabbed the Hufflepuff cup with a basilisk fang. But he got there eventually.

 

So okay, I picked five characters. Even if I mentioned someone like Cho or Michael Corner, you get more than one relationship. Rowling said that Draco never bangs Pansy Parkinson, who spent her time in Hogwarts wanting him. My point is, the jealousy and hormones and not knowing how to conduct yourself, the self-realisation of what you need from a relationship and your best potential suitor? That’s more what’s needed in fiction. The differing relationships are needed too, Mr and Mrs Weasley are so far removed from Tonks and Lupin, or Bill and Fleur, and that’s because they’re different people.

Maybe it’s just the story I’ve decided to write, about a girl who was used and a guy who’s about to be a major whore, and how they go through life (oh yeah, Carter’s a playa) ... eventually they’ll get to a point where they want to settle down, and that will be the real beauty of the storyline. Maybe it’s just too terrifying a story for most authors to approach (but now we’ve seen them being a slut, how do we realistically get them to settle down?) or else they think because it’s not idyllic and fairy-tale like, people won’t want to know. But it HAS to be better than this ‘one true love’ bullshit, right?

Wow, that rant was a page and a half in word, and I’ve only addressed the first sentence. Totally my soapbox thing. We’ll go back to the quote.

However, I know the equality could never be struck with him staying in his profession. Quite frankly, he has too many people blowing hot air up his arse, telling him how wonderful he is and what he should be doing with his life. He’s never able to live just for himself.

“Equality could never be struck with him staying in his profession” well, frankly Sophie, if you put your foot down and looked for a role where you could work when he does, or a work-from-home situ, you’d be set. You caved to his notion of staying at his place and spending his money and living your life for him because you couldn’t handle fast-food. And trust me, I know just how shitty that work can be, and how degrading it can feel, but walking out to do nothing is not the answer (and I feel like I cheated my way out because of the awesomeness that is Lydia).

As for the last bit, the blowing hot air comment? The weirdness of Sophie saying ‘arse’ in an otherwise PG adult romance novel? The living life garbage? I’m going to quote from the rest of the book.

Billy, on the other hand, is a dream. He’s more than welcoming to the school rabble as he signs their school books, has photos taken with them, and speaks to one of their absent friends on the phone. He even laughs politely at their jokes and answers all their intrusive and personal questions. Chapter Three, when Billy meets the fans and Sophie realises who the fuck Billy is.

“Well, I don’t think she’ll be doing that again – not now that she knows she’s in the presence of greatness. In fact, I bet she’s been on the phone all night to everyone she knows gushing about you. She’ll have been telling anyone who’ll listen that she knew there was something ‘special’ about you from the start.” Chapter Four, Sophie to Billy as she opens the teashop and he lurks to read his lines.

“Oh, shush you. It’s good to know you’re not good at everything, Mr Big Shot!”
“Believe me – there are many things that I’m utterly crap at!” Chapter Five, Sophie and Billy’s first date.

I was wrong when I thought Jude Law would make the perfect Mr Darcy: Billy is breathtakingly handsome in this get-up and I am momentarily transported into a different time and place – one where I’m Elizabeth Bennet, perhaps? Chapter Six, Billy’s appearance in costume after their first tabloid story is leaked.

“In a few weeks, filming is going to be over and you’ll be gone. Who knows where you’ll be working next. You won’t want me in your life then. You’ll go back to your models. On to the next girl. You won’t need me.” Chapter Eight, Sophie’s reaction to the fans reaction.

“Your boyfriend is God, though, so why are you here?” Chapter Nine, Sophie’s boss asking after Billy.

Billy is every inch the wonderful actor I thought he would be – I’m amazed at his believable transformation into this moody and stern character. Honestly, I’m not just saying this because I’m his girlfriend, but I completely forget that it’s him up there. Chapter Ten, Sophie as she watches Billy’s stage play.

“You were brilliant,” I admit, because, bottom and oral sex aside, he really was.
“Better than Jude?” he asks with a cheeky grin. Will he ever let me live that down?
“Much better. Honestly, you were superb!” Chapter Ten, Billy wants Sophie’s feedback.

*in reference to Billy saying that the other actors don’t read the reviews, so he isn’t going to.*
“That sounds like a good idea,” I say, glad that he has decided to take this approach after seeing him so nervous about tonight and what people might think. This definitely seems a more refreshing attitude to take towards something which is, arguably, just one person’s opinion.
“But it’s all about the reviews for you, Bill. That’s why you’re here, remember, to prove your worth as an actor!” Paul says with gusto. Chapter Ten, should we read the reviews?

“But this isn’t your thing to tell, Billy. It’s personal to me. I really don’t want Paul knowing that sort of thing about me.” Chapter Fourteen, Sophie starts trying to separate Billy and Paul.

 ... admiring his smart black tux and the way his hair is slicked up in the quiff style he had when we first met. He looks simply divine and every inch the Hollywood movie star ... I can’t help but beam at him as I take in his gorgeousness. Chapter Fifteen, pre-BAFTA fapping.

I’m going to stop there, or else I’ll be here all night. Yeah, I know it was six more chapters, but I was losing faith in humanity. I was trying to look for all quotes about how amazing Billy was, and how Billy should live to someone else’s standards ... and did you notice what’s up there? They’re all things Sophie has thought or said. The one quote that got included, the Chapter Ten discussion quote, has his manager trying to reason with him to think of the goals he set himself, and not be swept along.

Talking of arses and blowing hot air ... Sophie is definitely blowing it out of her own arse.

So, anyway, back in chapter 22, Sophie’s whining about Billy not coming to her mothers, and how he’s been respectful of her request but he does keep calling and texting. Oh, and Molly’s been harassing her phone endlessly too. There’s a really shitty thought of Sophie’s now. I want you to remember these words, because they’re sarcastic and bitchy and about to smack her around her self-absorbed face:

I’m surprised [Molly]’s not turned up at the door, bringing cake to mend my broken heart.

Pictured: Sophie and her role in the universe.

