by Candy Harper
And she was gone.
I blinked a bit. Maybe I was being unfair; maybe Lauren was a bit washed out after being ill and I should just get over my disappointment that she wasn’t up to auditioning for a solo. But I couldn’t help remembering yesterday morning when Lauren had been insisting that she was perfectly fit.
I headed downstairs and out of the main entrance. There was a bit of a bottleneck where the path narrows and hundreds of kids were all rushing to get as far away from school as fast as they could and someone bumped me with their backpack. I swung round to tell them what I thought of them and found myself face to face with Cute Josh.
‘Sorry, Amelia,’ he said.
I opened my mouth to reply, but he was already moving away with his crowd of friends. Cute Josh had remembered my name. And we’d practically had an actual conversation. Lauren was going to be sorry she’d missed this. I pulled out my phone and sent her a quick text with a lot of exclamation marks.
Ella and I got to the gates, where Chloe was leaning against a tree, at the same time.
‘Why are you two so crazy-happy?’ Chloe asked us. ‘You’ve both got a smile like when you put a quarter of an orange in your mouth.’
I looked at Ella. I hadn’t noticed, but she did seem cheerful. Her eyes were bright and her cheeks were flushed.
‘I wouldn’t say I’m crazy-happy,’ I said. To be honest, I was still confused by Lauren. But Josh had certainly cheered me up a bit. ‘However, it’s true that there are occasional moments in this soul-destroying dungeon of doom that don’t suck all the joy out of me.’
‘To be fair,’ Chloe said, ‘you weren’t exactly full of joy to begin with.’
‘True.’ I turned to Ella. ‘What about you?’ I asked. ‘What level of joy-suckage are you at?’
‘I am pretty happy,’ she admitted. ‘Crystal has asked me to be her partner in hockey!’
She made it sound like a princess had invited her to a royal ball.
‘Who’s Crystal and what’s so great about her?’ I asked.
‘Is she any good at hockey?’ Chloe interrupted. ‘Because if you’ve got a good partner then she can really help you work on your skills.’
‘She is good at hockey and she’s good in other ways too.’
‘What ways?’ I asked.
Ella screwed up her nose. ‘Well . . . she’s really popular.’
‘You’re popular too, Ella,’ Chloe pointed out. ‘Your class chose you to be tutor captain, didn’t they?’
When people pay Ella compliments, it’s almost as if she doesn’t hear them. She just carried straight on and said, ‘I was surprised because I didn’t even think that Crystal knew my name. Ashandra and Kayleigh had already made a pair, so I thought I was going to be left on my own, but then Crystal asked me. She’s . . .’ Ella struggled to find the words to tell us how wonderful this girl was. ‘She’s not at all scared of the teachers. And she always thinks of funny things to say when Kieran shouts out rude things and she does dancing competitions and she wears her hair in a fishtail plait and she’s got pierced ears.’
I pulled a face. ‘She sounds like one of those girls that does beauty pageants.’
‘She’s not like that. She’s fun. And she’ll definitely be able to help me with my hockey. I was really lucky that she chose me.’
I could feel the buzz of Josh speaking to me slipping away. I didn’t like the idea of anyone lording it over Ella. Except me occasionally of course.
‘I don’t know why you’re talking like she’s a superstar and you’re amazed that she’s noticed you. You’re good at lots of things too.’
Ella sighed. She obviously felt that we were missing the point. ‘I’m just saying that she’s very cool.’
‘You’re cool,’ Chloe said.
And, even though I wouldn’t have said that myself, I was glad that Chloe had.
‘I’m not cool! I’m just normal. Crystal is like someone from the telly. Or America.’
I opened my mouth to say what I thought about Crystal, but Chloe interrupted me. She told us what happened when she went to see the head of PE to tell her she wasn’t happy about not being allowed to try out for the rugby youth squad. It was a long story and, by the time Chloe had got to the point, we’d reached Dad’s door and I rang the bell.
‘So basically you’re saying that Mrs Henderson told you there’s nothing she can do,’ Ella summed up.
