'Hey, Jack! You planning to stand around chatting up the babes or are you bringing that ball back some time today?' Nick and Zak had poked their heads in through the open window at the end of the corridor – where the ball must have bounced in from the playing field.
'I'm on it!' Jack shouted back, flicking the ball up with his toe and catching it. 'See you around!'
'See you!' Holly and Cat called.
'Yeah!' Belle mumbled, her face a shade of flamingo-pink.
Holly thought she saw Nick giving Belle a strange look. Maybe he'd noticed the signs of strange un-Belle-like activity too . . .
'Wow! Top scorer!' Cat laughed when Jack was barely out of earshot. 'And I think our Belle's his next goal, don't you, Hols?'
'Shh!' Holly hissed, shaking Cat's arm. 'He'll hear you.'
But when she glanced up, she realized that Jack hearing them might not be the biggest problem on their horizon.
Bianca Hayford was standing at the end of the corridor.
How long has she been lurking there? Holly wondered. And has she spotted the sparks between Jack and Belle too?
From the look that Bianca was aiming at Belle, Holly could stop wondering: Bianca had clearly seen everything.
It was a look as icy as the frozen wastelands of Antarctica. The look the penguin sees gleaming in the eye of the killer whale as it's about to become lunch.
It seemed that Belle had just made Bianca even more of an enemy than she already was.
CHAPTER TEN
Cat: Attack of the Designer Waifs
Later on Saturday afternoon Cat was alone in her room. She was due to meet Nathan in a few minutes to polish off another batch of science homework before going to a Macbeth rehearsal.
There was just one tiny, microscopic problem.
She couldn't find her Macbeth script; the one that she'd spent hours marking up with notes about how to deliver each line.
She looked around in despair. On Belle's side of the room, clothes were hanging neatly in the wardrobe, books were lined up in alphabetical order and the cushions were arranged symmetrically on the bed.
On Cat's side, a tsunami of clothes and shoes had washed up all over the bed. A volcano of books and papers had erupted across the desk
Va-a-a-lerieee . . . And now, somewhere in the chaos, her mobile phone was ringing!
She finally tracked the ringtone to a pile of laundry.
'Yes! What?' Cat answered, flopping down amongst the discarded clothes. 'Arggh!' she screamed as she felt a furry body stir beneath her. Shreddie, deeply offended at being disturbed during his afternoon nap, stretched and stalked out of the door.
'Whatever's the matter, Catrin?' her mum asked.
'Nothing!' Cat replied.
Nothing? Only that I've lost my Macbeth script, I've got a rehearsal in half an hour, a pile of science homework to do and my room's a natural disaster . . .
'Everything's fine, Mum!' she said.
'Good,' her mum replied. 'Now, listen, love. They're re-casting for the chorus of Oliver! next week, and I've managed to get you on the audition list for Tuesday afternoon—'
'No!' Cat said flatly. It wasn't that she didn't like Oliver! It was a great musical. It just wasn't her style.
'No what?'
'No, I don't want to be in Oliver! And no, I can't go on Tuesday afternoon. I've got a Macbeth rehearsal.'
'Don't be silly, of course you do! Everyone who's anyone started out in Oliver!'
'I don't want to be anyone,' Cat insisted. 'I want to be Lady Macbeth!'
'Yes, love, I know. But it's just a school play. This is West End. It could be your big break!'
'It's not just a school play!' Cat snapped. 'The Garrick Shakespeare production is a Big Deal!' She sighed. When was Mum going to get it? She didn't want West End. If she got into one of those shows, she'd have no time for Macbeth – or for Nobody's Angels. She might even have to leave the Garrick and have a private tutor. But this was where she wanted to be. Superstar High! The best place in the world to train as a serious actress . . .
'And anyway,' Cat said, trying a different tack, 'I'd be useless for Oliver! I don't exactly look like a half-starved orphan boy!'
'Oh, that's no problem!' Her mum laughed. 'We can strap those boobs down. And there are corsets, you know . . .'
'Thanks, Mum,' Cat said. 'That's really done wonders for my self-image. I do not need a corset!'
