Page 36 of Unnecessary Drama

I’m not entirely sure what would constitute a dramatic scarf but I know I don’t have one.

‘What about this?’ I say, walking to the lounge room and sitting down on the couch, with the Murakami book in my hands. I open it, and hold my head slightly to the side, pretending to read.

‘That looks extremely posed,’ Jesse says, shaking his head. He’s apparently co-directing this photoshoot now.

‘And why would someone take a photo of you on the couch reading?’ Harper shakes her head.

‘Why would they take a photo of me in front of a bookcase smoking and reading?’ I say.

‘Okay, we need to make it look like she’s casually reading and has just looked up as someone says her name, and they unexpectedly take her picture,’ Penny says.

‘Okay Brooke, hold the book and then look up when I say your name, like you aren’t expecting to have your photo taken.’

I follow their orders.

‘Give a kind of “Don’t take my picture, okay fine take my picture” sultry look,’ Penny says.

‘That’s exactly the face I am giving,’ I say.

‘More…cheeky. Like a hint of a smile,’ Harper says. ‘Cute but coy, but also very confident in who you are, on the inside.’

‘Yes, like, you’re tough but you’re also a little soft, and you’ve got an edge of danger, and an edge of nerdiness, an edge of sweetness, and an edge of sexiness,’ Penny says.

‘That’s too many edges,’ I say. I can barely handle one edge.

‘Try to be a cross between Sylvia Plath and Taylor Swift from her Folklore era,’ Harper suggests. ‘With a touch of Princess Diana.’

I arrange my face in the best approximation of this I can manage, aiming for mysterious, pretending I have a scandalous secret that no one else knows. I can’t look at Jesse, because I’m sure he’s laughing at me. Well, laugh away, I’m the one deemed dateable. Maybe. If they get a photo.

Harper is clicking her phone, endlessly, and saying, ‘Less, like, all those emotions, but more subtle. Smize, smize, smize. Do you know what smize means? Okay let me review. Gorgeous, you look gorgeous. But, let’s just take a few more.’

‘You’ll need to take a minimum of fifty pictures of me to get one decent one,’ I say.

‘They’ve got more than fifty here,’ Jesse says, peering over Harper’s shoulder.

‘Let me see,’ I say, grabbing the phone. I scroll through the photos. ‘No, no, no, no, no, no. NO, oh god, no.’ I look either in pain or scared or like I have just murdered someone and I’m pleased about it or my eyes are shut.

‘Okay, new idea. Athletic, but sexy athletic,’ Harper says.

‘Like, a sports bra and short-shorts?’ Penny says, frowning.

‘No, like, leggings and an oversize hoodie with a high ponytail,’ Harper says.

‘That could work,’ Penny says. ‘She’ll need one of your hoodies,’ she says to Jesse.

‘We’re going for adorable girl in an oversized guy’s top,’ Harper says. ‘It’s very “look at me, I’m tiny and helpless and I need a man to protect me”. Gross, I know. The implications of it are deeply sexist and very gender essentialist, and, oh, I could write an essay on it for my class, but let’s also see if we can get a cute photo first.’

I dutifully put on leggings, and Jesse returns with a blue hoodie, and I really don’t want to wear it, but I can’t put into words why not. Jesse seems equally uncomfortable, which makes me even more so. It’s too intimate. It’s too much. I put it on, nervous that it’s actually not going to look oversize on me at all. Jesse is taller than me, but I have boobs, and broad shoulders and a stomach and wide hips. I am not a cute or tiny person: there are a lot of bumps and lumps here.

The hoodie smells like Jesse, and I try to tell myself I don’t like the smell but, unfortunately, I do.

I sit down in the hoodie and kind of slump forward, hoping that makes me look smaller and cuter.

‘You look depressed,’ Penny says, frowning.

‘You look like you’re home sick from school,’ Harper says at the same time.

I sit up straight, very upright, and fold my hands in my lap.