Nathalia Buttface and the Most Embarrassing Five Minutes of Fame Ever

by Nigel Smith

  The science labs were out of bounds on safety grounds following a small explosion and Mr MacAnuff the grumpy caretaker was in favour of calling out the army.

  Nat saw him as he cornered the Head in a corridor at break. “Have you seen what the little devils in Year 10 have done behind my shed?” he wailed.

  “It’s very good,” said the Head. “I’m assuming it’s for a project on World War One? Some kind of trench warfare reconstruction?”

  “No, it was my rose garden.”

  “Well, I can’t help that,” the Head snapped as she watched a shrieking first year cartwheel into the art room. “I’m very busy because I’ve got a lot of job application forms to fill in.”

  She hurried off and Nat scarpered before Mr MacAnuff made her plant some more flowers. She went to look for Darius, and found him in the boiler room stuffing money into a tin box. A snivelling boy was pulling at his sleeve, and Nat heard him offer Darius the whole of his next-year’s pocket money for another can of WAKE UP!!!!

  “I’ll think about it,” said Darius.

  “DARIUS BAGLEY, STOP THIS RIGHT NOW,” yelled Nat. She wasn’t kidding.

  Darius dropped the tin box and looked incredibly guilty for a second. Then he recovered himself.

  “Get lost,” he told the boy. “And remember what I said about saving the ugly pets.”

  “You didn’t say anything about saving ugly pets,” said the boy and Darius chucked an empty can of pop at his head. The boy ran off.

  “Darius, I think you’ve actually broken the school,” said Nat. “Which I have to admit is quite funny. But lately I’ve been starting to enjoy school for the first time ever and you are not going to spoil it for me.”

  There was an echo in the boiler room. Nat’s last word bounced around the walls:

  Me me me meeee …

  “Now, how much money have you made?” asked Nat.

  Darius shoved the cash box roughly at Nat. “Loads,” he said, spitting on the floor and rubbing his scruffy hair.

  “Darius, there’s only £2.50 in here,” said Nat.

  “Oh,” said Darius, standing on one leg and trying to hide his new trainers.

  “That’s it: stop selling the stupid drinks,” said Nat.

  “But I’m popular now,” he said with a big sigh. “Everyone wants to talk to me.”

  Not for the first time Nat went straight from wanting to strangle Darius to wanting to hug him.

  “You silly boy,” she said gently. “You’re still not popular. It’s the stupid pop that everyone wants, not you. Everything will go back to how it was before, when you stop selling it.”

  “Promise? You’re not just saying that to cheer me up?”

  “I promise. Everyone still thinks you’re horrible. And they always will.”

  “Thanks,” said Darius as they walked out of the boiler room together.

  “Unlike you,” said Darius. “You really are popular these days.”

  Nat was shocked. She didn’t really think she was popular. She still felt she only had one proper friend – Penny – aside from Darius, who didn’t count. But then, she thought, I AM going to Flora Marling’s mega secret birthday pool party … And Julia and Trudi DID sit at my table at lunch today …

  Nat felt a warm glow inside as she realised the truth: she was actually becoming popular.

  “AND you’re famous,” Darius continued, “and with all the things me and your dad have lined up next week, you’re gonna be really REALLY famous. You’ll be up in lights.”

  “My name’s gonna be up in lights,” corrected Nat. “That’s the expression.”

  “Whatever,” said Darius. “Anyway, then you’ll be even more popular.”

  “Well, whatever it takes to save those ugly pets!” said Good Nat with a virtuous smile, while inside Evil Popular Nat was rubbing her hands together gleefully.

  ’VE DECIDED I’M GOING TO DO ALL THE STUPID and rubbish things you’ve organised for me, Dad,” said Nat on Saturday morning as she ate her greasy late breakfast in front of the telly.

  “That’s good of you,” said Dad.

  “I know,” she said, turning over to a cookery programme in the hope it might give Dad some ideas and stop him frying pork pie slices for breakfast. “I just want to do anything I can to save the horrible pets and the horrible Darius.”

  “That’s my girl,” said Dad, with a smile.

  “So then,” she continued, “I might as well get as famous as possible, as quickly as possible. And then I can get it over with as fast as possible. Now, what do I have to do?”

