Discount Diva (Zodiac Girls)

by Cathy Hopkins

  Dan was about to make a dive at me but I grinned at him and held up my magic wand. “Talk to the wand because the face ain’t listening.”

  “But it’s my turn,” he said again.

  I almost gave in because he looked put out. But I didn’t.

  “Life is tough oh small and puny one,” I said. (Dan hates being called that as he is quite small for his age.) “I will tell Mum that you bunked off sports practice last Saturday if you don’t let me sit here. Now sit on the sofa, shut up and let’s watch the DVD.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  “Try me.”

  “It’s my chair. I brought it back here so I should be the one to sit in it all the time,” said Will who looked as if he was about to wrestle me too. I pulled out my blackmail card on him.

  “Oh really? Well if you don’t let me sit here, I will tell my mate Georgia that you fancy her.” (What Will doesn’t know is that I have a sneaking suspicion that Georgie fancies him back. I shall save that bit of information for another night when it might come in handy.) Will is a looker. Loads of girls at our school fancy him. He’s got typical boy band looks. A handsome face with even features and a slim bod. And no spots (big plus). Even though he’s my brother, I can see that he’s fanciable. Dan’s cute too with a wide mouth and the green eyes that we have all inherited from our mum. Dan’ll be a babe magnet when he’s older. At the mo though, he’s not remotely interested in girls. He thinks they’re for pushing, teasing or hair pulling and he hates snog scenes in movies. He says that watching people suck face makes him want to throw up.

  Dan shrugged then got up to slump on the sofa and a moment later, Will joined him along with Meatloaf and Marmite who took their places on the boys’ knees. The cats like a good movie too.

  “Correct response,” I said with a big smile. Will stuck his tongue out at me. I love my brothers really and their fighting is rarely serious. Just boys being stupid boys.

  I used to wonder how Dad would have dealt with their endless scraps and messing about but I hardly think about him any more. It’s a waste of time. He clearly isn’t coming back any time soon. He left when I was ten. Went back to Australia leaving Mum with the four of us. She sat us all down after he’d gone and said that it had been on the cards for years (like we didn’t already know). No-one was to blame and that they should never have got married in the first place as they were such different types of people (ditto, we could hear their endless rows through the ceiling. They could never agree on anything). I could accept that they were incompatible. I’ve watched the soaps on telly. I know what goes down but personally I don’t see why he had to go quite so far away especially when he had the four of us. If he ever sat an Abandon Your Kids exam, he’d get an A star. Okay, so he didn’t get on with Mum but what about Andrea, Dan, Will and I? We got on. Yeah, sometimes he was moody and unpredictable and I didn’t like that and I hated it when he and Mum argued but he was my dad and you only get one of them. I missed him and when he first went, it hit me hard. I felt like a major reject. Like if my own dad didn’t want me, then no-one else would.

  I don’t let myself think about stuff like that any more now though. It hurts too much. I put it in a box in my head and locked it. Mum has been great. She tries really hard but for all her positive attitude, she hasn’t found it easy as a single mother. Not enough money. Her sisters Phoebe and Pat and their husbandos have been fab and are in and out most days to lend a hand where they can. I love them a lot and know that they love me too. They don’t have kids of their own and have sort of adopted us. When they’re around, I don’t have that reject feeling. They make me feel like I matter. Dad sends a bit of dosh every now and then but not often because, from his letters, it doesn’t sound like he has a job yet. That was one of the major sources of the arguments. Mum worked day and night. Dad talked about it but always seemed to have an excuse as to why it wasn’t happening.

  “Pass me the DVD remote,” I said as I spied it on the table.

  “You get it,” said Dan. “I’m not your slave.”

  “Yes, you are,” I said.

  “Oh for heaven’s sake,” said Will. He snatched up the remote and passed it to me. “I’ll get it. Here. Sometimes you’re so lazy, Tori.”

