if this was a movie • taylor swift

Six

Dear God, what had she said?

That single thought pounded through Millie's mind as she lay in bed that night, too horrified even to toss and turn. She lay on her back, staring at the ceiling, utterly still, utterly mortified.

And the next morning, as she peered in the mirror, sighing at the weary lavender color beneath her eyes, there it was again—

Oh, Taylor, you are so much better than the rest.

And every time she relived it, the voice in her memory grew higher, more simpering, until she turned into one of those awful creatures—the girls who fluttered and swooned every time someone's older brother came to visit at school.

"Millie Rivera," she muttered under her breath, "you silly cow."

"Did you say something?" Britney looked up at her from her position near the bed. Millie already had her hand on the doorknob, ready to leave for breakfast.

"Just doing sums in my head," Millie lied.

Britney went back to putting on her shoes. "For heaven's sake, why?" she said, mostly to herself.

Millie shrugged, even though Britney was not looking at her. She always said that she was doing sums in her head when Britney caught her talking to herself. She had no idea why Britney believed her; Millie detested sums, almost as much as she hated fractions and tables. But it seemed like the sort of thing she might do, practical as she was, and Britney had never questioned it.

Every now and then Millie mumbled a number, just to make it more authentic.

"Are you ready to go down?" Millie asked, twisting the knob. Not that she was. The last thing she wished was to see, well, anyone. Taylor Swift in particular, of course, but the thought of facing the world at large was just as ghastly.

But she was hungry, and she was going to have to show herself eventually, and she didn't see why her misery ought to wallow on an empty stomach.

As they walked to breakfast, Britney peered at her curiously. "Are you okay, Millie?" she asked. "You look a little strange."

Millie fought the urge to laugh. She was strange. She was an idiot, and probably shouldn't be let loose in public.

Good God, had she actually told Taylor Swift that she was better than the rest?

She wanted to die. Or at the very least hide under a bed.

But no, she couldn't even manage to feign illness and have a good lying-in. It hadn't even occurred to her to try. She was so ridiculously normal and routineish that she was up and ready to depart for breakfast before she'd even managed a single coherent thought.

Aside from the pondering of her apparent madness, of course. That she had no trouble focusing on.

"Well, you look very fine, anyway," Britney said as they reached the top of the staircase. "I do like your choice of the blue dress. It's so lovely with your eyes."

Millie looked down at her clothing. She had no recollection of dressing herself. It was a miracle she did not look as if she had escaped from a circus.

Although...

She let out a little sigh. Running off with the circus sounded rather appealing just then, practical even, since she was quite certain she should never show her face in public again. Clearly she was missing an extremely important connecting vessel between her brain and her mouth, and God only knew what might emerge from her lips next.