“Star Wars is for kids,” Kara adds.
“That’s enough, you two,” Mr Groves says sharply.
Oh. My. God. Why do these two have to be so nasty all the time? How dare they talk to Danny that way? It’s just so cruel. My hands clench into fists.
Danny takes a deep breath but he’s lost all his confidence. He mumbles and rushes through the rest of his pitch as quickly as he can, talking to the floor the whole time.
There’s a smattering of applause once Danny’s done, but anyone can tell they’re sympathy claps.
I wish I could give him a huge hug to make him feel better, but a public display of affection like that in front of the whole school would make things a zillion times worse. Danny’s weird about that kind of thing, and anyway something tells me the teachers definitely wouldn’t approve.
“Thank you, Danny. And now we’ve got our last pitch from the others,” says Mr Groves.
As Jamie, Millie and I step forward, I give Danny’s arm a comforting rub and Millie smiles as she passes him. It’s obvious he feels pretty awful, his shoulders are slumped and his face is downcast.
“Last seen semi-naked, we give you… Suzy Puttock!” I hear Jade say, and Kara cracks up laughing.
“Jade and Kara, I said that’s enough,” Mr Groves tells them. “Don’t make me give you detention.”
Honestly, the man is useless. Talk about a wet lettuce. Just give them detention already!
Millie makes like she hasn’t heard anything as she gives a beaming smile to everyone and begins her speech.
“We thought that because it was to raise money for a music studio, we could give the party a music theme. We’re proposing a talent competition called ‘The Star Factor’. We’d have people pay to dress up as their favourite singers or bands, and perform songs as them, then other people would judge them and vote them off until we were left with a winner.”
“So you’re suggesting a karaoke party?” Jade says scornfully.
“No,” Millie says quickly. “It’s different. It’s a singing and impersonation competition. And there’d be lots of costumes there for people to put on, and wigs and stuff. There’d also be a raffle, so people could buy tickets, and we’d have prizes donated by local businesses.”
“Told you we had it in the bag,” Jade says to Kara.
She’s right. There’s no way we’re going to win. But there’s something about the way Kara and Jade sound so self-satisfied, and have been so horrible to us all – they’re not even giving anyone a chance to respond to our idea and say what they think. I’m getting crosser and crosser… and then something inside me snaps. My mouth opens before I’ve had a chance to really think things through.
“Yeah, well, that’s not the best part. After the singing competition, The Drifting will play,” I say.
Even as the words are coming out of my mouth, my inner voice is screaming, Shut up, Suzy! Shut up, shut up, shut up!
There’s an audible gasp around the hall, and then everyone’s talking excitedly all at once.
“What?” Jade shouts, trying to be heard over everyone’s chatter. “You’re lying!”
“That’s quite a claim,” Mr Groves says, raising an eyebrow quizzically.
“It’s true,” I insist over the noise. “We’d need to do some final checks on the details, but we’re pretty sure they’d come…”
I can hear what I’m saying, and yet I don’t seem to be able to stop talking. I’m telling all these lies, in front of my teachers, in front of the whole school. It’s like my mouth has been hijacked by an alien force, and won’t stop blabbering.
One of the Year Sevens screams in excitement.
“Shut up already,” Kara says. “You’re such a liar.”
“I’m not, it’s true!”
Why can’t I stop?! It’s the rage, I think. I’m taken over by a crossness that’s been boiling up inside me; it’s brought to a head now by the way Jade and Kara are treating me and my friends.
“All right, all right, simmer down,” Mr Groves says, trying to get some semblance of order back in the room.
He fails. Dismally.
Everyone is way too hyped about the idea of The Drifting coming to our school. And to be honest, if I was them, I’d be pretty chuffed, too.
As I stare triumphantly at Jade and Kara, glad that they’ve finally been put in their place, the realisation of what’s happened starts to sink in.
An icy sensation, which starts at my toes and spreads upwards, floods my whole body.
