How to Get Famous (9 page)

SATURDAY APRIL 17TH

Woke up feeling distinctly shivery and
then Mum blew in. Normally I go into
town with her and Dad on Saturday morning,
but I asked to be excused this weekly
torture today.

Mum was about to screech, 'Absolutely
not,' and throw me out of bed. But something
about my appearance must have
made her stop. She actually placed a hand
on my forehead. A concerned look flickered
across her face.

Then I had the bizarre experience of my
mum being nice to me as she fussed
around, bringing me a hot drink and a
piece of toast.

'The best thing you can do is keep
warm,' she said. 'And don't get too excited.'

Well, absolutely no chance of that
happening here.

I heard her murmuring to Dad that
she thought I was sickening for one of
those bugs that are going round.
Then they told me to stay in bed and not
answer the door – while they left for town.

'We won't be long,' said Mum.

'Oh, don't hurry,' I replied, with total
sincerity.

About two minutes after they'd gone,
the doorbell rang. I thought, I shan't
answer that. But then it rang twice more,
as if it was something urgent. So I hastily
threw some clothes over my rather grim
pyjamas and tore downstairs as fast as my
shaky legs would take me.

I opened the door to see the guy I'd been
talking to last night – the one with the
very alert eyes – and a woman. He introduced
himself as Fred from the local
paper. 'So you're a reporter? I never
suspected that.'

'Oh sorry, I thought I'd mentioned it to
you yesterday. Eunice' – he nodded at the
lady with him – 'and me were wondering if
we could have another little chat with
you.'

Well, the little chat lasted nearly an
hour. They didn't just ask about the
robbery either, they wanted to know all
about me. I even told them how I'd
auditioned to be in
The Secret Garden
.
They were dead interested in that.

They both kept laughing but in a good
way, as if they were having a really great
time. And that's what I love to do more
than anything else: entertain people.

Then Eunice wanted to take a photo of
me. I shot upstairs to do my hair – funny
how much better I suddenly felt – and to
put on a smart shirt.

'So I'll actually be in the local paper?'

'Yeah, look out for yourself on
Wednesday,' said Fred.

'Hey, I'm sorry,' I said suddenly, 'but I
never offered you a tea or coffee or a
packet of chocolate biscuits . . . have something
now.'

'No time, I'm afraid,' said Fred. 'But
we've enjoyed your company . . . and well
done on what you did last night. Your
prompt action saved the day.'

Normally I love receiving compliments.
Bring them on is what I say. But this one
time I actually felt embarrassed. I have
many amazing talents but being brave
definitely isn't one of them. I've never been
in a fight in my life, for instance. So what
happened yesterday didn't seem to belong
to me really.

Still, it'll be good to see my
distinguished features leaping out of the
local rag. And although I can't see this as
the start of a career doing brave things
(I'm shivering at the very idea), a bit of
publicity never hurt anyone.

After my encounter with the press, I
toddled up to bed and promptly fell asleep.

SUNDAY APRIL 18TH

Guess what! I really have got a bug. In
fact, I've just been doing all sorts of
disgusting things in the bathroom. Yes, I
know – too much information.

MONDAY APRIL 19TH

I'm missing a day of school. Well, that's
some consolation for still feeling so groggy.

TUESDAY APRIL 20TH

Georgia finished performing
The Secret
Garden
yesterday and said she's really
missing it now. Still, she's now joined a
drama club they recommended and is
going there every Sunday, and tonight
she's having a meal with Alicia Kay and a
producer from children's television. I
thought I might have been invited along
too. I even said jokingly to Georgia that
maybe she could smuggle me in as her
lucky mascot. 'I wish I could,' she said.

I still haven't mentioned to Georgia
about my little bit of crime-busting action
on Friday. There just never seemed the
right moment. But she'll see it in the local
paper tomorrow. I hope it's not just a little
piece on page 48 above an advert for
weed-killers.

You never know with the press though.
One of our neighbours won twenty-five
pounds in a poetry competition last year. I
actually watched the reporter go in and
interview him. Then nothing happened for
over a month, and finally it was buried
away somewhere: 'a damp squib', as my
neighbour put it.

So I am wise to the ways of the media.
And I shan't get too excited. I'll just
casually stroll into my newsagent's before
I return to school tomorrow and, in a very
relaxed way, leaf through the pages. It's no
big deal.

WEDNESDAY APRIL 21ST

Woke up dead early today. Set off for
school earlier than usual too. Then I dived
into the newsagent's. The woman in
charge was just unpacking the local newspapers
as I went in. I snatched one up and
hastily looked through it: nothing. Then I
thought, maybe it's a smaller piece than I
was expecting. And even a tiny offering is
better than total obscurity, isn't it?

So I rifled through every single headline
and article – even went through the letters
page: again, nothing.

Now what on earth was the point of
dragging me out of my bed of illness and
keeping me talking for an entire hour,
and then not even mentioning me once?
The local paper was just playing with my
mind.

I bunged the paper back with great
force. Then I froze with shock. It couldn't
be. But it was.
There I was, smack on the
one page of the local paper I'd never looked
at THE FRONT PAGE
. I was sprawled
right across it too with my hair looking a
hideous mess (despite me brushing it just
before the picture was taken) and a highly
confused expression on my face.

But it was me all right: underneath the
headline.

TWELVE-YEAR-OLD BOY
STOPS ROBBERY.

There was even a small bit about me
auditioning for
The Secret Garden
. Then it
went straight into the robbery and how I'd
helped foil it, and Bea calling me her
guardian angel . . .

'Are you buying or not?' The shop
owner's voice cut into my reading.

