Starting Over (9 page)

‘See that girl behind Ella?' he said as he pointed to a tall dark-haired girl in the queue. ‘She's a right bossy git. She will probably be go on to be prime minister then go for world dominance.'

‘One of those larger-than-life people? Unlike me. I've had a small day today.'

‘Small day?'

I nodded. ‘Yeah. Like Alice in Wonderland. Remember in the book, she drank a potion and grew and grew until she was bursting out of the house, she was so big. And then she drank another potion and shrank until she was tiny, as small as a mouse. Some days, I feel big and confident, other days, I feel like shrinking away and want to avoid everyone. Today's one of my small days and I feel like giving up.' Suddenly I had an idea. ‘Hey, Mikey. Will you take some pics of me?'

‘Naked?'

‘No.
I've had an idea for my self-portrait project.'

‘I am your slave, India Jane. I will do whatever you ask me and one day you will realise that I am your soul mate, your lover, your man.'

‘OK, but first you need to grow about four inches.'

‘I'm working on it.'

I could see the pictures in my mind's eye. In one, I'd be tiny; in another, enormous. I was sure that with a bit of tinkering, the right background and props, I could make the pictures work. I would call them ‘Alice in Wonderland Days'.

‘Mikey.'

‘Yeah.'

‘I think we can be friends.'

‘It's a start. So, I suppose a snog is out of the question?'

‘You suppose right.'

Mikey nodded and smiled. ‘I have time on my side . . . but meanwhile, if you're not interested, maybe you could give me some tips for pulling girls. See there's this girl in French I fancy . . .'

Mikey was cool. OK, so maybe I'd have preferred a girl mate, but he was a good start.

On the way home, I began to wonder if my expectations for a friend were too high. I waited until our agreed MSN time, then I asked Erin what she thought.

When we'd finished our catch up, I realised once again, Erin was my perfect friend. She had just one small fault. She lived in another blooming country.

Oh whoa whoa nooo,
I thought when I saw who was waiting in the prefab where the show meeting was to be held. Medium frame, broad shoulders, slim waist, cute butt. In jeans and a black T-shirt. Shoulder-length brown hair. Gorgeous eyes. Joe.

I took a deep breath as my stomach did its usual lurch. ‘Hey.'

He turned and smiled. ‘Hey, India. How you getting on?'

‘Good. Yeah. What are you doing in here?'

‘Scenery-painting. I do it most years. You?'

‘Scenery-painting. First year.'

‘Ah. Good. Should be an interesting one.'

‘Oh. Why's that?'

‘Andrea Ward told me that some dork with no ideas at all has been put in charge.'

‘She did. Really? Er . . . I . . .'

At that moment, the door opened and a couple of other people sauntered in and Joe waved hi to them and went over to chat. After a few more minutes, Mr Bailey appeared with Mrs Maris and a couple of other teachers I recognised from the drama department. After fifteen minutes, there were about forty of us.

Mr Bailey got up on to a table and clapped his hands. ‘Right everybody, you all know why we're here. We won't waste any time as we want to get on. For anyone who doesn't know the director of this year's show, I'd like to introduce Barry Morrison. Say hi, Barry.' He looked down at a tall dark-haired boy with a long pale face who was standing by the table. He barely looked up, but gave the gathered pupils a weary wave.
Attractive in agoth poet kind of way,
I thought.
He looks interesting.

‘Get yourself into your groups,' Mr Bailey continued, ‘I've spoken to you all so you know where you belong. Actors, top right - see Mrs Maris. Technical, glad to see some of you showed up, very good, just have a quick chat then you can go. Scenery, back right by the door. Costumes and make-up, back left. Right, chop, chop.' He attempted a balletic leap to the floor and almost lost his balance when he landed. He glanced quickly at the other teachers to see if they'd noticed his momentary lapse in cool, but they weren't taking any notice of him.

I made my way to the back, where he'd indicated the scenery group should go. I glanced around, but there was no sign of Andrea in the hall. I got out a couple of sketchpads and tried to look busy as I waited for the others and was soon joined by Joe, two other boys and three girls.

‘So where's Andrea?' asked a boy with spiky red hair and freckles.

‘She'll be along later,' said a skinny blonde girl with a brace. ‘She's still upset that she's been usurped.'

‘So where is our new leader then?' asked Joe.

The freckly boy shrugged. ‘Anyone know if it's a girl or boy?'

‘Girl,' said the blonde.

‘And Andrea said she seemed like a bit of moron, ‘Joe added, ‘and it's going to be up to us to pull toge—' He glanced over at me, including me in what he was saying, but as soon as he saw my face, he put two and two together and sat down and slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand. ‘Yeah. Um. Hah! Think I'll sit down for a moment.' And then he looked as if he was having a hard time not laughing.

I stood up. ‘I guess I'd better introduce myself. I'm India Jane Ruspoli. I'm the moron who's been put in charge.'

Joe couldn't contain himself and burst out laughing. ‘Sorry, India.
Really
sorry. Sorry for laughing. I should have guessed.'

Everyone else looked bewildered, like they didn't know how to play it, and looked from me to Joe to me again.