She stares at the photos she hung up the second she got back of her parents (she’s so emotionally damaged, but not enough to deter her from renovation?) and then we get a scene break.

Sophie says she moped for five days in bed. Wow. You know, I’ve had devastating news, and taken to my bed when I was younger. I managed maybe four hours, then it got hot under the duvet and my hair decided to make a dreadlock at the nape of my neck (get your fucking haircut, Siobhan!) and I needed a wee and some air and ... Sophie is committed to the histrionics, isn’t she?

Sophie says for the last two of those five days, her mother has come into the room, stood by the bed, then walked out again. Intriguing paragraph.

 

Eventually, Sophie’s mum grows the balls to speak. How do these women function in life? For real? Anyway, she’s brought Sophie a cup of tea, which is somewhat of a sign to me that she needs to get the fuck up (my daddy wakes me up with a cup of tea. My daddy is a national hero for this) and then we get a lifetime movie. Sophie’s mum blames herself for a bunch of crap. Sophie blames herself for the same crap. Stuff about Sophie’s dad, and how they handled their grief, and Sophie’s hopes and dreams being dashed.

 

Gimme.

I’m glossing over so many pages here, by the way, because the emo is at terrifying levels. There’s a section break when her mum finally leaves the room, and with it is the change from social anxiety to cancer.

So, the new break starts with it being a few days later, and Sophie has finally left the room. She’s heading to the kitchen, finally sick of tea and toast, and overhears her mother and Colin – the new beau – talking. Oh, what larks, she thinks they’re talking about her:

“I can’t believe it,” she says. “They said she’s quickly getting worse.”
“You have to tell her now.”
“But she’s still so fragile herself, Colin. I don’t know how she’d cope.”
“Jane, she has a broken heart. That’s all.”
I want to shout in protest, tell Colin I think he’s an idiot for being so flippant about what I’m going through, but I don’t, because I need to know what they’re keeping from me.

See, her mother and Colin are talking about ‘her’ and ‘she’ but lolz, they mean two women! Sophie eventually interrupts, and her mother confesses that Molly has cancer. She gives an infodump about how long she’s known she had it, that it’s breast cancer and malignant, that it spread. No sudden knowledge of terminology, which normally happens when someone close to you gets ill (for instance, my family can school you on the Von WillebrandFactor any time you want) but that might be me picking holes. Not everyone has seen Joseph Gordon-Levitt’s amazing performance in 50/50 after all.

So Sophie asks where Molly is, and it turns out she’s in a hospice. Sophie shows her glowing intellect:

I don’t know much about hospices, but one thing I do know is that they’re places extremely sick people go to die.

She’s so fucking sensitive. She then whines that Molly’s about to die, and they’re best friends and she loves Molly more than anything. Bitch, please, you mocked her for her advice on your BAFTA hairstyle, you ignored her call when you thought she’d say “I told you so”, you’ve been ignoring all her attempts to reach you for well over a week and you’ve not been unkind in your thoughts towards her in that time. Best friend, my arse. At least she gets some kind of notion that she’s a terrible person.

The person I love but have ignored over the past week or so because I’ve been so self-absorbed, is about to die. She hasn’t been calling to see how I am. She’s been calling to tell me of her own heartache.

Arguably, she’s been calling to hear of your life with Billy so she can spend her last few days living vicariously through your rags-to-riches story.

Colin offers to give Sophie a ride to the hospice, and she wants to go straight away. Sophie’s big on the instant gratification, isn’t she? Colin tells her yes, but there’s a photographer outside. She’s just acknowledged she looks like shit too (priorities, people!) but after a bunch of crap I don’t care about, she says she’ll go out how she is, and he can print it as a break-up photo if he wants to. I struggle to reason why anyone would take a picture of her if they all believe Billy is banging Heidi again. She’d be forgotten about in a hurry.

Anyway, so the photographer starts acting like a journalist, asking questions that Sophie ignores. The photographer sounds like a character in a Jacqueline Wilson book (not to disrespect Jacqueline, since her books are amazing):

“We’ve all felt ever so sorry for you. It must’ve been awful watching him all over Heidi like that. Apparently he is back at work already, acting as though nothing has happened, that must be painful for you to hear – thinking of him back on set, with her. All over her again without a second thought for you. They’ve not been pictured out together any more, you’ll be happy to hear. Doesn’t mean anything, though, they’re probably shacked up in bed together, making up for lost time.”

And then Sophie gets in Colin’s car, and gives the photographer the middle finger.

That’s the end of the social anxiety portion of the chapter. Billy’s only mentioned in passing, for the most part, which is weird. She never told him about Molly either, which I think is harsh, he bonded really well with Molly according to the canon.

The next section starts with Sophie expounding her vitriol over the tabloids and their need to make a story about her break up with Billy. It is now no longer important to consider her relationship in the face of Molly’s illness. I’m too tired to rant about this, because if Molly was really so God damn important to Sophie, there wouldn’t have been a week and more of moping. Sophie stares out the window, people watching and making a really bad comparison to them living their lives while Molly’s is ending. Seriously, do you feel the heartache in this:

I look out of the window and take in the world around me. Watching as people go about their daily business, not aware that one of the kindest people I know is at death’s door.

I am going to pull from Harry Potter again, I think. Order of the Phoenix, Chapter Thirty Six ‘The Only One He Ever Feared.’:

“He hasn’t gone!” Harry yelled.
He did not believe it; he would not believe it; still he fought Lupin with every bit of strength he had. Lupin did not understand; people hid behind that curtain; Harry had heard them whispering the first time he had entered the room. Sirius was hiding, simply lurking out of sight-
“SIRIUS!” he bellowed. “SIRIUS!”
“He can’t come back, Harry,” said Lupin, his voice breaking as he struggled to contain Harry. “He can’t come back, because he’s d-“
“HE-IS-NOT-DEAD!” roared Harry. “SIRIUS!”

Fuck, even that little bit gets me still. Oh, or hey, chapter Thirty-Eight, “The Second War Begins.”

