It was fair to say the fan looked deranged. And on a rampage.

And it was also fair to say, the fan was … me. I was the fan.

So that’s what the sign said!

I hadn’t even seen Joseph D Chambers, let alone wanted to wipe-out his love interest. Not that whoever posted it and wrote the caption cared.

“CRAZED JOSEPH D CHAMBERS FAN GOES ON RAMPAGE AGAINST RUMOURED LOVE INTEREST MAEVE.”

The top comment was even worse.

“FIND HER #JUSTICEFORMAEVE #MAESEPH”.

It had 1,231 likes.

I hated my sister.

And I also hated that because of the crowd, you couldn’t make out Stormy’s dogs knotting themselves round my legs. The only relief was that my hood was up and it was impossible to see my face. If anyone found out it was me, it could be even worse than my Elf Girl secret getting out! But now I felt like my hoodie was evidence and yanked it down. Phew. There was Grace’s black hair piled up.

I felt better already.

Head down, I shuffled through the crowd. I could not WAIT to tell Grace what happened on the red carpet. Or about Ru. Or hear her film review. Knowing her, she’d probably managed to bag Joseph’s number. Or become besties with Maeve.

But when I saw Grace’s face, as she pushed towards me, my stomach dropped.

Everyone around her was smiling and laughing, but tears were streaming down her face.

“Mols. What am I going to do?!”

CHAPTER

6

I could kill Simon.

Lucky for him my parents’ reindeer were imaginary, or I’d have already sent them to trample him.

NO ONE did this to my best friend and got away with it.

I crouched down and wrapped my arms round Grace’s shoulders. There were only two toilet cubicles in this Pizza Express, and we’d been in this one for fifteen minutes. But bodily functions could wait.

Grace needed space. To rant, then cry, then rage, then despair, then stare at her phone. And I needed the space to not ring Simon and tell him exactly what I thought about him. (Grace didn’t want any drama. And apparently stringing him up with my parents’ pigs in blankets Christmas lights could be deemed “dramatic”.)

Tess had got it immediately. When she whispered to ask why we were heading straight to the toilets and not the table I’d mouthed “Simon” and she nodded, not needing another word. Sometimes having a big sister could be OK. Sometimes.

“How could he do this?” Grace sniffed, holding her thumb down to pause the video. She’d played it so many times it probably had as many views as the one of “Maeve’s attacker”. I’d already told Grace what had really happened with Maeve to try and cheer her up, but it only got a half-smile, that’s how bad things were. I hadn’t mentioned Ru yet, the timing just didn’t feel right. “HOW?!”

Even though I’d seen this story thirty times already, maybe this time I could see something that made sense? It was a post from this guy at our school of his mate getting his hand caught in a bowling ball and sliding down the alley after it. But in the background, hanging out in Shut Up And Bowl, was Simon. Who had told Grace he was home babysitting his brother. Not kissing another girl under some plastic mistletoe. A proper eyes closed, hands-all-over-her-back snog. He was even wearing the new suit he’d told Grace he’d got for their anniversary.

My stomach clenched like I had not-fake food poisoning. Every time Grace clicked back and it played again, I hated Simon more. And even more when I looked at my best friend, her eyes swollen from crying, her gorgeous sparkly eyeshadow smeared all over her face. This was meant to be the ultimate day to cheer her up, my way of kick-starting salvaging her Christmas cheer, and this is what he’d done.

I clenched my fists, trying to direct my anger. I wanted to say something positive but I had … nothing. I leant back against the loo roll holder and passed Grace another tissue. Considering this was meant to be the most A-list day of my life, I’d spent a weirdly long time in toilets.

“Why couldn’t he just have told me?” Grace sniffed.

“Because he’s an idiot. A total idiot.” I dabbed eyeshadow off her cheek. “A prize-winning, massive turnip of an idiot. But not in a Brussel Shouts turnip way. In an actual way. He does not deserve you AT ALL. All he deserves is a long and painful death. And a permanently cracked phone screen.” I couldn’t stop. “And kneeling on every single plug there is to kneel on.”

When Grace had turned her phone on after the film, Simon had messaged another pouting selfie. But he’d been so busy trying to look smoking hot (which he hadn’t managed) he’d missed the Shut Up And Bowl logo on the mirror. Grace had been confused, clicked on the location and all the videos came up from it. Including this one.