'So,' Mum continued, deaf to all objections, 'I'll be there at two thirty on Tuesday to pick you up. I've cleared it with Mr Fortune for you to miss class. What a lovely man he is. I'll be in the car, waiting in the drive. If you're not there, I'll start blaring the horn. And make sure you look like a waif!'
Cat had no choice.
Tuesday afternoon found her trailing down the broad stone steps on her way out of Superstar High, looking vaguely waif-like in a pair of raggedy trousers and an oversized jacket she'd borrowed from the school costume store. Grumpily she yanked open the door of the people-carrier to find a smartly dressed Japanese woman in the passenger seat. 'Hop in the back with Mayu, love,' Mum told her.
Speechless with surprise, Cat slammed the door. What were Mayu and her mother doing in Mum's car? Reluctantly she climbed into the back seat.
'We're giving Mayu and Mrs Tanaka a lift to the TV studio in Covent Garden,' Mum explained. 'They were about to get a taxi – Mayu has a try-out for a skin cream commercial!' she added in an awed tone – as if Mayu had received a personal invitation from the Queen to perform a one-woman show at the Albert Hall!
Mrs Tanaka turned and smiled proudly at her daughter. 'How nice that you two girls are in the school play together,' she said sweetly.
As Mum threw the car around the busy London streets, trading insults with taxi drivers, Cat festered with silent rage. She didn't want to go to the audition, and she certainly didn't want to be trapped in a confined space with Mayu for the next twenty minutes. She just wanted to be back at Superstar High in Mr Grampian's drama class. Mayu, looking all cute and adorable in a Nesquik-pink jacket and shorts, was glaring out of the window, radiating resentment like a sugared almond dipped in sulphuric acid – she'd still not got over the humiliation of being Cat's understudy.
'You two are quiet back there,' Mrs Tanaka remarked.
'Nerves, I expect, bless them,' Mum said as she beeped furiously at a bus that had the audacity to try and actually drive in the bus lane.
Cat sighed. The only thing that made it even remotely bearable was that Mayu was hating it even more than she was.
But at least Mrs Tanaka had ensured that their appointment would be over in plenty of time to get back for the Macbeth rehearsal. Unlike Mum, who just murmured, 'We'll see . . .' Which everyone knows means Don't bank on it.
Finally they dropped off their passengers and arrived at the Galaxy Theatre, where Mum immediately whisked Cat into the ladies and swaddled her with tape under her waif-jacket to pull in her curves. This must be what those Egyptian mummies felt like, Cat thought. Then she smudged Cat's cheeks with black powder to give her that authentic guttersnipe look, and scraped her hair back under a ridiculous tweed cap. Cat gritted her teeth, determined to get it over with as quickly as possible.
When they emerged into the foyer of the theatre, it was Waif Central. Skinny boys with big Pokémon-character eyes. Tiny girls with matchstick legs and designer-grunge rags. After what seemed like hours, an assistant called out Cat's name and ushered her onto the stage.
Cat didn't want to be in Oliver! and she was going to make sure that Oliver! didn't want her either.
She sang the first three verses of Consider Yourself completely out of tune.
She read out the short speech that she was asked to perform in the manner of a chirpy London street urchin in a broad Yorkshire accent.
'Next!' called the casting director, without even looking up.
Cat spent the journey back to the Garrick in stony silence while Mum lectured her on the error of her ways. 'I would have jumped at th
e chance of Oliver! when I was your age!' she began. Mum had done some acting in her younger days, even appearing (or rather not appearing, underneath a furry teddy-bear costume) as a walk-on Ewok in a Star Wars movie. But then she met Dad, had kids, and the rest was history. 'Shakespeare's all very well,' she continued, 'but he's not exactly box office, is he?'
As they pulled up to the Garrick, it was almost half past five. Cat raced along to the Redgrave. Only half an hour late, she thought as she burst into the theatre to find the rest of the cast sitting in a circle on the stage, doing a read-through of Act One. Half an hour wasn't so bad!
Unfortunately the director didn't agree. 'If you can't make it to rehearsals on time, Catrin, there are plenty of other students who would be only too happy to take your place!' he roared.
Mayu giggled and flashed him one of her dimple-power smiles.
'Sorry,' Cat stammered. 'I was unavoidably delayed – er . . . family problems.'
