Don't Follow Vee Read online

  About the Book

  100,000 followers on Instagram - a young girl's dream, right?

  Wrong! Please DON'T FOLLOW VEE!

  Everyone knows all about my life - from birth - thanks to Mum's Instagram, The Chronicles of Vee. But with so many followers now, Mum's starting to take it way too seriously.

  My mission?

  To stop Mum posting everything about my life by making my life unfollowable and hers cool enough for her own Insta.

  Fail and I could be doomed to being followed forever!

  Another hilarious tale from the fabulously crazy Oliver P, best-selling author of Thai-riffic!, Con-nerd and The Other Christy.

  Contents

  Cover

  About the Book

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Acknowledgements

  Extract from The Other Christy

  Room to Read

  Oliver P’s Story Cube

  About the Author

  Books by Oliver Phommavanh

  Imprint

  Read more at Penguin Books Australia

  To Veronica Lee, the creator of the original Chronicles of Vee.

  Chapter

  One

  When I wake up in the morning, the first thing I always see is Mum’s phone.

  ‘Morning, Vee!’ Mum takes a snap of me in bed. ‘Mmmm, I need to take that again. Come on, Vee, be natural.’

  I yawn and turn on my side. It’s unnatural for a twelve-year-old girl to be awake this early. I close my eyes and hear a few clicks.

  ‘Ah, that’s better,’ Mum says. ‘A normal start to the day.’

  Normal? Not when I have an Insta-mum.

  Every day, my life flashes before people’s screens. I was only two hours old when I first appeared on Mum’s Facebook wall. She tagged it #thechroniclesofvee

  Veronica Lee. Vee. The Chronicles of Vee. Yeah, I think it’s weird when parents pick their child’s nickname too. I’m just lucky Mum picked a good one.

  Dad had no say in it because he left before I was born. It’s a bit of a touchy subject with Mum. All I know is he went back to Hong Kong. He might as well have gone to Mars because he hasn’t made contact with us since then.

  Mum started blogging about me on The Chronicles of Vee, looking after me and working from home as a tax consultant. She became popular with all the single parents. So many people enjoyed her posts that she created a public account on Instagram, and it blew up quickly, gaining even more followers. Now all Mum does is Instagram.

  So I don’t need to keep a diary. It’s all up there on Mum’s Instagram account. She calls me the star of her universe. It’s just that there are thousands of satellites orbiting around me, looking on. When I turned seven, though, Mum did ask me if it was okay to continue The Chronicles of Vee. She told me that we were a team.

  She’s asked me that question every birthday since and so far I’ve said yes each time.

  My birthday is on the first of August, which is six weeks away, so I don’t have to think about it yet. I’ll take it one day at a time. Actually, make that one hour at a time, because I’m running late for school.

  I rush down to the kitchen with my schoolbag. Breakfast is already laid out on the table. Granola with yoghurt and blueberries.

  I gobble the blueberries first. ‘Can’t I have Coco Pops?’

  ‘We tried that,’ Mum says. ‘They don’t look good in photos.’

  ‘They taste a million times better though,’ I say. ‘So, is this breakfast going to be your morning post?’

  ‘No, we posted our dinner last night, so I don’t want two foodie posts in a row,’ Mum says.

  I stare at the whiteboard near our fridge. It has a list of ideas for posts. ‘How about one of my calligraphy pieces?’ I say.

  Mum scrolls down her phone’s screen. ‘Mmmm, we did that last Wednesday.’

  I walk up to Mum and touch one of her half-moon earrings. ‘What about these? Are they new?’

  She dangles them around. ‘They’ll look a little big on you.’

  ‘No, you can wear them in the post,’ I say. ‘I bet our 121,007 followers are dying to know what you look like.’

  ‘That’s 121,116 now,’ Mum quips. ‘Besides, it’s called The Chronicles of Vee.’

  ‘Come on, we’re a team, right?’ I say.

  ‘Let’s stick to what works,’ Mum says, pressing my nose, ‘and that’s posting things about you. Can you do something spontaneous?’

