by Pete Johnson
SATURDAY MARCH 20TH
12.00 p.m.
Here is what the world has been waiting for – my first exclusive report from The Secret Garden auditions.
We were led backstage and then waited in order for our two minutes in the spotlight. Parents hovered beside the children – some still and quiet, like bodyguards; others fussing and whispering and being generally annoying.
Georgia's mum was one of the silent ones. She just told us to 'focus and have fun'. To be honest, she didn't seem as if she was enjoying herself hugely. Instead, she looked like those athletes do just before they're about to run a race: all tense and expectant.
The first girl to go on stage from our group was holding a candle and looked very serious. Afterwards she ran straight into her mum's arms. 'I was awful. I couldn't remember anything,' she mumbled.
'That's a lie,' muttered Georgia. 'I bet she was brilliant.'
Meanwhile, the boy in front of Georgia was swinging his arms around and moaning about the amount of time all this was taking. He told Georgia and me his name was Ross Hope, as if we should have heard of him already and be flinging our autograph books at him. When it was his turn he mooched forward, muttering something unrepeatable under his breath.
'His manners are atrocious,' I said. 'I expect the judges will be quite relieved to see you after that water bison. So how are you feeling?'
'I'm just trying to breathe,' she squeaked.
'Hey, don't get nervous now,' I said. 'You've got to rock those judges' worlds . . . ' Then I added, 'Get famous, Georgia.'
She looked at me and smiled just as the boy thumped off the stage and down the steps again, shrugging his shoulders as he went.
'Number thirty-one,' barked Moth-man.
Georgia gave both me and her mum a little wave and started going up the steps. Then her mum whispered to me, 'Georgia's acting two scenes: one where she's Mary getting off the boat just after her parents have died and one where she discovers the secret garden.'
'That sounds ace,' I said. Of course we couldn't hear how Georgia was getting on. But the time seemed to go by really quickly. And before I knew it Georgia was back again saying, 'I think it went all right.' She then let out a great sigh of relief before whispering to me, 'Get famous, Tobey.'
'Yeah, it's time I did, isn't it?' I cried. 'Obscurity just doesn't suit me.'
Both Georgia and her mum were grinning then, and so was I as I tore up the steps. I raced onto the stage as if I were being pursued by a pack of mad bulls and managed to collide with a chair, cunningly hidden in the shadows.
'There's no rush,' cried a voice I recognized as belonging to Alicia Kay. I couldn't actually see her though; there was just this black void below me.
'Now make for the spotlight,' she instructed. That was easy to locate; it was the only bit of light on the stage. And here's an odd thing: the moment I stepped into it I felt myself relaxing. It seemed to suck all the nerves out of me. Later Georgia told me that a similar thing had happened to her. She said the light felt very friendly and I'd totally agree with that.
I could make out Alicia Kay quite well now. There was a man sitting next to her who looked quite young. He called out: 'My name is Giles Scott and I shall be directing this play; and I'm sure you recognize our sponsor, Alicia Kay. Now, Number thirtytwo, you have a maximum of two minutes. And would you begin please by announcing who you wish to play?'
'Well, not Mary,' I said, with a merry twinkle. 'No, I'm Colin. And this is a rap poem about him and it doesn't all rhyme . . . because it doesn't, but I hope you're mad for The Secret Garden rap. First though, I've got to do this.'
Then I removed my shirt and trousers to reveal my pyjamas underneath, which I thought was a very stunning start to my performance. 'You see, Judges, I wanted to dress just how Colin would have—'
'Number thirty-two, your two minutes has in fact started,' interrupted Giles.
So I stopped nattering and hastily plonked myself on the chair. 'Well pray you listen, you.' I got a bit muddled here but I quickly recovered myself. I picked up a piece of paper which I'd screwed up earlier – this was to act as my pretend microphone. Then into it I said:
'You is listening to Colin, right, broth.
I could be so sad,
But instead, I'm bad, bad, BAD!' (And I really yelled out that last bit.) 'Now I can't walk a step, So I get your respect by SHOUTING, And SCREAMING and YELLING.
