How to Get Famous

by Pete Johnson

  Georgia's mum made us check our pens ('there's nothing worse than when a star comes over to sign and your pen runs out'), then she introduced us to a man in the crowd called Reuben. He was another regular, like her. 'Look at this,' he demanded excitedly. He showed us this card with an illegible scrawl across it. 'I was at Euston Station when I spotted him: the guy who used to be in The Bill.'

  'What's his name?' I asked.

  'Couldn't tell you – but it's him all right.'

  5.15 p.m.

  The atmosphere is just incredible now; there are swarms of people including this crowd of teenagers right behind us, squawking and shrieking every time a black limo rolls up.

  And the first person to strut out was this girl who nearly won Big Brother last year. She was holding up a book and shrieking that the second volume of her autobiography would be in the shops next week.

  Then a curly-haired boy who used to be in Casualty hopped out of a limo. The teenagers behind us all held up their camera phones.

  Some other girls began waving scraps of paper at the Casualty star as he came over to us, screaming: 'We love you.' But actually it was Georgia's card he signed, giving her a tiny little kiss under his signature as well.

  Georgia started babbling. 'Oh, I've gone all hot with shock. And I don't even really like him, but it's so exciting.'

  'Your very first autograph,' murmured her mum proudly.

  6.45 p.m.

  An incredible thing has just occurred. And I want to tell you about it right away while it's crystal clear in my head. So I'll ignore the other stars we saw and get straight to . . .

  We knew something momentous was due when two policemen lumbered over and told us to get right back from the barricades, which we all did until they looked away, and then we all surged forward again.

  For this lecture from the police meant only thing: the star of the film would be moving among us.

  'Now just stay calm,' whispered Georgia's mum to us, 'but I really think Johnny Depp's about to appear.'

  Five minutes later her prediction came true. There, stepping out of a huge, silver car, was indeed . . . Johnny Depp! Georgia and I grinned in an amazed way at each other, unable to believe he was just a few metres away from us.

  He was wearing a blue check cowboy shirt with the collar turned up, a skinny black tie and a trilby hat. He was in a suit, his hair was dead scruffy but in a highly fashionable way and he had a bit of a beard.

  All these flashbulbs started up, and there was this sea of white light all around him, while everyone began screeching: 'Johnny, Johnny,' just as if they were cheering on a horse at the races. It was mad and tense and incredibly exciting all at once.

  And then Johnny Depp half glided and half strutted over to us. People were really bawling at him now, while others thrust their posters as close to him as they could, but I hardly said a word, which isn't like me. I was a bit overwhelmed, I suppose, being so close for the first time to a mega-star.

  Then, quite suddenly, I remembered reading somewhere that Johnny Depp loved animals. So I launched into my impression of a highly excitable puppy. I did the full routine: high-pitched yelps and barks. And Johnny Depp turned towards me right away, a little smile playing across his lips. 'Hey, Johnny, you big pirate, sign this, will you?' I cried, waving my poster at him. 'And make me a millionaire.' Another grin crossed his lips. He and I were really connecting. He clearly loved both my animal impressions and my sense of humour.

  Then, in one swift movement, he'd seized hold of my pen and signed his superb name just above his head on the poster. It was over in a flash.

  Yet there it was, Johnny Depp's true autograph. He moved over to someone else then, just like an athlete, so graceful and fast. And he seemed totally unaware of the policemen glowering behind him. No, he appeared totally relaxed and at ease as if we were all meeting up at a huge party. Then he gave this big wave to us all and was sauntering off when I yelled out to him, 'Hey Johnny, thanks a million for the autograph.' I gave another little puppy yelp too.

  And do you know what he did? He turned round and grinned right at me again. And then he was surrounded by some very boring and very rich-looking people. After which he moved pretty smartly up that red carpet and disappeared into a glamorous, glittering place that we out here could only dream about.

  And everyone was crowding round admiring the autograph. Georgia's mum was telling me to blow on the ink to dry it. And Reuben was instructing me to be sure and hold it at the sides as you didn't want it ruined with dirty great fingerprints, while Georgia just looked so happy for me. Johnny Depp hadn't signed for anyone else around me either. I was his chosen one.