Oh no. Oh no, oh no!
What have I done? What have I said? My friends are staring at me in horror.
Backtrack! I have to make this better!
“I mean, it’s not definite yet…” I say, weakly, trying to rescue myself from the damage I’ve caused.
But nobody hears me. Nobody’s listening.
“Attention! Attention!” Mr Groves shouts. It’s ages before everyone’s even vaguely focused and looking in his direction again.
“Okay, you’ve heard all the suggestions, now you need to cast your votes. I’d like you to write down on your pieces of paper your top two ideas, and number them clearly so we know which is your top choice. We’ll count up during break and let you know afterwards who’s won.”
I can’t get out of the assembly hall fast enough. I push through the crowds of people all trying to talk to me, stopping for nobody, and race out into a quiet corridor, where I lean my head back against the wall, and wait for my friends, trying to calm down.
What have I done? And more importantly, how am I going to fix it?
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Oh, Suze,” Millie says. “What have you done?”
I’m still standing in the quiet corridor, where my friends are now huddled around me.
“I’m sorry,” I say miserably. “I don’t know what came over me. It was like I got possessed or something. They were being so nasty, and so flipping smug, and it just came out.”
“Maybe we won’t win,” Jamie says. “Jade and Kara’s idea was really good, as much as I hate to say it.”
“Jamie, this is The Drifting we’re talking about,” Millie says. “If people think there’s even the tiniest chance of them actually coming they’re going to vote for us.”
“Look, we’ll have to go back in and tell people that we made a mistake,” Jamie says rationally.
“But we’ll look really stupid. And people will hate us,” I protest. “Well, mainly me. Jade and Kara will be vile.”
“Like they need any extra ammunition,” Millie says. She pulls open a bag of jelly babies and starts chewing them thoughtfully. “But then, they hate us already. This won’t change anything.”
“Here, let me have some of those,” I say, grabbing a handful of sweets.
“You hate jelly babies,” Millie says.
“Yeah, well, desperate times and all that,” I say. “I feel sick, anyway. I’m hoping they might calm me down.”
“We might not even win,” Danny says. “People did love Jade and Kara’s pitch.”
“Yeah, you’re right. I think all we can do is wait and see what happens,” Jamie says. “If we don’t win, then we’re stressing about nothing. If we do… well, then we’ve got no choice. We’re going to have to ’fess up, say The Drifting can’t come, and take the flack. Jade and Kara will take over with their idea, they’ll be vile about it, but everyone will get over it and will have forgotten about it all by next week. I don’t think we’ve got any other choice, do you?”
As we all shake our heads, the bell rings.
My heart zooms into overdrive.
“Right then,” Danny says, grabbing my hand and giving it a squeeze. “Let’s go and see what’s been decided.”
I don’t think people have ever come back from break quite so quickly. Usually people are killing as much time as they possibly can, but not today. Today they’re desperate to hear what kind of party they’ll be getting.
“So, we have the results of the vote,”
says Mr Groves.
My stomach is squirming like crazy. Please don’t let us have won. Please, please don’t let us have won.
Mr Groves reads out the list in reverse order. Zach and his mates and April the Goth only get a small number of votes. The sleepover idea was disqualified, and Danny’s Star Wars party gets one vote, which I suspect was from Danny himself. I’m now trying my hardest to ignore the fact I’m so nervous I desperately need to pee.
Then there are two results left. Us, and Jade and Kara.
Come on, Jade and Kara have got to win, haven’t they? People won’t really think we can get The Drifting to play here, will they?
Please, please, please don’t let us win, I pray silently in my head, crossing my fingers behind my back. I don’t even care that it means getting beaten by Jade and Kara. We can’t win. We just can’t…
Jade and Kara are casting evils in our direction as Mr Groves pauses for the longest possible time.
He really has been watching too many reality TV shows. Come on, already. This is killing me.
“Jade and Kara’s Hollywood idea… gets eighty votes,” Mr Groves says. “But Suzy’s group, with the promise of The Drifting, is the winner with a hundred and twenty-six votes!”