  “So?” I said and kicked off my shoes. “Lazy is good. Now let the entertainment begin.” With a flourish of the remote control, I switched on the DVD. We had popcorn and movies. Aunt Phoebe and Uncle Kev would pop by later with pizzas. It was going to be a fun evening despite my earlier disappointment at not being able to go out with my friends.

  On the way home from school, I had decided to make the most of the evening and not to sulk about not being able to go out. I’m not a miserable person usually. Just frustrated sometimes. But no point in dwelling on what can’t be changed, I reckoned. Andrea was out at her book club sleepover, yes, book club sleepover. She is seventeen years old. It is Friday night and she would rather sit around discussing books at a sleepover than try out new make-up or gossip or talk about boys or watch a good movie. That is how sad my sister is. Sometimes I think she isn’t actually one of our family. She doesn’t look like the rest of us. She has pale skin and blonde wispy hair and blue eyes. The rest of us are dark with green eyes. So anyway, it was just me and the boys. And the cats (who are also dark with green eyes).

  The DVDs that Will had borrowed were horror movies (hence our horror costumes) and as the evening went on we had a good laugh seeing who got spooked the most. It was Dan as usual. He’s such a sissy since some old geezer at the local train station told him about Irish banshee ghosts who appear outside people’s windows just before they die and wail, “the day is for the living and the night is for the dead.”

  When he went in to make us some hot chocolate (he is our slave as he is the youngest at eleven), Will and I sneaked outside and began wailing outside the kitchen window. It was hysterical. Dan went white and almost dropped the mug he had in his hand. Then Will blew it by laughing and Dan looked out the window and saw us doing our cross-eyed zombie walk around the clothes dryer out there. He wasn’t amused.

  Personally I don’t think there’s any such thing as ghosts, banshees or zombies but Dan does and he was really mad at us. He doesn’t mind dressing up as a vampire but doesn’t like to think there might be a real one behind the privet in our backyard. He stormed upstairs and wouldn’t come out of his room. We had to beg him in the end. We had to get down on our knees in the corridor outside the room he shares with Will and plead. He can be stubborn and moody sometimes can Dan. Especially if he thinks people are making fun of him. Aunt Phoebe and Uncle Kev arrived with food supplies soon after and that brought him down. He couldn’t resist the allure of a Neptuna four cheeses. And he couldn’t help but smile when he saw what idiots they looked in their evil goblin masks.

  Mum got home at half past eleven just after Aunt Phoebe and Uncle Kev had left.

  “What are you still doing up?” she asked when she saw us all sitting round watching telly. “It’s way past your bedtime.”

  “Oh come on, Mum, it’s Friday night. No school tomorrow,” said Will.

  “And I was waiting up for you,” I said and got up from the sofa and gave her a hug. “Let me go and make you a tuna toastie and hot chocolate.”

  “And me one,” said Dan.

  “And me,” called Will.

  “Make your own,” I called back as I went into the kitchen and got out mugs for all of us. “And anyway, you’ve just stuffed your faces with pizza.”

  I like to make a fuss of Mum when she gets home. She works so hard and she looked tired tonight. She often has lately but then who wouldn’t if they had to do three jobs? She has no time to look after her appearance any more and always just shoves her hair back in a band and wears old fleeces and trackie bottoms. I remember years ago when her hair looked well cut and glossy and her clothes were pretty and she wore a bit of jewellery. That was when she only had one job and that was part-time at the library. Now all she does is work. During th
e daytime on Monday to Friday, she works as a receptionist at the local vet. Most evenings, she does cleaning jobs for an agency who send her to places like the stadium – which is where she’s been tonight. If there’s been a big match on, she doesn’t get home until one. Tonight though it was the Cyber Queens concert and she will have brought me back tickets as she knows I like to collect rock concert tickets in my scrap book with the green and gold Chinese cover. It wasn’t totally a lie that I told Georgie about having tickets. Just that I didn’t get them until the show was over.

