The Time of Your Life (5 page)

Holly: Monsters of Rock and Top Scorers

'And it's a
legendary
moment in rock music history!'
Felix
proclaimed as he unlocked the rehearsal room the
following Saturday afternoon. 'The first
ever
combined
rehearsal of teenage rock legend, The Undertow,
and the hottest new girl band in town, Nobody's
Angels . . .'

'Just open the door, will you?' laughed Ben, the
bass guitarist. 'We're getting old waiting around here
for you.'

Felix pointed at his ankle, still in its plaster cast.
'Excuse
me,
I'm mobility-challenged here, you
know!'

'Mentally
challenged, more like,' quipped Mason,
the drummer.

Holly exchanged smiles with Cat and Belle. After
their initial excitement, they'd all been feeling a
little nervous about the first practice with the boys'
band: would they all get on OK? Would their
musical styles clash horribly? And would the boys
try to boss them around?
Although, with Cat's fiery
temper and Belle's control-thing, the boys would be venturing
into
very
hazardous waters if they attempted that!
Holly thought.

But she needn't have worried. Felix's laid-back
jokey style soon put them all at their ease. And
they knew Mason already, of course – he was in Year
Eight and hung out with Nick, Zak and Frankie;
he'd only recently joined The Undertow to replace
their original drummer, a Year Eleven boy who'd
left to join a world tour with one of London's top
youth orchestras. That only left Ben Stein, a tall, gangly
Year Ten boy in camouflage trousers and ripped
Arctic Monkeys T-shirt. At first Holly found Ben's
mean-and-moody scowl a little intimidating, but she
soon relaxed when she heard him goofing around
with the others.

Holly, Cat and Belle followed the boys into the
rehearsal room. Mason adjusted the drum kit, while
Ben plugged his bass guitar into the amplifier.
Felix settled into a chair with his electric guitar and a
microphone, the Ankle of Destiny propped up on his
guitar case.

There was an ear-splitting squeal from the amp as
Ben tuned up his bass.

Belle clapped her hands over her ears.

'OK, we get the message!' Cat laughed. 'You guys
are Monsters of Rock!'

'Yeah, Deaf Monsters if you keep the levels up
that high,' Belle commented, turning the dial down
several notches.

Holly cringed. The boys were really going to
love
being told to keep the noise down! She waited for
trouble to break out, but Felix just grinned and made
a face. 'Girls! Such sensitive creatures!'

'What are we waiting for?' Cat yelled. She grabbed
a microphone and started to sing Pink's
So What.
She really looked the part, Holly thought, in her
black mini-skirt and biker boots and a tight purple
top. She'd even added red lipstick and piled her
hair into an Amy Winehouse-style beehive to complete
the rock-chick look. Holly jumped up and joined
her, improvising some dance steps, which Cat quickly
followed. Belle picked up the lead vocal, her
powerful voice resonating around the room. Soon
the boys joined in and they finished the song with a
rebel-rousing chorus.

For the next two hours, The Undertow and
Nobody's Angels worked together, practising all the
old-favourite dance-floor-fillers they'd been asked to
perform at the wedding. They would also have a
chance to play some of their original songs, Felix
explained, when the oldsters left the reception and
the younger guests stayed on for an evening party. The
Undertow's sound was an original fusion of indie rock
and reggae, which the girls loved.

They all got on brilliantly, and laughed and joked
together as they worked. The girls even gave the boys
the music for one of their own songs, the lively Latin
American number,
Done Looking!,
which Lettie Atkins
had written for them. Mason knew the song already, of
course, because he was in the school orchestra that
played the accompaniment at the talent competition,
and the other two soon picked it up and added a
quirky rock sound to the mambo beat.

'Wow, that was great!' they all agreed as they
eventually sank to the floor, exhausted but elated by
their efforts.

'Here's to The Under-Angels!' Holly laughed,
leading a toast with her bottle of water. She'd
completely forgotten her earlier doubts; now she
couldn't wait for the next rehearsal.

'So where's the wedding?' Belle asked.

'Walthamstow,' Felix replied. 'North London. It's my
sister, Carly, and her fiancé.'

