I said it without thinking, and I regretted it immediately. Lily eyed me in a way that sent a cold trickle running down my spine.
Dylan was right. Murray had lied to me. Lily was a plant. She had to be.
But then she turned back to the mirror and the look was gone. ‘He’s not wrong,’ she said airily. ‘It’s in everyone’s best interests for this season to be interesting. If you want to get onJuliet on the Beachor make any money at all as an influencer, you need people to know who you are. Nobody’s going to know who any of us are if they stop watching because we’re too boring.’
‘Is that why you…?’ I had no idea how to finish the question.
‘Am the way I am?’
I nodded.
‘Honey,’ Lily said, ‘this is who I am.’
‘It’s not, though,’ I said. ‘You’re different in here to how you are out there. When the cameras aren’t around, sometimes you’re almost pleasant. When they’re on, you’re a monster.’
‘Thank you.’
‘That wasn’t a compliment.’
‘You,’ she said, ‘are more complicated than people give you credit for.’
I had no idea how to respond to that.
‘And so am I,’ she said. ‘The monster and the person are both me, Amanda. I contain multitudes.’
‘Are you…’ I bit my lip.
‘Am I what?’
‘Are you worried?’ I asked. ‘You obviously know you’re going to be the villain of the season. Are you worried about the reaction? The trolling? The death threats? Are you going to be okay?’
Lily met my eyes in the mirror, and for the first time, I saw her smile. Not a smirk, not a half-smile, not a sarcastic grin, but a proper smile.
‘Thank you for worrying about me,’ she said. ‘That’s sweet. But you don’t need to. I know what I’m doing.’
She took a make-up wipe and rubbed it across her lips. Her lipstick came off in a red smear that looked for all the world like blood.
‘I always know exactly what I’m doing,’ she said.
I felt the exact opposite way. I had no idea what I was doing. Not even a little bit.
So I made a decision. The only one I could. The only one a person with any self-respect would make.
I was going to leave.
My hair and make-up partner for that night’s Last Chance Party was Belinda. She was quiet, sitting in her make-up chair, looking at herself in the mirror, running her tongue over the edge of her broken tooth over and overagain, so instead of talking to her, I planned what I was going to say.
I like you, but I think we both know there isn’t a spark here,I’d say to Romeo-Dylan.It’s time for me to go.
Of course,he’d say.I’m so honoured I got to share that date with you, Amanda.
He’d tell me he was sad. But then he’d let me go.
And I would go down to the Convent, away from both Dylans, and use the time to sort myself out. I wouldn’t have to worry about dates and parties and one-on-one time and all the on-camera stuff we had to do. I could just spend three weeks pottering around at the edge of the lake and figuring out what to do with my life.
The Convent was full of women, so it wouldn’t exactly be the ideal place for this, but I could practise being on my own. I’d bounced from Mark to Jac to the Dylans with only that brief period of wallowing in my childhood bedroom between them. I could use the time to reflect, rather than wallow. I could try and believe in my best features list. I could try and believe in my affirmation flashcards. I could try and actually become the Mandie 2.0 I kept pretending I already was.
I could finally do what Mum had wanted me to do: sit down and come up with a plan for what was next. Not a fantasy plan. A real one, with real steps, back towards solid ground.
