by Will Davis
Joni! If you can’t do it with extended arms then try it on your elbows!
Five days in and me whole body’s aching worse than it did after I had Baby. Seriously. Patty reckons that in three weeks all of us who can’t already do the splits’ll be able to slide into it no problem – smiling and all. Well, I’ve got news for her, which is that this fanny’s done all the stretching nature intended it to do.
All right girls, enough. Let’s go straight into a run-through of the routine. Only one more day and you’ve got to perform this, so let’s all stay in focus and get it right!
Straight into the fucking routine without even a break. That’s the kind of sadist this woman is. I’m panting away like a dog, whereas the rest of the girls all bounce into position with big smiles, like this is one of them beauty ads where women don’t ever get zits or nipple hair or oozing pus in their privates. Cept for Ella that is. I couldn’t sleep last night because of all the instructions racing through me head for this stupid routine, like when you’ve got to turn and twist and which foot goes where at what point in the stupid music. Again I thought this’d be all right, since me and Wend’ve been copying dances off MTV ever since her mum got Sky when we was eleven. But it turns out there are all these little details you got to be aware of, like keeping your shoulders back and your head up, and each tiny movement’s got to be exactly right and in time too, which is a fuck of a lot harder than it sounds.
Feeling like a right twat, since I seem to be the only one here who actually sweats instead of glows (and when I say sweat I mean fucking buckets), I go to my position. The sadist has put me right at the front, with the others in this V-shape out to either side. These camera guys must have plenty of tapes of me acting like a spaz on speed while the rest of the girls do it all perfect behind me. Apart from Ella, that freak who somehow got through despite the fact that she needs to vomit practically every time someone even speaks to her.
Patty switches on the music and waves her finger in the air.
One, two, three, four!
We all turn our backs on the imaginary audience where she’s standing and start wiggling our arses. Patty says this is called The Single Body Wave, but if you ask me The Classic Todger Tease would be closer to the mark. She’s got all these silly names for every move you can think of. Even just turning round has to be called a pirouette, which makes it even harder to follow her when she talks us through the routine. I count the beats then flip round. Going out in pairs either side of me, the girls should be flipping round too, until we’re facing the same way again. Now comes this jiggling dance which I actually quite like, cos it’s like something from Destiny’s Child where you all shake your bits from side to side and up and down. Twenty beats – or shit, was it thirty? Now’s the hard part, where we all walk forward swaying our hips from side to side like models on a catwalk and then back and then around each other.
And everyone turn! yells Patty.
I turn and go face-splat into Louise. She’s a real snake cos of the way she always gets this smile whenever someone has to ask a question, like the fact they might not know already is proof of how rubbish they are. She acts like she’s too good to hang around with the rest of us, but she’s a crafty one, cos whenever the camera comes close she switches right on like a light bulb, all sweet and friendly like she’s your best friend. And she never gets it wrong, not once. Not even when we all went through it for the first fucking time.
Whoops! Louise goes and shoots me this lightning-fast look like I’m trailer trash before giving me this big smile as the camera guy moves towards us. Wish I’d accidentally nutted her while I was at it. Patty, she calls, Joni turned the wrong way again!
Patty turns off the music and heaves this long sigh.
Joni, how many more times? Right, then left. This is a very simple section and if you can’t get it I don’t know how you’re ever going to handle more complex choreography.
Sorry, I go, meaning Die screaming.
And Ella, once again you’re looking at the ground. Dancing has to look spontaneous, not rehearsed. If you’re always looking to see where your feet go it doesn’t work.
I’m sorry! cries Ella from my far left. I look over and see her eyes are all watery and she’s this sickly shade of white, practically the same colour as the wall behind her.
Okay, sighs Patty, from the top – one, two, three, four!
I flip round and count. Wiggle arse. Flip back round for Destiny’s Child bit. Hands down, step forward, step forward, step forward, walk back. Step forward, step forward, step forward, walk back – two, three, four. Okay. Now – right, then left.
I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! shrieks a voice.
We all stop and look at Ella, who’s facing the wrong direction and is stood in Riana’s way, shrieking. Tears stream down her cheeks. Riana’s trying to tell her it’s okay, but Ella’s far too busy acting like she’s just mown down a kitten to hear her. Suddenly she turns and runs out the room. Patty rolls her eyes in this way like she’s trying to work out what she’s ever done to deserve this.
Okay girls, she goes with another long sigh, five minutes.
She heads off out the room to go talk to Ella, followed by one of the camera guys. The girls all gang up in a corner apart from snake Louise, who goes to the bar on the other side and lifts her leg up over her shoulder like it’s a perfectly normal thing to do while you’re having a breather.
