Picture Perfect by Holly Smale

Author:Holly Smale [Holly Smale]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2014-05-08T04:00:00+00:00

’m not going to detail the following conversation in full.

This is because:

it is not a conversation

it’s so loud everyone in a four-million-mile radius heard it anyway

you already know exactly what was said.

As soon as the door shuts behind me, my parents go absolutely berserk.

They didn’t know where I was. Miss Hall had to be sent home. They nearly called the police. New York? Dad had to leave work early. They spent hours wandering the streets, trying to find me. It’s midnight. Do I have no consideration for anyone else? NEW YORK? I could have been murdered, or mugged or kidnapped.

Anything could have happened.

“Except it didn’t,” I point out when Annabel finally draws a breath and Dad sits down on the bottom stair because he’s worn himself out. “I’m OK.”

A little wave of guilt is rolling around the bottom of my stomach. I knew they’d be worried, but I had no idea they’d be this upset.

“That is not the point,” Annabel shouts, and Tabitha starts crying via the baby monitor.

“Well,” Dad says more cautiously. “It is kind of the point, isn’t it?”

Annabel opens her mouth in fury, and then pinches the bridge of her nose tightly.

“Look, I understand you’re angry with us, Harriet,” she says more gently. “But this is not the mature way to deal with it. You can’t just go. It’s dangerous.”

I kick the edge of a stair a few times with my toe. “I just wanted to see New York and …”

Some basic survival instinct kicks in just in time to stop me mentioning Wilbur, magazines or modelling. The pulsing of the vein in Annabel’s forehead has just started slowing down: I don’t want it to explode and kill us all.

“Nick,” I finish.

“Then just tell us that. Your dad could at least have gone with you.” Annabel sighs and sits down on the stairs.

“So what did you do?” Dad asks. “Because I walked up and down Fifth Avenue about six times, asking anyone if they’d seen you, and frankly I’m keen to see how I should have spent that three hours.”

I open my mouth, and then shut it again. Agreed to a modelling job and kissed my boyfriend a lot. “Oh, you know,” I say as sensibly as I can. “Museums. Galleries. Interactive exhibitions.”

“Yes?” Annabel narrows her eyes. “Like what?”

“Umm, well.” I swallow. “I went to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, which spans 5,000 years of culture, and the Guggenheim Museum, which is housed in the Frank Lloyd Wright building and is a work of art in itself, and the Museum of Modern Art, which has one of the world’s most comprehensive collections including Picasso and Warhol.”

Then I clear my throat.

I memorised that speech from my guidebook on the train on the way home, just in case anybody asked. It’s a good thing I know my family so well.

“Give me your guidebook, Harriet.”

Unfortunately, they appear to know me even better.

I reach into my satchel and hand it over. Annabel flicks through it and then stops. I really wish I hadn’t underlined those exact sentences in green highlighter.

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