Well, it was true! Mum was family, and she was definitely causing problems . . .
'Oh yes, how did your audition for Oliver! go, Cat?' Mayu asked, sweet as syrup.
Duncan Gillespie, the student director, raised an eyebrow. Mr Sharpe looked like he was going to explode, but Duncan leaped to Cat's defence. 'Never mind, we didn't need you for the first few scenes anyway . . .' he said. Cat smiled at him gratefully.
Belle shuffled along and made room for Cat next to her. 'Smudge,' she whispered behind her script, pointing at Cat's face.
Cat scrubbed at the black powder with a tissue, feeling – not for the first time lately – that her life was spiralling out of control.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Belle: Belly-dancing and Sweet Music
Belle loved the Garrick library.
The old-fashioned desks each had their own little green lamp. Light streamed in through the tall windows at each end, illuminating motes of dust suspended in the still air.
She settled down with a book on the Tudors. It was Thursday lunch time, and she'd come straight from a history lesson. Their teacher, Miss Chase-Smythe – who looked like minor royalty herself, in pearls and a frilled blouse – had been telling them in her ultra-posh voice all about the Tudor kings and queens. As an American, Belle hadn't studied much English history before and she was fascinated: all that marrying and beheading and burning at the stake – it was so gory, yet so romantic . . .
Some time later, she looked up from reading about Henry VIII's six wives to see Jack Thorne strolling towards her, silhouetted against the window. She felt the familiar popcorn sensation in her stomach, but she was determined not to let his x-ray eyes phase her this time.
He smiled and was about to say something, when Bianca shot out from behind a shelf of Greek myths. 'Oh, Jack! I'm so-o-o glad you're here!' she gushed. 'I need a book but I can't reach it. That one, right up there!' She pointed – at random, as far as Belle could tell – at a book on the very top shelf.
'Are you sure this is the one you want?' Jack asked, grinning as he handed Bianca the book. 'Belly-dancing for Beginners?'
'Oh, er, it's not for me!' Bianca spluttered. 'It's for . . . Lettie. She's got this thing about, er, belly-dancing, you know. Weird or what! Come on, let's go and get lunch.'
Yeah, right! Belle thought. Bianca had appointed herself as Jack's personal stalker ever since she'd seen him talking to Belle in the Football-in-Corridor Incident. She'd also taken to dressing even more fashionably than usual. She was now wearing a red Christian Dior suit with a velvet-trimmed tulip skirt, which – even to Belle's sophisticated tastes – was a little over the top for a Thursday afternoon library session. But Bianca was clearly a girl who was used to Getting What She Wanted.
And she wanted Jack!
And although Jack wasn't exactly leaping into her arms, he didn't seem to be objecting much either.
As she returned her attention to Anne Boleyn's beheading, Belle felt an odd hollow sensation under her ribs, like a swallowed yawn. Was it indigestion? Or could it be that she was actually jealous of Bianca?
She sighed. If she was jealous of Bianca, it could only be for one reason . . .
And it wasn't that Christian Dior suit!
Mr Garcia's Thursday afternoon advanced singing class was Belle's favourite lesson of the week. The only downside was that neither Cat nor Holly were there – they had advanced acting and dancing classes on Thursday afternoons instead. After a thorough warm-up of breathing exercises, scales and arpeggios, Mr Garcia told them to take a short break and then get into pairs. 'We're going to work on improving our phrasing today,' he boomed in his earthquake-rumble.
Belle leaned back in her chair, sipped her water and glanced around for Nick Taggart. She usually worked with Nick in singing classes, ever since they'd been top of the class on a harmony project together. No doubt he'd charge over to find her any second now, teasing her with one of his dumb jokes! But, to Belle's surprise, it was Jack who sat down next to her.
'So, could you bear working with the new guy?' he asked.
Belle's heart did a somersault. But before she could reply, Bianca zoomed in like a heat-seeking missile. She hovered behind Jack's chair, leaned over his shoulder and said – in a stage whisper that Belle was so-o-o meant to hear – 'Don't bother, Jack. Belle always works with Nick Taggart. They make such sweet music together – if you know what I mean!'
