Rebecca is Always Right (20 page)

BOOK: Rebecca is Always Right
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Excellent day! First of all, our practice went really well. The new song will definitely be ready to perform at the gig in two weeks. In fact, we’ve worked out our set and we can play all the songs through perfectly with no mistakes (apart from when Cass hit the wrong note once on the keyboard. Oh, and I nearly came in at the wrong time during ‘The Real Me’, but I didn’t).

Also, we even managed to talk in German – well, sort of German – for five whole minutes. Though Cass was not enthusiastic at first.

‘I don’t know why you’re getting so hung up on this,’ she said. ‘There are months to the exams.’

‘That’s why we need to start now!’ I said. ‘So we don’t have to cram at the end. And besides, we should be taking advantage of the fact that our best friend can speak German perfectly.’

‘Not totally perfectly,’ said Alice. ‘I mean, my cousin Florian thinks I have a totally Irish accent.’

‘Well, you’re a zillion times better than either of us,’ I said. ‘So come on, let’s talk “auf Deutsch”!’

‘You’re just panicking, Bex,’ said Cass. ‘In a couple of days you’ll forget all about it. And then in a few months you’ll probably panic about it again and make us all talk German until the panic wears off. And it’ll go on and on.’

She is probably right. That is the sort of thing I do. But still!

‘Well, you’ll be glad I made you when we both get As in German next summer,’ I said.

Cass rolled her eyes. ‘What’s the German for “okay”?’ she asked Alice.

‘Um, they usually just say “okay”,’ said Alice.

‘Okay,’ said Cass. ‘
Spielen wir Musik
!’

That means ‘let’s play music’. So we did. In fact, we were so busy playing and singing we didn’t really say much, in German or otherwise, but we did say ‘
Wo ist das Microphone
?’ and stuff like that. Anyway, it made me feel weirdly less panicky about the exams, so that’s something.

When our time in the studio was up, we went out to meet the others. Richard and the Wicked Ways were there, and so were Exquisite Corpse and Puce. The Puce boys are full of ideas for their stage set.

‘We’re going to have stuff projected on the stage,’ said Niall. ‘It’s quite easy if you hook up a laptop. I asked Veronica and they could set it up.’

I could see Cass’s eyes light up at the thought of this.

‘Are you going to make a special film?’ she asked.

‘Um, no, not yet,’ said Niall. ‘We’ve found something cool online so we’re going to use that and hope no one sues us.’

That sounds a bit risky to me, but I can’t wait to see how it turns out. Anyway, then we all strolled back to the art space as usual, and I tried not to get my hopes up in case Sam had gone off to another skating contest or had the flu or something. But when we walked into the studio, there he was. He gave me a big grin when he saw me and came straight over.

‘Hey, long time no see,’ he said.

‘How was the … was it a skating competition?’ I said, even though I remembered perfectly well. I didn’t want him to think I’d been thinking about his activities since last week. Even though I had.

‘It was a skating competition, and it was pretty good – my friend Daire came second,’ said Sam. ‘I heard I missed an excellent party, though.’

‘You did,’ I said. And I told him about seeing Charlie. He laughed and said that was the perfect way to treat Charlie. And he should know – like Richard, he’s had to go to school with him for the last few years.

‘You know Evan and Finn from the Crack Parrots have
started a new band?’ said Sam. ‘They were thinking of trying to get a practice space here.’

‘Really?’ I said. ‘Hmm.’ My initial reaction to the thought of any of the Crack Parrots turning up in our cool space was annoyance. I didn’t want to be constantly reminded of how awful they were. But then I thought of how Evan and Finn had stood up to Charlie in the end and left the band. I suppose they aren’t too bad really.

Then Richard suggested that we all go to the Flapper Café, which is near the Knitting Factory, quite nice and also, more importantly, quite cheap, and lots of people thought that sounded like a good idea. Including, to my delight, Sam. So a big gang of us headed down there and luckily there was a free table big enough to fit us all. There were so many of us I worried I’d end up stuck about ten people away from Sam, but somehow I ended up sitting next to him, with Liz on my other side.

And it was a really brilliant afternoon. Richard had brought in his wedding suit for Ellie to try altering.