  ‘It wouldn’t be spontaneous then.’ I tap my fingers on the dining table. ‘Can’t we just skip it today? I’m already late.’

  ‘Everyone is waiting for us, Vee,’ Mum purrs. ‘Our followers need some Vitamin Vee with their breakfast.’

  ‘They’re followers, not controllers,’ I snap back, grinding my teeth. There are days when I don’t want to play along with Mum. Sometimes I feel like a seal at the zoo doing tricks for likes. ‘What if I just want to go crazy?’

  I open my backpack and tip it up on the dining table. My coloured pencils roll out everywhere. My sketch pad and books bounce in all directions.

  ‘Take a shot of that!’

  Mum pushes a few pencils into the middle and stands up on a chair. She takes an overhead photo. ‘Great idea, Vee. I’m going to call this a Monday morning mess.’

  ‘Cool, so you can clean it up then,’ I say.

  ‘What? You made the mess,’ Mum says.

  ‘We’re a team remember?’

  Mum starts picking up the pencils with a growl. I laugh and help her, trying to make up for losing my cool.

  ‘Those earrings do look dazzling,’ I mutter.

  Mum gently pinches my left cheek. ‘Thanks, Vee.’

  I wish Mum could appear on The Chronicles of Vee. We might be a team but it feels like I’m doing all the work.

  Chapter

  Two

  Mum loves having lots of followers online but it’s not so fun having them in real life, especially at school. Everyone knows my name and yet I’m not popular. Figure that one out.

  I walk to Merryford High, stopping at Annabelle’s house on the way. There’s a plumber’s van in the driveway, so Annabelle’s dad hasn’t left for work yet. He opens on my third knock, dressed in his work clothes.

  ‘Hello Vee.’

  ‘Hi, Mr Murphy,’ I say.

  He lets me in. ‘Annabelle’s running late.’

  I smile. ‘She must have caught that bug off me. Busy work day?’

  ‘I already started at six this morning,’ Mr Murphy says. ‘Just dropped by for some breakfast.’

  Wow, and I thought my day started early. As I follow Mr Murphy down the hall to the kitchen, Annabelle taps my shoulder from behind.

  ‘Close your eyes and hold out your hand,’ she whispers.

  I do what she says and something gooey plops in the middle of my palm. My hand tingles. ‘It’s cool and sandy,’ I say.

  ‘Sandy?’ Annabelle says.

  I use my other hand and dip my fingers into the slime. ‘Mmmm, yeah I bet it’s glitter.’

  ‘Wow, I’ve taught you well.’ Annabelle clicks her fingers an
d I open my eyes. Annabelle’s neon-green slime has silver and gold glitter through it. It looks like I’m holding a magic frog.

  ‘This is my fourth batch,’ she says. ‘The others were too grainy.’

  Annabelle’s a slime queen. She’s also one of my few friends who doesn’t want to hang out with me to be Insta-famous.

  ‘You want to make some fluffy slime with me after school today?’ Annabelle says.

  ‘Yeah, for sure.’

  Annabelle grins. ‘Cool. Mum thinks I’m crazy spending all my pocket money on shaving cream, contact solution and craft glue.’

  ‘My mum is just plain crazy,’ I say. ‘This morning, she let me tip my schoolbag all over the dining table and make a mess.’

  Annabelle laughs. ‘For The Chronicles of Vee that’s just another normal day.’

  There’s that word again. I wonder if what we do at home could really be normal.

  As we head for the door, Mr Murphy calls out, ‘Forgetting something, Annabelle?’

  ‘Oh yeah.’ Annabelle walks up to him and shapes her hand like it’s a duck’s beak. ‘Bye, Daddy duck.’

  Annabelle’s dad uses his hand to speak too. ‘Have a good day, Anna Duck.’

  They kiss each other with their beaks. Annabelle says they’ve been doing ducky kisses since she was four. It’s cheesy and sweet at the same time.

