by Nigel Smith
After registration it was double maths because, thought Nat sourly, It’s ALWAYS double maths on Monday morning, it’s the law. On the plus side, Mr Frantz wouldn’t have seen the video. He was so old Nat didn’t think he even knew what a computer was.
Mr Frantz, who was always sweaty and harassed, got even more stressed and moist as pupil after pupil asked him what the NORMAL answers were. This might have been funny, except Nat knew who the joke was really on.
After first break, which Nat spent hiding in the girls’ loo, it was English with Miss Hunny. While everyone was reading some boring Shakespeare that didn’t make sense and was about as funny as a plate of school shepherd’s pie, Miss Hunny came over and sat down gently next to Nat. Her famous pupil ignored her, pretending to be concentrating on the rubbish play.
“Lots of people think being famous is quite nice,” said Miss Hunny.
Nat always found it hard to stay angry with Miss Hunny because her teacher was actually rather sweet, and was one of the few people who ever stuck up for Darius.
“Lots of people think teachers are quite nice too,” said Nat. “Lots of people are wrong.”
“Ouch. Point taken. You know, when I was at college with your father—”
“La la la, fingers in ears, not listening.”
“Take your fingers out. That’s better. As I was saying, we were both in lots of plays together.”
“So?”
“Our biggest success was in ‘Romeo and Juliet’. We were Romeo and Juliet.”
“Miss, I feel sick and I’m not even joking.”
“Just listen. It was really interesting because all the boys played the girls’ roles and all the girls did the boys’ parts.”
“Why?”
“It’s the sort of thing people do at college to make themselves look clever. It doesn’t really matter why.”
“So Dad played – Juliet?”
“Mmm. He had the legs for it.”
“That is so rank.”
“Here’s the thing. You might think your dad would be embarrassed about it,” said Miss Hunny.
“No, Dad’s not embarrassed by anything.”
“That’s because it’s much harder to tease someone for doing something if you know they’re having a brilliant time doing it,” said Miss Hunny.
“I don’t understand,” said Nat, looking confused.
Miss Hunny underlined a few words in Nat’s book.
“I’m going to ask the class what this means in ten minutes,” she said. “I want you to answer.” She patted Nat on the head and walked to the front of the class. Nat looked at her book, deep in thought.
“‘Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them,’” read out Miss Hunny, a little later. “What do we think that means? Anyone?”
A few of the swotty pupils put their hands up, but not Nat. She was still desperately trying to work out what the heck her stupid teacher was on about.
“Oh, we always choose you, Sidney,” said Miss Hunny, looking at the class’s biggest swot. “Let’s hear from someone else.” A few more pupils raised their hands. Nat was still frowning.
“Anyone else?” Miss Hunny sighed. No more hands. “Very well.” She turned to Sidney Slope, whose arm was the straightest.
But then …
“Please, Miss – I know,” said Nat, standing up. The class tittered.
“Sit down and be normal,” said Becky.
“Simba, no, bad kitty,” said Julia Pryde.
“Hilarious,” said Nat coldly, in her best Mum Voice. The tittering went quiet.
“It’s about getting famous,” said Nat, absolutely sure she now understood what Miss Hunny meant. “You can be born famous like the Queen, you can work really hard to get famous like on The X Factor, or you can get accidentally famous.”
“Like you!” said Sidney Slope, annoyed that he hadn’t been allowed to answer the question.
“No, not like me at all,” said Nat with a big grin on her face. “Is that what you really think?”
Her classmates looked puzzled. Miss Hunny tried to hide her smile.
“You don’t put hilarious videos of yourself pretending to do silly things online without WANTING to be famous,” said Nat, fibbing as hard as she could. She saw everyone’s face change and it gave her the confidence to finish with an even bigger whopper.
“Those videos are SO hard to fake, but I’m ever so pleased that you all fell for it. I’m enjoying being a celebrity these days. I mean, who wants to be NORMAL?”
There was a massive pause. Then, right on cue, the bell went and Nat, on a roll, said:
“Must dash. I’m due a call from my agent.”
And with that, she left the classroom, grinning from ear to ear.