  This is great, she said to herself, looking at the list of events Dad had lined up for her. And it’s got absolutely nothing to do with wanting to be popular, she massively fibbed to herself.

  What made it sweeter still was that she didn’t even have to use her real, stupid, mega-embarrassing name. No, as far as most people knew she was Nat the Normal Girl.

  It’s just like being called Dinky Blue, Girl Guru, she thought, remembering her fave online vlogger. Her real name is probably something just as silly as mine. She’s probably Mary Christmas, or even Barbara Blacksheep.

  Well, that’s something else we share, thought Nat. Along with fame and popularity.

  The following week was the busiest Nat had ever known.

  Dad had made some badges with the letters SOUPH on, for her to hand out when she was doing her celebrity events. SOUPH stood for Save Our Ugly Pets Home.

  “Souf?” asked Nat on Monday morning, studying one of the badges.

  “Soup,” said Dad, putting his coat on. “The H is silent.”

  Nat giggled. “You are rubbish,” she said. “Is this the best you could come up with?”

  “Yes,” admitted Dad, “and I was up all night too. Now stop criticising and just make sure everyone you meet gets one.”

  On Monday night she opened the new video arcade in town. They had installed a dance machine and wanted her to do her dance on it. She had to admit it was a BIT embarrassing at first, but she was given a stack of free arcade tickets, which she handed out to her new friends at school the next day.

  Penny, however, refused to take one. “I’m not allowed in the arcade,” she said as they ate lunch.

  “So?” said Nat. “These tickets are like gold dust! Give them to people you like. Or –” she lowered her voice – “and this is the best bit, give them to people who you want to like YOU.” Nat waved at a group of girls, who waved back.

  “I don’t need to buy my friends,” said Penny sniffily, walking off. “And you shouldn’t either.”

  “I’m not buying friends!” said Nat, annoyed, but she soon forgot to be annoyed when Julia and Trudi came and sat down with her. Who needs you anyway, Penny, thought Nat to herself.

  On Tuesday night Nat had her picture taken outside the town theatre, to help advertise their new play. She was going to be on their posters with:

  “You’d be hopping mad to miss it!” written just below her picture.

  The director, Derek Plungepool, who was wearing a white suit with a bright purple cravat, said she was “just divine” and gave her a row of tickets for the opening night.

  This is easy, thought Nat, wondering which of her new friends deserved a ticket. In return she almost forgot to give Derek a handful of SOUPH badges, which he promised to hand out to the cast.

  “You are just gorgeous, doing all this charity work,” he gushed.

  “Oh stop,” said Nat, smiling for the camera, “it’s not me who deserves the applause, it’s those little ugly forgotten-about pets.”

  She had promised to help Darius at the ugly pets’ home on Wednesday night. Simba’s cage needed cleaning and this was definitely a two-person job.

  “Sorry, Little D,” she said as they were leaving school.

  “Little D? Who’s that, Buttface?” said Darius, stunned.

  “I’m just TOO shattered to come,” Nat replied. “Besides, my nails are totally ruined and I’m going to look horrible for my perso
nal appearances if I don’t fix them.”

  “You always look horrible,” said Darius.

  “I’m doing this for you,” hissed Nat, running off to join Julia Pryde and some of the other popular girls, who were hanging about at the school gates.

  On Thursday evening Nat was due to judge a talent competition at the local old people’s home.

  “Tonight is a double win,” Nat told Penny, who seemed to be barely listening. “They’re paying me fifty quid AND my nan’s given me a tenner to make sure Edna Pudding loses.”

  “That is so wrong on so many levels,” said Penny.

  “I know, I could have got her up to twenty,” said Nat. “She hates Edna Pudding.”

  At lunch Darius gave her a letter that Porter Ogden had received from the developers, Black Tower Estates. Darius was a total maths genius, but he wasn’t too hot at reading, so he thrust it under Nat’s nose.

  “Porter Ogden couldn’t read it cos Simba ate his glasses,” said Darius, who was covered in big red scratches. “How are your nails, by the way?”

