by Ann Bryant
“It’s nearly nine! Where have you been?” Mia asked me the very second I opened the door.
“Just walking round.”
“But I went out to look for you and you weren’t anywhere.”
I didn’t answer because the tiniest ray of hope had just popped up from nowhere. Maybe the copy of Little Women from the Hazeldean library had been returned.
“See you in a sec.”
“You’ve forgotten your washbag!”
“Oh yeah.” I grabbed my washbag and towel and raced off downstairs.
“Where are you off to, Georgie Henderson? Bed! Now!” Matron was leaning over the banister, and although there wasn’t an actual echo it still felt as though those cross words of hers were bouncing off the walls of the stairwell. Maybe I did care about getting a telling-off, after all, because my skin had gone a bit goosebumpy.
“I’ve left my book in the common room. Please, please, please let me get it, oh kindly Matron!” I did praying hands and tilted my face up with my eyes closed.
“Go on then, and make it snappy!”
“Thank you!” I definitely caught a glimmer of a smile on Matron’s face when I opened my eyes, and it cheered me up a bit.
I went into the common room willing the book to be there. And it was.
“Yessss!” I told the empty room, as I hid it under my towel and scrambled off to the bathroom.
“Has your headache gone?” asked Mia when I went back into the dorm a few minutes later. “You seem better all of a sudden.”
“Yep!” I replied chirpily, as I quickly got into my jamas and snuggled up in bed. I was aware of the others looking at each other, but no one said anything else.
We’re allowed to read with our little individual night lights on till nine thirty, then whoever’s on duty comes and checks that all lights are out. My friends didn’t ask me what I was reading, thank goodness, because I didn’t want to have to lie to them and there was no way I was admitting it was Little Women. As soon as Matron had done her lights-out check, I got my key-ring torch and tried it out under the duvet, but it was useless. I couldn’t see a thing and had to wait till I was pretty sure everyone was asleep before switching my night light back on. That was a really frustrating wait, I can tell you. Nobody pounced on me to switch the light off, thank goodness, which meant they were all asleep, and at last I was free to read to my heart’s content. I snuggled into the deepest, most comfortable bit of the bed and buried myself in the book, reading and reading until I couldn’t keep my eyes open any more.
Good old Katy had proved the great Cara Ravenscroft wrong because Mrs. Chambers was very happy to have help with costumes from a Year Seven student, and Katy couldn’t wait to get started.
“What era is Little Women set in, Georgie?” she asked me one lunchtime, as we were waiting to return our trays. “Would they have worn long dresses, or what?”
I loved explaining about the clothing, especially as I was so into the book by then. “Well the dresses would be gathered in at the waist, then flowing down to the ground with ruff necks and puffed sleeves for the younger sisters and maybe floaty sleeves for the older ones.”
I was so deep into our conversation that I never noticed Cara right in front of me with her tray until she turned round. For what felt like a minute, but was probably only a second, we just stared at each other coldly. Then she swung back round again.
“What’s going on between Cara and you?” Mia asked in an accusing tone, as soon as we were out of the hall. “You’re not still cross with her about the play, surely?”
“Yes I told you…she was horrible to me after the auditions so why should I act friendly to her?” I said coolly.
Mia frowned and the others looked down. At that moment I wished there was no such person as Cara Ravenscroft. She obviously hated my guts for accusing her of being a show-off. And as for what I felt about her…well it wasn’t exactly hate, but every time I saw her all my feelings of shame and regret came rushing back to the surface, putting me in a terrible mood.
The more I tried to avoid Cara the more she kept popping up everywhere, which was really starting to bug me. We always gave each other the most horrible look and it had grown into a bit of a competition to see who could stare the other one out, which usually finished in her rolling her eyes and looking away with a sneer on her face. But there was another reason I didn’t want to see her. I was starting to panic that she might spill the beans to my friends about what had really happened at the auditions and how I’d refused the smaller part. The only time I could relax was at the weekend, because I could be sure I wouldn’t see Cara. On Saturday afternoons and Sundays there are nearly always different activities for the various year groups, and in between times students usually hang out in their own boarding houses. All our boarding houses are named after trees. Hazeldean is the best, of course, and Cara’s is Beech House, which is right over on the other side of school, thank goodness. As soon as Monday came I would feel myself tensing up again, because I knew I was much more likely to pass her in the dining hall or a corridor or somewhere, but we just carried on giving each other evil stares.