God, that Ella is such a fucking mess! goes Valerie, who always says what she thinks without giving a fuck about the cameras that are filming. She doesn’t seem to get that this is a bad idea cos it means people watching are gonna end up thinking she’s a bitch – which she is. Oh no – she’s all proud of her fat gob. Reckons she’s sassy cos she can’t keep a lid on it. The camera guy comes up to her and she turns and poses for him.
I’m not being funny, she carries on, I mean, Ella’s a nice girl. But she doesn’t belong in this contest. She’s all over the place. She wakes us all up in the middle of the night with her crying, and she always looks like death warmed up. She can’t handle the pressure. And if you can’t handle it, you shouldn’t be doing it, simple as that!
She’s just not tough enough, goes Rebecca, this tall girl who seems to get on real well with Valerie and always agrees with whatever she says. Five days and you can already tell who’s who in the playground. If you ask me it’s pretty rich for them to be complaining about being woken up by Ella’s snivelling when they’re making a right racket whispering bitchy shit to each other all night long.
The trouble with Ella, Valerie goes again, in love with her own voice, is that she’s had everything handed to her on a plate. You can tell just by looking at her. I’ve had to work hard me whole life. I’m here because I’m good, and I’m good because I’m a worker!
She’s too young, that’s what I think, says Riana, whose gig is to act like she runs the shop just cos she’s the oldest out of us and is a stripper, like this gives her some kind of deep well of experience to draw from. We haven’t spoken about that time she gave me the coke at the audition, cos she always avoids being alone with me as much as she possibly can, which ain’t hard when there’re cameramen jumping out at you from every corner.
Everyone starts agreeing and then saying that it’s a shame cos they do think Ella’s such a nice person, but it just makes me feel sick. The reason I left school wasn’t only cos of the bulge sticking out of me tummy, it was cos I never could stand all the backstabbing that went on. And this is just like that, only worse cos there ain’t nowhere to hide.
I figure I may as well go check on Ella as hang out with this bunch of two-faces so I head off down the corridor to the toilet. Patty’s standing in front of the door with a camera pointed at her, making a show of saying stuff to Ella like she’s never going to make anything of herself if she don’t toughen up and there’s no point in crying about a silly dance routine, just come out and practise it. There’s no answer from inside, and Patty sees me and throws her hands up in the
air like she’s saying, Take over if you can bear to cos I’ve had enough! She stomps off down the corridor and I go up to the door and knock. The guy brings his camera in close.
Ella? I say. It’s me, Joni.
After a second the door opens a crack and Ella peeps out, eyes all swollen and red. I push my way in then close it quickly before the camera guy can get his foot in. To be sure I twist the lock. Ella sinks to the ground and starts sobbing away, pressing her face into her knees, skinny little body shaking away worse than a poodle in a lightning storm.
Come on, I go, it ain’t that bad.
I want to go home! she whines.
I kneel down and put me hand on her shoulder. I do get what she’s feeling, cos I’m missing home like mad as well. We all had our phones confiscated as soon as we arrived, so I ain’t spoken to Mum since I left. Place is like a prison if you ask me. Never been away from Baby for this long before neither. It feels weird, and I’m worried cos I keep thinking how’s he gonna get to sleep without his proper mum there to cuddle him and sing to him? I know it’s stupid, cos Mum’s taken care of him loads of times, but it still feels weird not having him there next to me in the room. And then there’s the Davy thing. It was a bad idea getting back with him the day before I had to leave, cos now I’m horny as all hell and can’t do nothing about it. Just before I got in the limo to go he gave me this real silver bracelet with good luck written on the inside in curly letters. Totally floored me cos one thing Davy ain’t is loaded. Didn’t even have time for a thank-you shag.
I don’t know what to do, sobs Ella.
Just keep practising like that stupid cow tells you, I say. You’ll get it in the end. At least you can do the steps.
Not about that! she wails, looking up at me with this face like the world’s about to end.
Then what? I go.
At this Ella drops her head and starts crying twice as hard. Talk about a nut job. I pat her shoulder and try to think of comforting shit to say, like how whatever’s bothering her can’t be that bad, but all I can think is, What the fuck am I doing here? Me body’s throbbing all over, I’m in pain and exhausted, I’m missing Baby like crazy, I got steps to learn, and here I am sitting in a toilet trying to help this girl who should blatantly just be carted off to hospital to get her brain fixed.
Ella raises her head and whispers something. I have to put my ear practically next to her mouth in order to catch it.
It’s Jack, she goes. He’s never going to forgive me.
Who’s Jack? I say. Then I remember. That preview they showed us when we first got here, Ella standing there in front of the crowd and this man with his face blurred getting angry at the camera. Her behind him whimpering.
Rita’s boyfriend, she goes, taking a massive sniff. She’s my step-mum.
Right, I say. Then, What?
My father died when I was little you see, goes Ella. He was in a boating accident in Nepal. I’ve lived with Rita since then, and Mimi, who’s her daughter.
Where’s your mum then?
