She made me feel really welcome. We sent out for Japanese food, including sushi, then drank mint tea. I felt really grown-up and glam sitting with her in her living room.
In the evening, Mr Axford went off to stay with one of his rock band friends and Star wanted to have a girlie night in. She insisted on dressing me for the competition, even though I told her that the stylists were supposed to be coming in to dress the final ten contestants. ‘That’s if I get through,’ I said. ‘There’s fifteen boys and fifteen girls left, but it will be down to ten of each by lunch-time tomorrow.’
‘Oh, you’ll get through,’ she said. ‘A gorgeous girl like you.’
I was dead chuffed with the compliment, especially as she was a model and Lia had told me that Star never gives false praise.
‘But don’t wait for the stylists,’ Star went on. ‘They don’t always know what suits you best, believe me – I’ve worked with enough of them. No, best to go with some idea of how you want to look or else they might put you in something you feel weird in. That can knock your confidence.’
She went into her bedroom and came back with a pile of amazing clothes that she’d been given on her photo shoots and Lia and I had a great night trying everything on and doing our hair and nails. When we settled down on the sofa-bed later, I couldn’t sleep. I felt so happy, like a whole new world was opening up for me. So much had happened over the last few weeks. I’d met some brilliant people and now was staying in probably the most fabtastic flat in London. It was loads better than it would have been camping on the floor in two-faced Jade’s bedroom. It made me think about how things don’t always turn out the way you expect them to, but if you don’t give up trying, then sometimes they can work out even better than you imagined. I must remember to tell Dad, I thought. He’s obviously forgotten.
ELLIOTT DID a long wolf-whistle when he saw me the next day. He was sitting on the steps outside the hall with a number of the other contestants waiting to go in. Jade and Fizz were there too and Jade looked surprised when she saw me. She whispered something to Fizz, who laughed. I decided that I wasn’t going to stoop to their level so I purposely walked near them and smiled.
‘Hi,’ I said.
They both looked at me as though I was a bad smell under their noses, then turned away. Fine, I thought, be like that, and I went to sit with Elliott.
‘You look great,’ he said. ‘Very rock chick.’
‘Thanks,’ I replied. I did feel great, despite Jade and Fizz. Star had lent me some top clothes, black Gucci jeans, which fitted like a dream, a handkerchief top and the most amazing black leather jacket by someone called Joseph. I felt a million dollars and ready for anything.
‘So, all set for today?’
‘Just about,’ I said.
‘What song are you doing?’
‘“Endless Love”. What about your lot? Do you think the winner stands out yet?’
He shrugged. ‘I ought to say, Yes, me, but who knows? There are a few lads in there who are major-league talent.’
‘Same in our group,’ I said. ‘I think just about everyone still in deserves to win.’
A moment later, the doors opened and, as we all got up to go in, I spotted the television cameras inside the reception area and felt a rush of adrenalin.
‘Do the nerves ever go away?’ I asked Elliott.
‘Doubt it,’ he said. ‘But nerves are supposed to be good. They say that the day you don’t have them, is the day you lose your edge.’
‘Oh good,’ I said, ‘because my knees have just gone to jelly.’
Elliott grinned. ‘You’ll be OK. And good luck.’
‘Yeah, like, break a leg,’ sneered Jade as she walked past.
What is her problem? I asked myself as I followed her in. I’ve never done anything to her.
This time, all the girls and boys had to wait together in a small hall until we were called. One by one we were called in and Sushila was first up.
She gave me a smile when she came out and came over to sit with Elliott and me. Jade looked really peeved. I knew she was dying to know what went on, but she couldn’t bring herself to come over.
‘How did it go?’ I asked.
‘OK, I think. The cameras are in there, which is a bit unnerving, but I think I was OK.’
‘And how were the judges?’ asked Elliott.
‘Not giving anything away,’ said Sushila. ‘Like stone statues. Very encouraging. Not.’
I was called in fifth and I made sure I walked in confidently and gave the judges a big smile.
‘OK,’ said Sarah. ‘When you’re ready.’
