by Davina Bell
Now I have to really pretend not to mind that I’d been planning to do the program design using the font I drew for my Design and Technology assignment. I do that a lot – pretending like I don’t care, like everything’s fine. I think of the quote Tally posted on her Insta last night: Take your broken heart and turn it into art.
U OK?? I texted her, with the broken heart emoji, when I saw it.
My plane seat was next to the toilet, she texted back with a spew-face emoji.
Sophia is totally into the whole holiday plan because Gracie adored the Sprint Musical. It’s nice hearing her talk about Gracie again. She couldn’t do that for ages after she died. She couldn’t even say Gracie’s name.
‘Gracie wanted Sunnystream to do a rap musical called Okla-Home-Boy,’ Soph tells us. ‘She thought it could be like Oklahoma! and Oliver Twist mashed together. Hey! Do you think we could hold fundraising buckets outside when people are arriving at the musical? To collect money for, um, for cancer research?’
‘Great idea,’ I say. Gracie had a really rare type of cancer in her brain. I don’t even have the words for how sad it was. I didn’t know what to do to help and then I saw this thing on the internet where kids with cancer in America had beads – white for an overnight stay in hospital, black for chemo, a heart for when their hearts stopped beating and had to be started again, a little locket for when their hair fell out so they could keep a piece. I helped Soph make one for Gracie, and by the end it was so long, it was a necklace instead of a bracelet. Gracie was really proud of that necklace. You know Corner Park Clubhouse? It’s named after her now. The Grace Hargraves Memorial Clubhouse. I don’t want to boast, but I came up with that.
‘That’s a fantastic suggestion, Soph,’ says Belle. ‘I’ll add it to the Sunnystream Sprint Musical Spreadsheet.’ (Of course she already has a spreadsheet.)
‘Maybe Maisie could be in charge of organising the buckets.’ I know she’ll be super busy the next couple of weeks, so that’s an easy job.
‘Oh – about that …’ says Sophia, pushing a bit of burger bun around her plate. ‘I spoke to her last night. She wants to tell you something, but she’s worried what you’re going to say.’
‘She’s auditioning for the lead?’ I ask, which is funny because, aside from gym, Maisie hates being the centre of attention. Being in a musical would be her worst nightmare, tied with living in a world without caramel or the internet.
Belle shoots me a glare. ‘Go on,’ she says to Soph.
‘State Champs are on the same day as the musical. If we’re on first, she might miss the whole show.’
‘Can’t we ask to be last?’ says Matilda.
I shake my head. ‘I’m pretty sure they draw the order out of a hat.’
‘And Maisie would never say this,’ Soph continues, a little hesitantly, ‘but I can tell that she’s worried she always misses things, or leaves halfway through, and that …’ She glances quickly at Matilda, and I can guess what she’s going to say next.
‘She’s worried that she’ll get left behind and we’ll forget about her and replace her with someone else,’ I finish. ‘But she knows there’s zero chance that would ever actually happen, right?’
‘I hope she’s not worried because I’m here,’ says Matilda. ‘Maybe I should –’
‘You’re not going anywhere,’ says Belle flatly. ‘I need you here. I’ll talk to Maisie.’
Has Belle forgotten I’m here too? ‘Hey – Soph,’ I say, changing the subject. ‘Look over there!’
Sophia turns her head and I steal four chips off her plate.
But as I’m about to shove them in my mouth, she grabs my wrist and pins it to the table.
‘Mercy!’ I cry. ‘Since when do you have such good reflexes?’
‘Since I arm-wrestled Gracie, like, every day,’ she says, letting go.
‘If I moved back to Sunnystream High, would you join the Streamers with me next season?’ I ask. The Streamers are our women’s footy team.
‘Why would you move back to Sunnystream?’ Belle asks.
‘Just something I’ve been thinking about,’ I say.
There’s an uncomfortable silence.
‘Not that I wouldn’t love to have you at Sunnystream High,’ says Soph, ‘but there isn’t even an art room, really. It’s just a shed out the back of the chemistry labs.’
I shrug. ‘Fine by me.’
‘Lola, what are you talking about?’ says Belle, frowning. ‘What’s going on at Clives?’
‘Nothing’s going on,’ I say quickly – maybe too quickly, because Matilda looks at me, like, really looks at me, an intense expression on her face. ‘Forget I said anything,’ I mumble.
