Blame My Virgo Moon

Prologue of Wondrous Joy Forever
I HAVE A GIRLFRIEND! Therefore, I am automatically better than anyone who is tragically single, like my friend Zanna. People in relationships can do cute activities together, like going to the cinema and ice-skating outdoors and, um . . . doing funny accents?
   Okay, maybe not so much that last one. Although my girlfriend, Morgan, is Irish, so you never know. Either way, what can single people do? Lie about and weep, I suppose, or learn piano. I don’t have time for that: my days are packed with dizzy-
ing romance and gushingly gorgeous moments! Yesterday, I laughed out loud, just for the sake of it.
   “Quiet, Cathleen,” bristled Mrs. Warren. “This is an English mock exam.”
   But what would a teacher know of love? I will not be quiet!
   As Virginia Woolf once said: “There is no gate, no lock, no bolt that you can set upon the freedom of my Instagram-perfect
lesbian relationship.” Or something similar to that anyway.
   True, it is a LITTLE sad sack of satsumas that we didn’t celebrate our first Valentine’s together. (Morgan doesn’t “subscribe to heteronormative capitalism.”) And she still hasn’t watched Frozen with me. And she also called Taylor Swift “a little mainstream.” (Yes, FOR A REASON?!) Hmm . . . But these are creases we can iron out, right?!
   Because at last, after fifteen long and difficult years, I’m as happy as a Leo—which is very happy indeed, given how easily impressed Leos are. Anyway, back to me . . . I am very content, and it’s literally my birthday! For once, a day that’s all about me.

