“We’re on, Lucy.” Suzanne, the band guitar player stopped beside us, blissfully unaware of the drama.
“Go!” I shouted.
And to my total unspeakable relief, Lucy went.
The applause for the band rippled through the curtains. I turned to head back to my place in the line – and bumped straight into Summer. She looked like some kind of evil light was shining through her. Triumph gleamed in her eyes as she blocked my way.
“What?” I demanded, staring her down.
“Looking forward to your big moment, Coleen?” Summer purred.
“Right now, I’m looking forward to pushing you out of my way,” I growled back.
“You’re going to look soooo stupid,” Summer crowed. “Have you seen your precious top lately?”
And with a silvery laugh, she trotted off to join Hannah Davies at the back of the line.
The hippie, misty notes of Mr Rat’s Grateful Dead track started swirling out of the speakers. I could smell the dry ice hissing out of the canister. The first speaker was introducing the dawn. Dread grabbed at my guts.
How could I have forgotten Summer’s threat?
I spun around and pushed up the line to the clothes rail. Pulling out my top, I stared dumbly at the huge, ragged holes that had been cut into it. Slash marks ran the length of the arms, and the seams at the side had been ripped apart. I knew at once that my silver belt was never going to hold the top together. It was ruined.
The Grateful Dead ended, and the cheery notes of Walking on Sunshine started up from the band. The audience cheered. Deaf to it all, I clutched the top and ran.
My brain was whizzing at a million miles an hour. Everything had been held at Summer’s dad’s storage place overnight. She must have got hold of the key. Tears sprang to my eyes. I kept running. Shoving past everyone, I leaped down the backstage steps.
“Coleen!” Miss O’Neill ran after me, waving her clipboard at me. “Come back! Where are you going?”
It was a good question. Where was I going? My feet had a mind of their own. I flew down empty corridors like something in a nightmare, pushing at classroom doors in a desperate bid to find something – anything…
Textiles room.
I stopped like I had slammed into an invisible wall. The textiles room door was ajar. People had been in and out of it all afternoon, fixing broken buttons and stitching up hems. There had to be something here that I could use.
Strains of the Beach Boys’ Surfin’ USA floated down the corridor. With a gulp, I realised how fast the show was moving. It had always felt much longer than just forty minutes in rehearsal. Now those precious minutes were melting away. Trying not to think of my family’s faces when I didn’t make it on to the catwalk in time, I pulled out drawers and tipped them over the floor, muttering invisible apologies to Miss Smith the textiles teacher. Zips, buttons, feathers, rolls of felt. I threw aside Velcro and rolls of black thread, puddles of silky fabric and balls of wool. Seizing on a large bottom drawer, I heaved it open in desperation.
A bunch of multi-coloured ribbons spilt out of the drawer, rolling away gently underneath the desks and cupboards. I fell on my knees and grabbed handfuls of reds, oranges and yellows. Dawn sky, I thought feverishly, seizing a nearby pair of scissors and lopping off lengths of bright ribbon, adding purple and pale blue as I went along. I pulled on the top, seized the ends of the ribbons in my teeth, and started wrapping myself up like a parcel. I wound the red ribbon around one arm, and the orange one around the other. The yellow crisscrossed across my stomach and did a decent job of covering up the thumping great hole. That left the blue and the purple. I turned myself like a chicken on a spit, lifting my arms and tucking the ribbons together as best I could. The top was starting to look less like a torn-up dishcloth and more like something you could wear again. At least, I hoped it was. The only mirror that I had was the window in the textiles room door.
The intro to Here Comes the Sun had started up. I stopped, my teeth still clamped around the ribbon ends, and listened. Lucy’s voice floated down the corridor like an angel’s.
Well, at least that’s one less thing to worry about, I thought.
And just as I thought it, the ribbon ends fell out of my mouth and I had to start all over again.
I wanted to bawl. I wanted to lie down and yell and bang the floor with my fists. Summer Collins had won. But I found one last, limp little bit of pride, and forced myself to take up the dangling ribbon ends again.