That's how I big myself up, And stop anyone dissing me.
I shout all the day and most of the night too.'
(I threw in a really loud shriek here just to add atmosphere.)
'Inside I is feeling so blue, But what else can I do.
Then one night I met Mary, And hey, is she lairy.
She's the one who changed my life.'
(I slowly got up from the chair here.)
'Took me to a place called The Secret Garden.
And seeing it made my head go round, For she had plucked magic out of the ground.
And right from the start, It was like a dart going through my heart.
OK, it's not street, But it got me moving to its beat, And now I'm even shaking my butty.
It's an old, old story, But still full of glory.
So give respec' to the secret garden, And be cool to its vibe, broth.
I thank you.'
Then I stood there, panting furiously and waiting for a reaction. There was just this sudden, deep stillness all around me. I tell you, it was positively eerie.
Finally I called into the deathly hush, 'By the way, The Secret Garden rap is all my own work.' This was just in case they were worried I'd nicked a real rap song, because it sounded so professional.
Then I saw Alicia Kay shake her head – just as if she'd been crying. She was clearly highly touched by my rap poem, which didn't surprise me. Those lines about plucking magic out of the ground had even caused a little tear to form in my eyes as I wrote them.
Then Alicia Kay said, in this very shaky voice, 'Put your clothes back on now, Number thirty-two.'
'Oh, sorry, got so carried away I'd forgotten I was still in my pyjamas.' I speedily bunged my shirt and trousers back on.
'I think it's time for a very short break now,' she sort of gulped. 'We'll let you know when we can see the next person.' She addressed this last remark to Moth-man, as he loomed behind me. Then her voice fell right away.
And the other judge's head was shaking now. These theatrical types get so emotional dead quickly. Still, I'd blown them right away, hadn't I? And I think the part of Colin could well be mine. In fact I'd say it's practically in the bag.
12.55 p.m.
Guess what: my parents have turned up. Yeah, it was a truly horrible surprise. Georgia and I had watched another two groups of hopefuls troop through to do their auditions – I almost felt sorry for anyone else trying out for Colin after my super audition – and now we were in the foyer having some sandwiches and chocolate biscuits for lunch with all the other waiting children and parents, when in barged my mum and dad.
Dad immediately barked my name as if I were some deserter from the army. Mum was right behind him, looking furious. Then they stormed over to me. No one dared get in their way either.
I tried to calm things down. 'Oh, hi there,' I said to them. 'Great you could make it after all. So, did you have a nice journey?' I know how old people always love talking about their journeys.
But Dad just thundered, 'How dare you come here when you were expressly told not to?'
Georgia's mum was watching this openmouthed, so was just about every other parent and child in the foyer. Mum, realizing the spectacle she and Dad were making of themselves (and me), lowered her voice to a whisper you could only hear thirty miles away. She said to Georgia's mum, 'I don't suppose Tobey told you he'd been banned from coming here today?'
'No, no, he didn't,' said Georgia's mum.
'We guessed as much,' hissed my mum. 'Even though your daughter clearly told my husband she had no idea where Tobey was
!' She also had a restraining hand on my dad to stop him shouting again – or bellowing at Georgia, who was blushing badly as her mum glared at her – and whispered, 'I think it's best we continue this conversation on the way home, Tobey.'
I gaped at them. Did they really imagine I was leaving now, when I was about to be shortlisted for the role of Colin?
'I'm truly sorry for any inconvenience I have caused you today,' I said. 'But I really can't go with you right now – later would be cool, though. But you see, I've just finished my audition and I'm waiting—'
'Get in the car now,' snarled my dad.
'I'm very sorry, but I just can't,' I replied. 'If you'd care to avail yourselves of the refreshments while you're waiting, the biscuits here aren't bad . . . '
Dad gave this low, highly menacing grunt and no doubt had more words of wisdom to impart, but Georgia quite suddenly burst out, 'The moment has come for me to speak. You know how much this audition means to Tobey, and he's really worked hard too. Now he just wants to hear if he's got through to the next round. You must at least give him that chance.' Then as my dad opened his mouth to speak Georgia cried fiercely, 'No more. End of.'
