The Other Side: Chapter 1: Missy

Missy

23rd March 2019

Monday. Undoubtedly, my favourite day of the week. The day, we all dread. I don’t know about you, but I certainly do. I mean who likes school? Who in their right mind enjoys school? It’s the same stress. The same boredom. The same pressures. The same drama. Day in day out. For five years. Five whole years. I mean, we’re wasting our life, right? I say that, but I’ll let you into a wee secret. I’m actually one of the best performing students. Yep. You heard that right. Melissa Middleheart, well it’s Missy but it just sounds more sophisticated haha, is one of the best performing students at St Oakmore Academy.

Today is exactly two months from our first GCSE exam. Our first exam?! Like where has the time gone? I mean when I started here in Year 7, I thought five years was a lifetime away. But here we are, all these years later. With the knowledge and power, that I supposedly need in order to make a successful life for myself. Not gonna lie, but success is already instilled within me. Success is everything in our family.

Especially to Mum and Dad.

So I’m a famous child. I thought I just better put that out there. Set the record straight y’know? My dad is Harvey Middleheart, the lead singer of Heartland and my mother is Diana-Walton-Gallagher, worldwide fashion designer (you’ll be hearing more about them throughout the book). As you’ve probably guessed, with parents that famous, there’s no escaping who you are. As much as you want to live a normal life, there’s always going to be someone there. Reminding you. Admiring you. Pushing you. Needing something from you. If you don’t have famous parents, then I’m already jealous of you (I’m joking, calm down).

They split five years ago now. Honestly, it feels like only yesterday, since we were all living here in Havenshaw, together. I mean, half a decade?! Like they say time flies when you’re having fun(!). These past five years have been a whirlwind of fun, believe me (!). Dad’s now engaged to this model or as he believes her to be the love of his life. Leila Hamilton. She’s 27, anorexic, narcissistic and patronising. In theory, she has to take the crown for the most annoying person, I have ever come across within my lifetime. If all eyes aren’t on her, then you won’t hear the end of it. She’ll end up having a massive tantrum like the spoilt princess she is. No wonder, her family disowned her last year.

But that’s a story, for later on.

She’s been living with us, for 3 years now. 3 painful and tedious years. What can I do though, eh? I mean she’s making Dad “happy” and that’s all that should matter right?

I woke up. 7:04am. Perfect. Exactly, one hour and eleven minutes, until I needed to leave. One more hour, then I’m free for 7 hours and twenty minutes (the amount of time I’m at school, in case you are wondering).

Nearly there, I thought to myself.

I headed straight into the shower, keeping a minimal getting ready routine. Why do girls take so long to get ready these days? I mean it’s school, not meeting the Queen. Why bother wasting so much time on perfecting the primer or concealing the blemishes? Why spend so long filling in the eyebrows and lifting the eye lashes? It’s just for a few hours, it’s not like a full term facial transformation. In case you’re wondering, all I do is just slap on the foundation, tie up my platinum blonde locks into a high ponytail, then hey presto!

I’m done.

Last night, I’d had a massive argument with Harvey. He wanted me to do an interview with him on Radio X, next Saturday on the release of the new Heartland single “Skylight”, but I refused. I mean, I have more important things to do. For example, revision. But to him apparently “GCSEs are a waste of time”. If you’re reading this, Harvey then I don’t want to end up like you. I have my own mind and I’ll dedicate my time to what I want.

Why would I wanna be like you?

I headed downstairs into the kitchen, tying through my tie and holding my phone close to my skirt.

Deep breath Missy.

Play it calm.

Show them you can rise above it.

If they start on you, then just grab some toast and go to meet Liv.

I felt Leila’s piercing death stare, burning through me like fire. She was sitting at the dining table, with her bronze, slender legs crossed, spreading the tiniest amount of butter onto her toast. The one slice as per usual. Usually, she would skip breakfast, so it was a miracle to see her eat for once. Maybe, Harvey had convinced her to start an actual diet again. If he did, then good for him. It’s an absolute nightmare to get her to listen to you, to be honest. No matter what you say, or whether she was in the wrong or whether you were just trying to help, she won’t have it.

At first, Harvey was nowhere to be seen. Great. I thought to myself. I could grab a bowl of dry muesli, get ready and go.