Belle was outraged. Bianca was obviously trying to make it sound as if Belle and Nick were dating or something – just to put Jack off. 'Don't be so ridiculous, Bianca,' she said quietly, her voice trembling with fury. 'Nick and I do not make sweet music together, as you call it – and we never have done!'
Belle looked up to see Nick Taggart standing right in front of her with an odd expression on his face. It was clear he'd heard the entire conversation. Suddenly she felt dreadful. Poor Nick! He must think I'm trying to deny that we ever work together, she fretted, just so I can be partners with Jack. But that's not what I meant!
Belle was torn. She would love to work with Jack. But Nick was her friend and she couldn't just drop him . . . I must be crazy, she thought. I'm turning Jack down because it might hurt Nick's feelings. Nick Taggart! The class clown who makes fun of me and winds me up every chance he gets!
But friends were friends . . .
Just as she was about to refuse Jack's offer, Nick suddenly spoke up irritably. 'Yeah, so Belle and I work together sometimes. But we're just friends – not sure you'd know the meaning of that word, Bianca – and I was just about to ask Lettie to be my partner anyway.'
Now Belle was totally confused! She was shocked by the anger in Nick's voice. And had he really been planning to work with Lettie all along? She couldn't help feeling a little disappointed that Nick didn't want to be her partner any more.
'Break over!' Mr Garcia shouted. 'In your pairs, now.'
Bianca grabbed Jack by the hand. Nick and a delighted-looking Lettie followed them over to where Mr Garcia was waiting with Frankie and Mayu and all the other happy couples.
'Not found a partner yet, Belle?' Mr Garcia asked her. 'Never mind, you can work with me today.'
The rest of the class passed in a blur. Belle couldn't help worrying about Nick. He'd sounded furious. Was he upset because he thought she'd been going to work with Jack? And would he even believe her if she tried to explain that she'd been about to refuse Jack's offer? Out of the corner of her eye she watched Nick laughing and chatting with Lettie. But as Belle knew only too well, he was a great comic actor. Maybe he was just hiding his injured pride. The thought of losing Nick as a friend was giving Belle a lump in her throat that wasn't helping her singing at all.
And then there was Jack! Watching him work with Bianca, poring over the sheet music of Love Changes Everything from The Phantom of the Opera and marking in the best breathing places, Belle felt that peculiar pain in her ribs again.
There was no doubting it now.
It was pure, one-hundred-per-cent-organic jealousy.
When the class was f
inally over, Belle drifted across the courtyard, scuffing through piles of fallen leaves. Usually Nick would have been in her face, making her laugh with his stupid pranks. But today he had mumbled a quick 'Hasta la vista' and hurried off with Lettie. Belle smiled ruefully to herself: all those times she'd wished Nick would leave her alone, and now that he had, it felt terrible!
Belle was due at a Macbeth rehearsal in ten minutes. She'd been looking forward to it, but she was suddenly overcome with gloom. Normally she didn't mind being alone – but for the first time since she arrived at Superstar High, she was lonely. What she longed for, Belle realized, was a girls' night in with Holly and Cat. They'd be able to tell her what to do about Nick; they were so much better at all this complicated friendship stuff. It was all uncharted territory to Belle, who'd been educated by private tutors and coaches before coming to the Garrick.
Maybe she would even tell them how she felt about Jack! Which is what exactly? she asked herself. OK, she finally admitted, I like him. I like him a lot!
But Holly was so busy with her dance classes, and being in luuuurve with Ethan. And Cat was always rushing around in a frenzy these days . . . Would the three of them ever find time to just hang out and have fun like they used to?
Could their friendship survive the pressures of Superstar High?
CHAPTER TWELVE
Belle: March of the Zombie Robot
Belle arrived at the Redgrave Theatre and added her name to the sign-up sheet that Mr Sharpe put up on the stage door to keep track of attendance at rehearsals. Most of the other actors had signed in already.
But there was one name missing.
Cat was not there yet.
Where was she? This was the first costume call – for the wardrobe managers, Serena Quereshi and a Year Ten student called Lucy Cheng, to check whether anything needed altering – and the entire cast needed to be there. Mr Sharpe had been hopping mad when Cat turned up late after the Oliver! audition. She would be in a heap of trouble if it happened again today . . .
The Time of Your Life Page 5