On her way to the canteen, Nat swung by the Head’s office to see if her agent was ever coming back to lessons. But Darius had gone. She was about to head off to lunch when she overheard the Head talking to Miss Hunny in her office.
“Are you SURE this job is working?” said the Head. “I mean, I do like the thought of the Bagley boy getting munched by horrible animals every weekend, but he’s still pretty naughty. Do you know he’s insisting we call him Elvis Greed Bugatti?”
“Give it time,” said Miss Hunny. “I really think this job is giving him the sense of responsibility he needs.”
“You’d better be right,” said the Head. “Because at the moment, that animal home is the only thing between Darius, or whatever he’s currently calling himself, and the exit door.”
Nat didn’t hear the rest because Miss Austen arrived and gave her a detention for eavesdropping.
“Run along now. And do TRY to be normal,” sniggered Miss Austen.
No one teased Nat all through lunch. It was great, and only slightly spoilt by having to explain to a confused Penny Posnitch what was going on.
“So do you really have an agent?” asked Penny.
“Yes, of course,” said Nat, with a flick of her hair. “All famous people have to have one.”
“I see,” said Penny with a sigh, getting up and drifting off.
You can upgrade your phone, why can’t you upgrade your friends? thought Nat in exasperation.
And then, as if by magic, that was EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENED.
Because just at that moment, the amazing, beautiful, talented and all-round school superstar Flora Marling, the most popular girl EVER, sat next to her. ON PURPOSE. And not just because there wasn’t anywhere else to sit.
Before she even saw her, Nat smelt her. Flora Marling always smelt of sunlight dancing over fields of flowers. Which was like the opposite of Darius, who smelt of compost.
Flora bent over Nat to say hello and her amazing golden tresses fell lightly on Nat’s neck.
“I bet you’ve never had a bird and a cat fighting in your hair,” said Nat as Flora sat down next to her.
Flora frowned and Nat went red. Why do I say such stupid things? she thought. It’s Dad’s fault – he says stupid things and now he’s given me the habit.
“No, that’s never happened,” said Flora. “You do have an interesting life.”
“I don’t want an interesting life,” said Nat, “I want a normal one.” Aaarrgh! It was out before she could stop it.
“Ha ha, your catchphrase,” said Flora, smiling. “It’s ever so funny. Do you like being famous?”
“I’m not famous,” stammered Nat.
“My big sister’s a model,” said Flora, getting more awesome by the second. “She says it’s boring.”
“Yeah, I was doing some modelling at the weekend, actually,” said Nat, trying to look bored. “It was boring.”
“Yeah,” said Flora.
“Yeah, really really boring,” said Nat. “Nothing happened at all.”
“That’s so cool,” said Flora.
The two girls sat in silence, both looking thoroughly bored.
Just as she was about to leave, Flora said casually “Got anything else lined
up?”
“No – oh, actually yeah, a voice-over for a commercial,” said Nat, that instant deciding in her head she was going to do it.
“So tedious,” said Flora.
“I know, but work is work. When you’re hot, you’re hot.”
Shuddup, Nat, you’re sounding like an idiot, she screamed inside, but Flora just nodded in agreement.
“Hey, my lame-o parents are going on some kind of cruise for some anniversary or other, whatever. They said I could have some friends over for my birthday. Not a party, they made that quite clear.” Flora snorted. “But my big sister’s throwing me a party anyway in our little pool house.”
OMG, thought Nat. This was the greatest event to hit the school in the history of the world. Every girl would quite literally murder their granny and eat their pet hamster on toast to be invited to Flora Marling’s pool party.
But what was this? Flora was still talking. “If you wanna come, you can. It’ll be dull, but you’re welcome.”
Nat couldn’t speak.
“OK, so you’re probably busy,” said Flora, getting up.
“You’re having a secret mega birthday pool party?” squawked Nat. “And I’m invited?”
“I guess,” said Flora.
“OK then,” said Nat in a strangulated voice, “that would be flipping awesome – I mean – yeah, I guess, sure, why not? I’ll get on to my agent and clear my diary.”
Oh, I sound like an absolute spanner, she thought. But Flora smiled.
“Right, see you.”