The castle seemed very quiet even for a Sunday. Everyone was clearly out in the sunny grounds, enjoying the end of their exams and the prospect of a last few days of term unhampered by revision or homework. Harry walked slowly along the deserted corridor, peering out of windows as he went; he could see people messing around in the air over the Quidditch pitch and a couple of students swimming in the lake, accompanied by the giant squid.
He was finding it hard to decide whether he wanted to be with people or not; whenever he was in company he wanted to get away and whenever he was alone he wanted company.

I felt Harry’s pain so much in that book. I know people don’t like Capslock!Harry, but I thought it was effective. Sophie’s whinging is not. She even whines about how Molly should have left a voicemail calling her out on being a shitty friend. I wish I was joking.

There’s a section break because car journeys are hard to write. They’re now at the hospice, and although Sophie’s mum and Colin take their seatbelts off, they don’t move out of the car. Guys, that’s how riveting this story is. Sophie asks to go in alone first, which it sounds like she was going to have to do anyway. So she does, and she asks for Molly at reception, blahblahblah. Molly’s talked about Sophie, so we get some wank about how amazing Sophie must be, gosh Molly just never shuts up about her! There’s a little bit of prep about how Molly might fall asleep as they talk and Giovanna can’t even touch Twist and Shout for bedside illness scenes.

Sophie briefly mentions being choked by emotion, then spends a few paragraphs walking through the ward to Molly’s room. Now, I’ve written a walk through a hospital ward in my story. It did not take Lambrini and Curtis a page to get there.

'Lamb? If you want to meet him, the earrings have to come out. And any pins in your hair. And how long are your nails?'

I held my hands out, and he groaned. I have to rip my nails off?

'Just tuck them into your fists when we go through, okay?' He begged, and I nodded, unclipping my earrings. I dropped them into the glove box and followed him out of the car, up the sidewalk and into the building. A few people waved at him, and two girls so skinny I could see their ribs through their sweaters called him by name, but he didn't stop to talk. I felt like I could barely keep up with him, half-running up the walk behind him. He paused for a moment and took my hand, then carried on walking, slower now. At my pace.

He still hasn't explained Callum properly, but maybe it's because we're now in the hospital, and it might be a little rude to talk about why people are here. He let them know at reception that we were visiting, and we were told Callum was packing. But Curtis whispered as we walked down the corridor that he doubted it. He still hasn't let go of my hand, but I'm very grateful for that right now.

Callum's room feels like it's the other end of the hospital, or else this place is just one huge maze. Outside his room is a clipboard where someone's scribbled his name and in another pen there's the number forty-one. No one else has a number on their board. Curtis knocks, and a second later the door pings open, and the kid there looks a lot like Cody. His hair is a little shorter, but he has freckles and the same strange smile on his face. He focuses on me, but speaks to Curtis.

The second to last paragraph is them entering the hospital. Because this kind of detail? Does not fucking matter. If any of it did, it deserves a mention, but otherwise, the focus should be on why Sophie is there is the first place.

It takes another page for Sophie to open the damn door, and another two paragraphs for her to see and describe Molly, who no longer sounds like the Regina we know her to be.

 

The thing is, even with all the description, I’m just not buying Molly as frail and sickly. Maybe it’s just me, I was little more than a vegetable after my neck vascath got inserted and that was the moment I was like ‘hey, maybe I am sick?’ so maybe my parallels to sickly are different from others. I’ll give her the pass, but only because it took me ten days in hospital to have that epiphany.

Molly wakes up, and she’s enthusiastic but Sophie’s treating her with kid gloves, and simultaneously crying her eyes  out. The whole scene ... sorry, I’m sorry. It’s really hard for me to be subjective here. Everyone in my ward talked to me pretty close to normal. The nurses put up with my dumb questions like it was normal conversation. When I felt okay enough to make dumb jokes, they laughed along or groaned or were like ‘she must be getting better’. My mum cried once, when they refused to give a date for when I could be discharged because they didn’t know at the time if I would survive. That freaked me the fuck out. So well done Sophie, Molly must now think she looks like shit and a Reaper is due to appear. Why was this not part of the nurses debriefing?

And ... I am so fucking disgusted. Sophie is crying and Molly is comforting her. No. Just no. Your job, Sophie May, you fuckface, is to make her last days about her, to maybe joke about the BAFTAs and whatnot, but tell Molly she has more class in her little finger than most of those primadonnas. It is NOT the time for you to whine about how this means you’ll lose your best friend WHO YOU’VE IGNORED FOR DAYS.

Sophie May is such a self-involved bitch.

Eventually, Sophie’s mum comes in and Sophie leaves after a bunch of sentimental crap she should have started with. Sophie collapses in the corridor for extra attention over her ‘pain’ and there’s a section break.

Sophie says she doesn’t sleep that night. She expounds a little on what Molly must be going through, several pages after first learning the diagnosis. Her best friend, people. The phone rings early the next morning, and Sophie’s mum picks up, then relays the message to Sophie. Molly died in her sleep. Sophie wangsts a little about the impact Molly made on her life, and then the chapter ends.

I hate this chapter. I feel like she’s done social anxiety, hospice/hospital stays and cancer all wrong. The things that should be important to the topics aren’t.

Twelve percent more. That’s all that’s left of the book. I am so wrung out by this.

Random general update.

I haven't posted on here in a while, I'm so sorry! I've been learning my new job and trying not to let my head explode with old politics ...

... but I love this new job. I mean, I've been told that won't last, but I don't feel tired, I don't feel sick, yeah my feet are getting used to the shoes so they're a little bit sore, but I get more annoyed by papercuts than that feeling. The other staff seem so lovely, and the job kinda has all the stuff that got left out of my old job that I resented it for. Things like how impersonal it can be to serve customers, because you couldn't chat when you had twenty people queuing behind even if you totally loved a customer's dress.

I mean, I still have things to learn, but I've only done like, three shifts. Give me a break!

