Phoebe Finds Her Voice (2 page)

“Put your hand up, Phoebs,” hissed Ellie, leaning over and reading mine. “It's wicked!” But I couldn't, not in a million years, and by the end of the lesson my pencil was so sharp I could've used it to pierce Polly Carter's ears.

The trouble with me is that I'm shy – and I'm not talking about the way some children are shy, like when they walk into a room full of total strangers, or have to speak out loud in assembly. I'm talking about being so shy that sometimes I can't speak at all. The words are there, squashed inside my head, but it's like I don't know how to get them out any more.

I didn't used to be shy – just the opposite – but ever since Dad left
and
since I started at Woodville, it's like I've had a personality transplant or something. Sometimes I wonder if maybe I left my
old
personality at Merryhill Primary. That if I popped in there one day – after dropping Sara off in the morning – I'd find it hidden behind a radiator, or stuffed down one of the loos.

Anyway, by the end of the day, after double science and the most boring French lesson ever, I'd more or less forgotten about Sara's prediction at breakfast. Then just as we were getting ready to go home, our form teacher, Miss Howell, said she had something important to tell us. I stopped sorting through my stack of homework and looked up.

She was standing at the front of the classroom with some bright yellow leaflets in her hand –
the
bright yellow leaflets – and she looked excited, like it was her birthday, or she'd won the lottery or something. It's not like I even believe in fortune-telling, I'm not that stupid, but there was something about the way she was standing there, with that look on her face, holding those mysterious leaflets, that made me wonder, just for a second, if The Great
Mystic
Sara might have been right after all.

“Just stop what you're doing and listen up for a minute, guys,” said Miss Howell, waving the leaflets about. “I've got some really exciting news.” She ran her hand through her hair. It was short and black with a bright pink streak down the middle.

“Are you getting married then, Miss?” Patrick Thornton shouted out. “Are those the invitations?”

She grinned. “No, I'm not getting married, Patrick, but don't worry, if I was, you'd be right up there at the top of my guest list.”

I stared at the leaflets. I didn't know what Miss Howell was going to say or what they were about but I just knew it was going to be something exciting. I held my breath and waited.

“It's a drama club,” announced Miss Howell. “I've decided to start an out-of-school drama club called Star Makers on Saturday mornings. We'll be doing heaps of drama games, lots of singing and dancing, and then in February we're going to put on a big musical production that I've written myself, called
The Dream Factory
.”

My heart started to race. I'd always wanted to join a drama club – and if Miss Howell was in charge I knew it would be good. She's our drama teacher as well as our form teacher and she's brilliant. She's really young and trendy and her drama lessons are the best. I look forward to them all week even though I usually end up hiding at the back, terrified she might choose me to do something in front of the class.

Of course at Merryhill I would've been the first one up there, showing off in front of everyone. I even had a solo in our end-of-year production. I remember Mum and Dad came to watch –
together
– and when I ran on for my bow I could hear them cheering and whistling louder than anyone.

“But why did you stick all those leaflets up?” Tara –
brains of the class
– Perkins called out suddenly, her hand shooting up in the air. “I've spent the past two weeks trying to guess what they were about; it's been driving me nuts. Why didn't you just hand the leaflets out?”

“For exactly that reason, Tara,” said Miss Howell, laughing. “I wanted to get your attention. I wanted to get everyone talking and it worked! But I am going to hand the leaflets out today. The first session is next Saturday, so if any of you think you might like to join – and it
is
going to be very special – take a leaflet and show it to Mum or Dad as soon as you get home.”

I held onto mine tight, reading it over and over; wanting to join more than anything but knowing I'd never be brave enough. When the bell rang I trailed outside and gave the leaflet to Mum. It was all crumpled up and my hand felt horribly hot and sweaty.

“Hey, this sounds great, Phoebe, and you know, it would probably do you the world of good. You've been so quiet since…since…” Mum trailed off, fussing with the buttons on Sara's coat. She was going to say,
since Dad left
, that I've been so quiet since my dad left home – but she likes to pretend that nothing's changed, that Dad still lives at home and everything's the same as it used to be.

“It sounds all right,” I said slowly, “but, look, it's way too expensive, Mum. You said we couldn't even afford the electricity bill this morning. And anyway, I see Dad on Saturdays, don't I.”

Mum glanced back down at the leaflet. “Don't worry about that, Phoebs; it's not very expensive at all compared to some of those other drama clubs you hear about. Anyway, I'm sure Gran will pay if it's something you really want to do and it's only for a few hours in the morning, so you'd still be able to see your dad in the afternoons.”

And then Sara started. Bleating away like some sort of whiny goat. “Oh, but I want to go too, Mum. And you know how brilliant I am at singing,
pleeeease
.”

“You can't go,” I said. “You're too young, you have to be ten and you're only eight, and anyway I don't want to go either, so let's just go home.”

“Come on, Phoebs, what's the matter?” Mum put her arm round me and gave me one of her looks. “You've always loved singing and dancing. You and Ellie used to spend every spare minute in your room making up plays together. This would be such a great opportunity for you.”