The roar that fills the hall when it’s announced that we’ve won is so loud my ears start ringing.
“Well done to our winners,” Mr Groves says. “We’ll keep you posted on how the party plans are going. Now, you lot can be dismissed, but those of you who pitched ideas I’d like a quick word before you disappear off the stage.” He turns his attention to us. “Now, I look forward to seeing all of you at our first committee meeting –”
“Er, yeah, Mr Groves, about that –” Jade begins, but Mr Groves shakes his head.
“No trying to wriggle out of it,” he says, raising his voice over the noise of everyone leaving. “That was the deal. If you pitched an idea, you ended up on the organising committee, whether your idea won or not. I’m sure the others will find your help invaluable, won’t you?”
We stare at him dumbly. Earlier it sounded appealing, having the upper hand and bossing Jade and Kara around. Now I think about it properly, I can’t imagine anything worse than having to work alongside them, giving orders and expecting them to do what we say.
Actually, yes, I can. I’ve remembered Zach’s going to be there, too.
Oh God. This isn’t going to end well, is it?
There’s no way they’ll do anything we ask them to. No way in the world.
“Suzy! So excited!” someone shouts as they leave, which sets off a new wave of whooping and cheering.
They are SO hyped.
And it’s then I realise that I can’t tell them it’s not happening. The whole school will hate us. We’ll be lynched. I stare helplessly at the others, who’ve clearly come to the same conclusion I have.
We can’t say anything. Not yet. We need to give everyone a chance to calm down first.
Oh God. This is horrible.
I can’t pee all over this parade now, not if I want to walk through the school corridors safely ever again. A knot of anxiety forms in the pit of my stomach as the realisation of what I’ve done, what we’ve promised, sinks in.
We’re going to have to bring The Drifting to the school.
And how the flipping flip are we going to do that?!
CHAPTER NINE
It’s Saturday morning and I’ve hardly slept. It’s not even because of the twins this time. It’s because I’m so completely stressed about what I’ve done.
I’ve promised The Drifting are going to come to our school.
The Drifting.
This isn’t some tiny local group we’re talking about here, this is a world-famous, majorly-in-demand, crowds-riot-when-they-see-them band.
I’ve got no idea how I’m going to make this happen.
But if I don’t, my life is over.
I wonder if Mum will let me transfer to a different school? Although the only school nearby is St Edward’s, and somehow I suspect that might be even worse. If only boarding didn’t cost so much…
Ooooooooooh, my life is over.
O.V.E.R.
Why do I have such a big mouth?
It’s about 8 a.m. when I get a text from Millie. I would think she’s been up worrying about things too, but she’s often up this early, the freakoid. She thinks mornings are the best part of the day.
Her text tells me that we’re all getting together for a crisis meeting at Bojangles later on. The four of us were texting and messaging and speaking for most of yesterday trying to come up with a solution. Nobody had any genius ideas, so maybe a face-to-face meeting is what we need. Surely someone will have come up with a solution overnight?
I flipping hope so, anyway.
I type “OK” before flopping back onto my pillow.
I’m lying there, still racking my brains to try and think of an answer as to what on earth I should do about things, when from outside there’s a huge crash. Followed by another.
And then I hear someone shouting some extremely rude words.
What’s going on?
Opening the curtains and peering outside, I see Dad and his mate Jon are hefting huge panels of wood around the garden. The high winds really aren’t helping matters.
Harry charges into my bedroom. “What’s happening?”
“Hey, get out. You’re supposed to knock.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Harry says, ignoring me as she starts to film out of the window. Another gust of wind threatens to grab the wood from Dad and Jon’s hands. “What are they doing?”
“No idea,” I say, as Jon lets rip with another round of decidedly dodgy language. “Would you get out of my room?”
“I’ll have to bleep those words out,” Harry says, totally ignoring me. Gnargh. She is so annoying.
