How to Get Famous (5 page)

Then Dad nearly cracked a rib from
laughing so much. Tears of mirth were
falling down my mum's face too.

I said, 'I shall end this conversation now,
as I have a book to read and memorize.
And I'd be grateful if you don't play the
weather forecast too loudly.'

11.50 p.m.

Just finished
The Secret Garden
. I was
going to skip large chunks of it but I didn't,
as it's all right actually. Even though that
Mary's a right misery when she arrives,
isn't she? She's like a female version of my
dad actually.

Still, both her parents did die in a
cholera epidemic in India, so you can see
why she turned a bit sour. And then she
goes and stays in this big, old house in
Yorkshire, with an uncle who never wants
to see her.

It's just lucky that country-lad Dickon,
the animal-tamer, pops up. At first it was
Dickon I wanted to portray – I quite
fancied myself playing a pipe with all the
animals grooving around to my beat. But
no, Colin's the one for me.

He's Mary's cousin, and he's also an
invalid and can hardly walk, so practically
all his scenes are in bed. This means I can
just lie back on my pillows concentrating
on my acting – which is handy.

But also Colin starts off all miserable
and bad-tempered, yelling at everyone (he
and Mary have a screaming match, which
Georgia and I will love doing).

But then he begins to change. He and
Mary become friendly. And she tells him
that with the help of a robin she's found
the key to a mysterious, walled-up garden.
It was all gloomy and overgrown, but she
and Dickon have totally transformed it.
And then Colin wants to visit it too,
because he thinks there's magic in the
secret garden, which will help him get well
again.

The scenes when Colin hangs out in the
garden are the best in the book. I'd just
love to act out those. In fact, I really would
give up my right arm to play Colin. And
that's no exaggeration.

So it's all sorted – practically. I've just
got to think of an amazing audition piece
now.

11.57 p.m.

Had a thought about that already. How
about if I whip off my clothes to reveal
pyjamas underneath? That would show I'd
done my research and know about Colin
not walking and having to be in bed all the
time. I bet no one else thinks about doing
that.

I'm convinced now that I've found that
lucky break which every superstar needs.
But I shall work night and day and then
some more to make the most of this
chance. For I want this so badly.

Overall, this has been an incredible day
– and very likely an historic one too.

SUNDAY MARCH 14TH

Been working on my audition piece all day.
Thought I'd act out the part where Colin
first sees Mary standing in his room in the
middle of the night and cries out, 'Who are
you? Are you a ghost?'

Then this evening I slipped round to
Georgia's house, all set to display my acting
talent. I said to her, 'You've got to
imagine me doing this scene in pyjamas.'

'Oh, I'd rather not,' she replied, giggling.

'This is a scene of raw power I'm about
to perform for you, so show some respect,'
I cried. I went out of the room and got
myself all psyched up. Then I burst inside,
my eyes all wide and staring and Georgia's
face went so red I thought it was going to
burst.

'You want to laugh, don't you?' I said.

Georgia nodded and then this laugh just
exploded out of her. 'I'm sorry, it's just the
way you were rolling your eyes,' she said.

'It's called acting, Georgia,' I replied.

'Do it again . . . I promise I won't laugh.'

'No, I tell you what, I'll watch you
instead this time.'

Georgia began acting out a scene in
which she's looking round the secret
garden for the first time. And then her
shoulders began to shake and she was
howling with laughter again. 'I'm sorry,
but I can't be serious with you watching.'

Then her mum came in and said with a
frown, 'There's a lot of hilarity in
here . . . you haven't got much time, you
know. Other children will probably have
been working on this for weeks. Also, I
think you need to be more original than
just acting out a scene from the book. You
want to stun those judges with your
pieces. So may I make a suggestion?'

Before either of us could reply she swept
on, 'I really think you'll concentrate much
better if you both work on this completely
on your own. Don't even tell each other
what you're going to do. Let it be a secret
until the day.'

I must have looked a bit shocked by this,
because Georgia's mum said a bit more
kindly, 'It'll only be a few days, but
I'm certain you'll both work harder –
alone.'

Georgia smiled a bit sadly. 'I suppose
Mum is right, really. If we work together,
all we'll do is mess about.'

I wasn't really convinced, and somewhere
in a dim, dark corner of my heart I
was even a bit hurt. But I didn't say anything
and slunk off home again.

MONDAY MARCH 15TH

I have just had a brainwave.
I was reclining on my bed pondering yet
again what I could do for
The Secret
Garden
audition. Something fresh and
different was what I needed. Then, out of
nowhere this genius idea flashed through
my head.

