Katriona and Ling Ling pushed open the door of the poorly lit corner shop almost as soon as the failed thieves had left. Emma, no longer dead, was counting out coins onto the counter in haphazard piles.
“What was all that about?”
“Apparently, I suck,” Emma said thoughtfully, and then began again, having lost count.
“Yeah, well we do too. It was too ticklish to get the tattoo, and Ling Ling developed a strange tick. Her leg kept jerking every time he tried to draw.”
Katriona and Ling Ling showed Emma the half-drawn masterpieces on their bodies.
It must be said that Emma’s thespian performance did nothing to help her community lawyer who had to defend her later. Her mock threats with the rubber chicken on the surveillance tape looked dubious at best. Were an animal’s rights being violated? In the end, the judge let Emma off with a warning, but suggested she refrain from translating heists in the future.
CHAPTER 28
Best birthday surprise… E-VER!!!
The sound of a violin plunking the first bars of ‘Happy Birthday’ reached Alana before she could see who was playing. She knew, of course, it would be Maddie, and she was right. A flute joined in, and then a tambourine. By the time Alana entered her bedroom, the song was in full swing and the girls were playing in double-time. It galloped its way to the finish.
“It’s your birthday soon, isn’t it, Alana?”
“Yes, Alana is a Virgo. A true perfectionist who needs everything in its spe-cial spot,” Sofia said with a teasing grin. The other girls looked around at the neatness of Alana’s bedroom. A bookshelf was fashioned out of an old skateboard. Notices for ‘Study schedules’ and ‘Soccer practice’, were pinned to a cork board. Curtains of crimson let in the morning light, lending the turquoise walls an even brighter glow. A framed photograph of a three year-old Alana and her frizzy-haired dad took pride of place by her bed. Both of them wore silly grins, sitting almost butt-naked on the couch each with a guitar to cover their privates. Alana’s sole homage to Rock ‘n Roll was a full-length silhouette cut-out of Jimi Hendrix, above which was a quote from WC Fields: Start each day with a smile – just get it over with.
Alana gave a heartfelt sigh. “It’s next week. The first of September. Please don’t remind me.”
“What’s wrong?” Khalilah asked. “I love birthdays. You get presents, you’re made to feel special, and there’s cake! What’s not to love?”
“Well, Alana’s not had much luck with her birthdays,” Maddie confided.
Alana silently passed Khalilah a photo album. The pictures explained why every birthday filled her with dread and foreboding. Khalilah turned the pages, expecting to see smiling faces, balloons, and festive food. Instead, dancing llamas munched on Alana’s hat while it sat on her head. Pre-school pirates were crying next to Peter Pan, Captain Hook and a very real croc. And ‘Harry Houtini’, who h-escaped from h-everything, sat trapped, tangled and terribly visible, in a box. At least the circus-themed party looked like fun. Alana, in a furry hat, had a huge, toothy smile on her face. Khalilah looked more closely. Alana was not smiling. There was no hat. Against a backdrop of fire-breathing jugglers, a flea circus and a unicyclist on stilts, Alana’s mouth was open in a silent scream, hair on fire. Khalilah passed the photo album back, eyes round with shock.
“This year, Mum is being extremely tightlipped about it, and she’s acting very excited. It’s not a good sign.”
“So you don’t know what she has planned? At all?” Maddie asked. Alana shook her head.
“Maybe this year will be different.”
“Sofia,” Alana said, “what are the chances of my birthday NOT being a complete and utter fiasco this year?”
“Did you know 23% of all photocopier faults are caused by people sitting on them and photocopying their butts?”
“Merci, Sofia, for that fascinating fact, but please, just answer the question.”
“It’s tricky to calculate because of so many variables, but,” with a look at Alana’s raised eyebrow, “I’d have to say, judging from your mum’s record and my new powers in Probability … zero.”
Alana sighed. “Yep. That’s what I’d say, too.”
The girls were together to hear the results of the Original Song Competition. The online poll was tight. For several days their song, ‘Stormy Heart’, had been neck and neck with the song, ‘Forever Yours’. The winning song was going on air at exactly 10 o’clock. The hands on the clock moved with agonising slowness.
