Rebecca's Rules (6 page)

‘I started going there in September,’ said Jane. ‘But I think I’ll give it up after this term and find another class. It’s awful. It’s not like I thought it would be. Everyone’s like Vanessa − well, maybe not as mad. But they’re all very … showbizzy. I mean, you’ve seen what they’re like.’

We all thought of the squealing, glossy gang in the next room, tossing their shiny shiny hair all over the place. Cass shuddered.

‘So why did you join the class in the first place?’ asked Ellie.

Jane sighed. ‘Well, I like dancing. I used to go to ballet when I was little. And I like acting,’ she said. ‘But … I dunno. The class isn’t fun. Everyone’s just obsessed with being famous.’

‘Like Vanessa,’ I said. ‘Once she decided to apply to be on ‘My Big Birthday Bash’ she got even worse than she used to be.’

‘Especially worse to you,’ said Emma. And she told Jane how Vanessa had decided I was almost a celebrity because my mum wrote that book, and how Vanessa and tried to use me to get on ‘My Big Birthday Bash’.

‘And then we played at the Battle of the Bands and Bex fell off her drum stool and we didn’t win, so Vanessa decided we’d done it on purpose and had a huge mental tantrum in front of the producers and everyone,’ said Cass. ‘But they loved it and that’s why they chose her to be on the show. The more deranged the better, apparently.’

‘Wow,’ said Jane. ‘I remember Mrs Finn telling my mum that Vanessa had taken them to some sort of concert and the producers had been really impressed, but she didn’t mention why …’

‘What are her parents like, anyway?’ asked Ellie. ‘We’ve never actually seen them. Are they as mad as her? I mean, how did she turn out like this?’

But before Jane could answer, the door to the main ballroom opened and Sarah, the ‘Big Birthday Bash’ producer, slipped out and closed it behind her. Then she saw us lolling around on
the beanbags and strode over to us. She didn’t look happy.

‘Girls!’ she said. ‘What are you doing out here? Everyone’s meant to be in there dancing with the fairytale princes.’ She looked more closely at me, Cass and Alice. ‘Aren’t you the girls who were in that band?’

‘Um, yes,’ said Alice.

‘Ah,’ said Sarah. ‘I don’t suppose you’d like to get on stage later and, y’know, play a few songs with the band Vanessa’s hired?’

‘We certainly would not,’ said Cass.

‘Sorry,’ said Alice. ‘It’s just … we haven’t practised anything. And, um, well, we don’t want to.’ Which, for Alice, is pretty blunt. Sarah sighed. ‘That’s okay,’ she said and, for a moment, I felt sorry for her. Imagine if your job meant travelling the world, looking for evil spoiled brats and then going to their mad birthday parties. It must be awful.

‘Anyway,’ said Sarah. ‘I’m afraid you’re all going to have to come in to the ballroom. We can’t have any of the guests wandering around the house. It’s an insurance thing.’

‘We won’t wander,’ said Jane. ‘We can just stay here.’

And we all nodded. Sarah sighed again.

‘Sorry girls,’ she said. ‘It’s the rule. Anyway,’ she added more
brightly, ‘it’ll be fun in there! You can dance with a fairytale prince!’

We just stared at her. I think she knew we were not the sort of girls who would find it fun to dance with someone who was being paid to be a fairytale prince. But she was right that we didn’t have a choice. So we all got up and trooped across to the ballroom.

‘By the way, is there going to be a pink pony?’ said Cass. ‘I’ve been looking forward to it.’

‘You’re getting obsessed with it, Cass,’ said Alice.

‘It’s a pink pony! Vanessa’s been going on about it for months! I just want to see it at last,’ said Cass.

‘A pony? Oh, yes,’ said Sarah distractedly, looking at something on her clipboard. ‘It’ll be around later.’

‘Well that’s something,’ said Cass. ‘I suppose.’

A lot more happened after that but just thinking about it is exhausting. I am going to have to go to bed. Maybe it will all seem less mental in the morning.