Luckily, just at that moment Soph’s phone dings and she practically knocks over her milkshake as she pulls it out of her mini backpack and gets up.
‘Ooooh!’ I say in an ‘oooh ahhh you’re talking to a boy!’ kind of way, wishing Maisie were here to do it too. But then I remember that boys are a bit of a sore spot with Belle, and I need to change the topic.
Matilda must be thinking the same thing. ‘So, um, tell me more about the musical. Who do you think will audition?’ she says. ‘Hey – nice earrings, by the way.’
‘Thanks,’ I say, my mouth half full of burger. ‘Wore them specially.’ The earrings are tiny silver clouds. Mine, not Tally’s, FYI. The jacket I’m wearing is hers, though. It’s lilac velour, which feels like what I imagine the velveteen rabbit would feel like. Do you know that book? So good.
‘My little sister’s trying out,’ I tell Matilda.
‘Not Gwynnie?’ says Belle, looking panicked.
See? It’s not just me – Gwynnie’s terrible singing is legendary.
‘No. Pop,’ I say. ‘Thank goodness. Mikie from the coffee cart usually auditions. Moose, who works at the deli, and Acer, from Better To Be Read Than Dead, and Dr Chockalingam, the local vet. And Soph’s mum. Basically everyone. It’s kind of a big deal. I know Belle’s probably told you that already,’ I say, imagining them chatting about it on the train trip down from Hollyoakes, tucked in a carriage, cosy, eating snacks. I wish it were me at Hollyoakes with Belle, but there’s no way I’d be smart enough to get in. ‘There are awards at the end and everything.’
Belle nods, waving a chip at Matilda for emphasis. ‘Three awards. Best set design, best actor, winning production. And if you win all three, that’s called the golden hat-trick. It’s never been done before. Not even the year we did Mary Mia!,’ Belle adds, ‘and Tally won best actress.’
I try my hardest not to frown. ‘Yeah, well, we all know Tally Powell is amazing. But this could be our year. A golden hat-trick. Revenge for Cloud Town’s sneakiness last time.’
‘Sounds fun,’ Matilda says, as Soph slips back into the booth. ‘Does the crowd vote for the winners?’
‘There are proper judges,’ I tell her. ‘Wait till you see them.’
‘Monsieur Flutard is my favourite,’ says Sophia. ‘He’s this tiny French dude from Willowbank.’
‘My favourite’s Fury Freckle,’ I say. ‘Even though he’s from Cloud Town. He’s a dancer and his outfits are incredible.’
‘And then there’s Charisma Bloom,’ says Sophia. ‘She’s really young and she was on one of those reality TV singing shows. They filmed her tap-dancing in the gazebo! She grew up in Sunnystream.’
‘The judges are all renowned music theatre professionals,’ says Belle. ‘And Fury Freckle wrote the official competition rules. Speaking of … Tilly,’ she says to Matilda, ducking under the table to pull something from her bag, ‘while Judy and I are writing the script, you have to memorise the rule book.’
Matilda takes a bite of her burger and looks directly at Belle while she chews it. When she finishes, she says, ‘I have to, do I?’
‘Sorry – my bad,’ says Belle. ‘I’d really appreciate it if you could please memorise the rules at your earliest convenience. I’m working on making my communication style less demanding,’ she tells the rest
of us. ‘Matilda is coaching me.’
Lol! That really makes me laugh but I’m drinking my milkshake, so it comes out my nose and spurts onto the velour jacket. Shoot! ‘I’d better go clean this up,’ I tell the others. ‘Meet you there?’
You’ll never guess who’s in the bathroom queue. It’s two girls from the Cloud Town Cougars: Lucy Coop (goalkeeper) and Heather Winkelmeyer (goal shooter).
‘What are you doing here?’ sneers Lucy.
‘Going to the town hall meeting because I’m running the Sunnystream Musical,’ I say breezily. OK, maybe that’s a bit of a stretch but it’s based on the truth. Sort of. What can I say? Cloud Town brings out the worst in me.
The Cougars snicker, like that’s really funny.
‘What are you doing here?’ I ask.
‘We’re helping with the Cloud Town choreography,’ says Heather. ‘Pepper’s aunt has come from New York to be the director. So who’s doing your choreography? Sophia?’