‘Yep,’ Chloe said as Suvi was opening the door. ‘She doesn’t care at all.’
‘Hello, girls.’ Suvi smiled at us. ‘Don’t forget to take your shoes off. Who doesn’t care?’
‘The head of PE. She doesn’t care that I can’t be on the rugby youth squad.’
Suvi’s smile disappeared. ‘They still won’t let you play? And this teacher will not help?’
‘She says it’s nothing to do with her.’
Suvi growled in her throat. Ella twitched. We’d never heard Suvi make that sort of noise.
‘What a woman! How can she say this?’
Even Chloe was surprised by Suvi’s reaction. ‘Well, she doesn’t actually run the squad or anything. It’s run by th—’
‘She’s your teacher, yes? And you are a big strong girl. Very big, very strong and you wish to play rugby. How is it that she can say it’s not her business? Doesn’t she care that all the time girls are giving up sports because society is telling them to think about their nails instead? Does she know about all the talented women who cannot get funding to participate in their sports while they’re throwing money at the mens?’
Normally, I correct Suvi when she makes a mistake in English, but somehow the words didn’t come out. I concentrated on unzipping my coat.
‘This makes me angry,’ she muttered.
Nobody said anything. We could see she was angry. There were two pink spots on her freckled cheeks and it was one of the few times I’d ever heard her raise her voice. Suvi is a very calm person. She doesn’t get angry when Kirsti screams. She doesn’t get angry when Dad completely forgets what she’s asked him to do. She didn’t even get angry when I found out she and Dad were having a baby and I called her a cow.
Lucy popped out of the sitting room. ‘What are you talking about?’ she demanded. ‘Why is Suvi all excited?’
‘For some things you must shout. This isn’t right and it’s making me angry that it’s happening to someone special.’
Chloe looked surprised. ‘Do you mean me?’
‘Of course you. All you girls are special.’
Now I was surprised. I would never have expected Suvi to describe me as special.
‘And this is important. You should never let someone tell you that you can’t do something because you’re a girl.’
‘Yeah, but I’ve already said that,’ Chloe said. ‘It hasn’t made any difference.’
‘Sometimes just saying isn’t enough. Sometimes you have to do as well.’
‘Do what exactly?’
‘Come with me,’ said Suvi, drawing Chloe into the kitchen. ‘I have some ideas.’
I pulled off my tie and settled down on the sofa. Lucy stretched out on the rug in front of me, her face screwed up in thought.
‘What?’ I asked her.
‘There must be some things,’ she said.
I put a cushion behind my back. ‘What things?’
‘Things that boys can do that girls can’t.’
I rested my feet on the coffee table. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘What about grow a beard?’
‘Remember Mrs Russell?’ Mrs Russell used to babysit for us; she had more facial hair than Mr Russell.
‘Oh, yeah. She had a beard didn’t she?’
‘And a moustache.’ I took out my phone to see if Lauren had replied to my text about Josh, but she hadn’t. Lucy got out her pens to draw Mrs Russell, only she got carried away with the hair and our old babysitter ended up more like that furry one from Star Wars. Chloe stayed in the kitchen with Suvi for a long time. I couldn’t hear w
hat they were saying, but they both looked a lot more cheerful when they came out.
After tea, I called Lauren to ask her when our biology homework was supposed to be in, but her mum said she was already in bed. Weird. It was only eight o’clock. I crossed my fingers that she wasn’t getting ill again.
I ended up going to bed pretty early myself. Lucy barged into the bathroom while I was cleaning my teeth.
‘Gor’ ’posed to be ’sleep,’ I said through the toothpaste foam.
‘I nearly am,’ she said, balancing on the edge of the bath in a very unsleepy way. ‘But I thought of something boys can do that girls can’t.’
I spat and rinsed. ‘What?’
‘Pee standing up.’
I pushed her out of the bathroom door. ‘You can get a special adaptor to do that.’
‘Really?’ Her eyes bulged. ‘I think I know what I want for Christmas.’
I probably wouldn’t admit it, because everybody knows how much I hate school, but I actually like staying late for rehearsals. Once most pupils have gone home, the whole atmosphere of the building changes and I feel sort of special because I’m here working on something important.