SUNDAY

I am writing this in bed, still knackered after yesterday’s party.
I don’t know how all those celebrities who go out every night do it − especially the ones who drink a lot. I am a total wreck after just one day of serious partying AND of course there was no booze. I couldn’t sleep in properly because my annoying family got up at the crack of dawn (nine o’clock) and because they have no consideration for others they went stomping about the house and put on the radio really loudly.

I tried to get my mother to bring me up some breakfast in bed, but she, of course, has no sympathy for my tired and emotional state.

‘Well, you know what I think,’ she said, when she eventually came upstairs in response to my plaintive cries for help. ‘I think it was ridiculous to go in the first place.’

Though, because she is not a total monster, she was horrified to hear about what happened to poor Alice. But I haven’t got to that yet. I’d better continue the terrible tale.

So yes, anyway, when we all went back into the ballroom, the party was in full swing. Everyone was whirling around the dancefloor, some with the princes, some with ordinary guests. The classical music had stopped and another band was playing chart hits. We tried to hide near the door in case any of the
princes dragged us up on the dance floor. In fairness, plenty of our classmates seemed to be enjoying themselves. There was still glitter in the air, but Vanessa herself was nowhere to be seen. We grabbed some Cokes from a passing fairytale prince, who had apparently been relegated to drink-serving duty, and stayed in the background. It got a bit boring after a while because the music was too loud to talk properly. Then suddenly the music stopped and a man’s deep voice boomed over the sound system.

‘Everybody,’ roared the mysterious voice, ‘I want you all to give it up for Miss … Vanessa … Finn!’

‘Oops,’ said Jane. ‘I’ve got to go. See you later.’ And she disappeared into the crowd.

There was a blinding flash of light and a burst of smoke and Vanessa appeared on the podium, striking a dramatic pose. The glossy gang and the fairytale princes all started clapping and cheering (as did some of our class, who really should have known better). Then a fairytale prince walked up to each side of Vanessa and took her hand. As the band kicked into a brand new song, she strutted down from the podium and the glossy goons – and Jane – formed a group around her. And then we realised that the song was about Vanessa herself, and
she and the goons (and Jane) were performing an elaborate dance routine to it!

I can’t even describe how awful the song was. Bits of it were kind of spoken instead of sung and it went something like this:

‘That is the biggest lie I’ve ever heard in my life,’ said Cass.

‘Well, maybe boys do all want her,’ said Alice. ‘We’ve never asked any.’

‘They may,’ said Cass, ‘though I can’t understand why. But I bet there isn’t a single girl on earth who actually wants to be her.’

‘I dunno,’ said Ellie. ‘Look at Karen Rodgers.’

We looked over at Karen, who was still with the same fairytale prince who’d whisked her away earlier. She was gazing at Vanessa in awe and sort of shimmying along.

‘Poor Jane,’ said Alice. ‘This must be the terrible surprise she couldn’t tell us about.’

‘She’s very good,’ I said. ‘Jane, I mean. You’d never know how she was feeling inside.’ She was doing the dance perfectly, smiling perkily all the while, even though we knew she didn’t want to be there. Vanessa wasn’t doing as much dancing as the others − she was mostly striking poses while the rest of the goons danced around her – but she did perform some quite complicated moves and I had to admit that she had a good sense of timing (as a drummer, I notice these things). Which didn’t make up for the fact that the whole thing was completely ridiculous and terrible.

‘This is the worst song ever,’ said Cass. ‘I wonder who wrote it?’

‘Maybe she wrote it herself?’ said Jessie. ‘The lyrics, I mean.’

The song was still going on. It just got worse.

‘How can she be a princess, a queen and an empress?’ asked Ellie. ‘That doesn’t even make sense!’

‘I know,’ said Cass. ‘And what is she meant to be the queen and the empress and the princess of? Not our class, I hope.’

The whole thing was terrible, but it was also sort of mesmerising. In fact, Alice and I climbed onto some chairs and stood on them so we could get a better view of the horrible sight.