Holly gave a big smile. 'Walthamstow's where I live!'
Then she had what Belle would have called an
Awesome Idea. She would invite Cat and Belle to stay
at her house after the wedding reception. Mum had
met them at the gala showcase, and would
love
having
them all home for the night.

'See you next week!' Holly called. She followed Cat
and Belle out of the rehearsal room and straight into a
three-person pile-up in the doorway as they almost
crashed into a boy who was careering down the
corridor after a football.

With perfect timing, Belle stretched out an elegant
Jimmy-Choo-sandalled foot and stopped the ball.

But the next moment her trademark poise and style
suddenly disappeared. 'Ooh, er . . . ' she stammered.
She tried placing her hand casually on her hip, slipped
and stumbled to one side.

Whatever can be causing Belle to act so . . . well, like me?
Holly wondered:
shy, clumsy, tongue-tied –
these were
not the words that usually leaped to mind when
describing Belle!

Oh,
that
was why!

The boy chasing the football was Jack 'Pirate Boy'
Thorne.

'Er, is this a football?' Belle spluttered.

'I hope so!' Jack laughed. 'I've been kicking it
around the football pitch for the last hour!'

She giggled and stared at it.

Cat's eyes were round with astonishment.
Yep,
Holly thought.
Cat's definitely noticed Belle's major
coolness-malfunction too.

'Hi, I'm Holly,' she said, holding out her hand.
'This is Cat, and this is Belle.'

'Hey, good to meet you!' Jack gave a lopsided grin
as he shook hands and leaned back against the wall
in a leisurely slouch. 'Belle? As in Belle Madison?'
he asked.

Oh, no! Holly was horrified. He's going to ask if her
dad is Dirk Madison, the famous American film
director, and Belle hates it when people bring up her
celebrity parents.

But, 'You're the girl with the amazing voice, right?'
Jack asked. 'I've heard about you . . .'

Oh, wow! This guy is good, Holly said to herself.
Really good! If Belle hadn't been completely hearts-flowers
smitten already, she would be now! Her greatest
dream in life was to be recognized for her singing
talents.

'Oh, er, erm, thanks,' Belle muttered as Jack
continued to gaze at her, his hazel eyes blazing with
admiration.

'So you're a keen football player then, Jack?' Cat
asked – when it became obvious that the part of
Belle's brain in charge of intelligent conversation
hadn't kicked back in yet.

'Yeah, love it!' he said. 'I used to play a lot
in Singapore.'

Holly suddenly remembered what Ethan had said
about the Garrick team. 'You're not a striker by any
chance, are you?' she asked. If Jack was good enough,
perhaps he could take Felix's place . . .

Jack grinned mischievously. 'Top scorer last season!'

'Hey, Jack! You planning to stand around chatting
up the babes or are you bringing that ball back
some time today?' Nick and Zak had poked their heads
in through the open window at the end of the corridor
– where the ball must have bounced in from the
playing field.

'I'm on it!' Jack shouted back, flicking the ball up
with his toe and catching it. 'See you around!'

'See you!' Holly and Cat called.

'Yeah!' Belle mumbled, her face a shade of
flamingo-pink.

Holly thought she saw Nick giving Belle a strange
look. Maybe he'd noticed the signs of strange un-Belle-like
activity too . . .

'Wow! Top scorer!' Cat laughed when Jack was
barely out of earshot. 'And I think our Belle's his next
goal, don't you, Hols?'

'Shh!' Holly hissed, shaking Cat's arm. 'He'll
hear you.'

But when she glanced up, she realized that
Jack hearing them might not be the biggest problem
on their horizon.

Bianca Hayford was standing at the end of the
corridor.

How long has she been lurking there?
Holly wondered.
And has she spotted the sparks between Jack and Belle too?

From the look that Bianca was aiming at Belle,
Holly could stop wondering: Bianca had clearly seen
everything.

It was a look as icy as the frozen wastelands of
Antarctica. The look the penguin sees gleaming in the
eye of the killer whale as it's about to become lunch.

It seemed that Belle had just made Bianca even
more of an enemy than she already was.