  It was a knock-out moment. I felt so proud and yet . . .

  No, no, that's really silly. I'm not even going to write down what I also thought.

  7.25 p.m.

  Some other stars arrived – Georgia's mum got four more autographs. But I just stood there in a daze. Georgia's mum thought I was still in shock after bagging an autograph from just about the biggest movie star in the world. And it was partly that. But there was something else, as Georgia suspected.

  And later when Georgia's mum was discussing tonight's haul of autographs with Reuben and a couple of other collectors, Georgia took me aside. 'You should be really happy tonight,' she said.

  'I am,' I said at once.

  'No, you're not.'

  I looked away. Sometimes Georgia knew me so well it was annoying. And then I told her what I couldn't even bear to tell you because it sounded so greedy.

  I said, 'Tonight, Georgia, Johnny Depp enjoyed my animal impressions and on more than one occasion laughed at my jokes. But . . . and this is going to sound insane.'

  'I don't care, just say it.'

  'Well, Johnny and me were getting on so well, I didn't want him to just sign my picture – and this is really crazy – I wanted him to say, "Hey, I've got a spare ticket for this premiere and as you and I are getting on so well, how would you like to come along as my guest?" Wouldn't it have been sheer genius if he'd done that?'

  'Oh yeah it would have been,' agreed Georgia. 'Pretty unlikely though. I mean, he probably didn't have any spare tickets on him for a start. And the people in charge might have been really angry with Johnny Depp if he'd just invited in people off the street.'

  'But I'm not just someone off the street,' I said. 'And if I'd been allowed inside I bet Johnny and me would have been the best of mates by now. It'll never happen now though, and I'll always be stuck on the outside of film premieres looking in.'

  'Don't say that,' said Georgia.

  'Why not?' I cried.

  'Because you've got to believe that one day you'll get that lucky break.'

  'OK,' I muttered.

  'No, honestly, Mum says it's absolutely vital you believe in yourself.'

  'Yeah, all right.' I looked across at the Odeon, Leicester Square. 'So one day, Georgia, you and I will stroll right inside that kingdom of magic.'

  'We definitely will,' said Georgia. Then she added, 'But we won't forget our fans.'

  'Oh no, we'll sign zillions of autographs. And we won't need personal shoppers and bodyguards and stylists.'

  'Actually, I wouldn't mind a stylist,' said Georgia, then she giggled. 'And how about a totally buff personal trainer?' She giggled again.

  'You can have the stylist,' I said sternly. 'But that's all.'

  'I was only joking about the personal trainer,' she said.

  I nodded. 'Because at all times we want to keep it real.'

  'Yeah, we must always do that,' said Georgia. 'And we'll still do ordinary things – like get the bus.'

  'Even when we've sold the movie rights to our lives,' I said. Then I went on. 'All the money and stuff will, of course, be brilliant – but what I'd really like is for someone to come up to me – old or young, I don't care – and say they want to shake my hand for cheering up their life.'

  'But that's exactly the same for me,' said Georgia, looking eagerly at me. 'I'd love someone t
o say that, after seeing me in a play, I completely changed their life. Does that sound big-headed?'

  'Oh no, not at all,' I cried.

  We were both silent for a moment as we imagined being pursued by all these grateful members of the public.

  'It'll be good also,' I said, 'in later years to meet all those people at school who made fun of us and just smile knowingly at them.'

  'Yeah, we wouldn't need to say a thing, would we?' said Georgia. 'Just give them a look . . .'

  'Before strolling into our white-stretch limo.'

  'Oh, we're having a limo now, are we?' asked Georgia.

  'Yeah, just the one though, because we're not show-offs.' Then I gave a weary sigh. 'But right now we're . . .' I hesitated. I really didn't want to say the word so in the end I hissed it: 'Wannabes.'

  A look of total horror immediately crossed Georgia's face.

  'I'm sorry,' I cried.

  'No, no, it had to be said. And right now we are.' And then she whispered that miserable, hopeless loser of a word even more softly than me: 'Wannabes.'

  'And it's so frustrating,' I cried, 'when we know we've got all this talent inside us. Georgia, the world is waiting for us. We've just got to get famous somehow.'