I knew she was right but that just made me feel worse. I shook off her arm and walked away. I wanted to join, of course I did, but there was no way I'd be able to act or sing or anything like that, not in front of Miss Howell and the others.

Back at home, Sara plonked herself down on the sofa to watch TV and Mum got busy sewing. During the week she does shifts at the Co-op on the High Road, but in the evenings and on Saturdays she makes dresses for people, like bridesmaids' dresses and christening dresses. She's brilliant at sewing but she's always totally stressed about getting stuff finished on time, so I knew there was no point trying to talk to her.

I did some homework, and ate my tea, and tried my best not to think about Star Makers. I wasn't going to join so there was no use tormenting myself. It would probably be stuffed full of loud-mouth show-offs anyway, all tripping over themselves to get the best parts and Miss Howell would have to get an extra wide door fitted for all their big heads to squeeze through. Anyone a little bit quiet or shy like me would end up getting trampled on or squashed and Miss Howell wouldn't even notice because all the others would drown out my cries for help – showing off about how amazing and super-talented they were.

Who'd want to go to something like that anyway? I'd had a lucky escape. I could join a karate club instead – that would be far more useful. I'd be able to sort Polly Carter out for a start. I wouldn't even have to say anything; I'd just finish her off with a knee strike and a deadly upper-hold or whatever the moves are called.

I practised a few kicks in the middle of my room and had Polly lying on the floor begging for mercy when Ellie rang.

“Hi, Phoebs.”

“Oh, hi, Ellie. Have you done your Literacy yet?”

“Erm…no, I lost the sheet on the way home. I dropped it as I was leaving school and it blew away. It's probably halfway to France by now,” she giggled.

“Not again, Ellie. Mr. Davis will go spare.”

“I know, I know, but it was really windy and I was carrying way too many things. Anyway, listen, Phoebs, Sam just texted me, and we're both going to join Miss Howell's drama club. So are you going to come?”

Sam Lester – biggest show-off of all time – and Ellie's new
best friend
. Ellie and I have been best friends ever since nursery, but I swear the minute we got to Woodville, she had a good look around and managed to find the loudest person in the whole, entire year group to hang out with.

“Phoebe, are you listening? I said are you going to come?”

“No, I mean yes, I mean
yes
I am listening but
no
, I can't come. My mum says it's way too expensive. She won't even get me a phone until Christmas so she's not about to pay for a drama club.”

“It's not
that
expensive, is it? Look, why don't I get my mum to ring your mum and see if she can talk her round?”

“No, it's fine, Ellie, honest. I don't even want to join. I'm going to start karate lessons on Saturdays so I won't have time anyway.”

“
Karate lessons?
Since when have you been interested in karate, Phoebs? This could be our chance to put on a
real
show!”

“Yeah I know, but listen Ellie, Mum's calling me. Better go. Speak later.”

I'm always doing that – making things up quickly to get out of a tricky situation, and then getting found out and feeling stupid. I don't think of it as lying exactly, just a way of covering up how shy I am and how a
little
thing like going to a drama club can end up
really
BIG in my head.

I lay down on my bed and stared up at my favourite poster of Donny Dallesio. He's wearing this white suit and doing a double thumbs up with the biggest grin on his face. I stared into his deep, brown eyes wondering how everything got to be such a mess. I bet if he was here, right this second, he'd say, “Stop being such a wimp, Phoebe Franks and tell your mum you want to join.” But he wasn't here and anyway, even if the words were there inside my head, there's no way I'd ever be able to get them out.

I lay there for ages thinking about singing and dancing and Ellie and Sam, and Star Makers – about how I
did
want to join, more than anything, if only I wasn't so scared. Then, just when I thought I couldn't stand thinking about it any more, something totally weird happened. Donny stretched his arm right out of the poster –
yes, right out of it –
and gave
me
a “thumbs up”.

I blinked really hard and then blinked again and the poster was back to normal. My heart started to race. I sat up straight. I was obviously losing it – big time – unless it was a
sign
! I thought about what Sara had said at breakfast – about how my life was about to change – and before I could bottle out or do anything stupid, I tore downstairs and told Mum that I did want to join Star Makers Drama Club after all.

Okay, fine. So I said I'd
join
Star Makers, but I didn't say I'd actually
go.
I tried ringing Ellie early on Saturday morning to see if she could pick me up – the last thing I wanted to do was walk in by myself – but she'd already arranged to go with Sam. So then I tried to come up with some really good reasons not to go at all. Like maybe I should spend my Saturdays doing extra maths so that I didn't fall behind, or maybe Saturday would be the perfect day for me to spend more time with Sara. We could bake biscuits and dress up her Barbie dolls.

“
Play Barbies with Sara?
” Mum snorted, when I told her. “Listen to me, Phoebe, you really need to get out and make some new friends. Come on, get your coat. Your dad will be here in a sec and I want you ready to go.”

So I didn't end up walking in by myself after all. I got to walk in with my saddo dad, who went on and on all the way there about how happy he was that I was
coming out of my shell
and
joining in with other children
– like I was two or something. And then who was the first person I saw standing in the middle of the hall staring at me with her witch-green eyes and scrunched-up face? My favourite person in the Whole Entire Universe – Polly Carter.