You’re tuned to 95.9 FM, Double V. That was Rude Boy’s latest song, ‘Breakdown’. In just a few moments we’ll find out the winner of our Original Song Competition, and I have to say, there is some incredible talent out there. All the entries were amazing. Our very deserving winners will get two free tickets to see Slam Guru, supported by Jet Tierbert, in concert, PLUS backstage passes to meet the stars! Rumour has it, Jet will be debuting his new single during this tour, so if you already have tickets, look forward to that one. Now, to get you all in the mood, here’s a little preview of what’s to come … from Jet Tierbert.
“I can’t stand the suspense any more!”
“Yeah, it’s driving me crazy!”
“I know. Even I’m feeling a bit nerveux,” said Alana.
“I don’t know what that means, but I do know I’m so nervous I think I’m going to pee my pants,” Sofia cried.
“I’m not that nerveux!” Alana said with a grin.
Then all four girls – even Alana, who had to admit that it was catchy – joined in with the radio. They danced and bounced around the room, yelling out the lyrics they knew by heart.
The clock’s hand edged closer and closer. As the last chords of Jet Tierbert’s song faded, and the girls’ voices with it, the clock struck ten.
And now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for. Our winning song …
Even before the first chords finished playing, the four girls were screaming. It was their song. Their song was on the radio!
Nyah, nyah, nyah, nyah, nyah (Drumsticks - One, two, three, four)
You think you can handle this?
Oh yeah … I don’t think so.
“I can’t believe it. We’re on air. That’s us on the radio!”
“Listen, listen, that’s me on violin!”
“And here’s Khalilah on flute!”
Then all of them stopped, and raised their hands, only to bring them crashing down again in an imitation of Sofia’s drumming as the beat punched the speakers. Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, they mimed. Alana beamed with satisfaction. You could turn any soppy love song into something decent with some proper, hard-core rock. Next, heads were tossing as they joined Alana on air guitar, before belting out the chorus.
Emma drifted out of her study and up the stairs to join them. They’d made such a ruckus, even she couldn’t ignore it.
“Mum, Mum, we’re on the radio. That’s us. We won the Original Song Competition!”
“We’ve won tickets to see Slam Guru –”
“– and Jet Tierbert in concert –”
“– and we’re going to meet them … BACKSTAGE!”
The four friends were thrown into a new paroxysm of delight as their excitement shifted from being on the radio to the winning prize. There was more screaming. Very loud. Very high-pitched. Enough to wake the dead, or at the very least, send the neighbourhood dogs into hiding.
Emma wrapped her arms around Alana and gave her a big hug. “That’s wonderful news, darling! You’re so clever,” she said into her daughter’s ear so she could be heard. “But that’s exactly what I was giving you for your birthday.”
“What? That’s it? Just concert tickets? Nothing on fire, or sharp, or death-defying?”
“Well, they are the hottest tickets around, and I got backstage passes, too. AND an invite to the after-party …”
Alana flung her arms around her mum and gripped her tight. “You’re the best! And this is the best birthday surprise ever!”
&
nbsp; CHAPTER 29
Ticket to happiness.
PeterPan: I’ve written you a song.
LegsEleven: Really? Let’s see it then.
PeterPan: Promise you won’t laugh.
LegsEleven: I promise you won’t know it if I do. PeterPan: LOL. OK. Here goes …
I’m not a serial killer … unless you’d want me to die for you, baby.
I’m not an alcoholic … I’m just drunk and high on our love.
And if you said the word, then I would be your nerd, because you glue me to my screen.
I’m just a puppet on your string, and you’re pulling so I cling
To every little word you say.
Just say. I need you today.
So what do you think?
LegsEleven: You forgot ‘dentist’.
PeterPan: That’s because I have a confession to make.
Emma felt her heart drop. This was it. Surely this was when he revealed he was The Frog and not The Prince?
LegsEleven: What’s your confession?
PeterPan: I AM a dentist.
LegsEleven: You’re what?!
PeterPan: Kidding. Did you like it?
LegsEleven: It’s probably one of the sweetest things anybody has done for me.
PeterPan: Can we meet?