‘Good old Carrots!’ says Lucy and they turn to each other and laugh.
Now I remember that Soph used to do dance classes in Cloud Town with Miss Claudine, and these guys always picked on her for being a redhead. The idea of anyone being mean to Sophia makes my brain explode. ‘You guys just wait,’ I hiss. ‘We are going to smash you.’
Heather smirks like she just shot a goal from the edge of the circle, which she’s really good at, BTW. ‘Not if we smash you first.’
Tonight’s meeting is being held in the Cloud Room, which is the grand old ballroom in the Cloud Town Town Hall. It’s the most beautiful room I’ve ever been in. The clouds painted on the ceiling are purple and orange and pink – and they’re puffy, the type an angel would lounge on. There are chandeliers. The floorboards are in an up-and-down pattern that I think is called herringbone. It’s the kind of room that makes you go quiet as soon as you walk in.
‘But Harry Potter isn’t a musical! It’s not even a musical movie! It can’t be put in the hat,’ I hear Belle say loudly from the front as I slip through the door. Sounds like she’s fighting some injustice. The place is packed, and it takes me a moment to find my friends. This whole event feels big, and important, and official, and very grown-up. And now I really want us to win. I can feel that my cheeks are still red from my run-in with the Cougars. Grrr! Oh – and I need to remember to tell Belle the bit about Pepper’s aunt, the famous director, too. Is that even allowed?
‘Cloud Town have put Harry Potter into the hat,’ Soph whispers as I slide into the chair she’s saved for me, ‘and Belle is contesting it. They also put in Matilda.’
‘Ooh! That’s a good one. What about Willowbank?’
‘They put in Cats and Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.’
‘And us?’
‘The Wizard of Oz and Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.’
Awesome! Any one of these combinations would be fun to see. Coming from a musical-loving family really comes in handy at times like this.
‘Attention,’ says Fury. ‘The judges have reached a decision.’ He’s wearing a bullfighter’s jacket covered with giant turquoise sequins. Love! His long reddish-blond hair is in a type of plait called a fishtail braid that I wish I could do. I make a mental note to watch a YouTube tutorial. Pony Soprano’s tail would look great with a fishtail braid.
‘We’ve concluded that even though it’s technically a movie, Harry Potter is ripe for musical adaptation and, as such, it will be put in the hat. Plus, we’re running out of musicals,’ he adds.
‘I love ’arry Potter,’ says Monsieur Flutard, giggling. ‘That Voldemort! Quel scamp.’
All three judges are pretty dramatic people, so it’s fun watching them draw the musicals out of Monsieur Flutard’s top hat. Willowbank will perform second. Their show will be the combination of … The Wizard of Oz and Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.
‘Ooh!’ says the crowd.
Truly, though? Willowbank just aren’t that good at short-form musical mash-ups. They always come last but they seem to like doing it anyway. The real competition is always Sunnystream v Cloud Town.
Cloud Town will be ... first! (YES! That means we’ll be last, which means our show will be the freshest in the judges’ minds. Plus Maisie will be back in time!) And their performance will be based on … Harry Potter and Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.
‘Ahhh,’ says the crowd.
‘But are they allowed to pick out their own suggestion?’ Matilda whispers to us.
‘You can get one,’ Soph explains. ‘But not both.’
‘And the final performance will be given by Sunnystream, whose original musical will be based on … Cats and Matilda,’ says Charisma Bloom.
‘All right, people,’ Fury calls. ‘Good luck, and remember: there will be fears, there will be tears, there will be cheers.’
That’s what he says before the start of every show. There’s a rumour he has a tattoo of it on one of his butt cheeks. The hall fills with excited chatter. People begin to leave, as if they can’t wait to sprint off and work on their shows. Up the front of the hall, Judy and Belle have their heads together.
‘Cats and Matilda,’ says Soph thoughtfully. ‘Any ideas for the sets?’ she asks me.
And then it happens. Oh no.
Just thinking about designing the sets makes me feel panicky. This has been happening all year, and it’s getting worse. Suddenly it’s hard to breathe. My chest goes all tight, like little shards of ice have frozen all around my heart. My tummy squidges up. And my mind is a total blank. I can’t think of a single thing.