As for the old job *sighes* we're not going to talk about that so much. I only really ... my mum's driving me fucking mental over it. Over the length of notice I'm meant to give. It's a week, but I always believed it was two weeks, so that's what I gave. My boss tried telling me it was a week for every year I'd worked (if they were firing me for no real reason, they would have to give me that) and then he changed it to a month. I mean, I knew what he was doing. Not going into that. My mum on the other hand, has decided to be a fucking crusader about it. She made me look at the handbook online (which is how I know it's a week) and then she spent, I wish I was kidding, two hours researching notice periods. I told her how it doesn't fucking matter, but No, Siobhan, No, we must google, in case they sue you.

Yeah. That's the woman who created me, people.

She asked if she should ask her friend, who works for another franchise nearby. I said no, because different franchises and store-owned branches may have different terms. So this morning, she and her friend are driving a couple counties away for work, they stop in a McDonald's, and she fucking asked them. So apparently, it doesn't matter if I vomit out words because my mother is mental. I'm going to sound really juvenile and undermine myself and say - I'm never speaking to her again. Because she is clearly just adding to the fucking headache.

Oh and as a sidenote - I haven't given up on the Billy and Me chapters. It's just that chapter 22 is so difficult to analyse, it's going to take me a while. Soz.

Grumpy as.

Do you know what I hate? I hate people who play mind games. Who try and work you to their own ends even if it messes you right up. Even when you do everything by the book despite the mind games, and they still try and play mind games. When they think they're superior to everyone because they've worked out how to manipulate people.

And even worse, I hate when they know that I worry about my health and they're trying, somehow, to exploit that. This is why I'm cutting you out of my life. And all it makes me think is that you know what's walking away and you can't handle admitting how much you need me.

Ugh. I need to write and calm down/feel better.

War of the Nerds.

So, you probably know by now, I like to get my geek on (zomg, Schuh near my new store has wonderwoman converse! Just, you know, on the geek subject) and I love talking writing and debating theories and shit ... just got a mostly-awesome-but-somewhat-slightly-shitty review on my third chapter of Sammy Who. I replied through a review on the story, since they're not a member of the site. I think I went a little overboard.

First off, they brought up the time frame of the story, and I was like 'totally mentioned it was season six on page one dude, do you see any Leviathans?' but I hopefully didn't sound so arsey as I replied. I mentioned that I thought I had mentioned it, but yes, their brilliant deductions were correct and it was season six (I didn't say brilliant deductions. Thought it, didn't say it).

Then, in the middle, they said "one last thing" which it wasn't, but I let that slide. But then they went into this whole thing about using ' and " to denote speech and how I was using an apostrophe in the wrong context, when I should be using quotation marks. I said yes, if one of the characters was quoting another, I would use quotation marks, but in my experience, most books rely on the singular to denote direct speech. Bitch, please. Again, was a bit nicer than I'm being right now.

And then they said something nice about how I was portraying the characters, but I think a lot of it must have gone over their head. Cue a mother-fucking huge Supernatural rant. Supernatural 101. Supernatural for Dummies. Caffrin, you may correct me on any and all errors, unless we have different perceptions. Then we can totally discuss different theories like the raging geeks we are.

So, to me, Supernatural has, and has always had, multiple layers. On the surface, it's a series where every week, the Winchester brothers (Sam and Dean) go and fight a different monster. They're cool and calm and rational. They beat ghouls, wendigos, ghosts, demons, chupacabra (sorry for the spelling on that one) all within 40 minutes. They will slaughter the fear of any horror movie for you. They tackle myths and legends and there is so much awesome folklore.

On another level, they get really into theology. The story starts with a demon feeding Sam blood, because Sam is a psychic baby and the blood enhances his abilities. They both end up in heaven and in hell. Dean is saved by an angel, they get into the notion of the apocalypse and the four horsemen, the war between Michael and Lucifer, the fights in heaven, the power plays in hell, the roles of humans in the grand scheme of things, the location of God, the Leviathans and the horrors of purgatory ... I love this sort of thing. It's almost like a televised version of Paradise Lost, if Paradise Lost included the Winchester brothers and a fuck load of blood and salt.

Another level (there's more!) is this almost satirical element to the whole thing. There is so much humour, and concept for breaking the fourth wall ... they have an episode called Changing Channels, were Dean and Sam end up in TV episodes and have to play their parts on the shows to get out of them. There's an episode called The Mystery Spot which is a little like Groundhog Day, except it's always Tuesday, and Sam has to watch Dean die. The French Mistake, they were zapped into an alternate reality by Balthazar where they looked remarkably like the actors Jared Padalecki and Jensen Ackles who act in the TV show Supernatural (my favourite line? "I'm a painted whore!" and yes, correct use of quotation marks!) ... these are some of my favourite episodes too, because you can tell they went to town and had fun with it. But within the standard "monster a week" episodes (as Jensen puts it) there's humour too. Like, they were in prison in season four, and a demon took over someone's body, and he shot the local sheriff. The demon left the body, and the person, coming to terms with what's just happened, says in a daze "I shot the sheriff?" and you see Dean fighting not to laugh, and you know what I'm going to say already. There's this pause and it's like he went 'fuck it, say it, you'll die if you don't.' "But you didn't shoot the deputy." And I wet myself. They parody themselves too, there are books and conventions and rabid fans, there are idiots online called Ghostfacers who think they can do exorcisms ... they mention Dean and Sam slash, for God's sake! ("Do they know we're brothers?" "Yes, and they don't care.")

There's also the whole idea of their relationship with each other. I love this part so much too, because they're typical guys in so many ways, but in other ways, they've always been all that each other has ever known. Before Dean gets dragged into hell, during season 3, they have a Christmas, and it's like, their first ever Christmas. They give each other porn, beer, and gas for the car. There's something so real but so emotional in something as basic as that for me. But their relationship is so deep, so intricate ... Sam looks up to Dean a lot, I think. He knows how intuitive his brother is and how confident Dean is in his own decisions, and although Sam would like to believe he's just as confident, I don't think he is. Whereas for Dean, he's always looked out for Sam and will always look out for Sam and there could be literal hell on earth, Lucifer could rule all, and Dean wouldn't care so long as Sam was okay. Dean sold his soul for Sam to be okay. And he has to watch as his little brother goes through so much shit and try to keep it together for Sam and ... I just think their relationship is so beautiful.