  Mum’s third job is making cakes for special occasions. She’s totally brill at it. She can make whatever anyone wants – like if someone works with computers say, she can make their cake look like a PC. Or if someone is a photographer, she can make the cake look like a camera. She’s done Superman cakes for little boys, pink heart cakes for Valentine’s Day, cakes like tennis rackets for tennis fans – whatever anyone wants. Sadly she doesn’t get much time for this job as the cleaning agency keeps calling.

  “So how’s your day been?” asked Mum as she picked up the post from the hall table and followed me into the kitchen.

  “Okay,” I said. I didn’t tell her about having to miss out on the Crazy Maisies’ movie outing. I didn’t want her feeling bad about stuff like that on top of everything else. For a few moments while I made her toastie, I thought about asking if there was the slightest chance that I might be able to go on the school trip if I didn’t have any pocket money for the next fifteen years. The look on her face as she opened one of the letters stopped me.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  She took a deep breath. “Oh, nothing interesting. Another bill.”

  “Can you pay it?”

  She nodded. “Just about. Don’t you worry, Tori. We’ll get by. We’ll survive. We always do.”

  I couldn’t help but sigh as I continued making her supper. Get by. I wished we didn’t just have to get by. I wished we didn’t just have enough to survive. I wished our family could thrive. I wished Mum could have nice clothes again and not have to work so hard. And music-mad Will could get an iPod and Dan, the bike he’s wanted for ages. And I wish I could have things like Megan and Georgie and Hannah. I wanted to go out with them like normal girls my age. Actually no, I suddenly thought. I don’t want to be normal. I wanted to be super stonking stupidly rich. I’d even buy Marmalade and Marmite new collars. With diamonds on!

  “What’s the big sigh about?” asked Mum who as usual didn’t miss a thing. “Everything okay with the Crazy Maisies?”

  “Yeah. Fine,” I said as I busied myself getting out a tray. I put all thoughts about Italy out of my mind and arranged the things on the tray so that they looked nice. I’ve learnt to do this from Mum. She does her best to make the most ordinary things special even if it’s only by putting a nice napkin or fresh flower on the dining table.

  “By the way,” she said with a grin as I put the tray with its folded Christmas paper napkin (it was all I could find) in front of her. “I have something you might just be interested in.”

  She rummaged about in her bag and produced an envelope and held it out to me. “Here. Tomorrow night at the Bridgewater Hotel out near Osbury, they’re hosting a charity event. I have some tickets if you want to go.”

  I tried to look enthusiastic but a charity event? Big deal. Not.

  Mum laughed when she saw my face. “Not just any charity event,” she said. “It’s a charity ball. Chance to glam up and I know how much you like to do that. All the stars are going to be there. Have a look at the guest list.”

  I took the piece of paper from her and glanced down. Omigod! Topping the bill were the Dust Babies. Only my favourite band in the Universe. And omigod, omigod Alicia Bartley from my favourite soap. And… it can’t be… Ewan Gregory from T4. He’s sooooo gorgeous. My fantasy boy.

  The list went on.

  “This is like… mega,” I finally managed to stutter. “And you’re saying that I can go?”

  Mum grinned and nodded. “Mrs Jackson, the lady who’s organizing it, she’s ever so nice, remember her? I did her a swimming pool cake last year for her birthday. She asked me to do some of my special cakes for part of the auction and help her out a bit. She asked if I’d like a couple of free tickets for anyone.”

  “But Mum this is awesome…” I said as I took in the rest of the names on the A star list.

  “I know love,” she said. “Charity is big business these days. They all try to attract the big names. And it looks like it will be fun.”

  “I’ll say.”

  “So you want to go?”

  “Er… obvi’.”

  Mum smiled happily. “Good. It’s about time you had something special to look forward to, Tori.”

  This is so mint, I thought. Okay, so Cinderella doesn’t get to go to Italy. Or the movies. But she gets to go to the ball. The hottest charity ball in history. I couldn’t wait to tell Hannah, Meg and Georgie.

