Girl, Ultra-Processed (eBook)

Amara Sage (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2025 | 1. Auflage
432 Seiten
Faber & Faber (Verlag)
978-0-571-38592-8 (ISBN)

Infos

A searing look at diet culture and all its ugly consequences, from the talented writer of Influential. Girls like Sydney don't get rejected, because girls like Sydney aren't real . . . when I'm Sydney my body doesn't matter. I'm wearing hers. Saffron Saldana can't stop comparing herself to the other women in her life and she only feels good when she is catfishing boys online. She welcomes in the New Year wishing she was as desirable as her best friend Poppy or as confident as her SlimIt coach mother. But when Saffron takes on an alter ego, Sydney, an impossibly beautiful AI-generated Instagram model, she finds she has control over how others perceive her for the first time in a long time, and she likes the power. Pretending to be Sydney seems like a bit of harmless fun, but suddenly Saffron finds she is in too deep, with no idea how to stop what she has set in motion. Girl: Ultra-Processed explores what it is like to be a teenage girl in our current body-obsessed world while juggling family drama, friend dynamics, dating, betrayals and major life changes.

Amara Sage graduated from the Bath Spa MA for Writing for Young People with a distinction and lives in Bristol with her husband and two dogs. She writes contemporary, own-voice YA fiction that explores issues of body image, mental health, racial identity, and the impact that social media has on all of the above.

Textauszug

december thirty-first

It is six minutes to midnight, and nobody here’s kissing me when the clock strikes.

(Questioning if I would want them to though.)

I’m surrounded by a bunch of legal adults who still call their mum mummy, which is unsurprising, considering this is a party in Poppy’s halls. She’s at the University of Bristol, staying in accommodation literally called Manor Hall.

‘I don’t believe anyone who says they prefer giving gifts rather than receiving them, do you?’ I blink at her flatmate, Bella, who sits on the table, looking down at me. Her foot’s on the edge of my chair, digging into my leg.

On the other side of the table Poppy’s chatting to a boy. I watch his hand keep landing on her bare thigh, her sculpted quad muscle tensing each time.

Bella smiles at me expectantly, so I say, ‘Same,’ though neither of us is particularly invested in the conversation.

Bella’s fine. Sure, she’s a class-appropriating posh girl who boasts she’s into grime because she has two of Stormzy’s chart songs on her Spotify rotation, but she’s nice enough. She’s someone Poppy would’ve rolled her eyes at if she’d shown up at our humble parish school toting her Burberry backpack, but not now though. I notice her copying Bella’s mannerisms all the time. She’s reinventing. Mum called it something like keeping her gown friends separate from her town friends.

This party is the first time I’ve seen Poppy outside of work since November, and I don’t think she’s seen Freya since even earlier. August, September? Then again, neither have I. Which is sad, because at the end of sixth form the three of us were inseparable, and we assumed we still would be not even six months later.

‘What do you study again?’ Bella asks, picking at something stuck behind her acrylics.

‘Social Anthropology. At UWE,’ I add, before she can ask. She already knows I’m at the University of the West of England but will never miss out on an opportunity to tell me that it’s still a good uni despite the rankings.

‘Oh, yeah. You’re such a good fit for there.’

I pull a tight smile, free-pouring vodka into the mug patterned with hand-painted poppies I bought Pop two birthdays ago.

She cheersed me with it when I told her I’d declined my offer at Manchester, even though it was my first choice. I knew I would the minute I submitted the application though, that I wouldn’t have the courage to go. When I told Mum, she insisted I was sure of my decision, but I saw all the tension she swore was pre-results-day nerves relax once she knew I wouldn’t be moving three hours away. They pretended they were, but no one was surprised, really. Not only was I never going to leave Bristol because I love my city, but Poppy was staying. And even though she’s far from perfect, she’s safe and she’s been my person for the last ten years. No introductions, no icebreakers necessary.

Plus, the thought of spending months apart from my niece, my mini me, Rue, was not an option. Even the thought of moving to a new place in Bristol has me torn up because it’ll put an end to our after-school hangs. His ex, Clara, works two jobs and doesn’t have a good relationship with her own family, so between us, me, Mum, and Otis handle school pickups, and every weekend is a sleepover. There isn’t space for Rue to have her own room at ours, and officially she sleeps on the pull-out in Otis’s room, but sometimes I wake up to find she’s crept in with me. There’s no way I’d be able to spend whole terms without her.

I clear my throat. ‘You’re studying Business with Pop, right?’

Bella nods. ‘Where’s your other friend? The redhead. I like her. Pretty sure she hates me though. But she likes all my stuff, I love it, big fan energy.’