So okay, my fanfic, I want to explore the idea of what Dean would do for Sam if he had no idea who Sam was. At the same time, I wanted to explore the idea of what Sam would do if he had no choice but to use his demon-enhanced psychic abilities. Like, he's addicted to the power that demon blood can give him, but Dean hates him using the powers - he's forced Sam into "rehab" (a demonic bomb shelter) more than once. So I'm exploring that, and this reviewer is like 'but Dean hates those powers, why would Sam use them?' ... dude, he's an addict, he's been in rehab, the guy is going to be battling the temptation versus being sober, not worrying about what his sober brother thinks. Just ... did she not see the scene where Sam loses control and starts sucking down demon like a vampire would? Do these people watch? For more than just banging one out over Jared and Jensen and Misha (don't recommend it, you'd be happily going along and then someone gets dismembered or something ... TMI? I'd just really worry about what you're into if you were into that!)

*sigh* I need me some more Supernatural. Why is there still 11 days until the season 8 boxset?

**edit** God, this person! Apparently, they checked their bookshelves to prove I was wrong, and can I give a detailed list of books I've read that support my theory? Bitch, I'm not the anonymous poster, I clearly have fuck-all to prove. They also said they skim read anyway, but somehow that's my deal?

Change

I guess I can write this now ... my slightly cryptic/shittily worded message about my friend Lydia in my last post? Was about something truly awesome.

She's given me a new job.

I'm posting now because a)it's official. I has emails, and b)I just emailed my boss to let him know that my resignation exists and is in our store. Both the letter and the email were really hard to write, I've only ever written one letter of resignation before and that was 10 years ago when I left the gym I was a cleaner at. I only worked there six months, not quite as huge an impact on my life as the 8&1/2 years I've spent flipping burgers for a living. Somehow, even though I'm excited and I get to work with awesome people and I get a shoe allowance, I feel like I'm failing in some way. Maybe it's because I know that I couldn't make management work as well as I wanted to with my health the way it is.

Or maybe because it's been 8&1/2 years in the same place and I'm not used to changing my employers the way some people are. Or because being in the training room today made my head spin as bad as it has been the last week. They need oxygen in there. I don't know. I just know I'm excited and nervous at the same time. I'll get settled soon, I'm sure.

So ... yeah. There we go. I will now be selling shoes for a living.

I love shoes.

Thinking positive

After my sleep-deprived rambling in my last post that never really went anywhere ... Some good things in my life right now, that I can appreciate since I had a 3 hour nap today:

-boy sent me a get well soon letter at beavers. Sweet, but the beaver leader called me mrs, and gave me my son's surname. So somehow, I've double-barrelled my name with his fathers? Creepy. The letter itself rocks.

-my BFF Jodie got engaged! I'm taking credit, since I told her to go out with her fiancé in the first place. You are welcome, Jodie.

-there is a chance me and my BFF Cat (I have a few BFFs) are going to a convention in May, with Misha Collins, Mark Sheppard and Jim Beaver due to appear. I could potentially meet Crowley and Castiel next year. I hope Misha has good, anti-fangirl security ...

-my friend Lydia might be my guardian angel. Unless I'm totally delirious by illness and reading her PMs wrong. I will reward her with books for this. Or possibly, perfume that smells of books. Yes, we have conversations about that.

Insomnia

You know, I bitch on here a lot, but it's actually a relatively small amount compared to how much I actually bitch. But now I am going to bitch like crazy, because I'm just worn out. There've been a few mentions in my other posts about the state of my health, but it's not even the half of it. I guess by blabbing on here, I might make sense of some issues.

Like, remember back in July when I said I had laryngitis and bronchitis? I went to the doctor about 4 times over my chest. The infection's still there. I still have to wrap up just to take a chiller temperature. I still cough too hard until I gag if I try and laugh at something.

I had a sinus headache so bad a few months back that led to my doctor sending me into hospital for medication. That headache? Is back. I can't move without a stabbing pain in my head. I can smell my own mucus, even when my nose is clear.

I woke up last week with a mouth full of blood. Fresh blood. I freaked, checked my mouth in the mirror - I have a wisdom tooth coming through after all - but my actual mouth was fine. I spat in the sink, and more blood came up. Checked my mouth again, nothing. Spat again. Blood.

I got sent home from work a few weeks ago, feeling dizzy and disoriented. That feeling hasn't exactly gone away.

I had a week off last week, and still felt drained, and tired, and I'll. my sleep pattern's disturbed by my shift work as it is, but I couldn't catch up on my sleep in my week off. At the moment, I've had 7 hours sleep since Wednesday. Two of them I had yesterday. I was like a zombie last night. I think the guy taking over from me could tell that something was wrong because he got the trainee manager on last night to get some of my stuff done. I'm due back in in 7 hours. It actually feels like it would be dangerous of me to try to work. I got this strung out in April, and ended up going off the wall. I parked in a car park and fell asleep because I couldn't function.

I'm not right, and I'm scared. I can't help but worry if I'm relapsing whenever stuff like this happens. I feel like everything in me is breaking down, and my brain's rushing about trying to cope but it's not doing a single productive thing and right now I can feel it contracting. That isn't right.

I'm going to try and sleep in a minute. Just hope it's not like the seven hours of agony I had yesterday, attempting and failing to sleep.

Flashback

So, this feels like a dirty little secret. I don't know why ... and it won't after this post.

I'm kinda writing my first fanfic in about six years. About Supernatural (yeah, you should totally watch the hell out of that show). I'm doing it in third person which isn't my usual MO so this is going to be interesting.

I'll add a link in somewhere if I remember my fanfic.net password and post it there. Because I know you would totes wanna read.


**edit** and here's the link Sammy Who for some reason, the title got chopped in half. It's just Sammy on there. Totally lost the pun on that show Samantha Who. Eh, I'll live. In other news, I have an overnight tonight and I have a sinus headache so I can't sleep. Sinus headaches suck balls.