‘She's not a moron, guys,' said Joe. ‘I know her. At least kind of. . . kind of know her, that is. Not that she's a kind of moron either. Whatever . . .' I felt touched that Joe had come to my defence and for once, it was my turn to be amused as he blustered over what he was trying to say. ‘Main thing is, she can really paint.'

‘How do you know?' I asked. I knew that he'd never seen any
of my work, even though he'd asked to see some sketches when we were in Greece.

‘I saw your portfolio. It was on the side in the art room and I saw your name on it.'

‘That was private!'

Joe coloured slightly. ‘I know. Er ... oops,' he said and pointed at himself. ‘Nosey bugger. That's me. I couldn't resist. It would be like finding your diary.'

‘My
diary!
You'd read my
diary?'

The ginger boy coughed. ‘Er, excuse me, but others
are
present here.'

‘Yeah. Like, get a room,' drawled the blonde girl.

Joe looked taken aback at her comment and not very pleased about it.

‘Sorry,' I said. ‘Yes. Shall we get on with the meeting?'

‘Might be an idea,' said Blondie. ‘You two can get back to flirting with each other later . . .'

‘We weren't . . . ' Joe and I blurted at the same time.

The others exchanged looks, as if sharing a private joke.

‘Whatever,' said Blondie. ‘Shall we get started?'

‘I'm Tim,' said the ginger-haired boy and indicated the plump dark-haired boy next to him. ‘This is Mark. We're both in Year Twelve.'

I turned to the girls. ‘Ruth,' said the blonde one.

‘And Gayle,' said her equally sullen-looking brunette mate.

At that moment, the door opened and in came Andrea. It was a brilliant entrance as, by chance, behind her the sun
burst through the clouds at the exact moment she entered the room.

‘Wow. Cool lighting effects,' said Tim.

Andrea gave him a smug smile. ‘You know me,' she said. ‘Andrea's the name. Special effects are the game . . .' And then she saw me. ‘Or at least used to be.'

‘Yeah,' said Joe. ‘How long have you been waiting out there for exactly the right conditions?'

‘As if. I have better things to do with my time,' said Andrea, but she flashed him a smile then turned to look at me. ‘So. How far have we got?'

‘India had just introduced herself,' said Joe with a smirk. ‘What was it you said again? Something about a moron?'

I gave him a filthy look and turned my back on him. ‘As I was saying . . . Mr Bailey has asked me to co-ordinate the scenery-painting this year but it's my first time so I hope that you'll help me out and tell me when I'm going wrong. Basically, I hope that we can work as a team.'

‘We always work as a team,' said Andrea. ‘But first we have to have an idea to work on. I presume that you've brought something to show us?'

‘Sure,' I said and pulled out my sketchpad. ‘I worked on a couple of things last night. But first have any of you got anything to show?'

They shook their heads.

‘Andrea, I thought you had something?'

‘Yeah, but you go ahead first,' she said with a fake smile.

I passed around my sketches and a couple of interiors that I had cut out of a magazine that showed a nineteen-twenties art deco style. ‘I thought we could go for really simple, black-and-white art deco. Seeing as the play is set in a girls' school in the nineteen-twenties, it would seem fitting, don't you think?'

No one looked enthusiastic.

‘I suppose that's the problem with coming on board late,' Andrea said. ‘We did an art deco set for last year's Christmas show, so if we did it again, it wouldn't look like we'd made much of an effort, would it?'

Bollards,
I thought.
So stupid of me. I should have checked what had been done in the past so that I didn't waste my time by going over old ground.

‘Not your fault,' said Joe, coming to my rescue again. ‘Bailey should have filled you in when he briefed you.'

Tim and Mark kindly spent the next ten minutes going over past ideas so that I was in the picture. It seemed that, over the years, they'd explored and exhausted a whole host of good ideas: all one colour, sci-fi, nineteen-fifties glamour, medieval . . . the list went on.

‘So you got anything else?'Andrea asked me. ‘Or has today been a total waste of time?'

‘Don't be a bitch,' said Joe. ‘This is India's first time on this
and
she's new to the school.'

Andrea narrowed her eyes and scrutinised Joe. ‘Not new to you though, I hear. Mia told me that you spent the summer together,' she said.

Joe wasn't intimidated and he stared right back at Andrea until eventually she had to lower her eyes. ‘Don't believe everything you hear,' he said. ‘We were on the same island, but I wouldn't say we spent the summer together, would you, India?'

‘Nothing like,' I said.
Although I would have gladly,
I thought.

‘Yeah, let's cut her some slack,' said Mark. ‘Look. Let's go through the plot, through the scenes, and see if anyone thinks of anything.'

‘I already have,' said Andrea. ‘I had it all mapped out in my head.'

‘Come on then, let's see your ideas,' said Gayle.

Andrea hesitated, then got out a sketchpad. ‘OK,' she said as she produced some sheets. ‘I thought we should go gloriously pink. Like OTT romantic and camp.' She passed around some coloured sketches and everyone glanced over them, but no one looked enthusiastic about her ideas either. Although the drawings were good, the sets looked very girlie. ‘Well at least I had a new idea.'

‘Why don't we chew it over for the rest of the weekend,' suggested Joe. ‘And Bailey did say we had until after half-term so it's not like it's urgent.'