“I don’t get what this big feud between you and Cara is all about,” Mia said, one time. Her eyes had got the same look in them as when she’s feeling homesick. “I can understand that you don’t like her because she’s been so horrible, but why does she have a problem with you?”
I put my arm round Mia because I don’t like it when she’s sad. “I’m just ignoring her…so she’s ignoring me back. That’s all.”
“Well, why don’t you be the sensible, mature one and talk to her one day,” suggested Naomi. “Then she’ll realize how stupid she’s being. Or do you want me to have a word with her?” she added.
“No!” I must have spoken very loudly because everyone seemed to jump about half a mile into the air.
“Okay!” said Naomi, putting her hands up and eyeing me warily, as though I was a bull about to charge at her.
I went for my calmest tones then. “I’m sure she’ll come round at some point, and I really don’t feel like making friends yet, so promise me you won’t say anything, yeah?”
Naomi nodded slowly but I could feel her eyes boring into mine, like she was trying to see inside my head and find out what was going on in there. She would have had a shock if she’d been able to read my mind, I can tell you, because it was full to bursting with pictures from Little Women. I’d read the whole book twice and the second time I’d tried to visualize every chapter as a scene in Castles in the Air, so now I was absolutely desperate to find out whether my imaginings were right. A plan started to take shape in my head, and one afternoon at the end of school I carried it out.
As soon as the others had gone to clubs, and Mia had gone to choir, I made my way to the new theatre and stood outside the door for ages trying to hear what was going on inside. I didn’t dare go in because everyone would turn and stare and Miss Pritchard would probably send me away. So instead, I went upstairs and crept in through the back door at the top of the tiered seating area that looks down onto the stage. No one looked up, because they were so absorbed in what they were doing, and even if they had done they probably wouldn’t have seen me because I stayed right at the back where there were no house lights and it was quite dark.
I’d never been up here before. It felt magic and I sat there for a whole hour and a half just staring down, watching the play taking shape. It was the best hour and a half I’d had for ages. All my feelings against Miss Pritchard fizzled away because I had to admit she was a brilliant director. She stopped the action loads of times to make comments about the way someone was saying a line, or to alter people’s positions onstage or something. The part that was being rehearsed was the bit near the beginning of the story with Susie Perkins in it. My eyes were on stalks.
“Just relax when you walk to the front, Jemima,” said Miss Pritchard. “Saunter with a bit of a swagger, like this, and toss your head. Then, when you suddenly freeze in f
ear, it’ll be much funnier because of the contrast.”
I knew exactly what Miss Pritchard meant and I felt a massive jolt of jealousy that it wasn’t me down there playing the part of Susie. I thought the general standard of acting was easily as good as some of the teenage actors I’d seen on telly, though, and that was because Miss Pritchard was just the best director. I couldn’t wait till Year Nine when she’d be teaching me.
My eyes were glued to Cara whenever she was onstage. I so wanted her to be rubbish and I was dying for her to go wrong and for Miss Pritchard to have a go at her. But she didn’t go wrong, and I realized with a horrible dull aching feeling that it was true what everyone said. She was one of the best actors on that stage. A girl called Rebecca, who was playing the part of Meg, kept forgetting her words, and at one point Miss Pritchard suddenly went mad, and slapped her script against the grand piano, demanding to know why Rebecca still hadn’t learned her lines. I had to stifle my gasp of shock, and shrank down in my seat, watching in amazement as the whole cast seemed to melt away till there was only Rebecca left out in the open, going red and stammering that she was sorry.
“I should think so too! It strikes me that you’re only semi-committed to this play. I want this scene word-perfect for tomorrow’s rehearsal.”