I started singing and Martin Riley stopped me about a quarter of the way through. ‘OK, Becca, now start again, but this time do it with more conviction.’
‘OK,’ I said, determined not to let him unnerve me. I thought I had done it with conviction, but anyway . . . I started again.
‘No,’ said Martin, interrupting again. ‘Now you’re trying too hard. Take it back a bit. It’s an emotional song so don’t just belt it out.’
I know what you’re doing, I thought. You’re testing to see if I’m going to crack. Well, I’m not. I started again, and this time, he let me finish. I think I did as well as I could do – I sang in tune and tried to inject as much feeling as possible. When I finished, I glanced over at the judges. Paul and Martin were looking down at their writing pads and Paul was writing something, but at least Sarah gave me a smile.
‘OK Becca,’ she said. ‘Not long to wait this time as there’s only thirty of you to see. We’ll let you know at lunch-time if you’re going through.’
And then it was back to the waiting. I sat and chatted to Sushila while the others went in. She was really nice. It was good to know that I had one ally in the girl’s group. One dark-haired girl called Olivia looked a bit shaken when she came out and went and sat in the corner, looking a bit lost. I decided to go and talk to her as I remembered how I’d felt when Cat was voted out and how lonely it can be.
‘Hey,’ I said, sitting next to her.
‘Hey,’ she said.
‘How was it in there?’
‘Awful,’ she said. ‘I don’t think I’m through.’
I decided to share my new-found wisdom with her. ‘You don’t know that. It’s not over until it’s over,’ I said. ‘Thing is, we mustn’t give up. My dad’s taught me that. Keep trying. He says the cream always rises to the top of the milk eventually. Same if you have talent. It will win through. And we’ve got this far – that must say something.’
‘God, you’re so positive,’ she said. ‘But really, I don’t think I was very good today.’
‘Ah,’ I said. ‘But everyone feels the same. That’s what you have to remember. We’re all feeling nervous and have had our confidence knocked a bit. So we’re all up against the same stuff.’
‘I guess,’ she said, then smiled. ‘Yeah. It’s not the end of the world is it?’
‘Nah,’ I said. ‘We’re only fourteen. This has been the most brilliant experience and it’s not even over yet. Look at us, in the last fifteen girls and that’s out of thousands.’
‘Yeah,’ she smiled. ‘That is something, isn’t it? I guess that I’ve been so intent on getting through today that I hadn’t even thought about how far we’ve come.’
‘Exactly,’ I said.
The judges finished seeing everyone at about half past one and then Tanya divided us into three groups often, mixing girls with boys.
‘Eek,’ said Sushila, who was put in a group with Jade, Fizz and Elliott. ‘Know what this means, don’t you? One of the groups is out and that will leave the final twenty.’
‘Oh God,’ I said, feeling another rush of nerves and wishing I was with Elliott and Sushila. ‘I hope I’m through.’
‘You will be, Becca,’ said Sushila, looking over at the third group. ‘I reckon that group over there won’t make it. See that guy with the blond crew cut? I can tell you he wasn’t good when I heard him, so don’t worry, I rec
kon your group is a goer.’
Tanya called for everyone’s attention then asked Jade’s group to stay where they were. After that, she led the remaining twenty of us into the corridor, then put ten in one room and the other ten in a second room.
‘Here we go again,’ I groaned to Olivia, who was in my group. ‘I can’t bear this tension.’
‘I know,’ she said. ‘And it doesn’t help with the cameras in the corridor, watching every expression.’
‘I know,’ I said. ‘You can almost feel them cheering inside when they catch someone crying. My mate Squidge says they love it when someone breaks down as it makes good telly’
After Tanya had left us, everyone was very quiet, straining to hear what was going on in the other rooms and waiting for the sound of footsteps. Every time we heard anyone walk past, everyone looked up expectantly, then when they didn’t come in, people’s shoulders would drop and it was back to waiting. After about ten minutes of excruciating silence, we heard a huge cheer from the room next door.
‘One lot through, then,’ said Olivia. ‘Fingers crossed for us.’
Five minutes later, the doors opened and a cameraman came through and started filming our group.