I hold my tongue firm to the roof of my mouth. The unironic conceitedness is crazy. ‘You mean Freya?’ I say slowly, pouring mixer into my mug. ‘Her family come down from up north for her parents’ annual party, she’ll be here later, hopefully.’

‘Cute. I think it’s so adorable that Poppy still has her friends from primary school hanging about.’

I twist the lemonade lid tight. Something about the way she said that makes me think those are Poppy’s words, regurgitated. Me and Freya, her little limpet friends. I keep my voice measured, not about to let Bella know she’s getting under my skin. We definitely had this conversation the first time we met.

I correct her. ‘Me and Poppy have been friends since then, yeah. Since we were eight actually—’

‘A whole decade, cute. You guys should exchange Pandora bracelets or something.’

‘—but we didn’t meet Freya ’til year nine, when she switched to our school.’ Bella uncharacteristically asks me why she moved and I just shrug. I’m not about to tell her Freya was, well, not exactly bullied at her old school, but she didn’t have any friends. ‘Her parents wanted her to go to the same school her cousin went to – this boy Jack, in our year.’ I swallow, just saying his name making my heart race. For so long, I’ve avoided talking about him in case something gave it away we were together, that saying his name feels like swearing. Bella’s nodding but looking into the crowd, losing interest. My eyes flick over to Poppy, fake laughing at something the boy’s said. ‘Anyway, I chose Art for GCSE, Poppy chose Drama, which is where she got close with Freya. They’d spend so much time rehearsing, we sort of became a three. Though we don’t get to see each other as much anymore.’

Bella’s not listening, distracted by someone asking for a bottle opener. ‘I’ll get it.’ She jumps up, happy to oblige.

Now sitting alone, I get out my phone and find myself scrolling way back in my photos to when me, Poppy, and Freya first became friends. Selfies from those lunchtimes we’d spend in empty classrooms where I’d watch them run lines, script in hand so I could prompt them whenever they’d forget, channelling my inner Greta Gerwig. If they got through a whole scene without flubbing, it would always be Poppy who’d suggest celebrating with a slice of the canteen’s tray bake. Dense sponge drizzled with white icing and hundreds and thousands. Always Poppy who would throw half of hers in the bin though, while me and Freya licked the rainbow sprinkles off our fingers.

I zoom in on Freya in a photo of the three of us, her golden retriever energy evident even in pictures, her chin doubled, caught mid-laugh. Looking at fourteen-year-old Freya – the way she was when I met her, the only other girl in our year built like me – calms some of the nerves I have about seeing her after so long. She’ll still be the same Frey. Even though she’s thin now and has a proper adult job at a bank, and a boyfriend to obsess over. I need to remember she probably still snorts when she laughs and has a pillow with Harry Styles’s face on it.

But with no sign of her yet, and not even Bella to begrudgingly keep me company anymore, big regrets for coming here hit me. At first, I’d said no, but changed my mind when Mum announced she’d be away for SlimIt’s New Year New You campaign, and Otis said Harrison had booked them a fancy dinner. A party at Manor Hall seemed like the better option than ringing in the New Year alone with Netflix and leftover Christmas chocolate. Plus, the makeup I got gifted this year was begging to be experimented with.

Getting ready earlier, my brush hovered over midnight blues and hazy purples, imagining the swathe of sky I could paint across my lids complete with gemstone stars. But in the end, I stuck with a blend of soft browns that don’t stand out too much.

‘Sorry, can I just get by?’ A girl behind me presses up against my chair, trying to squeeze between me and a group of people dancing.

‘Yeah, sorry. Sorry.’ My chair was already tucked in as far as it could go, but I crush my body against the edge of the table.

My boobs topple the dregs of a beer can over and I take a deep breath, about to cringe to death as I mop it up.

Everyday embarrassments like this are why I stopped leaving the house, but I’m proud of myself for making the effort tonight. It’s the first step to making sure this term isn’t a repeat of the last one. Insecurity’s had me hiding at home, ashamed of my size, attending lectures through a webcam. I needed tonight to remind me of everything I’m missing out on.

I glance at Poppy, running the pendant of her necklace along its chain as she listens intently to something the boy’s saying.

I hate to say it, but I want what she’s got: to be in a place of my own with a whole party’s worth of new friends, to unselfconsciously wear a crop top. And to talk to a boy who isn’t afraid to let people know he...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 14.1.2025
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Kinder- / Jugendbuch ► Jugendbücher ab 12 Jahre
• ISBN-10: 0-571-38592-3 / 0571385923
• ISBN-13: 978-0-571-38592-8 / 9780571385928