But no.

Life couldn’t be as easy as that, could it?

Not for me that was.

“Morning, sweetheart did you sleep well?” He said, coming in through the back patio doors, holding his phone close to his chest. Expectedly, he was fully dressed in his “work suit” (this consisted of a white washed denim jacket, a matching white t-shirt, jet black jeans and white trainers) ready to start the day and perfect his doting little multi skilled man act. You know, when people like to make out that they’re juggling everything, whilst battling their inner demons. No, this isn’t me being mean. I’m just simply telling you what he’s like.

“Why are you being nice to me?” I demanded, opening the cupboard for the muesli. His morning statement didn’t come as a surprise to me, you know. It’s what he usually gets like the morning after we have an argument. All sweet and patronising and just very…. Annoying. Most girls my age would love it, you know the normalness between the interaction, but as you’ve heard, I’m not like most girls.

So my reaction wasn’t gonna be like normal teens.

“Look,” He leant against the worktop. “I’m sorry for shouting at you, last night. I understand that you’re stressed out already with your exams. Putting extra pressure on you, isn’t going to help, I know that now. But, it’s been so long since we’ve done anything together, I thought it would be nice to break up your revision schedule, but I get it, if you just want to focus on your exams. It’s an important year for you after all, getting a good set of GCSEs really are a pivotal stone in building a successful future?”

“Don’t pretend you care about me, because it really doesn’t suit you. All you care about is you and your image to the media. As long as everyone loves Harvey. As long as everyone adores, Harvey, that’s all that matters.” I retaliated.

“Missy, we can’t keep arguing like this. It isn’t healthy. Not for me. Not for you. And not for Leila either. You know I want you to stay here. You know I want you to live with me. So does Leila, even though she might have a funny way of showing it sometimes. I know and so does she, that this is the best place for you, and so does your mother, deep down. You have a good life with me. A music career. A fanbase. Admirers. Friends. Why you would even consider letting any of that go, is truly beyond me-”“Well maybe, I just want to live a normal life. To get good grades. To go college. Have friends. Get a good job. Settle down and have a family. Has it ever occurred to you what I really want? Have you ever stopped yourself in a concert or interview and think “does my daughter really want to be shoved in front of a camera 24/7 and pretend she has a good relationship with her father, when in theory he couldn’t care much less about her? Tell me honestly, Harvey have you ever thought of that?” I snatched the bowl of muesli and went out of the kitchen slamming the door behind me. Listening to that for another single minute, would have driven me to some form of mental insanity (like I’m not there already, ha).

After what seemed like the longest thirty minutes in my life, it was finally time to leave, without saying another word to those idiots. Let’s just make one thing clear, I do not get a chauffeur. I never have done, and never will do. Getting a chauffeur, just puts even more of a stamp on you. People have more reason to look, and judge, and label, and that is something that I want to avoid at all costs. Anyway, let’s move on shall we?

Every morning, I walk seven minutes from my house and meet my best friend Olivia Graham at the bus station. We’ve been best friends, ever since Year 8, since she moved to the area. She lives in Redroof council estate (not that she’s not rough) with her Mum, Suzanne, and her little sister, Lola. Honestly, Suzanne is such a strong woman and I genuinely take my hat off to her. She works 15 hours, six days a week, three different jobs and only manages to see her daughters once a week. Once a week. I don’t know how she manages it to be honest.

Liv is Lola’s full time second Mum. She picks her up from primary school, cooks her dinner, helps her with her homework and puts her to bed, every night whilst doing her own GCSE Revision as well. Honestly, I don’t know how either of them do it. I know I certainly couldn’t take on the responsibility of looking after a seven year old sibling as well as myself. But, it’s their life and they do it so well.

I wish I lived with them.

I stood at the bus station. Eyes darted across, my direction left right and centre. But I was used to by now. Some looks can be friendly. Some looks can be neutral. And some looks are just damn right weird. But you just have to get used to it, especially when you have a name like I do. I’ve learnt to defend myself, and that’s all that I needed to do. After all, we’re born alone and we live alone in this life (sorry to sound negative, but the quicker you learn to be realist in this life the better).