But as soon as she’d finished blowing her top, Miss Pritchard was back to her calm self again and the rehearsal went on.
Usually, time only whizzes by when I’m watching a really good programme on telly, but this rehearsal gripped me so much that ninety minutes honestly felt like twenty, and I couldn’t wait to come back the next day. The problem was, the next day seemed so far away. There was supper and prep and a whole night and assembly and a load of boring lessons to get through first. How was I going to bear it? I didn’t want to let go of the magic that the play was weaving in my mind, not even for a second, and I knew there was only one way to keep hold of it. I’d been watching some Year Sevens who’d been sitting in the front row all through the rehearsal and hadn’t been onstage a single time. Miss Pritchard had praised them for being so patient, and promised them she’d be doing their scene next time. They’d all got copies of the play that they’d rolled up into tubes and tucked into the sides of their seats. Never once during the rehearsal had they followed the play on their scripts, though, and they probably didn’t even need them if they were only in the crowd scenes. So it wouldn’t matter if one went missing, would it?
As the rehearsal drew to a close I started trying to hypnotize them by staring hard at the backs of their heads, willing them to forget about the scripts and walk out of the theatre without a backward glance. I kept it up for a good minute until Miss Pritchard suddenly announced that the rehearsal was over and that anyone not knowing their lines next time would risk getting chucked off the play. I had to bob down at that point to make sure no one saw me, but my heart started to beat a bit faster at those words of hers, because if someone did get chucked off the play, it might turn out to be just the break I needed, except that Cara was totally word-perfect, so there was no chance of getting the part I really wanted. All the same, I’d be happy to have any part now, even if it was the smallest one in the whole play. It would just be so good to feel a part of what was going on, instead of being a little insignificant person watching in secret from the darkest corner of the auditorium.
The moment everyone had gone I leaped down to the front, praying that I’d find a script somewhere, anywhere, among the seats, but incredibly there wasn’t a single one. My eyes scanned the whole theatre, just in case, and bingo! I spotted a tatty one just inside the wings. I grabbed it, then ducked out of sight faster than you could say Georgie Henderson, because someone had come back into the theatre. I inched back into the wings, but not before I’d seen that it was Rebecca. A second later her footsteps were approaching my hiding place, so I had to shrink further back and found myself in a dark corridor. I crept along it with absolutely no idea where I was going because I’d never been backstage before. There were rooms going off on either side which I realized were dressing rooms.
At the far end of the corridor there was a little recess, where I waited out of sight, looking for places in my uniform where I could tuck the script so it wouldn’t be noticed. Then I’d simply be able to walk out and it wouldn’t matter who saw me. But the Silver Spires uniform clearly wasn’t designed for concealing vast wads of A4, so I just had to wait until I thought the coast might be clear. I knew I should have gone out of the backstage door, which was only a few metres away from where I was hiding, but first I wanted to see what it felt like to make an entrance onto the stage from the wings.
I tiptoed back and poked my head round. Good. Rebecca had gone. I was all alone. Then I walked calmly to the centre of the stage, looked up to the very back of the auditorium and said the last two lines of my audition speech without raising my voice in the slightest. It felt brilliant and now I’d got a whole script to myself too, so I could learn lots more. I hugged it close, then looked at the name on the top of the front page and felt my face going pale. Rebecca Carlisle. She must have come back to look for her script so she could learn her lines properly. Oh no! That meant I couldn’t take it. That would be too cruel. But she’d gone now, hadn’t she? She wasn’t likely to come back, so it would be pointless to leave the script in the wings. Rebecca would easily be able to borrow one from one of her friends, wouldn’t she?
A few minutes later I was in the music department photocopying the whole script, because it wasn’t fair on Rebecca to take her script, and I’d feel like the most selfish person in the world if she got chucked off the play for not learning her lines when it wasn’t her fault. I wished the photocopier wasn’t making so much noise though, because if anyone caught me doing this, I’d be in terrible trouble. Photocopiers are strictly off limits to all students. The teachers have to punch in a code to activate the machines, but I’d noticed that Mrs. Harrison, the music teacher, had got one of the old-fashioned sorts of photocopier which didn’t need a code. I must admit I was quite impressed with myself for thinking up this plan of mine. Now, all I had to do was give Rebecca her script back at supper.