Siobhan's Sporking: Billy and Me, Chapter 21

Hey. So, you know how last chapter I was like ‘Squee! This is the best thing Giovanna’s ever written, it’s so realistic! Guess it must be editor’s notes!’

I’m pretty sure it was editor’s notes. Because chapter 21 ... chapter 21 ... you know when you get fanfics of say, Harry Potter and the secondary characters act nothing like they do in the books? Like Neville in the Ariana Black series? That’s chapter 21. Billy is not in character, Sophie is not in character, Heidi is not in character. It feels like Giovanna was having a tantrum over her editor’s suggestions (as you saw in my 100^th post, I know from writing your tantrums out) and although she allowed them, this was her rebuttal.

I can’t think of any way to really do this, because I am going to get mad. But then I thought ‘hey, they’re all hideously OOC, like they’re in a play. I’ll script this crap!’ – maybe I’m reading Mervin’s take on Rose Potter too much (one sentence is too much, but Mervin’s asides are worth it) but I think it’s the best way forward. Also, being OOC is another check on fanfic/Mary Sue bingo. Did you think I forgot that, Giovanna?

Sophie: I am at home. I am having a tantrum. I always get my own way Billy! I mean, chuh, I’m an only child, I’m used to it. You have a big family, you’re used to conceding. I want to break Billy’s shit, because this is an appropriate reaction to him doing his job. Billy is so mean for putting his work before me. It’s all about ME! We never argue like this, in the five minutes we’ve known each other. What’s a honeymoon period? But I am right as well, not ‘overly sensitive’ as Billy put it. When have I ever been over-sensitive in this entire book? Exactly. I’ve spent some of this afternoon wondering if I could be wrong, in a nod to my so-called lack of self-esteem, but then I remember Billy’s a dick and that makes me right again.

Still Sophie: Yeah, I am monologue-ing in a bad way right now. I am so ready for Billy to come home so I can scream at him. I will tell him exactly how he has messed up and how wrong he was, so he can see how right I am. Because I am. Right. I am right. I’m not wrong. That’s Billy, he’s wrong. Someone’s texting me. It’s Billy. I hope he’s grovelling already, although I will still chew him out, because he’s wrong.

Billy’s text: Having din-dins with my director-poo. g2g. brb. Chats later, kthnxbai.

Sophie: Today has been totally horrendous, completely devastating.  We could be over. But instead of coming to me like he’s meant to, he’s picking his director and therefore his work above ME? He should be rectifying his mistakes, which include listening to the director and following the directors directions. This just shows how Billy’s thinking right now, and it’s not good because he’s not thinking about me. He’s been doing this in all the months I’ve known him or something. Since the BAFTA’s that happened at the wrong time of year or something, let’s go with that. Billy’s priorities have changed. I remember when we met and he took the Mr Darcy role to prove he was a serious actor, and then the stage play to prove he was a serious actor, and then this latest role to prove he was a serious actor. We decided – I did, but same thing – we decided we’d have a happy home life and build for a long future together, and we’d keep Billy grounded. And now it’s all about his career, and people respecting him for his acting talent more. He needs to be desired and admired more than I do, which can’t happen. Billy is changing far too much. Maybe it’s playing this Stan guy, he’s becoming narcissistic and selfish and egotistical just like Stan. What’s a method actor? Maybe Billy’s confusing fiction with reality once the cameras stop rolling, like I frequently do. But taking a pretend life that far into your own is a ridiculous idea to me.

*scene break.*

Sophie: The hours have passed. I can’t do transitions, that’s why we have a scene change, although I’m still in the exact place in our house. I’m not feisty anymore, like I was in the last section break, because it’s been hours and I don’t understand about short-lived feelings. I’m now paranoid, and fragile, and lonely, and nervous, so I guess I’m at least a little bit in-character for this paragraph. Where is Billy? I forgot he told me in the text. I know he has to go to work early tomorrow, so why’s he out late now? Has he died or gotten AIDS? I am now likening Billy’s absence to the time I had a tantrum at my dad and he died getting marshmallows for my hot chocolate, because I couldn’t drink the peasants version without. I feel sick. I tried to call Billy at 2am because I can’t sleep without my human teddy bear but he’s not answering me. He couldn’t be asleep anywhere else. I sit on the sofa and hug a cushion and stare at the wall clock like a crazy until this section ends.

Sophie: Wow, I actually broke my batshit cray-cray long enough to maybe doze off for a nap, probably. I woke up to my phone ringing, like I have a billion other times this book because Giovanna thinks that’s a good wake-up, and I hope it’s Billy. I really need to chew him out. It’s not Billy, it’s Paul. Eh, close enough, even though Paul is evil and I hate him. Billy likes him, and Billy would talk to him, so I will deign to talk to Paul. Hi Paul.

Paul: Sophie?

Sophie: I will not confirm this, even though I waxed lyrical about the tenor of my voice from my lack of sleep. I will instead demand to know of Billy’s whereabouts.

Paul: Yes, I know where Billy is, crazy bitch.

Sophie: Where is he? What happened to him? Does he still have his limbs? Does he still have his fame? Why didn’t he come home last night for me to scream at him and have angry hate-you sex? I am stumped on this one.

Paul: Billy’s fine.

Sophie: Look, Paul, I keep asking where Billy is, you’re not giving much away. WHERE IS BILLY?!

Paul: He stayed here last night. He’s at work now.

Sophie: Why?

Paul: Because he’s a lead and in most of the scenes? I will sigh dramatically so you can be more neurotic.

Sophie: I am neurotic! Is Paul annoyed with me? Does he hate dealing with me and my existence in Billy’s life? Is he still trying to take Billy away from me? I will put way too much weight on this sigh, even if it’s early morning and he probably called me first thing when he woke up because Billy asked him to. I won’t appreciate what Paul does for Billy at all.

Paul: Look, he went for that dinner tonight. I’m too busy for your usual shit. Billy will tell you, because you know, communication is key to a decent relationship. He’ll be back at nine. I only called to give you that five-word message. I should learn to text you instead. But Sophie? This ain’t my issue.