Aquarius Season

1
Not on My Wasp
My favorite color has always been orange. So why is the theme of my On Fleek Fifteenth yellow?! According to Siobhan, who oh-so-graciously organized my party for me, “yellow is basically the same as orange anyway.” But it’s really not. I currently look like an electrocuted bumblebee in my stripy top, blond hair curling in every direction!
   I’m also wearing yellow rain boots, which is never a good or fashionable thing to do. I look like my parents in their sad vegetable patch in the garden. But I literally had no choice: thanks to this party, there isn’t a yellow shoe to be found in all of Kent.
   Everyone’s taken the yellow theme very seriously, and Siobhan’s vast open-plan living area looks like a wasp’s nest. There’s Alison (with her latest boy-craze, Tall Adam), Habiba (with her boyfriend, Imaran), and the ever-glazed Lip Gloss Lizzie (with her boyfriend, Gloss-Guzzling Lawrence), all in sunny ensembles. Kenna seems to be holding a boy hostage behind the standing lamp, and even my best friend, Zanna, is arm-wrestling with Posh Josh O’Conner.
   (I do mean literally, by the way. Zanna doesn’t “do” romance.)
   Basically, my birthday party looks like one massive speed-dating exercise. In yellow. The only person without someone is me! Morgan better have an ÜBER-Gucci excuse for being late. She knows how important tonight is! Aquarius Season may be the time to be selfish, but there are limits. Even for a Gemini like her. We’ve spent AGES revising my bespoke friendship plan so she can befriend my friends—I made a PowerPoint, which is more effort than I put into my schoolwork! Zanna, who actually made the PowerPoint while I dictated the important bits, told me as much.
   Before I can digi-catapult any angry-face emojis my girlfriend’s way, Siobhan comes marching over in a tight-as-Tweedle-Dee-and-Dum yellow dress and glittering heels that practically double her height. Tragically, Rich Elizabeth is with her, with an enormous yellow bow in her hair like she’s been gift wrapped. They’re both dripping in eye-scorchingly dazzling gleaming gold jewelry.
   Siobhan is obscene for Alexander McQueen and she’s designed the party in homage to the SS99 No. 13 Collection. Which includes having her ex’s Lad Friends dress as robots and spray-paint guests black and yellow on the back patio. People have deliberately bought white dresses from charity shops in town to participate and are now lining up to be vandalized! Siobhan says it’s going to be “very memorable.” She’s not wrong . . .
   Siobhan also has a new boyfriend: the golf-obsessed, polo-wearing Dale Collins, who is currently handcuffed to her by the wrist— Wait. What?!
   “Christ on a bike, Cat! Where have you been?” Siobhan demands, slotting a key into the cuffs and setting Dale loose. He scampers to the bathroom, looking relieved. “Me and Elizabeth had to go into the backyard to look for you, and you know I hate nature!”
   I blink at her. “I’ve been standing here the entire time, Siobhan.”
   You’d think I’d be the center of attention, considering it’s my birthday, but apparently not. I suppose there’s a good chance I just blended into the honeycomb bunting.
   “Well, happy birthday, chicka!” Rich Elizabeth bedazzles away, air-kissing my cheeks. “I don’t know anyone else born on February sixteenth, so it’s, like, very In Vogue of you. What prezzies did you get? Daddy bought me a Porsche for my birthday in January. I can’t wait until I’m old enough to drive it!” Then she opens a cooing convention in honor of Siobhan’s dress. “And this truly is Beaut-McFruit, Siobhan. You look amazing!”
   “I always dazzle in yellow,” Siobhan agrees, tossing back her hair, which is so shimmeringly shiny, I’m wondering if she’s actually had it laminated. “Well, every color, actually, but yellow especially. This dress is from the brand-new McQueen collection, so I HAD to debut it tonight. Honestly, you’d think I’d planned the whole party around it!”
   She fake-laughs with Elizabeth as my eyes widen, because now that she says it, I’m absolutely sure that’s exactly what she’s done! But before I can say so, Elizabeth goes, “Wowzer’s trousers, is that Brooke the Crook?”
   We look around. A Brooke Mackenzie sighting is a rarity indeed! She’s suspended so often, she apparently missed the whole of seventh grade without anyone noticing. But sure enough, Elizabeth is right. Brooke is crooking about by the snack tables, gangly, redheaded, and freckled.
   Brooke is not the caliber of crème Siobhan would invite, especially without a budgie-smudge of yellow in sight. She’s actually wearing green! Is she trying to get herself meat-minced?! Siobhan is rather a dress-code Tokugawa, so this is a McDisaster!
   “What is BROOKE doing here?!” Siobhan gags. “She hasn’t even been spray-painted!”
   “Maybe she came for the free food?” I suggest. Honestly, Siobhan should be pleased: some bowls are practically untouched. I get that a theme is a theme, but is it any wonder nobody’s tried her lemon-peel salad?
   Sadly, Siobhan’s having none of it.
   “Brooke?” she barks, marching over. Me and Elizabeth watch with googly eyes. “You’re not following my dress code. You’re welcome to be spray-painted on the patio, but otherwise, you’re going to have to leave.”
   Alarmingly, Brooke just sticks her hands in the pockets of her shorts and sways back and forth on the heels of her bright red Converse.
   “Wow, Siobhan, so harsh!” she chimes. “Maybe I just don’t want to look like Pikachu?”
   Rich Elizabeth giggles, I wince so hard I poke myself in the eye with my straw, and Siobhan’s face turns two whole beetroots redder. Siobhan does not like to be laughed at—something
that caused havoc during her stand-up routine at the school talent show last year.
   “ENOUGH!” she explodes furiously. “Do not reference something as nerd-soaked as Pokémon here! This is an invite-only event and, now that I think about it, YOU weren’t invited. Fact! So hitch up those ridiculous shorts of yours and LEAVE!”
   Brooke’s smile fades as everyone in the room draws breath—and, in the dingy corner, Zanna catches my eye and draws a line across her throat with her finger. An unhelpfully visual reminder of Siobhan’s capabilities. But then like a low-budget horror movie, the front door crashes open, and silhouetted against the glow of the porch light is . . .
   “Morgan!” I gasp.
   Now, I like to think I have some dignity, despite Zanna once telling me that I have “about as much dignity as a donkey in dungarees.” Really, I should be fumigating. Morgan is two hours late! However, she’s also goose-level gorgeous and divine. She wears glasses with über-cool green frames and has pale blue eyes, as well as the most adorable constellation of freckles across her nose. Her thick, dark hair is thick and dark, and she has the dreamiest Irish accent. I don’t stand a chance!
   Rushing over, I pepper her with kisses and jump into her arms like I’m in a Hollywood Movie. Then, once we’ve made sure her shoulder isn’t dislocated, I drag her inside.