Here it is: I shall perform Colin's story
in rap. I'll write a rap poem, learn it off by
heart, and then on the day those judges
will be so impressed they'll yell: 'That boy
is so original, what's his name? Tobey
Tyler. But we must sign him up right
away, for he is, without doubt, the
best hot new talent we've seen in
centuries.'

TUESDAY MARCH 16TH

I was working on my rap poem when
Georgia rang. But I didn't breathe a word
– even to her – of my audacious plan. I
want it to be an incredible surprise for
everyone.

WEDNESDAY MARCH 17TH

It's finished and I'm just calling it: '
The
Secret Garden
rap.' I think there's a
beguiling simplicity about that.

THURSDAY MARCH 18TH

A bombshell.

When I arrived home, Dad didn't say
anything to me, just sat there in the
kitchen looking like a frostbitten sprout.
But then that's his normal expression, so I
wasn't too perturbed until Mum waltzed
in.

She had such an odd little smile on her
face I thought: Hold onto your teeth, something
bad's coming up.

And it was.

Guess where Mum had been earlier
today: only up at my school. Miss Lytton
had asked to see her. She'd told Mum all
about the message I'd added to the Johnny
Depp autograph. Cheers, Miss Lytton. The
only time I'd impressed my parents – well,
my mum – and she had to spoil it.

Then Miss Lytton went on to tell her I
was getting picked on as a result of my
alleged forgery. Mum had come home and
passed all this on to Dad, of course,
and now my parents were looking dead
serious and it was all going horribly, so I
thought, I'll slip in a funny comment here.

I said, 'When you're the local superstar,
which I am, you know you're going to get
some jealousy, but it doesn't bother me at
all. It's the price of fame really.' I grinned
around then – but no one was smiling
back. In fact, Dad had actually closed both
his eyes.

Then he said in this voice crackling with
weariness, 'All this play-acting has got to
stop. It's not helping you. In fact, it's
making you unpopular.'

Actually, this wasn't true as I've always
been seen as something of an oddity. But I
didn't argue, as then came the bombshell
which I alluded to earlier.

My parents have only banned me from
going to the audition on Saturday
. My big
chance – my only big chance so far – and
they want to stop me! They don't feel this
is the right time for me to be doing this.
'There'll be other chances later,' said Mum,
'but right now we want you to keep your
mind free from fame and celebrity,
and focus on other things. To help you,
your father's bought you a little present.'

Dad then handed me – are you ready for
this? – a giant book of crosswords! He said,
'When I was your age, I was already doing
at least one crossword a night. And I've
never stopped since. It clears my mind and
helps me focus on what's important. And if
it gives half as much pleasure to you as it
has me, then I'll be extremely happy.' He
acted as if he was handing me the Holy
Grail. And I pretended I was really
pleased to receive this.

'I can see I'll be having a lot of fun now,'
I said. But actually, I was already hatching
a simple but superb plan.

I decided there was absolutely no point
in arguing with them about going to the
audition. They'd definitely made up their
minds and nothing I could say was going
to change them. So instead, I shall sneak
out of the house before they're awake.
When they realize I've gone I shall be well
on my way (Georgia and I need to leave
pretty early on Saturday anyway). And
after I've got the part, well, surely my
parents wouldn't dare stand in my way
then.

For this plan to work I must first of all
do nothing to arouse my parents'
suspicions in any way. And secondly, I
have to leave my house in a totally silent
way on Saturday. This will not be easy as
I'm naturally noisy and so clumsy you
wouldn't believe it.

But I shall perform
The Secret Garden
rap. Have no fear about that.

FRIDAY MARCH 19TH

10.15 p.m.

Today it was vital I didn't arouse my
parents' suspicions in any way, so I had to
act normal, which is harder than you
might think. But I fooled them all
right.

I even went and asked them if they had
any second thoughts and would allow me
to go the audition after all. Mum's eyes
went a bit misty before she shook her
head. 'I'm very sorry, Tobey, but we really
don't think this is what you should be
concentrating on right now.'

I swallowed hard in a tragic sort of way
and Mum's eyes became even mistier.

Then I left without uttering another word.

Upstairs I tried to practise my poem
very quietly. This wasn't easy as rap just
isn't meant to be whispered. Then my
mobile rang. It was Georgia.

'So how are you feeling?' she asked.

'Absolutely fantastic.'