So not only was Simon an idiot. He was an idiot who couldn’t use the internet.

I rested my head on Grace’s knee, my brain spinning. How could I make this any better? Simon hadn’t just broken her heart; with one single photo he’d broken her whole belief system. Grace loved love more than anything, and if anyone deserved a happy ending, it was her.

Gently, I pressed pause on the video.

“I know this is the worst thing in the world right now, but I promise, if this is what he’s really like, you’re so much better without him.” Oh no. Fail. Her eyes were filling again. I scrabbled around for something better. “Honestly. This isn’t love. This is just one stupid boy. And you … you are the best person I’ve ever, EVER met. And just today I must have met at least twenty new people. So if you think, over fifteen years, that’s actually loads of people. And you really are the best one.” She sniffed, and shrugged her shoulders. “Oi, don’t give me that. Everyone thinks so. Why do you think my parents basically want to adopt you? They’d happily swap me for you, and don’t even pretend that’s not the case. Even Tess likes you, and she doesn’t like anyone.”

Grace wiped the sleeve of her dress across her nose.

“But it’s our year anniversary.” Her shoulders slumped even further. “I’ve already bought his present.” Ouch. I felt another stab of rage as I pictured the super cute photobook of them over the last year that she’d spent weeks making. “I love him, Mol. I thought he felt the same way.”

I growled. I was SO mad at him! “That’s because he told you he did!” I’d heard it a zillion times when they said bye. Grace saying “I love you” and him replying “No, I love youuuuu”, and it going round in so many circles I’d gone to get some crisps from the vending machine and they were still saying it when I got back. C’mon, Molly. Deep breath. “How were you meant to know he was a total liar? That’s on him. Not you!!”

Grace sighed. If we were at home, I’d stick on a cheesy romcom to cheer her up, but I had a feeling we might be switching to slasher horrors for the foreseeable.

“Would pizza be a thing that could help? Just for tonight? Apparently Dad’s ordered extra dough balls.” He’d messaged me to ask if everything was OK. I’d told him we had girl stuff going on, with liberal use of the blood emoji to prevent further questions, and then said, “but dough balls could help.”

Grace smiled. It was tiny, but I’d take it. “I … I do like dough balls.”

Yes, Grace! A stupid boy could take your happiness but he can never take your garlic bread balls of joy!

But there was a knock on the door. Well, another one.

“Not now…” I hissed. How unreasonable could someone be? We’d only been in here for twenty minutes. Some people.

But Grace stood up. “I can’t sit here for ever.” She rubbed her hands over her face. “I just need to not think about… Not think that…” Uh-oh. Her voice cracked. “I had one billion plans with…” She gulped. “… him – and they were all going to be perfect and … sniff … now all I’ve got is…” Another gulp. “Dough … sniff … balls.”

I cuddled her tight.

“Not true. Dough balls. And me. And we are NOT going to let evil Sly-mon” – I was quite pleased with that, but now was not the time to dwell – “ruin today. Or any day. Especially not Christmas. Sure, it’s not an ideal situation, but” – I looked her dead in the eye – “we’re going to get through this together, OK?”

“OK.” Grace nodded gently. “You and me. No boys. And a good Christmas.” She rubbed under her eyes, getting the worst of the mascara dribble off. “It’s what you always say, ‘Life isn’t like the movies’.” She sniffed. “Just took me a while to realize.” She picked up her phone. “Block annnnd DELETE.” She clicked her screen with determination. And then looked sad. Very, very sad. I squeezed her tight.

“Strong start. And don’t even think about your year anniversary. Year, schmear. How about we celebrate our … five-year anniversary.” I already had an idea to make a photobook of all of our best bits to try to make her smile. “Honestly, Gracington, after a truly epic Grampy G’s Grotto and hitting that fundraising target, this time next month you’ll be all like ‘Simon who?’”

Yup. All we had to do was get through the next few weeks together. Then Christmas would be out the way, this stupid film would have been forgotten about, Grace could have started to see Simon for what he really was, and I could get my life back to normal too.

“Guess it’s time to face the world then.” Grace pushed open the cubicle door. The queue of women clapped (especially the one at the front with her legs crossed) and we headed out. But as we hurried down the spiral stairs, I banged into a guy running up in the opposite direction.