‘Come to catch the tears of success or failure,’ said Olivia.
Sarah and Paul came through the door after the cameraman.
‘Sorry to keep you waiting like this, everyone,’ Paul said, ‘as I know you’re all eager to hear what’s happening. First, I’d like to say how brilliant you’ve all been . . .’
He doesn’t need to say any more, I said to myself as he went on saying how good everyone had been. I know the dumping-you speech – the ‘I’d like to say how much I like you and I hope we can stay friends et cetera, et cetera’ speech. Anyone with half a brain knows what it means.
‘. . . So,’ Paul went on, ‘I’m afraid we won’t be asking you to go through to the next round. But don’t be too disappointed. You’ve all done brilliantly to have come this far and I hope to be seeing some of you again in future competitions.’
Blah, blah, I thought. Dumped.
LIA AND Star were lovely when I got back to the flat on Saturday afternoon. Star told me there would be other chances and that I could go and stay with her whenever I wanted. She even gave me her Gucci jeans, because, she said, they looked so good on me. I hardly took in anything they said. I just felt numb.
‘I don’t get every job I’m up for,’ Star said the next day as we were getting ready for her dad to come and pick us up, ‘but you soon learn in the modelling business that you have to take it on the chin – not take it personally, get on with the next thing. You’ll get there in the end, Becca.’
And Mr Axford was so sweet on the journey back home. ‘It’s a tough business,’ he said. ‘You win some and you lose some. You mustn’t give up. I had my share of setbacks in the early days, believe you me.’
Seems like everyone has their stories to tell, I thought as I sat in the back and stared out the window, but it’s different when it happens to you. I don’t know if I want to be involved in a business that knocks your confidence all the time.
Dad gave me a big hug when I got home and Mum bustled about making cups of tea, like that was going to help. In fact, people being nice to me only made me feel worse, like I was ill or something and had to be treated with kid gloves. I wasn’t ill. I wasn’t anything. I felt numb. Deflated. Disappointed.
‘You were so right, Dad,’ I said as I sipped my tea.
‘About what?’
‘To give up on your dream and go out and get a proper job,’ I said. ‘Save yourself a lot of pain.’
‘Oh Becca,’ he said. ‘There’ll be other chances for me and for you. And I haven’t given up. I’ll still be working on my book in the evenings and weekends.’
Mum stood behind Dad and put her hands on his shoulders. ‘Your dad will get there in the end,’ she said. ‘But in the meantime, we have bills to pay. You have to be practical as well as having a dream.’
‘Well my dream’s become a nightmare,’ I said.
Suddenly it was all too much, sitting there, chatting like the competition was in the distant past. I felt exhausted and I knew I was going to cry. I just wanted to get away, escape my parents’ sympathetic looks and words of concern and consolation. I went upstairs and locked my bedroom door.
There was only one thing for it. Only one thing that would take away the pain . . . I rolled my desk chair over to the wardrobe, climbed on to it and hauled down the box I’d put away at Christmas. Chocolates. Five whole boxes of chocolates. I opened the first box and scoffed them down like I hadn’t eaten for weeks. Actually, I realised, I hardly had. All that stupid dieting, and for what? What was the point? All that stupid stuff I’d told myself about never giving up. Idiotic. You put in all your best effort and where does it get you? Nowhere.
After ten minutes I decided I needed something more. I unlocked the door, sneaked downstairs and found the can of squirty cream Mum kept for special occasions and took it back upstairs. I put a squirt on every one of the chocolates and ate them, one after the other. Huh, I thought as I swallowed a toffee cream, that’s to spite you, stupid Martin Riley. You had it in for me from Day One. Then I ate a hazelnut crunch. And that’s for you, Jade Macey, who’s got through to the next round with her ugly friend Fizz. Next was a strawberry cream, not my favourite, but topped with an extra squirt of cream – down it went, to spite all of them. I hate life, I thought as I went for gold and crammed in two chocolates at the same time. Just when you think everything’s going your way, a great big bulldozer comes along and flattens you. I hate myself, I thought, for being so stupid, so full of myself. I winced when I remembered how I’d pratted around, giving everyone ‘good advice’. They must have thought I was a right plonker, I thought. Fat lot of good it did anyone. And I hate school and it stinking well starts tomorrow and everyone will be gossiping. Oh, there’s that Rebecca Howard. She thought she was it, you know. Thought she had the makings of a Pop Princess, stupid idiot. We knew she’d never make it. What ever made her think she would?