I’d given Lauren the booklet of music and lyrics, and talked her through most of Mr Garcia’s ramblings from last week, so, as long as Milly kept her big mouth shut, there was no reason for anyone to know that she’d missed the first rehearsal. Except Lauren didn’t exactly do a good job of looking like an enthusiastic participant. She was slumped down in her chair, looking thoroughly bored. When Mr Garcia started the warm-up, I had to poke her to get her on her feet.
‘Right,’ said Mr Garcia, picking up a sheaf of papers. ‘Time is moving on and we need to start working on solos, so this afternoon I would like to try out a few different voices.’
Mr Garcia always talks about ‘voices’ rather than the people they belong to. Sometimes he makes me feel like my voice is something separate from me. And more important.
‘I’ll leave you in Mr O’Brien’s capable hands while I audition in the big practice room those of you looking for the responsibility of a larger role.’ He looked down at his list. ‘First on my list is . . . Bartek Tarasewicz.’
Bartek stood up. He shook his long dark fringe out of his eyes and grinned. He didn’t seem nervous at all. He only joined our school this year, but even on his very first day I remember him looking totally at home. He definitely had the confidence to be a good performer. I’d never heard him sing, but Milly told me that Olivia told her that he’s got a great singing voice.
The rest of us started work on ‘Walking in a Winter Wonderland’ with Mr O’Brien. Even though I was standing right next to Lauren, I couldn’t hear her singing. I stole a sideways glance at her. She was barely even moving her lips.
‘What’s the matter?’ I whispered, but she just jerked her head in Mr O’Brien’s direction; he was staring right at us over the top of the piano. I didn’t get it. Normally, she was so keen on singing. I looked at Lauren again; her face was tense and I wondered if she was in pain.
‘Do you feel all right?’ I asked.
‘It’s just a bit of a headache,’ she muttered.
I was sorry she was hurting, but at least it explained her lack of enthusiasm. I’d been starting to think that she didn’t want to do the concert at all.
Before I could ask her if she wanted to go home, Mr Garcia came back into the hall followed by Bartek. When Mr Garcia walks, his whole body is pulled up tight like a violin string whereas Bartek strolls along, smiling into the distance, like he’s beside the sea on a sunny day. They looked so funny together that I nearly laughed. Then Mr Garcia called me to audition and my laugh turned to ice in my throat.
I wove my way between the other singers and followed Mr Garcia out of the hall and down the corridor to the practice room.
‘I hope you don’t mind an audience,’ he said. ‘I’ve got my sixth-form music group in, just so that they can give me the benefit of their opinions.’ He opened the door and I was faced with five Year Thirteens sitting at a long table like an interview panel.
I wondered what Mr Garcia would say if I told him I did mind, but he clearly wasn’t expecting any sort of reply. Almost all of the time that Mr Garcia talks, he just wants you to take in what he’s saying without coming back with any thoughts of your own.
I don’t normally mind singing in front of people; in fact, I love it. But, because I’d been thinking about this concert for so long and because I really, really wanted a solo, my heart started pumping hard and I could feel my face getting hot. I bit my lip; I had to control my nerves or I’d make mistakes and then there would be no chance of a good part.
Mr Garcia sat down at the piano. ‘Let’s hear what you’ve just been doing with Mr O’Brien,’ he said, launching into the intro before I’d had a chance to nod in reply.
I pulled my spine up straight: it’s important to be able to get as much air into your lungs as possible when you’re singing. I listened to Mr Garcia carefully to make sure I came in at exactly the right moment. Halfway through the first line, I saw one of the Year Thirteens writing something down and I panicked; my voice wobbled and Mr Garcia looked up sharply, but I pulled it back and after that my body sort of went into automatic mode. When I was finished, Mr Garcia had me try a verse from two of the other songs. I didn’t make any more really obvious mistakes but once he stopped to tell me how he would like the line and made me sing it again. I hoped I’d done that OK because it’s really important that he knows that I can take direction.