'Really!' she cried.

'Well, fairly fantastic . . . the old nerves
do creep in from time to time.'

She said, 'I've been shaking tonight, but
I'm sure I'll be all right when I get there.'

'You'll be more than all right,' I said.
'You'll be superb.'

'Say that to me again tomorrow just
before I'm going on.'

'I'll whisper it right down your earhole,'
I said.

'While you're whispering . . . tell me
what you're going to do tomorrow.'

'All right, I shall be performing
The
Secret Garden
rap.'

There was quite a long pause.

'Are you still there?' I asked.

'Yes, of course, well that certainly sounds
very different.' Then, as if hastily changing
the subject, she said, 'By the way, there's no
need to come round our house tomorrow.
Mum said she'll pick you up.'

'No, she can't do that,' I blurted out.

'Why?'

'Because . . . ' And I just couldn't think of
a single excuse so I put on some loud
music and told Georgia the truth.

Her voice shook with horror as she
cried, 'I can't believe your parents can be
so barbaric!'

'The tragedy is, my mum and dad really
think they're helping me. Poor deluded
fools. Now don't tell your mum about this,'
I added.

'Of course I won't,' she cried indignantly.
'But what about if they catch you leaving
tomorrow?'

'They won't,' I said. 'But if they do . . .'

'Yes?'

'Then I'll just have to . . . hypnotise
them.'

She laughed. 'Oh, I'll be keeping everything
crossed at six o'clock tomorrow
morning.'

'You won't even be awake then.'

'Oh yes I will,' she cried. 'I've been
awake long before six o'clock every morning
this week. And by the way, Mum said
we mustn't wish each other good luck
because that's bad luck.'

'Bit confusing.'

'I know, but Mum said no one in the theatre
ever says that. They say: "Break a
leg".'

'OK, Georgia, break a leg. No, break two
legs and all your toes as well.'

'You too, and Tobey, break all your legs,
toes and thumbs at six o'clock tomorrow.'

After Georgia had rung off I had yet
another brainwave. Tomorrow, when my
parents discover I've gone away . . . why
don't I send them on a totally false trail
and let them think I've run away rather
than just gone to the audition? So I wrote
this note:

Hi, Mum and Dad,
I am going away, possibly on a train or a bus. I may
be gone sometime – or I may not. Anyway, please do
not try and find me. I will ring you one day soon. So
don't panic.

Have a great weekend.

Your son and heir,
Tobey.

So my highly mysterious running-away
letter is written, my clothes for tomorrow
are hanging over the chair, and my
rapping
Secret Garden
piece is learned by
heart.

GOODBYE, OBSCURITY. HELLO,
CELEBRITY.

11.46 p.m.

The curtains are drawn, but the rest of the
furniture is real. VERY BAD JOKE, I
know – sorry. But I just can't sleep. It's
blowing a gale outside my window; well,
that's what it sounds like. The wind and
rain are certainly making a fine old
racket.

But even if it was deathly still outside
I'd still be awake. This could be – no, be
positive, it
will
be – the major turning
point of my life.

Still, I'm bound to drift off to sleep soon.

SATURDAY MARCH 20TH

5.50 a.m.

Guess what. I've been awake all night. My
eyes have only shut when I blinked. But I
don't feel at all tired. In fact I just can't
wait to get started.

8.30 a.m.

At precisely half past six I slipped out of
bed and got dressed. It was too risky to
journey into the bathroom (not that I
frequent that place very much anyway), so
I gave my face a quick wipe with my sleeve
and swirled some stinging toothpaste
around in my mouth. My hairbrush was in
the bathroom but actually I thought an 'I
can't be bothered to brush my hair vibe'
might help my performance. For if Colin's
lolling about in bed all of the time, he's not
going to be bothered about styling his
locks, is he?

Then came the riskiest part of the whole
operation. I had to creep downstairs and
out of the front door without waking up
Mum and Dad. So ever so carefully I stood
on the middle of the first stair (usually the
least creaky part). Not a sound. Others
were a little noisier, but none gave those
deep groans which our stairs can perform.
Then, like a shadow, I was at the front
door. I undid the chain and turned the key
in the lock. This was indeed a perilous
moment. But nothing was heard from
upstairs.

After which, I closed the door with great
skill – not the whisper of a sound – and
went sprinting furiously down my road.
The pavements were still wet from all the
rain in the night. And cherry blossom was
stuck all over them; was that a good
omen? I thought so. Then, when I was safe
from my parents' prying eyes, I stopped
and punched the air. Anyone watching me
would have thought I'd gone mad. But I
didn't care; in fact I punched the air a
second time before resuming my flight to
freedom.