  “Fine,” said Nat, snatching the letter. “Oooh this is bad, very bad,” she said, reading it. “It says that the developers went to see the council, who agree he’s standing in the way of progress and fairness and decent behaviour, so in fourteen days’ time they’re sending in the bulldozers.”

  “How’s the campaign going?” said Darius. “Cos time’s running out.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Nat defensively. “I’m working my fingers to the bone for you. I hope you appreciate it!”

  “You what?” said Darius.

  “Forget it, she’s been like this for ages,” said Penny, sitting down next to them. “Fame’s gone to her head.”

  “That is SO not true and anyway, I’m far too busy to talk right now,” said Nat, getting up from the table. “I need to sort out what I’m wearing tonight. The local paper’s sending a photographer.” And with that she got up and left.

  That evening, Bad News Nan invited herself to the old folk’s home with Nathalia. Nat didn’t really want her to come, because she knew Nan didn’t approve of her new-found fame. Or any fame for that matter. Bad News Nan had always said fame was just another word for showing off, which was A BIG CRIME in Bad News Nan’s world, along with making a fuss and getting above yourself.

  So Nat was a bit puzzled as to why Nan was so keen to introduce herself to everyone at the High Hopes Retirement Villa as “the grandmother of the Normal Girl”. Nan had even put her best teeth in. AND she was wearing her big black floppy hat that she usually only wore for special occasions like funerals.

  “It used to be my wedding hat,” Nan explained as they sat in the big living room and waited for the talent show to begin, “but at my age I see more people buried than wedded, so I had it painted black.”

  Bad News Nan looked around at the doddery old folks sitting in big squishy armchairs. The room was painted a pale brown, like a gravy stain. It smelt of cabbage and boiled fish. Nan sniffed the air hungrily.

  “They have it ever so good in here,” said Bad News Nan, rather too loudly for Nat’s liking. “Watching telly all day, waited on hand and foot, ooh it sounds lovely. I don’t know what they’ve done to deserve this treatment. Luxury, I call it. Oh, don’t fuss, they can’t hear me,” she said as Nathalia tried to shush her. “They’re either deaf or they think it’s the radio.”

  Nan swiped a bowl of custard off one of the helpers, who was clearing leftovers. “And have you tasted this custard?” she said. “They put it through a blender. Now that’s what I call smooth. Your father never does that for me. No, he doesn’t care WHAT lumps I get stuck under my top plate.”

  The lady who ran the home brought Nat a cup of tea and some dusty ginger cake and thanked her for being a judge.

  “We’ve told everyone you’re off the telly,” she said quietly, “which is a teeny fib, but it makes them feel you’re a bit more special.”

  “Is there no more ginger cake?” said Bad News Nan. “It’ll help soak up this custard. Runny, I call it.”

  “Is she doing the bingo?” asked Gladys Dogweed, suddenly looming over and peering at Nat, who squeaked in alarm.

  “No, she’s NOT doing the bingo,” snapped Bad News Nan. “This is Nathalia the Normal Girl and she’s a star. She’ll be selling autographs later.”

  “Selling?” giggled Nat when Gladys had gone.

  “It’s costing me ten pounds to make sure that Edna Pudding comes last. I want to get some money back,” said Bad News Nan, adjusting her hat. It was so big that no one sitting behind her could see the stage.

  “Why do you hate Edna Pudding so much?” asked Nat.

  “Don’t talk so soft – I don’t hate her, she’s my best friend,” said Nan. “But she’s always liked showing off and I don’t want her getting above herself. It’s not good for her.”

  She waved at the first talent show hopeful like the Queen.

  “You may proceed,” said Bad News Nan.

  Nat spent the next two awful hours being force-fed horrible ginger cake and enduring pensioner piano-playing, tap-dancing and poetry reading, the highlight of which was Betty Bullwhip’s ode to her dead cat:

  “Kitty loved her biscuits and milk

  Kitty wandered far

  Kitty’s fur was satin and silk

  Until she got hit by that car.”

  Nat stuffed a huge piece of ginger cake into her mouth to stop herself from hooting with laughter. She wiped a silent tear from her eye and Mavis Stench came over and put an arm around her.