“What’s all that noise?” Mum rushes up behind us, still in her pyjamas.
“A lot of swearing and hefting of wood,” I tell her. “What’s Dad up to now? What’s he building?”
“I haven’t the foggiest,” Mum says. “But they need to keep the noise down. I’ve only just got Chichi off to sleep, I don’t want her being woken up again. Harry, turn that off, would you?”
“But, Mum…”
“No buts. Let’s go and get some breakfast. I’ll tell your dad and Jon to keep it down.”
We all troop downstairs to the kitchen, and I do my best to ignore Harry while Mum busies herself making us some food. After we’ve finished our tea and toast, Dad’s still hard at work.
“Do you know, while your Dad’s distracted, this might be the perfect moment to start planning his party,” Mum says.
“What? Do we have to?” I ask. I’d been intending to veg out in front of the TV for a bit.
“We need to get organised, time’s ticking on,” Mum says. “I’ll go and get Amber and Mark – they must be up, I think I can hear one of the babies.”
“Bet it’s Chichi.”
“Probably,” Mum agrees. “I’ll grab some supplies and we’ll meet in your room.”
A few moments later, we’re all standing around assessing the Party Plan, which Mum has written in big letters on a piece of A3 paper stuck on my wall. As if I’m not stressed enough with the school party I’m trying to organise. This is the last thing I need. More party stress.
“So, where are we going to start?” Mum asks. “Amber, can you do something about the dog, please?”
Crystal Fairybelle is lying on the floor, trying to chew my rug.
“Crystal!” I shout indignantly.
Amber, who’s trying to give Chichi a bottle, gently prods at the dog with her toe. “Stop it.”
Crystal Fairybelle yelps, eyeballs Amber with a wounded expression, then returns to chewing. I pull him away and deposit him outside in the hall, closing the door firmly. There’s some frantic whining and then everything’s quiet.
Amber makes a sad face. “I don’t know what to do with him. He’s been so naughty
since the girls were born.”
“And he’s peeing everywhere,” I say. The memory of last night’s wet foot after I stood in a puddle on the way back from the bathroom in the middle of the night is still traumatic. Wee toe – gross.
“He’s probably unsettled,” Harry says, from behind her phone. She’s videoing the planning meeting.
“Maybe you’re right,” Amber says. “I remember Conni G writing that her dog, Princess Tallulah, got all kinds of stressed after she had Pashmina. Maybe Crystal needs to see a therapist, what do you think, Mark?”
Mark doesn’t answer. He’s rocking Uni in his arms and she’s almost dropping off. Instead he just nods his head.
“Or perhaps I should look into getting a dog whisperer to come and see us,” Amber muses. “That’s what Conni G did…”
“Sounds like a good idea,” says Mum. “Can we get back to the party, please? We don’t have long.”
“Sure,” Amber says, hoiking Chichi up onto her shoulder and starting to wind her.
“So where do we start?” Mum says. For the woman who helped Amber plan an all-singing, all-dancing wedding, she seems surprisingly clueless about what to do.
“The basics?” I say. I suppose I can use this as a practice run for what we’re going to need to sort at school.
“Good thinking,” Mum says. “So date, time, venue, theme, guest list…” She writes all of these things on the paper in big letters. “Excellent.”
“Isn’t the date kind of obvious?” Harry says. “We all know when his birthday is.”
“I was thinking about having the party the day before his birthday,” Mum says.
“How does that make any sense?” I ask.
“Well, it would be more of a surprise that way,” Mum says. “Dad’s birthday’s on a Sunday, so he’d be expecting to celebrate then.”
When she puts it like that, I guess, yeah, that’s kind of logical. But there’s one little detail I can’t helping thinking that my mother’s forgotten…
“Aren’t we forgetting that Dad hates surprises?” I say. “And I don’t mean hates, I mean loathes. He’s not a big fan of parties, either. I’m still not sure a surprise birthday party is a good idea.”
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