Rhianna’s Music of the Sun was fading out. Now it was the band’s last live song. I carried on, desperately trying to tie and tuck the ribbon ends in place to hold my creation together. Forcing myself to concentrate, I tucked the last trailing ribbon end into my trousers and took a deep breath. Not too deep, mind. There was no way I was risking one of my ribbons pinging off again. I gave myself a long, hard look at my reflection in the textiles room doorwindow. Then, hugging myself just in case any of the ribbons got some funny ideas about working their way loose, I started running back to the stage.
The corridor had never seemed so long. I could hear Nitin Sawhney’s Sunset fading out. The little intro of When You Wish Upon a Star was about to start, when the first twinkling stars would shine on the stage curtains and prepare the way for the beach-party finale. My beach-party finale.
I skidded around the last corner and pelted towards the backstage steps. When You Wish Upon a Star was fading, and Pink was about to bring the house to their feet.
“Coleen!” Miss O’Neill looked like she was in a state of shock as she saw me racing towards her. “What…your top…”
“Ask Summer Collins, Miss,” I shouted, bombing past her. I flew up those steps like my life depended on it. Which it kind of did.
BOOM!
Pink’s Get the Party Started leaped into life from Mr Rat’s speakers. Nearly everyone had been on the stage already, and were now standing around waiting to go back on for the final bow.
“Out the way!” I yelled.
I nearly crashed into Ben, who was just coming off the catwalk. He did this double-take at me – and then grinned so wide that his mouth practically wrapped around the back of his head. If I wasn’t sure I looked hot before, I was now!
“Whoo, Coleen!” Mel whooped, clapping like crazy when she saw what I’d done.
Summer minced through the curtain behind Ben, all silvery and hideous and totally smug. And I’ll tell you this: if smugness made a noise when it fell off someone’s face, it would make the most satisfying scrunch you ever heard.
I blew Summer a massive raspberry. And laughing with delight at the total look of shock on her face, I burst through the curtains, leaping down the steps in one go with my ribbons flying behind me. The show was almost over. But Coleen, Style Queen’s fabulous fashion career had only just begun…
Perfect Party Top
You will need:
An old T-shirt
Pretty ribbon, lace or sequins
A pretty button or bead
Sharp scissors
A needle and thread in a similar colour to the ribbon
Step 1 Take the strip of ribbon or sequins and wrap it around the hem of your T-shirt until the ends meet. Cut it so the ends overlap by about 1.5 c.m. Do the same around the neck and sleeves.
Step 2 Carefully thread your needle and tie a knot in the end of the thread.
Step 3 Stitch the top edge of the ribbon/lace to the hem of your T-shirt, using tiny stitches, so the thread hardly shows. When you reach the end, fold the ends under and stitch them carefully into place so the frayed ends don|t show. Do the same around the neck and sleeves.
Step 4 With the remaining ribbon, tie a bow and stitch it firmly at the knot so it stays in place.
Step 5 Grab your pretty button or bead and sew it, with the bow, to the shoulder of your top, so that the button covers the knot of the bow.
VOILÀ!
Your scruffy old T-shirt is now a unique party top!
If bows are not your style, her
e are some other ideas…
Twist the ribbon into shapes or letters and sew them on to your top.
Find a cool patch or funky logo to sew or iron on.
Buy some fabric pens or paint (look out for the super-cool glitter pens) and draw your own designs.
OUT NOW!
Dress to Impress
Having a confidence crisis? Don’t dare wear that cute little mini-dress? Then maybe I can help. I’m Coleen and I love fashion, friends and having fun.
My best mate Lucy has got a hot date this weekend and I’m going to transform her style from drab to fab!
Acknowledgments
With thanks to Lucy Courtenay
The Coleen Style Queen series:
Passion for Fashion
Dress to Impress
Coming soon…
Rock that Frock!
Sun, Sand & Sequins
Copyright
First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Children’s Books in 2008.
HarperCollins Children’s Books is a division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
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FIRST EDITION
Text copyright © Coleen McLoughlin 2008 Illustrations by Nellie Ryan/EyeCandy and Nicola Taylor NB Illustration 2008
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
EPub Edition © FEBRUARY 2010 ISBN: 978-0-007-36564-7
The author and illustrator assert the moral right to be identified as the author and illustrator of the work.
Conditions of Sale
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form, binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
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