Emma hesitated. Her hands hovered above the keyboard, suspended like a tightrope walker before their first step.
LegsEleven: Do you think that’s a good idea?
PeterPan: Nothing too scary. Somewhere public and fun. No strings.
LegsEleven: Like …?
PeterPan: I was thinking … I can get you a couple of tickets to the Slam Guru concert and backstage passes. We can meet there. See where it goes …
LegsEleven: Really? You must have connections. They’ve been sold out for months.
PeterPan: I know a guy who knows a guy … you know how it is. We could both wear a rose ;) So what do you think? Are you willing to take a chance?
Emma bit her lip. She didn’t need the tickets, but she knew accepting them would mean all of Alana’s friends could go. Which she knew would make them incredibly happy. Katriona and Ling Ling could flip a coin to decide who would get the spare. Plus, maybe her friends were right. Maybe she should start dating again. And she could always use Alana’s birthday as a quick getaway excuse. Yes. She would just shake his hand, say Hi, nice to meet you, and if there was some spark that made her heart skip a beat, she could arrange to meet him again. Emma gave a self-conscious laugh. She’d been listening to too many of the girls’ love songs.
When Alana came home from soccer practice, Emma sat her down to talk about the concert, and what she had planned.
“I swear I’m just going to say hi, and if things work out, then we could always meet properly another time. This is your birthday. And I want it to be special,” she said, but Alana wasn’t listening. All she heard was “free ticket, blah, blah, blah, all your friends can go, blah, blah, blah, birthday, blah, blah, blah.” Which proves selective hearing is not an adult’s privilege alone.
Without waiting for her mum to finish, Alana rushed to share the good news.
…
Katriona and Ling Ling watched the coin fall for the twentieth time.
“Tails.”
“Heads.”
“What?”
“I win again, Katriona.”
“No, this is impossible. This coin is rigged. I MUST HAVE THIS TICKET!”
“Please let go of my neck, Katriona. I have an Idea …”
CHAPTER 30
Best birthday surprise… E-VER!!!… Not!
Emma placed the finishing touches on Alana’s birthday cake, which was shaped like an electric guitar. She was glad nobody had been home to watch her assemble it. It was amazing what 2 kilos of icing could do to cover up mistakes. Thirteen candles stood in a long line on one of the guitar ‘strings’. The flames flickered as Emma lifted the cake and brought it through to the living room, where their closest friends were waiting.
Happy Birthday to you,
Happy Birthday to you,
Happy Birthday dear Alana/Lala/Lana-Banana, the voices chorused. Alana narrowed her eyes at Katriona. She was sure she’d heard someone sing, ‘Piranha’…
Happy Birthday to you!
Hip, hip, hooray! Hip, hip, hooray! Hip, hip, hooray!
Alana closed her eyes and blew out the candles as she made her silent wish. Everybody burst into applause. James snapped madly with his camera.
Looking around at their smiling faces, Alana was overcome by a sudden wave of mixed emotions. “Thanks for coming, everyone,” she mumbled, tearing up.
“Toughen up, Princess,” Maddie chided softly. The warmth and sympathy in her ocean-blue eyes softened the words. Alana gave her a sheepish grin full of gratitude.
“You already know mine,” Emma said with a smile, cutting slabs of chocolate guitar, pegs and strings, and giving them out.
“This is from me,” Sofia said, handing Alana a small box with a flourish. “I know you will use it wisely.”
Inside was a magic eight-ball. The four girls laughed.
“Khalilah and I got you this,” Maddie said as Khalilah passed her a soft, flat package. It was a t-shirt. Alana held it up for everyone to see. Rock Chicks Rock … Duh! the front of it read.
“Thanks. It’s perfect! I’ll wear it tonight for the concert.” Alana grinned.
James was next. “This is from me.” The box was small and light. Alana gave a squeal of delight when she opened it. “I’m not a fan of point-and-shoot cameras,” he said ruefully, “but they come in handy.”
Emma smiled. Point-and-shoot cameras were the only kind she used. “You can use it underwater too, which will be fun for the summer.”
Ling Ling dragged Katriona over. “We didn’t know what to get you, Alana, so we decided on a pet.” Everybody stared at the pair. Didn’t they know they were giving the animal a death sentence?