Sophie: Oh my God Paul, what could this possibly mean? Has Billy gone to a strip club, or a brothel? Has he cheated on me? Why? I’m Sophie May, dammit!

Paul: Sophie, I work for Billy. I am Team Billy. I called as a favour to my client. Frankly bitch, you can’t afford my charges. And your attitude yesterday was appalling and if I were Billy I would kick you to the curb. I guess you’re lucky Billy’s so whipped.

Sophie: What? Did you actually judge me on my attitude when you weren’t even there?

Paul: For fuck’s sake Sophie, stop grilling me. I’m keeping mum. Billy will tell you. I don’t deal with your relationship, I just have to keep Billy on top form. You are making it really hard to encourage him to focus. I’m going to hang up now, crazy bint.

Sophie: I immediately start crying, even without an audience. This means something has definitely happened. There is no other possible explanation for why Billy would sleep at Paul’s last night, because I am temporarily forgetting about my behaviour. Unless Paul is lying, like I always suspect Paul of doing, and Billy slept somewhere else. Is Paul covering for him? Has Billy cheated on me? I’m going to mention cameras and stuff, which makes no sense, before I declare it as fact. Billy. Has. Cheated.

Sophie: I put in another section break, to make that statement extra powerful, despite my lack of evidence. The hours go by, but I refuse to keep myself busy. I did that yesterday, by the way, though I won’t really mention how. I have no energy, because my stupid thought pattern has wiped me out. I spend the entire day sitting on the sofa, staring at the wall. I think I’m becoming numb to pain but it’s eating me up inside so clearly one of these things can’t be. Molly keeps calling me, and I would love to hear a friendly voice, but she’ll probably say I’m over-dramatic and side with Billy, and anyway this is more dramatic. I prefer the silence. I won’t go into how it can be silent and my phone can keep going off at the same time. I need another section break.

Sophie: I hear a key! A key in the lock! It must be Billy! I mean, Billy holding a key, not Billy being the key. He hesitates, for drama, then lets himself in. I’m still on the sofa. He’s got shit posture, and his face is red like he’s been crying. He looks drained, and in shock, but surprised by me sitting here. Why does he look so shitty? We fought yesterday. God! He looks at me, and bows his head in shame so I know I’m superior here. I MUST have been right. He crouches down and starts crying, punching the floor with his fist. What a fucking drama queen. I stay where I am, watching him and lapping up his performance and feeling like the queen of fucking Sheba. I am interpreting his crocodile tears as confession. He has cheated. I listen to his cries and want to tell him to shut up, but then I couldn’t lord this over him. I will suffer his suffering.

Billy: I’m so sorry!

Sophie: He stands up, his hands over his face, but his breath hitching. I don’t even guess that he’s hiding the fact there are no tears to go with the histrionics. He comes closer, and I flinch like an abuse victim, to make him seem even worse. But he doesn’t touch me, or try to get me to hug him – huh, as if right now – he sits next to me, staring at the floor. I guess he took his hands away from his face, but I don’t mention irrelevant details like that.

Billy: I’m so sorry.

Sophie: Too late bitch.

Billy: I can explain!

Sophie: Will explaining it take it all away?

Billy: No, because an explanation defines, it doesn’t delete.

Sophie: Then I don’t want to know.

Billy: But you have to understand!

Sophie: I will now employ the silent treatment. I am loving how Billy isn’t even questioning my assumption that he’s cheated. That means he’s clearly cheated. Oh, fuck, my silence means that he now thinks he can explain, even though I said no.

Billy: I need to tell you everything! First, I will centre myself through breathing. There. So I felt shit when you left yesterday. I sucked, but I will say it’s because I missed you and not because you’re pathetic tantrum threw me out of whack. I will use a lot of lines in this speech, like ‘I hated knowing I’d upset you so much’ so that you will eat this shit up. Max suggested taking me and Heidi for dinner, and I agreed because maybe he’d say in a restaurant the stuff he should have said while we were filming. I went to see Paul first, and agreed to meet Max and Heidi in the restaurant. When I got there, it was just Heidi. She said Max was coming, but we should order.

Sophie: Carry on, even though I just said I didn’t want to hear it. I am surprisingly okay with you having dinner one-on-one with Heidi, compared to everything else I’ve been jealous of so far this book.

Billy: Heidi seemed happier than she has been lately. We had a lot of fun, she was so funny.

Sophie: Oh, how good for you! /sarcasm

Billy: Please don’t be a bitch Sophie, I’m trying to grovel. So Max never showed and Heidi was like, lolsurprise, we’re on a date! Even though I said we were cool but at the same time she’s been a frosty bitch. There has been no hint that she was after anything more since she appeared, but she must be vilified nonetheless, right? I was all ‘what’s up with this shit Heidi?’ and she was all ‘it’s nice to bond again, just us, amiright? And then when we got our second course she started reminiscing about the old days and how she pictures me naked while she beats one out and how popular would we be in the press if we got back together? I said, wait, aren’t you getting married? PLOTHOLE! And then started talking about getting a playstation 4 and she got pissy.

Sophie: Poor thing /sarcasm

Billy: As soon as we had the cheese and biscuits round, after dessert and coffees, I asked for the bill and we were out of there. I must have been pissed, like full on legless. I won’t guess if Heidi roofied me, because I don’t think Giovanna knows what a roofie is. But then Heidi pounced on me, sucking my face like a lollipop and being really out of character. She even grabbed my dick, at least, I think she did. Giovanna made me say ‘cupping my bits’.

Sophie: And then you went to hers, told Paul to cover for you, and fucked her brains out. How lovely. I no longer want to hear this, forgetting that I said earlier I didn’t want to hear this.

Billy: No, you’ve made me a complete prude. Plus, something about commitment. Oh, a photographer was there, she got a picture of the whole thing.

Sophie: Muchlolz!

Billy: I gave Heidi my confused puppy-dogs, and she was grinning, like surprise! She called us the next Brangelina, and I realised she’d set it up! I couldn’t believe it, because it’s unbelievably out of character. I pushed her away and was like ‘ewww, gross, I can’t even do this shit with my girlfriend!’ and I wanted to come home-

Sophie: Oh, but you didn’t. You must be lying, even though I will count this as you cheating, since you’re describing being so into this kiss and all.