  Annabelle gives me a sideways glance. ‘Sorry, Vee. Do you want to join in?’

  ‘No, he’s your dad, not mine.’ I turn my head away, wondering where that came from. ‘Besides, I’m more a cat person.’

  ‘Okay, Vee-cat,’ Annabelle quacks with her hand.

  We head out the door, running down the street before we slow down at the school gates. We walk through and some Year Ten kids act as roadblocks in front of me.

  Larry steps forward. ‘Can I get a selfie with you?’ he says.

  ‘You do this every day,’ I say. He must have swallowed a goldfish and inherited its brain.

  ‘Yeah, because you’re still famous,’ Larry says. ‘The person with the most Instagram followers at Merryford High.’

  I wonder if I’ll get an award for that. Or maybe they’ll name something after me. Vee’s art room. Vee’s garden. I’d settle for Vee’s tree. It took years for everyone at Merryford Primary to treat me like a normal kid and now I’ve had to start again at high school. I was hoping one term would be long enough, but it’s nearly the end of term two and some kids are still yelling my name or wanting my attention.

  I sigh. ‘Okay,’ I say to Larry, ‘let’s make it quick.’

  Annabelle steps aside and Larry takes the shot with his friends queuing up behind him. I’m more like one of their toys than an actual celebrity. I’m hoping an actual celebrity or even a superhero or alien might pass by to distract them, so I can slip away with Annabelle.

  ‘Burgers forever!’ Bryan yells. He rides his bike past us, holding a burger in his hand. Matty follows him with an action camera strapped to his head, filming the whole thing. Larry and his friends get distracted by the whiff of bacon and egg, giving me time to escape. Bryan’s a wannabe celebrity, but he did just save me, so I owe him one.

  Annabelle and I weave through the handball courts and try to find a place with a lot of shade. Annabelle doesn’t like being out in the sun. My best friend is not a vampire or snowman, she’s just fair skinned.

  Bryan parks his bike at the racks and walks towards us. ‘Hey, Vee and Annabelle.’

  I wave. ‘Let me guess, another burger for breakfast?’

  ‘I discovered this tiny cafe near my house. It makes a delicious bacon, egg and beef burger with a tangy cherry cola barbecue sauce. It tastes so sweet.’

  ‘Yeah, I can smell it from your shirt.’

  Bryan checks out his sauce stains. ‘These are my battle scars.’

  ‘Didn’t you already post a burgergram yesterday?’ Annabelle says.

  ‘Ah, so you’ve checked! Thanks for being one of my sixty-five followers.’ Bryan tries to lick the stains off his shirt. ‘Anyway, I can’t help it, that burger was calling me.’

  ‘Calling out to be eaten?’ I ask.

  ‘Yep, the Burger Whisperer strikes again.’

  Bryan pulls out his phone. It’s still something that makes me look around to see if a teacher’s watching. You were never allowed one in the playground at primary school but at Merryford High, you can use your phone anytime out of class.

  ‘Aww, man, it’s only got one like so far,’ he says. ‘But I guess I just need to keep posting things to get more followers.’

  For a second, I think Mum’s taken over Bryan’s stick-figure body, because she tells me that all the time. If you don’t post often, followers will think that you’re dead.

  Matty appears, with his hoody up. ‘Nice work, Burger Bryan.’

  ‘Thanks, my sidekick.’

  ‘What?’ Matty says. ‘I’m more like a partner.’

  ‘Second-in-charge, then.’ Bryan turns to me and Annabelle. ‘I’ve given Matty access to my profile, so he can comment for me when I’m busy.’

  ‘Or when your hands are too greasy,’ Matty says. ‘Someone has to take your burgergrams.’

  Bryan pats his tummy. ‘Yeah, I’m planning to do a hundred by the end of the year.’

  ‘If you don’t have a heart attack first,’ I say.

  ‘At least I’ll die doing what I love.’ Bryan thumps his chest. ‘Burger Bryan for life!’

  ‘A very short life,’ I add.