  Chapter Three

  Osbury

  “Mum will be mad at you if she knows you’ve been snooping in there,” said Will appearing behind me as I was going through Mum’s wardrobe on Saturday morning when I thought everyone was out.

  I’d had every stitch of clothing that I owned out on the floor in my and Andrea’s bedroom. And every stitch that Andrea owned as well as she was out at her chess club. (She really is Queen of Dorksville. Interests: chess, books, science and history. Bleurgh.) After I had exhausted our stuff, I went into look at Mum’s.

  “But she isn’t going to find out, is she?” I said and attempted to grab Will’s wrist and give him a Chinese burn. He was too quick for me and jabbed me in the stomach causing me to curl over in pain. Oh the joy of having brothers. I had hoped that he might have grown out of the wanting to torture his little sister phase now that he’d turned fifteen but apparently not.

  “What will you give me not to tell her?” asked Will.

  “A black eye,” I said. “Now go away and leave me alone. I have important business to conduct.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like finding what I am going to wear for this big do tonight. It’s hopeless, Will. I may even have to give the ticket to someone else.”

  “Why? I thought you were over the moon about going – chance to show off and all that.”

  “I was but oh… you won’t understand. You’re a boy.”

  Will surveyed the pile of clothes I’d put on the bed. “I do understand actually. I’m not as stupid as you think. You don’t know what to wear and you want to look cool.”

  Hmm. Maybe he wasn’t as stupid as I thought.

  “Yeah… well… exactly. It’s, like, really important. There will be some awesome people there and you can bet anything they’ll be wearing all the latest designer stuff not hand-me-downs that don’t fit properly. I’ve got nothing. I’m such a Nickynonames…”

  “Nickynonames?” asked Will.

  “Someone who only has uncool clothes, you know, clothes that haven’t got a good label, designer gear.”

  “Oh that. So what? I’d have thought it’s whether something looks good or not that counts, not if it’s got some posh label on it. You must have something?”

  “Not that’s posh. Only that silver top that Mum got me last year from Oxfam but it went all shiny and stretchy in the wash. Oh why can’t I have a sister who has style? A sister who has a wardrobe full of fab clothes that I can borrow? She has as much dress sense as a dead dog. I on the other hand have fabulous taste.”

  “Fabulous doesn’t always mean expensive,” said Will.

  “What do you know?”

  “I’ve got eyes haven’t I?” asked Will as he made himself comfortable on Mum’s bed. “And I’ve seen some girls look hot because of the way they wear what they’ve got on. Not because it cost a fortune. Anyway, why can’t you borrow something from one of your rich mates? Georgie looks loaded. I bet she’s got piles of clobber. Ask her.”

  “Once again you poor, challenged-in-
the-brain-department person, you don’t understand.”

  “Yes I do. You don’t want her to know that we’re poor. Don’t think I don’t know that you’re ashamed of who we are and where we live and…”

  I felt shocked that he’d think that because not in a million squillion years would I be ashamed of him. “I am not! Shows what you know. Anyway, Mum had two tickets and Andrea wasn’t interested in going so she said that I could ask a friend. So I asked Georgie. So there. That’s why I don’t want to borrow anything from her because she will be wearing her nicest outfit herself.”

  “Bet she’s got loads of other things. And you are ashamed of us. I’ve seen you when you’re here with your mates. You can’t get them out of the house fast enough.”

  “I’m not ashamed of you, Will. Honest. Not of who you are, just of where we live. I mean look at it…” I said as I indicated the old-fashioned beige wall paper on the wall. “I mean if you saw Georgie’s house you’d understand.”

  Will shrugged. “I have mates who live in posh houses. So what? That’s not why I hang out with them. Or them with me.”

  “Yeah but you’re a boy. What do boys care about nice things? All you care about it footie and computer games. For me how things look matters. I thank God for school uniform, I really do. At least we all have to wear the same thing there apart from our trainers.”

  Will looked at me sulkily. “I don’t think you should care about stuff like that. What does it matter?”