Billy: No, I went to Paul for some advice.

Sophie: What about me? I’m a neurotic mess, you can’t just leave me in the dark! I thought you died!

Billy: Sorry, I was asking Paul to trace the photographer and stop the story. A series of unbelievable events occurred and we couldn’t stop the story running. Even though you usually get notified in advance, like when Dougie in Mcfly was in rehab and that story broke and Mcfly were discussing it for days before allowing it to happen. Real life, huh?

Sophie: So Billy will be in the papers again. I will now make Billy feel shitty for considering me so much, especially after my unreasonable behaviour. Did you snog her back?

Billy: What?

Sophie: It’s a simple question Billy, it only requires a yes-or-no. I will be a bitch whatever, so the relevance of the question is of itself questionable ... I guess that’s what you were really asking.

Billy: Yes. No. I don’t know! It happened so fast, like when the Winchesters steal a gun that’s been poking them in the head without the trigger ever being pulled. I wasn’t thinking.

Sophie: Do you fancy her?

Billy: That line again? I mean, no!

Sophie: Okay, I will rephrase, but I’m basically asking if you fancy her. Do you have lingering feelings for her?

Billy: Urgh, no, she’s nasty and dirty and smelly and I hate her because I might lose you and I don’t want to lose you! She’s a wicked bitch! Are these words actually coming out of my mouth?

Sophie: It’s not her fault you fancy each other. All the girls do. You’re such a flirt, you were a manwhore before me, you treated me like dirt yesterday for no reason.

Billy: *grovels*

Sophie: *getting into the stride she was after at the very start of the chapter* You’ve changed, Billy. You used to be cool. It used to be about me, but you’ve lost your grip on reality, on what’s important. It’s all about your career. When did you change your perspective? Remember when you were like ‘Sophie, you don’t need to work’? Billy, you don’t need to work! I’ve changed too, I was all happy to live with you, but I’m not now, because now it’s all about you, and I need to think of me for a change.

(I’m not shitting. The actual line is “Your world is all about you, and I think I need something to be about me for a change.” Also, if you’re playing the Mcfly song title game, you can tick off All About You, which is actually Giovanna’s freaking song.)

Billy: But it is all about you. It’s all about you, baby. Dancing on the kitchen tiles, Yes, you made my life worthwhile, So I told you with a smile, It’s all about you. Anyway, I‘m hurting that you’re hurting. I want you happy. I’m so sorry that I’m such a cad. You were right, the scene was gross. I should have prepared you in some way. I should have been a diva and rewritten the entire script. How dare I have tried to justify it, or see it from the correct viewpoint, if it differed from yours! It’s sick. Sick and depraved. I can’t believe I allowed you to think for one nanosecond that you were the one with the problem. There should be no nipples, or licking of nipples, in any kind of cinematic display. Like, in Titanic, Kate Winslet’s boobies? Ugh! So degrading and not artistic at all, right? I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so, so, so, sorry!

Sophie: I will allow you to continue to grovel, and tell me I’m right.

Billy: I throw myself at you *throws self at Sophie* I love you oh-so-much. Never leave me, I’m so co-dependent. You’re so important to me.

*end scene*

Sophie: Billy eventually stopped crying and apologising after a few hours. Good, it was getting a little bit annoying. But he has giving me a great idea. We went to bed together, agreeing to talk in the morning, because everyone thinks it’s healthy to go to bed on an argument. Guess I’m about to prove that one. I don’t sleep, for drama purposes. I want my mummy! I don’t want to be here. Billy’s sleeping through my angst. He looks like he has no concerns in his sleep, so I guess I wish he was having a nightmare. I don’t have much shit in his house, it won’t take me long to pack. I’ll leave the Vera Wang, so Billy can wear it. Billy might follow me to mum’s, so I will leave him an appropriately dramatic note. *does so* I walk out.

Sophie: Gosh, that was so dramatic, I needed a scene break just to get to the station. I go to WH Smiths, and buy the first paper I see with Billy’s face on it. I decide to read on the train, for suspense. I overhear some other girls.

Random extra: This is so terrible. Billy’s shagging his co-star. I thought he was happy with that fat nobody. It’s her I pity, because no one has done so in the right way yet. Maybe Sophie will appreciate more the vacuous pity of a stranger?

Sophie: Eh, it’ll do for now. I get on the train, and stare out of the window angsty and artfully, until I’ve mused enough on my role in Billy’s life and our rash decisions to move in together to be able to read the newspaper in just the right way. The picture is how Billy described, which he didn’t in the book so I will now. I will describe his emotions and how I can see them in the picture, and then say that if I didn’t have the knowledge that he was jumped and hating the kiss, I would think he was in love with Heidi. God, I can’t believe he cheated!

Newspaper: This is a repetition of Billy’s story. But Billy loves Heidi. He split up with Sophie. They fought in his trailer and everything, yo!

Sophie: Who did they quote? Was it Heidi? I bet it was Heidi, the bitch. This paper lies, but it will sell many copies and people will believe I’m not with Billy any longer. Let’s ignore the fact I just snuck out while he slept to run away from him. I can’t believe my entire pitiful life is once again in the papers for everyone to enjoy like I’m some sideshow! I spent all my teens avoiding attention! I didn’t want people to know me! And they still don’t, but now they think they do! Woe is me, I am the court jester!

Sophie: I needed another section break, because train journeys from London into Kent are surprisingly long. Like seriously, a high-speed still takes an hour to get to Dover? Only takes 50 minutes on a normal train to Southend! I get home, and ring the doorbell so I don’t have to look for my keys. Also, I get instattention from my mum this way.

Sophie’s mum: Sophie, you’re here! What’s wrong?

Sophie: Mum! *cries*

*chapter ends and fades to black*

I paraphrased the whole chapter, sure, but the basic storyline is the same. How fucking Mary Sue of her is it to have Billy grovel to Sophie like that? It’s a disgusting, disgusting chapter. And people still side with Sophie!