It was an electrifying moment. And Georgia deserved the highest award for bravery there is for saying all that – and on my behalf too. But I thought, my parents will go bonkers now. Only they didn't, instead they both stood there paralysed with shock.
Georgia's mum was absolutely furious with her though. 'How dare you talk like that! And especially after lying on the phone to Tobey's father earlier. I've a good mind to take you home too. You apologize now.'
'I'm very sorry for speaking my mind,' said Georgia. 'I know that isn't allowed.' Before any adult could answer her, Mothman appeared, saying that everyone should gather in the theatre.
People immediately started leaving, chattering nervously. I waited for my parents to say I couldn't go with them – but they didn't. Instead they followed the crowd to the theatre, still looking very cross though.
1.30 p.m.
Before the results were announced, Giles – that's the man who was sitting with Alicia Kay – started spouting about acting and what they were looking for. And not one single person was listening to him. They all just wanted to know who'd got through to the next round.
Finally he declared, 'Well, we've had a fantastic morning watching you all, and now we're going to invite a small group of you to return for a second audition now. If your name is called, will you please come back up onto the stage? So read out the names please, Alicia?'
'With pleasure,' she replied, smiling at us through tinted glasses. I thought she might be dressed all dramatically, in a brilliant cloak or something. But she was just wearing a pair of jeans and a pinkish top. 'Now these names are in no particular order – good luck to everyone.'
In the little silence that followed I thought my heart was going to bounce out of my chest. 'Just get on with it,' whispered Georgia to me. And I heartily agreed.
And then this girl who we'd seen holding the candle was called. There were squeals of joy from her mum and nan as she skipped forward. A boy's name was announced next. More yelps of joy and hugs before he bounced on to the stage. Three more children were called. 'They're saving the best till last,' I whispered to Georgia and then . . .
'Georgia Middleton.'
Her mum gave this gasp of joy. And even my parents managed to look mildly pleased. Georgia herself, though, was in shock. She moved like someone in a trance. But when she was up on that stage she looked so natural and right, you felt she belonged there. I cheered and whistled as she took her place.
Georgia's and my dreams were coming true. Now I just needed to hear my name and toddle up on that stage beside her. And Georgia actually mouthed at me, 'It's going to be you next.' Only it wasn't. It was Ross Hope, the boy who'd stood in front of me and moaned all the time. I was so astonished.
Then Alicia said, 'Now we have just one name left to call.'
Here we go, I thought. This has got to be me now. Instead, I heard . . .
'James . . .' and a red-haired boy charged up on to that stage as if he'd just won the lottery, while at the same time I felt myself starting to shrink until I realized something.
I know what's happened. There's been a mistake.
Meanwhile, Giles was saying, 'I know it's disappointing for those of you who haven't been picked this time. But there will be many more opportunities, I'm sure. And think what you've achieved today.'
He talked on and on trying to make us feel less like rejects. But there was no getting away from it – we were the ones who'd been given the big raspberry: only not me, I'm just the victim of a mistake, I'm certain of it.
Then the parents of the winning children were invited up onto the stage. So they all clomped on, looking like a small conquering army. And Georgia gave me this shocked look. I know she was devastated for me. But I smiled as if to say, 'Don't worry, I'll soon be back up there with you.'
Then all the winning children went into a huddle with Alicia Kay and Giles, while the losers were supposed to shuffle off into the night (or early afternoon to be strictly accurate). Some of the losing girls started crying, and even the boys looked as if they wanted to crawl away into a dustbin. But I was just impatient for the error to be discovered.
Any moment now Giles would notice someone was missing and cry, 'But where's the lad who did The Secret Garden rap which moved us so much we couldn't speak afterwards? How on earth did his name get missed off the list?' Then he'd yell at someone – probably Moth-man – to tear after me. And he'd race out of the building and jump in front of our car, just as Dad was driving away . . .