‘What do you think?’ he said, passing it across the table to her. She took it and held it up to the light of the window.

‘Hmm, it should be doable,’ she said. ‘I can take it in a good bit. It may not look as good as your brother’s suit, mind.’

But Richard didn’t care.

‘It’ll still look cool and dramatic,’ he said. Which is, of course, very important for someone like Richard who sings about being a pterodactyl and a fool for love (not in the same song). So they decided that after our teas and coffees he and Alice would go over to Ellie’s house for a fitting before Alice went back to Richard’s house for dinner.

I wasn’t talking to Sam totally on my own much because, obviously, there were loads of other people there and we were talking to Liz and Lucy and the other people sitting near us, but it was really cool to hang out again. We all talked for a while about books (he’s reading
1984
by George Orwell at the moment, while Liz is loving Rae Earl’s
My Mad Fat Diary
). And he and I did get to talk on our own for a bit.

‘I’m looking forward to your gig,’ he said. ‘I mean, you lot have seen all of our art stuff, but we haven’t heard what you’ve been working on.’

‘Well, I hope you’re not disappointed,’ I said. And then I worried that sounded like I was fishing for compliments, so I said, ‘I mean, we’ve practised hard.’

And then Ellie knocked over her water, and we had to move back to avoid being soaked while she mopped it up, and after that we were all talking in a group again. So that was about as
deep as our personal conversation got.

But he said he was looking forward to the gig. And he really did look pleased to see me when we walked into the studio. Every time I think of his big grin, I feel all happy inside. I keep reminding myself that he is a nice, friendly sort of person and perhaps he was smiling at everyone else when I wasn’t looking. But every so often I let myself think that there is a chance that he might like me back.

Poor Dad. As if to taunt him over his recent woes, the film of
My Fair Lady
was on telly this afternoon. Rachel and I were flicking through the channels when the announcer said it was about to begin.

‘I kind of feel like watching this,’ said Rachel. ‘Just to remind myself what it’s meant to be like.’

‘Should we be reminding Dad of
My Fair Lady
at the moment?’ I said. ‘I mean, he still seems pretty disappointed about having to tone down his dancing.’

‘Well, he’s in Mum’s study correcting essays,’ said Rachel. ‘If we keep the volume down, he probably won’t even notice.’

Rachel seemed in quite a good mood so I didn’t want to kick up a fuss. And so we kept watching. I actually wanted to watch it, because it is a very entertaining film (though it’s a bit sexist) and the songs and the costumes are great. In fact, all the music is really good. During the opening credits they played a sort of instrumental medley with bits of all the different songs (this is called the overture, as I remember from my musical days), and all of them were so good I found myself wishing the extracts would go on for longer.

It turned out to be a really good afternoon. It was raining outside, but we were snug on the couch watching a cool old film, and it all felt very cosy and nice.

Rachel seemed pretty happy too, but I can’t be happy for her because of Jenny and Tom. It’s like I know something bad is going to happen, but there’s nothing I can do to stop it, because, whether I tell or not, Rachel will find out eventually anyway and will be miserable (and probably angry at me). I’m trying not to think about it, but it keeps creeping back into my head.

I will distract myself by writing a poem about Sam (just a haiku, they’re easier because they’re shorter).

Ink hands, messy hair

I do like talking to you

But do you like me?

I think it is quite a mysterious poem. Maybe it’s easier to be enigmatic on paper. I certainly can’t manage it in real life. This evening I was just sitting on the couch thinking big profound thoughts about LIFE and my mother came in and said, ‘If you’re just going to sit there staring into space, come and help me change some bed sheets.’ No one understands me around here.

I don’t believe it. Mrs Harrington is clearly a better writer than I thought she’d be. She was in a very good mood in English today, and when the class was finished she called me over and told me that she has heard back from that agent and he wants to represent her! And he thinks that her book has ‘huge bestseller’ potential!

‘So do thank your mammy for me,’ she said happily. ‘I’d never have written a word if it weren’t for her lovely books.’

‘I will,’ I said. ‘Um, congratulations!’