“Thanks, Auntie Ling Ling, but I don’t think–”
Katriona shoved the package in her arms as Alana muttered a ‘thanks’. Alana lifted the lid slightly and held her breath. What could it be? A second kidnapped penguin? A venomous snake? Something on the endangered wildlife list? Whatever it was, the disaster was right on time. When Alana removed the lid completely, she breathed a sigh of relief as she read the message:
Hi! I’m Rocky, your pet rock. I love listening to rock ‘n roll and eating rock candy. Don’t forget to rock me to sleep! Love, R x
Alana gave Ling Ling a hug and, because Katriona baulked at the same gesture, gave her a pat on the arm.
“We thought it would be hard for your mum to kill this one,” Ling Ling whispered, then turned to everyone. “Time to get ready for Slam Gu-ruuuuuuuuuu!” She exchanged a meaningful wink with Katriona. “See you later,” she mouthed.
Alana’s heart stopped. There were only enough tickets for the seven of them. What did that mean?
…
As Emma got ready for the concert, she swivelled from side to side, checking her profile in consternation. PeterPan was expecting to meet LegsEleven, not Emmalina Estafania Corazon Oakley, widowed writer, mother of one. But Emma Oakley looked nothing like LegsEleven. If she squinted with one eye, LegsEleven looked like a slightly older Alana, with bigger boobs. Much bigger boobs. Well, Emma sighed, I hope this does the trick. The Trick, she was referring to, was the inflatable Trusty Busty Bra, which promised a fuller, natural shape, with none of the discomfort. Ooh, cleavage! The woman’s mouth on the packaging displayed a round ‘O’ of surprise.
Alana walked into her mum’s bedroom. Her mouth made an identical shape.
“What do you think? Too much?” Emma asked, continuing to twist her body, this way and that, in front of the mirror.
Alana didn’t know what to say, but her expression said it all. Emma pressed a button on her left side to deflate the left cup. She did the same for the right. But getting them the same size was tricky. Up. Down. Up. Down. Emma had to be
careful not to knock herself out. In the end she was cross-eyed and dizzy with the effort.
“There. I think they’re the same now. Let’s go!” she beamed at Alana with false cheer. Truth be known, she was shaking inside.
The crowd at the Sydney Cricket Ground was huge. Most of them had bought, or were buying, Slam Guru and Jet Tierbert CDs, t-shirts, programs and other souvenirs. Hard-core rockers milled around with giggling pre-teens; the gig had drawn an eclectic mix of fans. Emma’s freebies and the girls’ prize saw them seated in the same area as the Entertainment Press and designated VIPs. They were so close to the stage, they were bound to be sweated on. This knowledge gave Ling Ling an extra thrill. Emma waved to a couple of reviewers she recognised. Alana and her friends shuffled forward impatiently.
“Tickets, please,” a strangely familiar pair of Jimmy Choo’s requested.
Alana looked up from the bright, fashionable shoes, which didn’t quite match the security guard’s uniform.
“Auntie Katriona?”
“Your tickets, please,” the voice repeated, in a deeper tone.
Alana turned to her mum in alarm. A panicked whispering ensued. The security guard’s resolve seemed to waver as they joined in the heated argument.
A second security guard joined the first, to ask, “Is there a problem?”
“No! No problem. Everything’s A-OK,” Katriona said (for Alana was right), heartily slapping the beefy man on his back, then lightly punching a bicep, which was pushing the fabric to its limits. The resulting pain brought a tear to her eye.
Perhaps it was her not-so-deep voice which gave Katriona away. Or the bright, red, high-heeled shoes. Or it could have been the identification tag which read Sekurity in smudgy, barely dry ink (Sekurity, security, same-same, lah!). But whatever it was, Mr Beefy was suddenly shouting, “Code Red. I repeat, Code Red! Mayday! Mayday! DEFCON 1 Alert!” into a slim walkie-talkie.
Katriona’s eyes swivelled around for the threat. She was a jaguar, ready to pounce. She scanned the excited masses for danger. “Wha-? Where? Who? Let me at them!” she growled.
Alana Oakley Page 11