Oh no! Supper!
I looked at my watch and nearly had a heart attack. It was six fifty-five. Supper starts at six thirty and the Year Sevens are supposed to be there by seven at the very latest. I was ridiculously late, and worse, Mia would be going absolutely frantic with worry about where I was. I just hoped like mad that she hadn’t told the duty staff I was missing or World War Three would break out. I hid the brand-new script behind the photocopier and set off to the dining hall at my fastest gallop, clutching Rebecca’s script.
I spotted her as soon as I went in and rushed over to her table. “I found this on the ground…”
Her eyes flew open and she grabbed it from me. “Oh thank you! You’re my saviour!” Then she frowned. “Where did you say you found it?”
“Just outside the main building.”
“Someone must have picked your script up by mistake,” said the girl next to Rebecca.
“Then dumped it when they realized their mistake,” said Rebecca, wide-eyed. “Charming!”
I rolled my eyes, said “I know!” and went off to get myself some sweet-and-sour chicken, feeling quite pleased that I seemed to have got away with an awful lot since school finished. But, unfortunately that wasn’t quite true. As I sat down beside Mia she fixed me with a glare that was halfway between worried and accusing.
“Where have you been?”
“I…I’ve just…”
“What were you doing with that script? I saw you giving it to that girl.”
“I…”
“I bet you went to a rehearsal, didn’t you?”
And instantly all my friends’ eyes were on me.
I was shocked and just said the first thing that came out of my mouth. “No I did not!”
“So why were you giving that girl a script?”
“I…found it on the ground outside.”
/> “But…Georgie…I never know where you are these days, and even when you’re right beside me I feel as though you’re on another planet, sometimes.” Mia’s voice seemed to have shrunk and she looked really fed up, which instantly made me hate myself for being such a terrible best friend. I so wished I could admit that I’d been to the rehearsal, that I was reading Little Women, that I couldn’t stop thinking about the play the whole time and that I really, really regretted being a stupid idiot and turning down a chance at a perfectly good part at the auditions. And finally, I’d give anything, anything in the world to make the clocks go back so I could change my ridiculous impulsive behaviour.
But I couldn’t turn the clocks back. And neither could I bring myself to admit everything to my friends. I was too ashamed.
Too ashamed by far.
Chapter Six
I sat at the back during quite a few rehearsals after that first one, without Miss Pritchard or anyone knowing I was there. I felt guilty about not telling Mia, but it would have been too awkward trying to explain why I wanted to keep going. I’d studied the script so much that I knew loads of it by heart, especially Amy’s part, and sometimes it was hard to stay silent when I was desperate to prompt people who forgot a line, or hold in a sigh if anyone said a line badly.
It was during a rehearsal of a scene where Amy has loads to say, that I noticed Cara’s voice sounding a bit weak and scratchy.
It was obvious Miss Pritchard was anxious. “Is your throat hurting, Cara?”
Cara nodded. “Everyone’s got coughs and colds and things at Beech House.”
“Well, just say the lines quietly for today. The last thing we need is for you to lose your voice with the performances getting nearer.”
So Cara did as she was told and people kept on missing their cues because they couldn’t hear her properly. It was the most frustrating thing in the world, sitting there, knowing most of the lines and feeling certain I could have stood in and taken over the part. And of course, the moment that thought took root in my head I couldn’t stop it growing and growing, feeding off my excitement. I started planning what to say to Miss Pritchard… ’Scuse me, Miss Pritchard, but I know all Cara’s lines…or maybe ’Scuse me, Miss Pritchard, I can easily take over if you want… But what if she was furious at discovering I was attending a rehearsal when I wasn’t in the play? It might be breaking the school rules. And even if it wasn’t, I guessed she’d be cross that I hadn’t asked permission to watch.