‘Well, uh, the stage isn’t that big,’ I say, trying to act cool, ‘so I guess I’ll just do one big painting to hang at the back of the stage. For each scene. I think the rules say five scenes max, don’t they?’
‘Four,’ says Matilda, holding up the rule book. She grins. ‘I can lend it to you if you want. It’s actually a good read. Fury has a really dramatic narrative style.’
‘How have you read that whole thing already?’ I ask in wonder. She shrugs, and suddenly I can see why she got into Hollyoakes.
‘Are the RexRoy guys going to play?’ Soph asks.
I shake my head. ‘I don’t think they’ll have time. They’re trying to get their album finished before Jules goes snowboarding.’ I can’t help smiling when I say Jules’s name. I get like that when I have a crush. (He plays the electric banjo, FYI.) Unfortunately, Jules has a girlfriend called Cinnamon who lives in Willowbank and has pink hair. But there’s nothing wrong with dreaming, is there?
‘Hey,’ I whisper to Sophia as we follow Matilda out, her head deep in the rule book again. ‘Who are you texting? Do you have an actual boyfriend?’
‘No!’ Soph says, looking flustered. ‘He’s not – He’s just … I should actually maybe tell you that –’
But, right at that moment, Belle comes rushing over with her clipboard, smiling like a maniac.
‘We’ve nailed it,’ she says as we head outside. ‘Our show’s going to be called Catilda. About a genius cat girl called Catilda who is being bullied by Cat Trunchbull because she’s from the wrong side of the junkyard. It basically writes itself.’
‘What part will Pony Soprano play?’ Soph asks.
Matilda laughs, but quickly realises Soph is deadly serious. Pony Soprano is a talented actor. He’s in every Sunnystream production.
‘Matilda, you need to understand. If Sunnystream were Paris,’ Belle says earnestly, ‘Pony Soprano would be the Eiffel Tower. That’s how important he is.’
‘I can’t wait to see him in person,’ says Matilda. ‘He must really be something.’
‘I’ll take you over to the stables to meet him if you like,’ says Sophia.
‘Thanks, Soph,’ says Matilda. ‘I guess I’ll need something to do while Belle’s writing the musical.’
The way she calls her ‘Soph’, so naturally and easily, makes spew rise up in my throat. Jealousy is not a productive emotion! I remind myself. I whip out my phone and make an Insta post that says
exactly that.
‘Judy and I will be writing the show all day tomorrow. So I’ll see you at auditions on Wednesday evening,’ says Belle. ‘You’re all expected to be there.’
Matilda crosses her arms and raises her eyebrows.
‘Err,’ says Belle. ‘I mean, please come to the auditions. I’d really appreciate your support.’
‘Me me me MEE me me MEE,’ Mum sings up and down the scales, warming up her voice. The sound drifts from the basement, where she’s teaching her first-ever singing lesson. She says she’s bored now that Pop’s started kindergarten and she needs a job to keep her mind active.
You’ll never guess who her first pupil is, so I’m just going to tell you: Pepper Peters, the captain of the Cloud Town Cougars, that netball team with the too-long fingernails and too-cool-for-school attitude. Last year Pepper Peters puff-painted their nicknames onto their shirts, and they’re all called things like Princess A! and Sassy Sister and Hugz Machine. She put love hearts where the dots on the i’s should have been. Triple urgh.
To avoid starting on the musical sets, which are still freaking me out, I volunteered to look after Gwyn and Pop while Mum’s teaching. But they’re at Corner Park with Dad right now, giving Pony Soprano a snack and learning some Raptor moves. Dad’s taken some leave from his job in advertising to become a Raptor instructor. That’s a kind of exercise where you dance around pretending to be different types of dinosaurs. Dad’s mad for it. He thinks it’s going to be Sunnystream’s next craze, too. His exam is next week and he’s ramping up the practices. I’m starting to see where we Powell kids get our obsessive nature. He Skypes his teacher, Jean-Pierre, in Paris almost every day, and they prattle away to each other in French. (Dad speaks French because he’s from Mauritius. I can understand quite a bit, but I definitely can’t speak any. Tally’s way better at it than I am.)
I sneakily listen to Mum’s singing lesson from the top of the basement stairs while I answer a list of questions from Belle.
Chairs – do we have enough at CPC? Yep – stored under the stage. Will show you when we’re there.