I am quite happy for her, I suppose, as well as surprised. This time last year she drove me mad, but either I’ve got used
to her or she’s calmed down. Anyway, if this agent does sell her book to a publisher, she might take a break from teaching to concentrate on writing.

‘Though not before I’ve seen you all through your Junior Cert,’ she told me. I suppose that’s for the best, seeing as we’ve already had two English teachers since first year.

And Mrs Harrington was not the only surprising success story of today. As soon as we got back to our classroom for morning break, Vanessa began talking at top volume about her public appearances over the weekend. Apparently poor Handsome Dan was roped in again, the poor little thing. Anyway, she was in full flow when Karen finally got a word in and said, ‘You never know, I might be joining you on screen soon. I’ve got an audition for a mobile-phone ad on Saturday! And Sarah who runs the drama group thinks I’ve got a pretty good chance.’

‘You’ve got an actual audition?’ said Vanessa, sounding very surprised.

Karen looked annoyed for a moment, then she said, ‘Yeah, you knew Bernard and I were looking out for them. You said you’d give us some tips!’

‘Well, of course I will,’ said Vanessa. ‘Now, when they give you the script, here’s what you should do first.’

Soon she was in her element, acting like an expert. Of course Karen ate up her every word. Still, I don’t think Vanessa would be very happy if Karen did actually get an acting job and stole her thunder. Not that I particularly want to see Karen on screen either, of course. But it would almost be worth it if it stopped Vanessa going on about Kookie all the time.

Cass has produced some excellent sketches for our (possible) backdrop! She went for the ‘imagine the letters spelling out Hey Dollface are windows and you can see a rainbow through them’ effect. It really does look very cool. The only issue is whether we’ll be able to produce this logo perfectly on a sheet. Cass is, of course, totally convinced that we can.

‘I’ve even found a plain white sheet we can use,’ she said. ‘So there are no excuses.’

‘But what about paints?’ said Alice.

‘We can just use poster paints,’ said Cass. ‘Nick has loads of them.’

Even annoying little brothers can be useful sometimes. We have agreed to go over to Cass’s house on Sunday afternoon
to work on it.

‘If it was still summer, we could have done it out in the garden,’ she said. ‘The more space, the better. But the dining-room table will have to do. It won’t take long at all once we get started!’ She is convinced we’ll get the whole thing done in five minutes despite the fact that none of us has ever painted anything on a sheet before. Including Cass, despite her stage set experience. When we were doing
Mary Poppins
, they were painting on canvas and wood, which is a lot stiffer and less likely to get all crumpled up. I suspect we’re going to need a spare sheet, but Cass is worryingly confident. She wanted to try putting together some film projections too, but we talked her out of it because it would just take up too much time.

‘One step at a time, Cass,’ said Alice. ‘We can have projections at the next gig.’

I hope my parents actually let me go round to Cass’s house on Sunday. There have been a few comments recently about how I keep staying out all day on Saturday during an exam year. But really, the weekends are meant to be about time off! I think I’m studying pretty hard during the week (well, I’m doing all my homework fairly well and surely some knowledge has to be going in). Also, I will tell them that I have been combining studying with music by speaking German during
practice. Surely that will convince them.

I’ll have to be careful when I ask, though, because Mum is very busy with work this week. She is finishing the editing of her next adult book (the one with the character named after Mrs Harrington) and getting ready for the publication of the next Ruthie book (sigh), so what with that and the musical she’s been a bit frazzled over the last few days. If I ask her at the wrong time, she’s quite likely to say no without even thinking about it. This morning I asked her if she’d seen my pencil case and she started going on about how I needed to get more organised in an exam year and how my room was a tip, which is a bit unfair because her study is so messy it looks like the aftermath of an explosion in a book factory.

And Dad wasn’t his usual cheery self this evening when he and Mum came home from practice. He clearly feels embarrassed about everyone thinking he was trying to steal their thunder. If only Henry Higgins’s songs were a bit more dancy. Or if only there was a part of the show where he could dance without taking all the attention away from the people who were singing.

Oh my God.

There is! I’ve just had my best idea ever. I must tell Dad straight away.

I told Dad my genius idea, and he likes it! When I went downstairs, he was sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of tea and the newspaper in front of him, staring into space.