Cat: Attack of the Designer Waifs

Later on Saturday afternoon Cat was alone in her
room. She was due to meet Nathan in a few minutes
to polish off another batch of science homework
before going to a
Macbeth
rehearsal.

There was just one tiny, microscopic problem.

She couldn't find her
Macbeth
script; the one that
she'd spent hours marking up with notes about how to
deliver each line.

She looked around in despair. On Belle's side
of the room, clothes were hanging neatly in the
wardrobe, books were lined up in alphabetical order
and the cushions were arranged symmetrically on
the bed.

On Cat's side, a tsunami of clothes and shoes had
washed up all over the bed. A volcano of books and
papers had erupted across the desk

Va-a-a-lerieee . . .
And now, somewhere in the chaos,
her mobile phone was ringing!

She finally tracked the ringtone to a pile of laundry.

'Yes! What?' Cat answered, flopping down amongst
the discarded clothes.
'Arggh!'
she screamed as she felt a
furry body stir beneath her. Shreddie, deeply offended
at being disturbed during his afternoon nap, stretched
and stalked out of the door.

'Whatever's the matter, Catrin?' her mum asked.

'Nothing!' Cat replied.

Nothing?
Only that I've lost my
Macbeth
script, I've
got a rehearsal in half an hour, a pile of science homework to
do and my room's a natural disaster . . .

'Everything's fine, Mum!' she said.

'Good,' her mum replied. 'Now, listen, love. They're
re-casting for the chorus of
Oliver!
next week, and I've
managed to get you on the audition list for Tuesday
afternoon—'

'No!' Cat said flatly. It wasn't that she didn't like
Oliver!
It was a great musical. It just wasn't her style.

'No what?'

'No, I don't want to be in
Oliver!
And no, I can't go
on Tuesday afternoon. I've got a
Macbeth
rehearsal.'

'Don't be silly, of course you do! Everyone who's
anyone
started out in
Oliver!'

'I don't want to be
anyone,'
Cat insisted. '
I
want to be
Lady Macbeth!'

'Yes, love, I know. But it's just a school play. This is
West End. It could be your big break!'

'It's not
just a school play!'
Cat snapped. 'The Garrick
Shakespeare production is a Big Deal!' She sighed.
When was Mum going to get it? She didn't want West
End. If she got into one of those shows, she'd have no
time for
Macbeth –
or for Nobody's Angels. She might
even have to leave the Garrick and have a private
tutor. But
this
was where she wanted to be. Superstar
High! The best place in the world to train as a serious
actress . . .

'And anyway,' Cat said, trying a different tack, 'I'd be
useless for
Oliver!
I don't exactly
look
like a half-starved
orphan boy!'

'Oh, that's no problem!' Her mum laughed. 'We can
strap those boobs down. And there
are
corsets, you
know . . .'

'Thanks, Mum,' Cat said. 'That's really done wonders
for my self-image. I do
not
need a corset!'

'So,' Mum continued, deaf to all objections, 'I'll be
there at two thirty on Tuesday to pick you up. I've
cleared it with Mr Fortune for you to miss class. What
a
lovely
man he is. I'll be in the car, waiting in the drive.
If you're not there, I'll start blaring the horn. And make
sure you look like a
waif!'

Cat had no choice.

Tuesday afternoon found her trailing down the
broad stone steps on her way out of Superstar High,
looking vaguely waif-like in a pair of raggedy trousers
and an oversized jacket she'd borrowed from the school
costume store. Grumpily she yanked open the door of
the people-carrier to find a smartly dressed Japanese
woman in the passenger seat. 'Hop in the back with
Mayu, love,' Mum told her.

Speechless with surprise, Cat slammed the door.
What were Mayu and her mother doing in Mum's car?
Reluctantly she climbed into the back seat.

'We're giving Mayu and Mrs Tanaka a lift to the
TV studio in Covent Garden,' Mum explained.
'They were about to get a taxi – Mayu has a try-out
for a skin cream commercial!' she added in an awed
tone – as if Mayu had received a personal invitation
from the Queen to perform a one-woman show at the
Albert Hall!