“Well, if it isn’t for Missy Middleheart.” Liv began, beaming into a friendly smile. Without a care in the world, she strutted up the worn out pavement proudly. She was fairly short, with an athletic build, and a slightly scary looking face. As they say, the shorter they are, the scarier they are. She was proudly showing off her new caramel blonde locks and her black denim jacket. She couldn’t care less about the uniform. She couldn’t care less about opinions. She couldn’t care less about what people said about her, Suzanne or Lola. Or any of her family for that matter. As long, as she, Lola and her Mum were happy, that’s all that really mattered to her.

It was her 16th birthday at the weekend, and her Mum had been saving up for four months, to pay for highlights and a denim jacket. I know. Sweet, isn’t she? The girls always come first. Like a decent Mum (you’ll understand what I mean by that, later).

“Wow, your hair looks gorgeous.”

She’d got me through some of my toughest times, even though Dad thinks she isn’t “good enough” for me. Just because she lives on a council estate, claims benefits and looks after her little sister, doesn’t mean anything. Some of the nicest, kindest and most successful people, have come from poor and deprived backgrounds. Just because you don’t fit into a certain bracket, by not being able to owe certain possessions or have certain days out, doesn’t discriminate against you as a person. It doesn’t show who you are, or your personality or what you’re capable of, don’t you agree?

“Aww, aren’t you the sweetest, love? Anyway, how are you? Did you have a good weekend?”

“Not good,” I began, as we crossed the road to begin our walk to school. “Basically, me and Harvey had a massive argument last night.”

“Oh dear, what about?” She asked, with her hazel brown eyes widening in concern. Immediately, you could see she wanted to help in any way possible. That was what she was like.

“Basically, he wants me to go on Radio X this weekend, for an interview about the band’s new single “Skylight”, but he’s worried I’ll end up taking credit for the lyrics, seeing as I actually wrote the song.”

“What? Why does he want you to go there in the first place then?”

“Who knows. Apparently if I don’t go, Kian is going to come to school and take me out, and talk some sense into me-”“Kian’s going to take you out of school for a stupid interview?! Ha! Never heard anything more ridiculous in my life. If he touches you, then I’ll whoop his ass. You shouldn’t be pressured to do anything that you don’t feel comfortable with. I mean at the end of the day, it’s your life not Harvey’s. You have a say and a right to only do what you feel comfortable with. He doesn’t control every part of you, Missy.”

“But it feels like that sometimes.”

As much as I hated to admit it, she was right. Why should I feel like this? Why should I feel as though I need to tailor my life to fit his needs? His expectations. His needs. I’m my own person and I’m here to live the life I want to lead. Even if not everyone saw it in that way.

We headed down the alleyway, keeping our eyes out for the head bitches, Kayla Milton and Jade Neelan. They’d been the populars ever since Year 8. Always being chased by boys. Asked to parties. Followed around. They were St Oakmore’s answer to celebrities (not including myself, haha). I’d never had a problem with them. I mean they’d smile and nod, politely and that’s as far as our relationship went. It was Liv who had the problem. She had been their number one target, since the first day.

“I swear if Jade says another single word to me in Maths, I’m going to beat the crap out of her. I mean, I have tried telling Miss Kentworth about it, but she doesn’t listen-”

Oh dear.

Jade and Kayla were behind us.

“What was that about me Liv?” Jade snapped, exhaling from her cigarette in her hand (you could smell it).

“Nothing, I was just saying about how I was looking forward to meeting up with Missy this weekend.” She replied, her voice shaking with fear.

“Didn’t sound like it.” Kayla added, frantically typing on her phone.

“I’m going to give you one more chance to admit what you just said, or I will finish you off here and now.”

“Just leave her alone, Jade. She’s already got enough shit to cope with, without your childish remarks.” I snapped, defensively. I wasn’t gonna let some slutty, makeup ridden lowlives talk down to her.

“Oh and here comes her knight in shining armour, Melissa fucking Middleheart,” Kayla retorted.

“Yeah, well done(!) You can identify who I am.” I said, biting my tongue to try and stop myself from laughing. “Don’t try and make out that I’m some kind of peasant, Missy. Just because you may have a famous mum and dad doesn’t make you special-”

“That’s enough, Kayla. Look I don’t have a problem with you Missy, but I’d rather you let Liv fight her own battles. This is her mess, after all.”

What’s Liv’s mess, is my mess too.