‘Dad?’ I said. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Oh, sorry, love, I was miles away,’ he said, smiling at me. ‘What’s up?’

‘Well, I’ve had an idea,’ I said. ‘For you and
My Fair Lady
. I know how you can do more dancing.’

Dad sighed.

‘I don’t think that production needs any more new ideas, I’m afraid,’ he said. ‘Henry Higgins is just going to stick to his own scenes from now on. The rest of the cast were right, it wasn’t fair to them. I don’t really know what I was thinking …’

‘No, listen,’ I said. ‘I don’t want you to dance in other people’s scenes. I think you should dance in the overture. I mean, to the overture.’

Dad stared at me.

‘The what?’ he said.

‘The sort of instrumental medley of all the songs,’ I said.

‘I know what it is,’ said Dad. ‘But what do you mean?’

‘Well, before the main part of the show starts,’ I said. ‘They
could play the overture and you could work out a routine for it. You could take all that dancing you added to the getting-married song and ‘Wouldn’t It Be Loverly’, and all that, and put the routines together. Then you’d get to dance AND you wouldn’t be treading on anyone else’s toes. Not literally. You know what I mean.’

Dad looked thoughtful. Then his face brightened up. ‘You know what, Rebecca, that just might work …’ he said. ‘It really might. I’ll talk to Laura about it on Thursday. Thanks, love!’

He gave me a hug.

‘Don’t mention it,’ I said grandly, and I left him putting on the
My Fair Lady
soundtrack, clearly planning what routine he can do to the overture. At last, I have actually managed to help one of my family (I know I was trying to help Rachel, but I think the whole ‘keeping a secret from her’ bit might cancel that out)! I just hope Laura the director likes the idea too.

There was another big surprise at school today. And for once, it was a good one! When we arrived for our geography class Miss Kelly strode in and announced that today we were going
to run through some sample exam papers (other teachers would probably have just handed them out, but Miss Kelly likes announcing things). As soon as I heard these words, my heart sank. I know we have to see the papers, but I was freaked out enough last week by Mrs O’Reilly, and in her case I was sure we’d actually been spending all our time on the actual subject. So I was almost scared of what I’d see on the geography paper.

And of course, as soon as it landed on my desk, I scanned down the questions and started to feel panicky. I was totally sure we hadn’t covered any of these topics. Like urban population growth in India – when had we sat down and studied that? Never, as far as I could tell.

But then something happened. I remembered the times when Miss Kelly went on about how we’d all have to eat bugs because the population of the earth was expanding too fast for us to continue eating the way we’ve always eaten. As well as the disgusting insect-eating bits, she actually did tell us a lot about population growth and urban development. And then I looked at the question about drawing graphs and remembered Miss Kelly using a similar method to tell us about weather fluctuations. It turns out we have actually been learning lots of geography without really realising it!

I was so amazed by this revelation, I actually said, ‘But we’ve covered loads of this!’ out loud in a surprised voice. As soon as I said it, I was horrified. But Miss Kelly looked at me and grinned.

‘Of course we have, girls!’ she said. ‘I’m an educator as well as an environmentalist.’

Who knew you could teach girls so much about geography through the medium of natural-disaster-based terror? It’s amazing. I feel much better about the exams now.

I do feel a bit weird about other stuff, though. Well, about Sam. I only get to see him once a week and it’s not like we ever text or message each other or have any online contact during the week. What if it’s a case of ‘out of sight, out of mind’? He might forget all about me as soon as he goes home on Saturday. And I’m worried I’ve been a bit gushy and overly enthusiastic recently. If he doesn’t fancy me (and I must remind myself there is a perfectly good chance that he just sees me as a friend, like Lucy), then I really don’t want him to know that I like him. Maybe I will keep my distance a bit this weekend. Well, no, I’m not going to do that. But I will make sure I don’t look like I’m totally after him. I will try and get a perfect balance. Oh, fancying someone is all very stressful sometimes.

I was talking about this to Cass on the way home from
school today. She was very understanding, which in fairness to her she has been ever since I told her about liking Sam.

BOOK: Rebecca is Always Right
11.71Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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