  'Get famous,' repeated Georgia. 'We'll keep saying that to each other so we go out and find that lucky break.' Her eyes were gleaming and we were both elated now by the huge adventure which lay before us. Then she looked at me and said solemnly, 'Get famous, Tobey.'

  And I repeated equally seriously, 'Get famous, Georgia.'

  11.35 p.m.

  Still awake, well obviously I am or I wouldn't be writing this, unless I was scribbling in my sleep. I wonder if anyone's ever done that. You hear about sleep-walking – but never sleep-writing.

  WHAT AM I GABBLING ON ABOUT? Don't ask me, I'm just as confused as you. You see, I can't sleep at all tonight. I've been thinking about my chat with Johnny Depp and stuff Georgia said . . . and besides I never sleep well on Sunday nights. For that's when another week of school looms over me like a great towering monster.

  And I know you're going to find this hard to believe, but at school I'm written off as a bit of a joke. Lads will always make fun of you if you're slightly different. It doesn't bother me really. Well, I don't let anyone see it does.

  Tonight though, when I was hanging out with Johnny Depp, I saw a different way of life. And I felt two metres tall – no, make that three. That's what my life will be like when I'm a celebrity. But tomorrow it's back to being a right little twerp again.

  Still, at least I'll be armed with my Johnny Depp autograph. And when my class see who I've been hanging about with, maybe they'll say: 'We've got that Tobey Tyler all wrong. He's actually a really cool dude and someone definitely worth knowing after all.'

  12.15 a.m.

  Still can't sleep – and now I've done something TOTALLY INSANE.

  Chapter Three

  12.17 a.m.

  I can't bear to write down what I've just done.

  12.20 a.m.

  But I've got to tell someone.

  Look, I was just admiring Johnny Depp's sensational autograph (his loops are some of the most impressive I've ever seen) when I thought, why don't I see if I can copy it? After all, I'm clearly not going to sleep tonight and this might help me improve my own autograph.

  So I got out my English book and had a go on the back pages. It was only a little experiment. But soon my copies were STUNNING. I mean, they were absolutely identical to the great Depp autograph.

  And I was so pleased with myself I suddenly snatched my signed poster of Johnny Depp and above his autograph wrote, in big bold letters: 'To Tobey. You're a real star.'

  It honestly seemed to happen without me quite realizing it. And for the first few seconds, what I'd done didn't seem so bad, especially as I was sure that if Johnny Depp had chatted to me a bit longer that's exactly what he would have written. So it wasn't really a fake. All I'd done was just improve on real life a bit. No actual harm had been done to anyone.

  Now, though, I realize that me scribbling some made-up, big-headed, totally showing-off rubbish above my valuable autograph is nothing less than an act of vandalism. I certainly couldn't take it to school now. That's completely out of the question. And when Georgia finds out what I've done she'll be stunned.

  As for her mum . . . well, she'll be so shocked she won't be able to speak for about a month. She believes autographs are special, sacred things. And they are.

  'To Tobey. You're a real star.'

  What on earth made me write that?

  MONDAY MARCH 8TH

  7.25 a.m.

  Woke up feeling so relieved. Me defacing Johnny Depp's autograph had just been a nightmare. Then I scrambled out of bed and saw my gruesome handiwork once more.

  I was still gazing bleakly at my autograph when Mum stomped in. She was being all annoyingly hearty and fussy as usual. 'Come on, start the week positively,' she brayed when suddenly she stopped and asked, 'Ah, is this the autographed picture you were telling us about?'

  I hadn't even bothered showing it to my parents last night as I thought Dad would just make some sarky comment and ruin the moment. But Mum was gazing at the poster for several seconds without saying a single word. This was highly unusual. After checking she was still breathing I asked, 'What's up?'

  Then she actually sat down on my bed. I thought, she's spotted the part I'd forged, but instead she asked, 'Does Mr Depp write "You're a real star" on every autograph?'

  'Oh no, he's a very busy man, everyone else just got an autograph. But I told you he and I spent time together and he clearly recognized my amazing talent.'