After her heartbeat was roughly back to normal, she ran to find Elvis Greed Bugatti and tell him she’d changed her mind about the voice-over. She was definitely going to do it. If fame had got her an invite to Flora Marling’s pool party, then fame was something she wanted more of. Famous people change their minds all the time, she reasoned. And besides, Dad was right. What was the worst that could happen?
HE STUDIO WHERE NAT WAS RECORDING HER FIZZY pop voice-over was in a shed on an industrial estate. The shed was a low, steel building with a flat roof sandwiched between a garage and a bicycle repair shop. Nat and Dad stepped over rusty coils of wire and dark puddles to get to the front door.
More glamour, thought Nat sourly, trying to wipe engine oil off her trainers.
Inside, the studio was dim and smelt of car batteries and damp. They were met by a harassed-looking girl doing work experience there who had no idea who Nat was. They waited for half an hour in a draughty room until a red-faced man with a beard and a very loud voice came in.
“GLAD YOU COULD MAKE IT,” shouted the man. “I’M MAX, THE SOUND GUY.”
“Nice to meet you,” said Dad. “My daughter here promises to give one hundred and ten per cent.” Dad grinned because he was about to make a bad joke: “And as her agent, I’m taking the ten per cent.”
There was a long pause.
“You’ll have to speak up, he’s almost totally deaf,” said the work experience girl.
“I USED TO RECORD HEAVY METAL BANDS,” shouted the sound guy.
“If you’re deaf, how will you know if I get it right?” asked Nat.
“I’M REALLY GOOD AT LIP-READING,” shouted Max. He frowned and shook his head: “CAN YOU HEAR BELLS?” he asked. “OR IS THAT JUST THE RINGING IN MY EARS?”
Nat looked at her dad. “I’m supposed to be FAMOUS. Why is everything I do total and utter pants?”
Max handed them a can of WAKE UP!!!! fizzy pop. “THE COMPANY SENT A DOZEN BOXES FOR US ALL. YOU KEEP THEM. I HAD ONE CAN YESTERDAY AND I HAVEN’T BEEN ABLE TO SLEEP SINCE.”
Nat pulled a face and put her can down behind a pot plant. Dad immediately opened his and drank it. He shuddered, and then smiled.
“Blimey, there’s a kick to that,” he said.
Max took them into the small sound booth. There were carpets on the walls and a big round microphone on a stand.
“WHEN YOU SEE THE GREEN LIGHT, I’M RECORDING, SO READ THE SCRIPT,” said Max, indicating a green bulb on a long stalk next to the microphone. He handed Nat a piece of paper with the WAKE UP!!!! script on it.
Max went into an adjoining room with a big recording desk in the middle of it. There was a smoked glass screen between him and Nat. He gave her the thumbs up and the green light came on.
Nat was about to start reading when Dad said: “What’s her motivation?”
“WHAT?” shouted the deafened Max, turning the light off.
“Motivation. If she’s selling this drink, why does she like it?” asked Dad. “It’ll make her performance better.”
“Shut up, Dad,” said Nat.
“JUST READ THE SCRIPT, PLEASE. USE THE VOICE YOU DID FOR YOUR VIDEO. GET ON WITH IT BECAUSE I’M DOING A RADIO FOUR COMEDY IN HERE IN TEN MINUTES. WHICH INCIDENTALLY MAKES ME GLAD I’M DEAF.”
“Can we just talk it through?” said Dad. “I’m thinking about my client’s career. She can’t be rubbish.”
“Dad …” said Nat.
“RUBBISH IS FINE. IT’S FOR A RUBBISH DRINK. JUST GET A MOVE ON.”
“I’m not happy,” said Dad. “We can’t work like this!”
“Yes, we can, shuddup, I’m starting,” said Nat, pushing Dad out of the way and looking at the script. “Put the green light on.”
She gave Dad a fierce look as he opened another can of WAKE UP!!!! He was getting as twitchy as Darius.
“Are you sure you should be drinking more of that?” said Nat, but then the green light came on and she had to start reading.
“Hey, kids,” she began.
“Don’t start with ‘Hey, kids’,” interrupted Dad, standing in the corner like a naughty schoolboy.
