Rachel McIntyre - This Careless Life

The lowdown: we need FOUR friends to be the stars of This Careless Life , Pretty Vacant Productions’ new six-week special. PERSONALITY plus, that’s top of our wishlist.

Before you apply, remember we have some PRETTY strict guidelines. So if every individual can answer a massive Yeah, baby! to the following questions, then PLEASE drop a 60-second video HERE explaining WHY we should choose YOU.

Are you 18?

Have you just finished A levels?

Are you in the UK between July 1st and August 31st?

And above all: will the nation’s 16- to 25-year-olds LOVE you or love to HATE you?

So if you’d LOVE to share your outrageous, uber-exciting or totally ridiculously INCREDIBLE post-school/pre-uni summer . . . get in touch now!

‘Yes, I’m 18! Yes, A Levels! Yes, I am in the UK!’ Liv murmured to the screen. ‘And love me, they will all love me.’

And just like that a whole new door, one she hadn’t known even existed, had flown open.

Choosing three friends? That was a no-brainer. Or at least it would have been, except with the exams done, Freyja, Scarlett and Touko had departed St Benedict’s and jetted home to Brazil, Russia and Japan. Meaning Liv had to fish from a much smaller pond solely stocked with weekly boarders, and local ones at that.

Liv frowned, tapping her forefinger against her lips. Only two days until the closing date for entries. Who was still around? Who would inspire both love and hate?

Jeremiah Livingston? Head boy and all-round good guy. He’d be up for anything to promote his charity stuff for Connecting Together. And Declan Duffy, naturally. With his plus-size ego a-gogo, he’d do anything to promote himself. That left one more . . .

Letting the nation analyse six weeks of your life? Really, Liv only mentioned it because she thought Hetty might be able to suggest someone. So when – unbelievably – Hets had shrugged the suggestion, ‘How about me?’ Liv’s jaw dropped so fast it bruised her kneecaps.

‘You serious?’ she said, failing to hide her shock.

‘I’ll have to check with Duncan,’ Hetty replied, ‘but I’m sure he’ll say it’s a brilliant idea.’

What’s it got to do with him?

Liv hid the retort behind a beaming smile.

In gaining a boyfriend, Hetty had apparently excised her decision-making lobe. Ever since she hooked up with him, all you got from her was Let me check with Duncan. I’ll have to ask Duncan.

Still, His Royal Duncan-ness graciously granted his permission, and with Duff, Jez and Hetty on board, Team Liv was ready to roll.

Amazing how the pieces just fell into place. Perhaps if Liv were the kind of girl who believed in horoscopes and all that destiny crap, she might have called it fate.

But waiting to find out if they’d got through? Well, that was every childhood Christmas Eve squished into one tortured ball of anticipation, frustration and panic. Come on. Come ON.

Until finally, on a day she’d planned to spend wrapped in a cocoon of duvet and misery trying to forget she’d ever even met him . . . the phone rang and on the other end was Tony from Pretty Vacant Productions saying congratulations, they’d reached the final three and were they all still up for it?

Liv had immediately flung back the duvet, palmed a night’s worth of tears from her cheeks and assured him that yes, she wanted this so bad. In fact, she literally could not want this more. Yes, they were free for the casting on July 1st. And yes, her friends would be literally ecstatic to be through to the next stage.

When the phone call ended, she flopped back down on the bed, gripping the phone like a lucky charm while Tony’s question bounced round her head.

Was she up for it?

Liv was up for many things.

She was up for not obsessing over her A-level results.

She was up for making her parents realise uni was not the only option.

And she was definitely up for being a TV star.

But on the day of Tony’s phone call, she was mainly up for never, ever shedding a single tear over a man for as long as she lived.

Things were about to change. She knew it.

‘ Your whole life is about to change. ’

She felt the whisper of breath; sensed a light grip on her shoulder; a body close to hers. A drift of Eau de Expensive Whatever-it-was enveloped her.

Except . . .

Liv blinked.

How did –?

Cass hadn’t moved. Definitely not. There she was, immaculate in white, still leaning over the worktop with the now deflated Pandora sagging by her elbow. Notebook completely open; mouth completely shut.

Liv wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing at the sudden ripple of goosebumps.

What the –?

Her mind frantically scrabbled to latch on to any explanation other than I am cracking up , but then Cass put her pen down and looked directly at her.

‘Exciting, isn’t it? Knowing today could be life-changing.’

Liv nodded. Stunned.

‘Yes.’ Jez put on his mature I-am-leader voice. ‘And on behalf of all of us, I’d like to say thank you for this incredible opportunity.’

‘My pleasure,’ Cass said. ‘I’ve got a great feeling about you guys.’ The dark curtain of her hair swayed as she turned her head towards the wall clock. ‘Let’s push on. Now I’m going to focus on one person at a time; show your application video followed by a group conversation.’

She stepped forward and with a collective wriggle they all straightened against the button-backed sofa. Attentive. Ready. Even Duff slouched marginally less.

From where Liv sat, still dazed, some proportional illusion made it seem as though Cass were towering over them. When she spoke, far from a whisper, her voice filled the room.

‘With that in mind, what I need you to understand is this process is tougher than you might think. There’ll be questions you may not want to answer and answers you certainly won’t like. By the end, you’ll feel drained, emotionally and mentally. Maybe you’ll decide you’re not up to it. Maybe you’ll decide you’re happy the way you are now. But if you go ahead, you’ll be rewarded with an opportunity to change your lives forever.’

Your whole life is about to change.

The mysterious whisper echoed in Liv’s mind. Too much caffeine, too little sleep. That was it. And stress. Exam stress, prom stress, HIM stress. Who wouldn’t lose the plot with all that going on?

Her ears were playing tricks on her, that was all. Liv shook her head slightly as though fending off a mosquito and focused her attention on Cass, who was holding a printout of the contract up in front of her chest.

‘Pep talk over. Now it’s time for you all to sign on the dotted line, which you will find in this box . . .’ She pointed a beautifully polished fingernail at the space in the bottom left corner. ‘Here.’

Liv complied, capping her pen almost before Cass finished her sentence. She kept her hands occupied by unfastening and re-knotting the belt on her silk jumpsuit, tying it in a floppy bow on her left hip.

Next to her, Duff scrawled his signature, the pen scratching as it looped extravagantly across the bottom of the page, refusing to be constrained by the box. Hetty’s ponytail bobbed as she wrote tidy, blocky letters in the allotted space.

What was Jez playing at?

With a dismayed glance, Liv noticed him hesitate, the groove in his forehead deepening while his hand hovered.

Get on with it . . .

‘Jez?’ Cass prompted gently.

He frowned. ‘I need clarification on a few points before I can commit.’

Liv’s heart sank. Oh God, what now? Jez Livingston. Undoubtedly the loveliest of guys in a multitude of ways, but very, very occasionally (like now) so pedantic he made her want to claw his smug face off.