retweeted over 9,000 times – and was still rising.
‘Do you have any idea how colossal this conversion rate is?’ Jules asked, her eyes wide. ‘Your fanbase is seriously mobilized. They are
loving
you.’
‘Not according to some of these comments,’ Nettie said, scrolling down through the comments. ‘“
Yo ass fat even outta dat soot.
”’
Jules laughed. ‘You sound like Mary Poppins.’
‘Are they saying I have a fat bum?’ She remembered the croissant eaten on the bus this morning. Damn it. Fruit only. Tomorrow, then, she promised herself.
‘It’s funny
because
you don’t. Besides, there’s always going to be one or two nutjobs. But most of these are really nice.’ She leaned over, resting her chin on Nettie’s shoulder, as was her way. ‘Look, that one’s saying it was a shame your T-shirt wasn’t white. Isn’t that nice? He appreciated your wardrobe.’
Nettie giggled, joshing her in the ribs with her elbow. ‘Stop it.’ But she did scroll through the comments with a smile on her face.
All
these people had watched her? She couldn’t believe it. The numbers were hard to comprehend. It was like . . . it was like walking into Wembley and every person in the place watching her on the big screens. She hadn’t even done the Ice Bucket Challenge when it had been the craze of the summer, because no one had thought to nominate her, and now suddenly this YouTube clip had had almost 50,000 views? Most of them thought she was ‘cool’ and ‘badass’, and there were a lot of emojis. Her subsequent arrest appeared to have gone down particularly well too – adding to the subversive element, she supposed.
‘And is there anything from our special friend?’ Jules’s chin dug into Nettie’s shoulder as she spoke, but neither of them shifted to move.
‘Oooh, just give me a week and I’ll come back to you on that. I’ve got twenty thousand messages to get through first.’
‘Sarky!’ Jules grinned, sitting up at last and taking the phone from her. ‘Alternatively, you could just go into his profile and see whether
he
’s tweeted anything today.’
‘Oh.’
Jules brought up his profile page and turned the screen to Nettie with a very satisfied smile.
Nettie’s eyes widened in disbelief, her hands flying to her mouth as she saw the single tweet he had posted that day. ‘
U one crazy chick. #bluebunnygirl #ballzup.
’ He had also retweeted the link to his six million followers.
‘He thinks I’m a crazy chick?’ she asked hopefully.
‘It would seem so,’ Jules shrugged, laughing quietly.
‘That’s amazing, right?’
‘Coming from the likes of Jamie Westlake? It’s the highest form of flattery, I reckon.’
Nettie turned with a sigh, resting her forehead on the window. ‘He thinks I’m a crazy chick,’ she murmured happily.
‘So, about tomorrow . . .’
‘Hi, Dad.’
Her father looked up from his spot at the table as he heard the door close. He was wearing a headtorch and had that faraway look in his eyes that he always got when working on one of his special projects. This one was a 1:24 scale model of
HMS Victory
and seemed to Nettie to be like knitting with matchsticks.
‘Hello, Button,’ he smiled. ‘How was your day?’
She paused momentarily from unwinding her scarf. How exactly should she tell him that she’d been arrested in Trafalgar Square, while dressed as a giant blue bunny, for having a bath of iced water poured over her on the hallowed fourth plinth? Even if it was for a good cause, it was still ridiculous. And it wasn’t like the number of views on YouTube, or her legion of followers on Twitter, was going to mean anything to him – not compared with an arrest sheet. They needed to have the police on their side. She felt a twist of anxiety in her stomach, knowing she’d let him down today. ‘Oh, you know – dull.’
‘Well, only this week and next to go and then you’ve got a fortnight’s rest. You look like you could do with it. You’re
‘Do you have any idea how colossal this conversion rate is?’ Jules asked, her eyes wide. ‘Your fanbase is seriously mobilized. They are
loving
you.’
‘Not according to some of these comments,’ Nettie said, scrolling down through the comments. ‘“
Yo ass fat even outta dat soot.
”’
Jules laughed. ‘You sound like Mary Poppins.’
‘Are they saying I have a fat bum?’ She remembered the croissant eaten on the bus this morning. Damn it. Fruit only. Tomorrow, then, she promised herself.
‘It’s funny
because
you don’t. Besides, there’s always going to be one or two nutjobs. But most of these are really nice.’ She leaned over, resting her chin on Nettie’s shoulder, as was her way. ‘Look, that one’s saying it was a shame your T-shirt wasn’t white. Isn’t that nice? He appreciated your wardrobe.’
Nettie giggled, joshing her in the ribs with her elbow. ‘Stop it.’ But she did scroll through the comments with a smile on her face.
All
these people had watched her? She couldn’t believe it. The numbers were hard to comprehend. It was like . . . it was like walking into Wembley and every person in the place watching her on the big screens. She hadn’t even done the Ice Bucket Challenge when it had been the craze of the summer, because no one had thought to nominate her, and now suddenly this YouTube clip had had almost 50,000 views? Most of them thought she was ‘cool’ and ‘badass’, and there were a lot of emojis. Her subsequent arrest appeared to have gone down particularly well too – adding to the subversive element, she supposed.
‘And is there anything from our special friend?’ Jules’s chin dug into Nettie’s shoulder as she spoke, but neither of them shifted to move.
‘Oooh, just give me a week and I’ll come back to you on that. I’ve got twenty thousand messages to get through first.’
‘Sarky!’ Jules grinned, sitting up at last and taking the phone from her. ‘Alternatively, you could just go into his profile and see whether
he
’s tweeted anything today.’
‘Oh.’
Jules brought up his profile page and turned the screen to Nettie with a very satisfied smile.
Nettie’s eyes widened in disbelief, her hands flying to her mouth as she saw the single tweet he had posted that day. ‘
U one crazy chick. #bluebunnygirl #ballzup.
’ He had also retweeted the link to his six million followers.
‘He thinks I’m a crazy chick?’ she asked hopefully.
‘It would seem so,’ Jules shrugged, laughing quietly.
‘That’s amazing, right?’
‘Coming from the likes of Jamie Westlake? It’s the highest form of flattery, I reckon.’
Nettie turned with a sigh, resting her forehead on the window. ‘He thinks I’m a crazy chick,’ she murmured happily.
‘So, about tomorrow . . .’
‘Hi, Dad.’
Her father looked up from his spot at the table as he heard the door close. He was wearing a headtorch and had that faraway look in his eyes that he always got when working on one of his special projects. This one was a 1:24 scale model of
HMS Victory
and seemed to Nettie to be like knitting with matchsticks.
‘Hello, Button,’ he smiled. ‘How was your day?’
She paused momentarily from unwinding her scarf. How exactly should she tell him that she’d been arrested in Trafalgar Square, while dressed as a giant blue bunny, for having a bath of iced water poured over her on the hallowed fourth plinth? Even if it was for a good cause, it was still ridiculous. And it wasn’t like the number of views on YouTube, or her legion of followers on Twitter, was going to mean anything to him – not compared with an arrest sheet. They needed to have the police on their side. She felt a twist of anxiety in her stomach, knowing she’d let him down today. ‘Oh, you know – dull.’
‘Well, only this week and next to go and then you’ve got a fortnight’s rest. You look like you could do with it. You’re
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