  Mum's eyebrows bounced about a bit. 'Well, I'd like to see some mention of your amazing talent on your next school report.'

  'Sadly, you don't get marks for having star quality, Mum.'

  Then she smiled at me and said in quite a kindly way (for her), 'Well, you obviously made a big impression on Mr Depp . . . now hurry up and get dressed, I've got a nice breakfast waiting for you.'

  So Mum totally believed Johnny Depp had written 'You're a real star' and was now looking at me with a new respect. Well, if my fakery fooled her, then maybe it could fool everyone at school too.

  9.15 a.m.

  I took my autograph to school, but then I lost my nerve. I didn't show it to anyone until registration.

  My form teacher is Miss Lytton. She's all right and gives you mini chocolate bars for outstanding effort.

  I piped up. 'Miss Lytton, I have a question for you: are you a fan of the world-famous film actor, Johnny Depp?'

  'Who isn't?' she replied.

  'Then perhaps you'd like to study the autograph I obtained from him last night.'

  The rabble in my class laughed in a mocking, disbelieving way until Miss Lytton raised a hand. 'Tobey, I'd love to see your autograph from Johnny Depp.'

  'Then your wish shall be granted,' I said, taking the poster from my bag very slowly. I know exactly how to build suspense. Then I sort of glided – just the way Johnny Depp had moved last night actually – over to her and dropped the poster onto her desk.

  Miss Lytton stared at it even longer than my mum had.

  'What does it say, miss?' called out someone.

  'May I tell them?' she asked me ever so politely.

  'Oh well, all right,' I said, trying my best to sound reluctant.

  She read out. 'To Tobey, You're a real star. Johnny Depp.' And you could hear the amazement in Miss Lytton's voice. Then everyone sprang up, wanting to see this autograph for themselves.

  'No, back to your places.' Miss Lytton held up the poster as if it were some kind of special exhibit for everyone to view. 'Perhaps Tobey will tell us how he got this autograph.' There was a little tremor of excitement in her voice now. And she wasn't just being polite. No, she really wanted to know how I had touched greatness.

  So I told her and my surprisingly hushed class. And yes, all right, I exaggerated a tiny bit. Well, you've got to, haven'
t you? So I had Johnny Depp falling over with laughter at everything I said.

  And I stretched out the time he'd spent chatting with me too. I even had him calling me 'dude'. But I wasn't actually lying - just giving reality an extra polish. And even the boys who think they're hard were fascinated. In fact, the whole class was hanging on my every word – and that is the total truth.

  Then my poster was passed round, although Miss Lytton specially requested everyone to be very careful with it. And she said to me, grinning all over her face, 'Well, it's nice to start the day with something so interesting for once.'

  This was, without doubt, the best fifteen minutes I have ever spent at school.

  11.20 a.m.

  If I'd charged a pound for everyone who wanted to see my signed poster I'd be a multi-millionaire by now (well, practically). It's been crazy this break time.

  'How much did you pay him to write that?' asked someone.

  'Well, I had one pound and thirty-two pence in my pocket,' I said. 'So of course I could bribe the greatest star in the world with that.'

  Another person asked: 'But why did Johnny Depp write "You're a real star" on your poster? He only spoke to you for a few seconds.'

  'Oh, it was a bit longer than that,' I replied with a knowing smile. 'And I suppose in the brief time we chatted together, he noticed I had a certain something. Well I have, you can't ignore that.'

  There was laughter, but to my amazement no one actually disagreed with me. Instead, a boy in Year Nine asked, 'So which star are you going to meet next?'

  'I shall have to consult my personal, private, jet-setting diary to answer that one,' I replied with a glittering smile.

  I tell you my good impression thermometer is positively soaring.

  1.30 p.m.

  And now it has crashed below zero.

  It was all going so well until we trooped back into the classroom for afternoon registration. Now there's this boy in our classroom nicknamed Lank. Got a face like a clenched fist and is always trying to act hard.

  Anyway, he yelled out, 'Hey Tobey!', his voice running through the room like an electric drill. Then I saw what he was waving about in his hand: my English exercise book. The very one in which I'd been practising Johnny Depp's autograph – and that I'd very stupidly left lying about on my desk.