When I finished the last song, the Year Thirteens clapped politely, but it was hard to tell what Mr Garcia thought. He just said, ‘Thank you, Amelia,’ and walked with me back to the hall to call out another name.
‘How did it go?’ Lauren asked as I slipped back into my place beside her.
‘OK-ish.’
She gave me a big smile and held up crossed fingers, which made me think that at least she seemed to care about me being in the concert.
We had to sit through another hour of rehearsing the group numbers before Mr Garcia had finished all the auditions. He stood in front of us, holding his clipboard, and everyone was so keen to hear who had the solos that he didn’t even have to ask for silence.
‘Before I read out the names of the chosen few, I would like to remind you that in taking on a featured part you are also taking on a responsibility,’ he began. ‘I expect commitment and one hundred per cent attendance at the extra rehearsals. If you can’t manage that then you will lose your part.’ He cleared his throat. ‘The solo in “Jingle Bell Rock” will be sung by Nathan Weisgard . . .’
Nathan did an air-guitar solo and tossed his long hair about like an eighties rock star, but I could hardly process the names being read out. Every part of me was focused in on hearing my own name. My heart had started to gallop again. I was jiggling my foot like I do when I’ve got a stomach ache. The further Mr Garcia got down the list, the more convinced I was that I wasn’t going to have a special part. Lauren reached out and took my hand.
‘“Baby, It’s Cold Outside” – Bartek Tarasewicz and Amelia Strawberry.’
I couldn’t help a small gasp. Lauren squeezed my hand hard as I smiled at her. I looked across at Bartek and he grinned back at me. I was so pleased. It was definitely my favourite song in the whole concert and, unlike some of the other solos where people only got a verse to themselves before the chorus came crashing in, Bartek and I were going to sing the whole thing by ourselves.
Mr Garcia reached the end of his list and dismissed us with more dire warnings about not missing rehearsals.
As we started to gather our stuff together, I turned to Lauren. ‘How’s your head?’ I asked.
‘It’s better,’ she said.
I didn’t mean to go on about her not auditioning, but I couldn’t help saying, ‘I’m really sad you’re not doing a solo too.’
She picked up her bag and stood up slowly. ‘I really don’t mind,’ she said. But th
ere was something brittle about her voice that made me think that perhaps she did. I tried to get a really good look at her face, but she was half turned away from me, staring down at the floor. ‘In fact,’ she said really quietly, ‘I’m not sure that I’m going to bother with the concert this year.’
I sucked in my breath. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I don’t think I want to be in it.’ She finally looked up at me and it was as if she was begging me to understand. But I didn’t understand at all.
‘I thought you liked doing concerts,’ I said.
She twisted her bag strap in her hands. ‘I do. But you heard what Mr Garcia said about having to attend all the rehearsals. I think I’ve got an orthodontist appointment coming up and my mum said she might let me have a day off school to go Christmas shopping in London.’
I blinked. Lauren’s mum didn’t seem the type to let you miss school to go shopping. She always seems quite uptight about schoolwork.
‘Couldn’t you do that stuff on days when there aren’t rehearsals?’
Lauren looked away again. ‘I just think I’m going to give it a miss this year.’
It still didn’t make any sense to me. ‘We’ve been looking forward to doing this for ages.’
‘You can still do it.’
‘I wanted to do it with you!’ I hadn’t meant to say that quite so sharply but I couldn’t believe that this was happening. ‘Look,’ I said trying to sound gentle, ‘you’ve got a headache; it’ll be more fun next week when you’re better. Why don’t you wait and see how you feel about it then?’
To my horror, Lauren clenched her jaw and stared fiercely out of the window. I was afraid she was going to cry.
‘I’m not going to do this concert,’ she said eventually. ‘Please stop going on about it.’
And she looked so upset that I said, ‘OK. If that’s what you really want.’ Even though I was totally confused about what was going on.
She took a long, shuddery breath and tried to smile. ‘I’ll still come and watch you,’ she said. ‘You’re going to be brilliant. I can’t wait to see you onstage.’
That was the first thing that she’d said all afternoon that sounded like she really meant it.