'Of course I am,' I replied, 'because I'm
on the front page.'

The shop owner glanced at my picture.
'So you are . . . what have you been up to
then?'

'Oh, I only saved a woman's life and
stopped a lot of money being stolen, that's
all.' Then after I'd paid for it, I added, 'If
you want me to come back and autograph
a few copies, just let me know.'

9.30 a.m.

Felt dead proud walking into school. For
the first time in my life I'd actually
achieved something: I was in the local
paper – and on the front page, no less.
Suddenly, I was someone of importance.

And you're thinking, I'll have marched
into my form room and whacked the paper
down on my desk so everyone could get an
eyeful of my fame. But actually, I never
said a word. And it wasn't because I'm
modest. I haven't a modest bone in my
body. No, I just temporarily went a bit shy.

I kept sneaking glances at myself
though, just to check I was still on the
front page. And, yes, I was.

Then in bustled Miss Lytton: face aglow
with excitement, and she was carrying a
local newspaper. 'You gave me a shock this
morning, Tobey, all over the front page of
the newspaper.'

Everyone was now clamouring round to
take a look – except me. I sat back, calm
and very dignified.

'Did you know you were going to be in
the paper today?' asked Miss Lytton.

'I had a sort of idea,' I replied with
bewitching casualness.

Then Miss Lytton had to tell everyone to
sit down – and she read the article aloud.

At the end a suspicious voice cried out,
'Did this actually happen?'

'No, it's a total hoax,' I replied and then
added, 'Of course it did.'

'You look so rough in that picture,' called
out someone else. And to be honest, I did.

But then Miss Lytton declared, 'Well,
that's not important . . . look at what he
did.' Then she gave me this beautiful smile
and whispered: 'Well done, Tobey.'

At last my greatness has been
recognized.

11.45 a.m.

Here's something you never want to
happen at school: you're in the middle of a
lesson when the door bursts open and
a very familiar voice screeches, 'Excuse
me, but is my son Tobey here? Ah yes,
there he is. Could I borrow him, please?'

This was an embarrassment of
catastrophic proportions. And as I left
people were whispering things like, 'Does
Mummy want to give you a big juicy kiss
then?' I was also a bit alarmed. Why on
earth had Mum suddenly burst in on me
like that?

Outside the door her chins were
wobbling furiously as she demanded, 'Why
didn't you tell me what happened on
Friday night?'

'Because I didn't think you'd be
interested.' It was just the first thing that
came into my head: I hadn't meant to
wound. Now I can't be certain – but I
believe a little tear glinted in the corner of
Mum's right eye.

'Of course I'm interested,' she cried. When
Mrs Wimberley (that's our next-door
neighbour) brought the paper round I was
very shocked – you could have been hurt.'
Then she added, 'But I'm so proud of you.'

My face nearly fell off with shock: one of
my parents proud of me! But I just said
lightly, 'Oh, it was nothing.' Then I added,
'Well, thanks for dropping by, great to
catch up like this and miss some of
my history lesson too, but it's probably
best we carry on this conversation
tonight.'

'But I have just had the local television
on the phone,' cried Mum. 'They want to do
an interview with you here at school today.
How do you feel about that?'

How did I feel? I wasn't completely
shocked. I mean, I always knew that some
day in the future I'd appear on television.
But now suddenly and quite unexpectedly,
I was bang in the future, if you see what I
mean.

My moment had arrived.

And I said to my mum, 'I feel just great
about being interviewed by the telly.' Then
a terrifying thought seized me. 'You
haven't put them off, have you?'

Mum swallowed.

I looked her straight in the eye. 'Oh no,
Mum, you haven't.'

'I just said I'd have to talk to you and get
permission from your headmaster.'

'You'll get it,' I cried. 'He likes being in
the paper – let alone on the telly – nearly
as much as me.'

'Well then, in this instance,' said Mum, 'I
shall have no objection . . . and I'll sort
everything out with your father as well.'

'Mum,' I yelled, 'there are moments
when you're not quite as gruesome as you
are the rest of the time – thank you!'

3.50 p.m.

Nothing much has happened at school this
afternoon. I just recorded my first-ever
interview for telly, that's all!

It was recorded inside this funny, glass
bowl of a room. This is where the headmaster
spends most of his time holding
meetings and still more meetings – seems
a crazy way to live your life to me. But
anyway, the room was taken over by the
world of television this afternoon and I
even sat in the headmaster's chair – he
wasn't sitting in it as well, of course. No,
he vacated it in my honour.

Just as the headmaster was leaving he
straightened my tie and murmured, 'Be
sure and mention the school's name.' I
should have charged him actually for
plugging his horrible school.

Then the interview started and my mum
– oh yeah, I've got to tell you about my
mum – sat there in the corner of the room
looking like . . . well, you know in those
films when Stone Age men see fire for the
first time and their little faces go all
shocked and disbelieving. Well, that's
exactly how my mum looked.

Anyway, this really nice, jolly girl interviewed
me – and the time just sprinted
past. There was one shock though. Right
at the end of the interview she said, 'Now
your local paper tells us that you
auditioned for
The Secret Garden
but got
turned down. Is that right?'

I nodded sadly.

'And you also tried to get on to
Cloud
Nine
, but no luck there either.'

Playing up a bit now, I nodded even
more miserably.

'Well, I have some good news for you.
We're going to let you do the opening to
The Secret Garden
rap now.'

I was stunned. 'What, right now?'

She nodded.

Well, luckily I could remember it. And I
did the first four lines before she raised a
hand for me to stop. Then, grinning all
over her face she said, 'What energy you've
got, thanks so much, Tobey.'