At last the song ended, with all the dancers stretching their arms out to Vanessa while she posed triumphantly in the centre. Even more glitter fell from the ceiling then, which I would like to think is the only reason why everyone shrieked, and they weren’t screaming with joy and admiration. Vanessa leapt gracefully back up on the podium in her sparkly heels (I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again − for someone who generally wears very awkward footwear she is very nimble) and grabbed yet another microphone.

‘Thank you, everyone!’ she cried, as if we’d all been whooping and cheering and stamping our feet with joy. ‘In a few minutes, I’m going to show how grateful I am to all of you for coming by singing a very special new song with this amazing band. But now it’s time for a very special part of today’s
fabulous celebrations – the birthday cake!’

The door from the hall opened, some cameras moved in that direction, and something very peculiar came in.

‘Oh my God,’ said Cass, gleefully. ‘It’s here!’

It was the pony. It had clearly once been white (or grey, as white horses are mysteriously called. I don’t know why), but now it was bright pink, apart from its mane, which was still pale silvery grey. It was surprisingly large – I mean, it wasn’t a little cute Shetland pony. To be honest, I’d have thought it was a plain old horse. Anyway, it didn’t look very happy, understandably enough. It was attached to a little pink cart on which was a giant tower of bright pink cupcakes. Everyone gasped.

‘You know,’ said Cass, who had got up on the chair next to me. ‘In a way, this is just as insanely brilliant as I hoped it was going to be, but in another The song was still going on. It just got worse. well, I dunno. The pony looks a bit cross. I hope it’s okay.’

‘Maybe it’ll bite Vanessa,’ said Ellie hopefully.

And actually, that’s almost what happened. Some men came over and unhitched the cart from the pony as the cameras pointed at Vanessa, who was skipping over to pet it (the pony, not the cart). They moved the cart to the side and pulled down
some glittering covers over the wheels so it looked like a fancy table. Lots of camera flashes started going off as people tried to take photos. The pony looked crosser and crosser and then, when Vanessa flung her arms around its neck so the camera crew could get a close up, it just lost its temper (who could blame it?) and sort of reared up. Vanessa shrieked and fell back, but unfortunately (for her, not for us – we found this all very entertaining) she fell right back into the cart/table. Which meant she fell right back into the giant pile of cupcakes, which tumbled to the ground along with Vanessa herself.

It was madness. Vanessa was lying there on a pile of squashed cakes, covered in more of the cakes, shrieking all the while and kicking her legs about. Meanwhile, the pony had made a bid for freedom and was trotting across the room at a scarily fast pace.

‘Oh my God,’ said Cass. ‘It’s heading our way! Come on!’

She jumped off her chair, and so did I, but it was like Alice was frozen. She just stood there, petrified, staring at the pony.

‘Come on, Alice!’ I shouted. And then she jumped. But she was in such a panic she didn’t land properly. Instead, she sort of fell off the chair and crashed onto the ground.

Everyone screamed, including me, but Alice herself didn’t. She just lay there looking very white and scared.

‘Oh my God,’ I said in horror. ‘She’s dead!’

‘No I’m not,’ said Alice, feebly. ‘But … ow! OW! I think … ow … I think something’s happened to my wrist.’ She tried to sit up as Sarah the producer pushed her way through the crowd (the pony, by the way, had been captured and taken out by its keepers. It looked very pleased with itself.). The cameras, I noticed, were still focused on Vanessa, who was trying to stand up but kept slipping on the cupcakes.

‘Oh God, this is all we need,’ muttered Sarah. ‘No, don’t move!’ she said to Alice. ‘We’ll have to get an ambulance.’

‘I don’t think I need an ambulance,’ said Alice. ‘I mean, it’s just my wrist.’

‘Better safe than sorry,’ said Sarah. ‘I’ll get the first-aid team anyway.’ She helped Alice get up and sit in the chair she’d just fallen off.