That's what should have happened. And as we were leaving I really strained my eyes to check there wasn't a figure charging over the horizon and yelling: 'Stop your car! We want that boy.'
But I saw no one.
That's when I started shrinking again. By the time I got home I was so small and scrunched up my parents didn't give me as much aggro as I'd expected. They just sent me to my room.
Where I continued to get smaller and smaller. I'd better stop now before I disappear altogether. Bye.
Chapter Eight
THURSDAY APRIL 1ST
4.30 p.m.
Yeah, I'm back at last.
I bet you've been worrying about me and wondering why I crossed out all those days? Well, thank you for your concern. The truth is I've been in no mood to gibber away to you in my usual fashion. And I thought I'd wait until I had something I was keen to tell you about.
Besides, I knew you wouldn't want to hear about me feeling totally fed-up. That's all I had to tell you, apart from how many Easter eggs I wolfed down. And you only want to hear the important stuff, don't you – and quite right too.
So here are the headlines: first of all, an old, but still completely brilliant piece of news – Georgia is playing the role of Mary Lennox in The Secret Garden. That is fantastic, although I'm not surprised. She also said she doesn't think the boy chosen to portray Colin – Ross Hope, would you believe – is a patch on me.
She also reckons my rap piece was just too original for the judges. 'This is the trouble,' she said, 'when you're ahead of your time, it takes a while for the world to catch up with you.'
While I'm waiting for the world to catch up, I've at least been able to enjoy Georgia's success. Each night she rings me after rehearsals. She says she so wishes it was me on stage with her as Ross does disgusting things, like picking his nose and then gobbling up the snot. Now I'd never do anything like that – well, not in public anyway.
I really am chuffed for Georgia that she was picked, but I can't help worrying that she's soaring off now, leaving me far, far behind. And while I'm being depressing, Cloud Nine has started on the telly. I didn't mean to watch it, but I did, fuming of course at all the children who were chosen over me. So yeah, I've been a total gloom-bucket lately. But all that could be about to change.
Here's the BIG NEWS. For I have something VERY IM
PORTANT to tell you, so pull back your eyeballs (no, don't, that sounds disgusting).
I was just casually leafing through the local rag when up popped something incredible: It said: 'Major new television show, Fighting Families, hits the airwaves soon. Researchers will be in the area on FRIDAY APRIL 2nd. So if you have a family dispute you would like aired on television, call Sue now on . . . ' And there was a mobile number.
I just couldn't believe it. A TV show coming to my town! And being on TV is even better than acting in a play. It's better than anything actually. And Fighting Families sounded perfect, as you couldn't have a family more in conflict than mine.
So I'd better ring Sue, hadn't I? I don't want to gabble though, which I do when I get all worked up.
5.45 p.m.
Actually, Sue was so easy to talk to and she kept laughing at the stuff I uttered about my parents. I said, 'You just wait until you meet them.'
And she's coming round to my house tomorrow night for a 'friendly and very informal chat'. Then she'll do a little report on what she's seen, and if her bosses like the sound of us – WE'LL BE ON THE GOOD OLD TELLY!
Who'd have thought I'd make my TV debut with two ghouls, (also known as my parents)? But I'm certain that, once I'm spotted on television, that'll be the start of a glittering career. For TV is definitely what I'm meant for.
There is one tiny problem though: my mum and dad. They don't realize what an accolade it is to be considered for Fighting Families. And they're even barmy enough to say they don't want to be on it. So, I'll have to be very careful how I tell them about Sue. It will need great cunning.
8.45 p.m.
Told Georgia my news. And she was thrilled.
'You'll be sensational,' she cried.
'Yes, I probably will,' I agreed.
Then I told her about my little problem.
'Well, I don't think you should tell your parents right off who Sue is,' said Georgia. 'Just let them think she's doing some research. Then your parents will get pulled in more and more and before they know it, they'll be on the telly.'
'And they needn't be on very much,' I went on. 'I'll do practically all the talking. I only need them in the background really.'