  “Don’t cry, dearie,” she said. “I’ll tell you a secret. It was her husband driving the car. I bet she doesn’t mention that.”

  Nat felt a tiny bit bad at placing Edna Pudding and her accordion last, behind even the terrible dead cat poem, But a deal’s a deal, she thought, patting Nan’s tenner in her back pocket.

  At the end of the night, as Nat was putting her coat on to leave, she heard Bad News Nan comforting an upset Edna. “Well, I thought you were very good,” said Bad News Nan. “Young people these days don’t recognise real talent. Anyway, must dash, it’s my knees, all that sitting.” She sucked ginger cake off her teeth. “I expect I’ll see you at Doris Robinson’s funeral.”

  “Hey, you, I’m still alive!” said a very elderly old lady, shaking her stick.

  Bad News Nan ignored her. “Have you got a black hat?” she asked Edna, and they cackled happily together.

  AT’S WEEK OF ACTIVITY CONTINUED ON Friday night with the opening of a brand-new bowling alley and ice-cream café at the retail park nearby. It was to be a grand, celebrity-studded affair. Dane Smarm from TV’s popular regional daytime quiz show You’re Useless, Get Lost was coming. So was reality star Ellie Stupid, who had become famous appearing in The Stupids from Stupid Street.

  But more importantly, also on the guest list was:

  NAT THE NORMAL GIRL!

  Plus Dad and two other guests of her choice …

  On Friday morning at school, Nat held the invite with trembling hands, her breakfast toast totally forgotten.

  “Why didn’t you give me this before, Dad?” she said. “This is like the greatest thing to happen to me, ever.”

  “Don’t be so sarky, I know it’s only a bowling alley,” said Dad.

  “I’m being serious,” she said. “Honestly.”

  “Well, I only got the email from the bowling alley people late last night, while you were at the old folks’ home. You were ever so tired when you got back. Besides, you don’t like bowling. I wasn’t sure you’d want to go.”

  “I can take two guests,” squealed Nat. “Two friends who can see me with other celebrities.”

  “Yeah, I know it’s a bit embarrassing,” said Dad. “But you can give out flyers about the ugly pets’ home.”

  “Yeah, course, animals, whatevs,” said Nat. “But more importantly, I get to invite two guests to see me with other celebrities.”

  “You said that already,”
said Dad. “I suppose you’ll take Darius and Penny.”

  “I do WANT to take them,” said Nat slowly, “but Penny’s being mean to me and Darius doesn’t fit my image.”

  “Image?” said a very familiar voice in the doorway. “Have I been away long enough for you to have an image?”

  Mum was laughing in the kind of way that showed she wasn’t finding it one hundred per cent funny, but Nat didn’t notice; she was just thrilled to see her.

  Mum drove her to school in her fast little red car and Nat tried to explain what she had meant. Darius always said Nat’s mum was a spy, and though Nat always laughed at him, she knew Mum was very good at getting information out of her, so she chose her words very carefully.

  “What I meant to say,” said Nat as Mum went through a red light, “was that Darius loose in a bowling alley might get the ugly pets’ home the wrong sort of publicity.”

  “Hmmm,” said Mum. “Are you sure?”

  “We want people to be on our side,” said Nat, “and not many people want to be on the same side as Darius.”

  “I see what you’re saying,” admitted Mum, “but why do you think Penny is being mean to you?”

  “I think she’s one of those girls who wants the spotlight on her all the time,” fibbed Nat, hoping Mum didn’t have some kind of secret agent lie detector in her handbag, as it would DEFINITELY have gone off. Penny didn’t even like being filmed doing a dance in Nat’s back garden, let alone being ‘in the spotlight’.

  “Well, I guess it’s up to you,” said Mum, screeching up at the school gates. “Invite who you like.”

  So Nat did. She invited Julia Pryde, who shrieked and said Nat was, “TOTES AMAZE!”.

  Then Nat took a deep breath and walked over to Flora Marling, just before they went into double science.

  “Thanks so much,” said Flora. “Aren’t you taking Darius and Penny with you?”

  “They can’t make it,” fibbed Nat, feeling terrible.

  “Cool,” said Flora.

  “Great,” said Nat, feeling FLIPPING BRILLIANT.