Mrs Tanaka turned and smiled proudly at her
daughter. 'How
nice
that you two girls are in the school
play together,' she said sweetly.

As Mum threw the car around the busy London
streets, trading insults with taxi drivers, Cat festered
with silent rage. She didn't want to go to the audition,
and she
certainly
didn't want to be trapped in a confined
space with Mayu for the next twenty minutes. She just
wanted to be back at Superstar High in Mr Grampian's
drama class. Mayu, looking all cute and adorable in a
Nesquik-pink jacket and shorts, was glaring out of the
window, radiating resentment like a sugared almond
dipped in sulphuric acid – she'd still not got over the
humiliation of being Cat's understudy.

'You two are quiet back there,' Mrs Tanaka
remarked.

'Nerves, I expect, bless them,' Mum said as she
beeped furiously at a bus that had the audacity to try
and
actually drive in the bus lane.

Cat sighed. The only thing that made it even remotely
bearable was that Mayu was hating it even more than
she
was.

But at least Mrs Tanaka had ensured that
their
appointment would be over in plenty of time to get
back for the
Macbeth
rehearsal. Unlike Mum, who just
murmured, 'We'll see . . .' Which everyone knows
means
Don't bank on it.

Finally they dropped off their passengers and arrived
at the Galaxy Theatre, where Mum immediately
whisked Cat into the ladies and swaddled her with
tape under her waif-jacket to pull in her curves.
This
must be what those Egyptian mummies felt like,
Cat
thought. Then she smudged Cat's cheeks with black
powder to give her that authentic
guttersnipe
look, and
scraped her hair back under a ridiculous tweed cap.
Cat gritted her teeth, determined to get it over with as
quickly as possible.

When they emerged into the foyer of the theatre,
it was Waif Central. Skinny boys with big Pokémon-character
eyes. Tiny girls with matchstick legs and
designer-grunge rags. After what seemed like hours, an
assistant called out Cat's name and ushered her onto
the stage.

Cat didn't want to be in
Oliver!
and she was going
to make sure that
Oliver!
didn't want her either.

She sang the first three verses of
Consider Yourself
completely out of tune.

She read out the short speech that she was asked to
perform in the manner of a chirpy London street
urchin in a broad Yorkshire accent.

'Next!' called the casting director, without even
looking up.

Cat spent the journey back to the Garrick in stony
silence while Mum lectured her on the error of her
ways. 'I would have
jumped
at the chance of
Oliver!
when I was your age!' she began. Mum had done some
acting in her younger days, even appearing (or rather
not appearing, underneath a furry teddy-bear costume)
as a walk-on Ewok in a
Star Wars
movie. But then
she met Dad, had kids, and the rest was history.
'Shakespeare's all very well,' she continued, 'but he's not
exactly
box office,
is he?'

As they pulled up to the Garrick, it was almost half
past five. Cat raced along to the Redgrave.
Only half
an hour late,
she thought as she burst into the theatre
to find the rest of the cast sitting in a circle on the stage,
doing a read-through of Act One.
Half an hour wasn't
so
bad!

Unfortunately the director didn't agree. 'If you can't
make it to rehearsals on time, Catrin, there are plenty
of other students who would be only too happy to take
your place!' he roared.

Mayu giggled and flashed him one of her
dimple-power smiles.

'Sorry,' Cat stammered. 'I was unavoidably delayed –
er . . . family problems.'

Well, it was true!
Mum
was
family, and she was
definitely
causing problems . . .

'Oh yes, how
did
your audition for
Oliver!
go, Cat?'
Mayu asked, sweet as syrup.

Duncan Gillespie, the student director, raised an
eyebrow. Mr Sharpe looked like he was going to
explode, but Duncan leaped to Cat's defence. 'Never
mind, we didn't need you for the first few scenes
anyway . . .' he said. Cat smiled at him gratefully.

Belle shuffled along and made room for Cat next to
her. 'Smudge,' she whispered behind her script,
pointing at Cat's face.

Cat scrubbed at the black powder with a tissue,
feeling – not for the first time lately – that her life was
spiralling out of control.