  Matty gives us a cheeky grin. ‘Don’t worry, if Bryan carks it, I’ll keep his Instagram going.’

  ‘You can’t call yourself Burger Bryan. Anyway, if I die, I’m taking you down with me.’

  Bryan lifts up his arms and launches himself at Matty, trying to get him to smell his armpits.

  The bell rings for first period and saves Matty from a ghastly death. We all walk to English. Most of my classes have kids from Merryford Primary, so it feels like Year Six-and-a-half. I’m so lucky to have Annabelle in English and Maths, so we can sit together like the good old days.

  Miss Lam is standing by the door. ‘Come on in,’ she chirps. ‘Phones in your bags, please.’

  ‘She’s had way too much coffee again,’ Bryan says through the side of his mouth. ‘Nobody can be this happy on a Monday.’

  ‘Give her a break, she’s new,’ I say.

  Miss looks so young that she could be someone’s big sister. She also has her phone glued to her hip. She takes photos for the English department’s Twitter account, but I’ve caught her in class looking at her own Instagram. Nobody minds because she’s cool and pretty.

  I take out my pencil case and find a red pen. Miss Lam crouches down next to me and pouts her lips. ‘Did you find your lucky purple pencil?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Your mum posted that you couldn’t find it this morning,’ Miss Lam says. ‘She said you had a Monday Morning Meltdown.’

  ‘Meltdown?’ I almost snap my pen in half. It was supposed to be just a mess. Did Mum just make up a story? That’s never happened before.

  Annabelle nudges me. ‘When did purple become your lucky colour?’

  ‘Since never,’ I whisper. ‘I tipped out my backpack because we were …’ Great, now I’m lying to my best friend, thanks Mum. I don’t want to say that we were stuck for ideas. Annabelle doesn’t know anything about Team Vee and how we plan our posts. I hide the ideas whiteboard whenever she comes to our place. Mum tells me not to tell anyone that we plan our posts, it’d be like revealing a magician’s trick.

  But lately I’ve been wondering if I should tell Annabelle everything. She knows me inside out. She’s a Veexpert.

  Something sharp hits me in the back. I turn around and a purple pencil rolls under my chair. I look up, right into the eyes of Emily. She might have been one of my followers since primary school, but only to mock me. You could say she’s a troll, but that would give those fairytale monsters a bad name.

  Emily smirks. ‘Just
thought you might need a bit more luck this morning.’

  A few of her friends chuck their purple pencils at me as well, while Miss Lam’s busy on her phone. I clutch the pencils and pretend to throw them back.

  Emily flicks her hair. ‘Calm down, Vee. Isn’t one meltdown enough for today?’

  ‘Nice one, Em,’ Hassan says. He’s like a parrot, squawking after other people’s comments.

  I roll the purple pencils on my desk. Monday Morning Meltdown. It makes me sound like I’m a tantrum queen. A spoiled brat. Miss Grumpy Pants. I’ve never felt this sick about any of Mum’s posts. And that includes the ones where I was a naked baby with a happy emoji sticker covering my privates.

  Annabelle wraps her arm around my shoulder. ‘Don’t let Em get to you,’ she says. ‘She’s just jealous that you have way more followers than her.’

  ‘It’s my mum’s account,’ I mumble.

  I couldn’t imagine having my own. There’s only room for one Vee online.

  Chapter

  Three

  Miss Lam splits us up into our comprehension groups and my group is reading our class novel. I’m with Matty so it’s not too bad, but I’m also stuck with Hassan. It doesn’t help that the class novel is a one-way ticket to sleepyland. I wish we could read our own books. I’m dying to find out what happens to Agent 57, in the Operation Spy Star series. I’m hooked on spy thrillers right now because I think I’m leading a double life on Instagram.

  Our group is supposed to be reading quietly but Hassan is yakking to me about his gaming stream channel.

  ‘I play CraftBlaster for about two hours every night,’ he says. ‘You should watch me play sometime and give me a shout-out, Vee.’