Georgia grinned at me when she opened
the door. 'I'm so glad you made it – but
Tobey, your hair's awful, and it looks great
when you make an effort.' And despite my
protests she insisted on brushing and
styling it.

I smelled Georgia's mum before I saw
her. She reeked with perfume. She was all
dressed up too, with scarves flying
everywhere.

'Well, I think the witching hour
approaches,' she murmured. 'Now, I've just
got one rule today: I want you both to
enjoy yourselves and have fun. Will you do
that?' We both nodded.

It was all going so well until the car
wouldn't start. So we've all been dashing
about looking for jump leads and now
Georgia's mum has sped next door.

8.50 a.m.

Inside Georgia's house the phone rang.
Very luckily her mum was still next door
and it was Georgia who answered . . .
because the caller was my dad, in an
extremely foul mood.

I was dead shocked that my parents had
noticed I'd gone already (at the weekends
they usually sleep in past nine o'clock).
But apparently I hadn't closed the front
door properly and the postman rang on the
bell to say the door was wide open. At first
Mum and Dad thought they'd been
burgled. It must have been quite a relief
when they found out that only I was
missing.

Of course Georgia lied and said I wasn't
at her house. Then Dad asked her if she
knew where I'd gone. She said she didn't,
and he asked her if she was sure, and she
replied that she was completely certain.
After which my dad said that if I did turn
up she must let him know immediately.

'Do you think my dad believed you?' I
asked.

'I'm practically certain he did.'

'Well, you are a top actress,' I said.

Meanwhile, Georgia's mum, with the
help of two neighbours, finally got
the car to start. We jumped in and I
couldn't wait to leave. But while her mum
was thanking the neighbours, Georgia
leaned forward and picked up a mobile
phone. She switched it off and then
slipped the phone into her pocket. 'That's
just in case your parents should try and
ring my mum. She's always forgetting her
mobile and she'll think that's what she's
done today.' She gave a little grin. 'Nothing
must stop you from getting famous.'

At last, Georgia's mum drove off at
terrifying speed. Even Georgia was telling
her to slow down. But we arrived at the
theatre with over ten minutes to spare.

We joined this line of children and
parents. There seemed to be hundreds
here, (although I'm hopeless at counting).
I thought, out of all this queue, only three
will leave with a magic ticket to fame and
fortune. So many people are going to be
disappointed. I just hope and hope I'm not
one of them. And Georgia isn't either.

Then, on the dot of ten o'clock the doors
opened and we had to register at this table
in the foyer. We were given a card with a
number on. Georgia was 31 and I was 32.

We thronged around there until this
man with a moustache that looked exactly
like a giant moth started bellowing at us
through a loudspeaker. He snapped that
we had to listen to him carefully as he
wouldn't be repeating these instructions.

'He's got all the sunny charm of
Dracula,' I whispered to Georgia.

Moth-man, as I'd already christened
him, told us that in a few moments,
children who had card numbers one to
twelve would be taken backstage and
eaten. No, all right, he didn't say that last
bit – just looked as if he wanted to. He
actually said that each person would have
two minutes only (and a whistle would
blow if we went over that time) to perform
a piece inspired by
The Secret Garden
.

Then the next twelve would get their
chance and so it would go on for the rest of
the morning. After which, at about half
past twelve, he would read out a list of
names of children who would be invited to
do a second audition after lunch – and by
the end of today they hoped to have found
their Mary, Dickon and Colin. He went off
and everyone began to talk very loudly.

Georgia looked round. 'There are more
girls here than boys,' she observed. 'And
some of them are very pretty.' She nodded
at a blonde, tanned girl texting into a tiny
mobile. 'And well minted as well, I bet.'

'But Mary's supposed to be plain and
miserable and poor, so you'll be all right.' I
certainly hadn't meant that to sound as
rude as it did. I was trying to be reassuring
actually. But Georgia suddenly looked
at me and burst out laughing. And soon we
were both chortling away like maniacs.

11.15 a.m.

Georgia's mum said this is the worst part
– the waiting to go on. I agree with her.
They have set up a table with refreshments
for us, but butterflies have taken
over my stomach. So for once, I can't eat
anything.

11.35 a.m.

Moth-man is back. Numbers 24–36 have
been summoned. No time to write anything
else.

WE'RE GOING IN.