“What’s wrong with ‘Hey, kids’?” said Nat.
“No one talks like that,” said Dad. “I know how children talk. They say, ‘What’s up, dude?’ Or, ‘Yolo, bro, how’s it hanging? Safe.’ Everyone knows that.”
“I’m not going to say ‘Yolo, bro, how’s it hanging, safe’, Dad,” snapped Nat. “So just stop talking.”
She cleared her throat and began again.
“Hey, kids,” she said, “it’s time to wake up to our new super-fun drink that’s fizz-tastic.”
“Cut,” said twitchy Dad.
“Now what?” said Nat.
“That’s not going to wake anyone up,” said Dad, glugging down the contents of another can. “I mean, you sound like you’ve been drinking super-sleepy bedtime hot chocolate, not super-fizzy action pop.”
“Will you stop interfering?” asked Nat.
“Just put some LIFE into it,” said Dad energetically. “BE the pop.”
“How can I BE the pop?” said Nat.
“It’s called acting,” said Dad, who, let’s not forget, had been Juliet in a play at college and now knew everything there was to know about acting.
Nat took a deep breath.
“HEY, KIDS – WAKE UP!!!!” she shouted. “Drink our new fizzy pop. Unless you want a normal life …”
She paused for effect.
“… and who wants to be normal?”
“Cut,” shouted Dad again. He was starting to sweat now. “That’s your catchphrase. If they want to use your catchphrase they have to pay extra. I told them this. Darius even wrote it into the contract.”
“Darius could not have written it into the contract because he can’t spell ‘extra’,” said Nat. “He can’t even spell ‘Darius’. He can do sums like a calculator, but he can’t write for toffee. And the reason no one knows he can’t spell is because none of the teachers at school can read his handwriting. You might as well have got the dog to write it.”
“HAVE YOU FINISHED?” asked the sound guy. “ONLY I LEFT MY GLASSES IN THE CAR SO I CAN’T REALLY TELL WHAT’S GOING ON.”
“That’s it,” said Nat, chucking her script on the floor. “We’re going home.”
She leaned into the microphone and said: “Drink this stuff, don’t drink it. I couldn’t care less.” She looked at Dad, who was now running on the spot.
; “Actually, I do care,” she said, changing her mind. “You should see what it’s done to my stupid dad. A couple of cans and he’s ready to run a marathon. This stuff is awful. It’s dangerous and frankly I’d ban it right now. Kids, whatever you do, do not drink this.”
She yelled straight into the mic:
“I can’t make this any clearer. Parents, do not let your kids drink this drink.”
“THAT LOOKS GREAT,” said Max the deaf sound guy, squinting through the smoked glass screen. “TONS OF ENERGY – I’M SURE THE DRINKS PEOPLE WILL BE PLEASED.”
As it turned out, they weren’t pleased.
They were over the moon with joy.
Nat yelling, “Parents, do not let your kids drink this,” was guaranteed to make every child who heard the advert demand a can of WAKE UP!!!! immediately. Sales went through the roof.
And the full-length version of the advert, including the row with Dad, won the advertising company a bagful of shiny awards. They even got one for ‘best script’, which was a bit much.
But that was still to come; for now, Dad loaded up the Atomic Dustbin with free crates of the terrible pop.
“I shouldn’t have to work under these conditions,” said Nat stroppily as she climbed into the front seat. “I’m FAMOUS now, and popular, and everything you get me to do is embarrassing and horrid. It has to stop. You are the worst agent ever. So you’re sacked.”
Dad didn’t answer. His teeth were clenched and his hands shook.
“Pass me another one of those cans, love,” he said. “They’re very moreish.”
Nat refused and demanded he drive to Porter Ogden’s ugly pets’ home where she could sack Darius too.
“I’m sorry if I’ve hurt your feelings, but it’s not show friends, Dad,” she explained, “it’s show business.”
She sat back and smiled to herself, feeling quite pleased with that line.
HEN THEY PULLED UP OUTSIDE THE PETS’ HOME, the front garden was even untidier than usual, strewn with boxes and old furniture, empty animal cages and packing cases.
“Dad,” she said, “look at the sign.”