Oh God. I have no future, no life, no hope.
After I’d finished three-quarters of the second box of chocs, I started to feel very strange. I groaned and lay back on my bed. Then there was a knock on my door.
‘Are you in there, Becca?’ asked Dad.
‘No,’ I said. ‘Leave me alone. I don’t want to talk to anyone.’ I certainly didn’t want to talk to Dad any more. It was his stupid fault I’d got so carried away, putting all those daft ideas into my head about never giving up. What a load of rubbish. If I hadn’t listened to him, I wouldn’t have had to go through all this. And I wouldn’t be feeling so sick now.
‘Cat’s on the phone.’
‘Tell her I’ve gone to Katmandu with the milkman,’ I said. I didn’t even want to talk to her. There was nothing she could say. Although to give her her due, she had tried. They all had. As soon as I’d got back to Star’s flat, the phone had started going – Cat, Squidge and Mac, all wanting to know how it had gone.
Mac. Stupid git. I didn’t even know if he was my boyfriend any more. We hadn’t been out on a date in ages and we hadn’t snogged each other properly for weeks. Maybe it was all over and I’d been so wrapped up I hadn’t noticed I’d been dumped by him as well as the competition.
Squidge. Stupid git. It was really all his fault. Him and that stupid dare. It was all right for all of them. They’d done it for a laugh. Squidge told me that Andy Warhol once said that everyone has their fifteen minutes of fame. The Pop Princess competition was mine. And now it was over. For ever.
But Mac is the stupidest git, thinking I was off with Elliott all the time. As if a boy like him would ever take an interest in me. He probably felt sorry for me.
And Cat, well, she’s just a stupid git, because . . . because everyone is, especially me. I’m the most stupid git of all, stupid, stupid, stupid.
I felt tears pricking the back of my eyes again. An
d now I’m going to cry, I thought as tears started to spill down my cheeks. And I don’t care. I am a loser, a failure. A stupid, stupid person. Then there was a sudden lurch in my stomach and, oops, better run for it. I’m going to . . . eeeew . . .
As I kneeled on the bathroom floor, I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror – mad hair, red eyes, deathly white and on my knees with chocolate smeared around my mouth. ‘Hey, Pop Princess,’ I said as I grimaced at myself. ‘This is what happens when you try to exceed your grasp or whatever that stupid quote of Dad’s is.’ To have imagined I could have actually won Pop Princess. Hah. Never again. Never, never, never, never, never, never, never . . .
I went back into my bedroom and lay on the bed, ready for another good cry. Once again, there was a knock at the door.
‘Becca,’ said Mum.
‘Go away,’ I called. ‘I need to be alone.’
‘OK,’ said Mum. ‘It’s just that someone from the competition is on the phone for you.’
‘Who?’ I said. ‘Elliott?’ I’d already spoken to Elliott on Saturday after the ‘dumping’. He was lovely. He’d put his arm around me and hadn’t come out with any of the clichés about trying again or getting another chance, et cetera. He just held me tight, like he understood.
‘No,’ said Mum through the door. ‘It’s someone called Martin Riley.’
I sat up like a shot. Martin Riley? Ohmigod, I thought. What does he want? . . . Probably phoned to check I haven’t put my head in a gas oven. Probably checking that I’m OK. I don’t know if I want to hear him come out with some claptrap about being a good loser.
But my curiosity had been aroused. It couldn’t hurt to just hear what he had to say . . .
‘Are you going to pick up your phone?’ asked Mum. ‘Or shall I ask him to call back later?’
‘No, no,’ I said as I smoothed my hair and wiped away chocolate smears. ‘I’ll take it.’
Pop Princess Page 9