Read By Any Other Name for Free Online Page A

ignoring that it’s grotty lino under my feet, not smooth tiles. I ignore that I have to walk down the hall to my room and that there’s hard grey cord carpet under my feet when I get
there. I ignore the fact that when I log into my netbook, my Facebook account isn’t saved in my Favourites and I have to do a search to find my page.
    My fingers tremble as I key in my account name and password.
    I ignore the voice that tells me I shouldn’t be doing this.
    Ignore everything I’ve been told.
    Ignore . . . ignore . . . ignore.
    My profile page flashes up.
    Four weeks ago, from Tasha:
    wherever ur, hope ur ok. stay safe, babe <3
    That’s the last post on my wall. There’s nothing since.
    I scroll down and read the earlier posts from the start. 6th December at 19.36 from Tasha.
    why u not in school 2day? i txtd u like 15x!!! what’s going on with u? call me xox
    7th December at 18.56 from Kirsten.
    Retro time! Check these out!
    7th December at 19.05 from Tasha.
    ur scaring me. ru ok? plz call <3x1000
    It’s hard to read some of them but I do, through the whole lot since the day Holly was born. Next I click on to Tasha’s page and read that. Then Kirsten’s, Talia’s,
Lea’s . . .
    At first, it’s all full of where am I and has anyone seen me, and worry and then fear. But then . . . and I swallow hard here . . . then it all gradually goes back to normal. Lea’s
seeing a new guy. Kirsten’s blown away by this track from a band she’s just discovered. Talia’s slaving away on a portfolio of photographs for her art project. Hardest of all,
Tasha’s mum is sick and it’s serious.
    Their lives are going on without me. I feel like a peeping Tom, spying on them. There’s no place for me with them now. I don’t even exist.
    Four weeks since the last message on my page. They’ve forgotten me. They’ve moved on.
    And then I do it. I force my finger down to tap the touchpad and open up Dan’s profile page. I read his wall.
    Dan Wharton
    In a relationship with Callie Tyler
    It’s like someone’s spun me upside down and round and over and . . . I feel sick . . . I don’t know whether I’m standing up, lying down . . .
    He has a new girlfriend.
    It should be no surprise. He hasn’t posted on my wall at all since I’ve been gone.
    But still, to see it there in text on the screen . . .
    I know I’m crying. I can feel the tears on my cheeks, but I don’t know what to do to stop them. It’s like I could cry forever.

I realise I’m angry when I’m sitting in assembly the next day. I’m not angry just with Dan, or Kirsten, Talia, Lea, Tasha.
I’m not even just angry with
Them
, the reason I have to be Holly. I’m angry with myself. If I hadn’t stuck my nose into stuff that was none of my business then we
wouldn’t be here and I wouldn’t have lost my friends, my boyfriend and be marooned here in Boringsville. This isn’t a red mist of anger. It’s more like embers smouldering
inside, heating slowly until I feel their burn all the way through me.
    This morning I went into registration and everyone looked at me. I didn’t recognise anyone from yesterday. One or two might have been in a class I had but the faces merged together into
one big mess as I tried to avoid their gaze. A girl with a dyed blonde ponytail looked me up and down and sniggered. I eyeballed her. My stomach wobbled – part stress and part anger at the
attitude she was giving me. Who did she think she was? She had a face like a camel.
    There was an empty chair by the front and I dropped my bag beside it.
    ‘Are you the new girl?’ Ponytail Girl’s friend didn’t waste any time, sauntering over.
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Where did you go before?’
    ‘You wouldn’t know it. I’m not from around here.’
    She shrugged and walked away, back to her friends in the corner. I got my timetable out and looked where I was supposed to be next. The girls glanced over at me a couple of times, but mostly
they lost interest. I’d checked that