Oh, she died just after I was born, says Ella with this sigh. She had a weak heart. I was lucky to be born alive.
Oh, I say, totally stumped, that’s real tough.
It’s okay, goes Ella, all philosophical-sounding. It was a long time ago. I miss Daddy now and then, but I don’t miss her because I never knew her. You can’t miss someone you never knew, can you?
Jesus. I start to feel pretty bad right then, cos all this time I been imagining Ella as having this perfect family who’ve spoilt her rotten and given her anything she ever wanted. It would turn out she’s a fucking orphan.
Well, I go after a bit, trying to be positive, I’m sure Jack’ll come round. Maybe you’ll win, eh? Then he’ll change his tune, won’t he? He’ll be desperate for you to just look his way, I bet!
Ella stares at me, eyes all shining like this would be a dream come true. Course I don’t add that I think her winning is about as likely as me getting bendy enough to drop into splits with a big smile plastered over me face.
Oh! she goes, all faraway-sounding. That’s all I want!
And as she says that I realise something’s not quite right with this situation. Like, why does she care about this Jack guy so bad? And suddenly I get this nasty suspicion, and like the twat I am I don’t leave it alone like I obviously should and I go, Ella – why does it matter what he thinks anyway?
She smiles this totally daft smile, and once again I can’t help but notice how annoyingly pretty she is even with no make-up and her whole face swollen up from tears. Least she didn’t get fucked in that department.
I love him! she goes. That’s the reason I entered this contest. To make him see me and love me back, the same as he used to!
And this is the part where I realise that it’s true that Ella shouldn’t be here, not cos she can’t hack it or ain’t tough enough, but cos she’s been fucked up big time. You keep your distance, Joni, I think to meself. This is not someone you want to get involved with.
There’s a bang at the door and Scouser Valerie shouts out, Oi, Patty says we’re starting again so get your arses in gear, you two! I stand up and look down at Ella, who’s all hunched up in this protective ball position, kind of like Baby does when he’s sucking on his thumb. She looks so small and pathetic that I can’t just leave and abandon her.
Come on you, I go, feeling like a right mug. I reach down and take her hand. We got dancing to do.
‘All I can say is what a brilliant, brilliant time I’m having and how grateful I am to be given this opportunity. Loving every single last minute of it!’
I’m cold and sweating and itching all over. As we take our places for the final run-through it feels like I’ve got a ticking time bomb squished in amongst my brains. If I hear Ella whimper she’s sorry one more time, or that Valerie’s horsey laugh, or Anya with her posh fucking accent, telling us again why she became a vegetarian, I think I’m going to have to hurt someone. I always figured the girls at the club were irritating, but they’re nothing on this bunch of dipshits. I’m even genuinely missing Eddy’s political rants, just cos at least she’s got a brain connected to her mouth. Earlier today in the bathroom Joni asked me what the bidet’s for. When I told her she started having hysterics, like it’s the funniest thing ever that someone might have gone and invented a facility for washing your privates. Still, least there’s one good thing about being surrounded by twats, which is that if this is the competition, I’m starting to think I might have got a shot at winning after all. If I can make it through five whole weeks without murdering someone, that is.
Okay everybody – for the last time, shrieks Patty, a one, two, three, four – and GO!
We fall into step. As usual Joni turns the wrong way, but corrects herself right at the last minute and swivels round to face me just before disaster. She makes this stupid goofy face and grins like it’s funny she’s still getting it wrong even after five days non-stop practising. There’s a camera pointed at us so I give her a supportive smile, though what really I’d like to do is ask her how she even manages to walk when she’s so fucking inept.
It’s not just the girls that are making this so hard. I thought the dance classes would be a piece of piss, but they’re not at all. For one thing Patty keeps criticising me for dancing too sexy. You’re not stripping anymore, she keeps on saying, you’re entertaining! I mean, what the fuck is the difference? And all those naff names she gives the dance moves. It’s like she’s speaking another language. But the real killer so far has been the singing. We’re being taught by this dick called Edgar, who insists on making us all do these weird warm-up exercises before we begin, like gurgling and singing la la la over and over until it makes your teeth itch. Spite of what they say, I’ve always thought it was a case of either you can sing or you can’t, but Edgar, who went and threw a hissy fit when I called him Ed, says the voice is an instrument you have to learn to play. Well I like my instrument just fine the way it is thanks, but according to this pri
ck I sound like a man that smokes too much. When I told him to fuck off, in a jokey way of course, he told me if I didn’t sharpen up my attitude I’d be out of his class. Most of the week he’s had me standing at the back with my finger pressed to my throat while everyone else gets on with it, singing in silence and trying to feel when my larynx bobs up towards my chin. Whenever he gets us to sing all together he gives the best bits to Louise, just cos she can go super high, which according to him means she’s got perfect pitch. Well if that’s perfect pitch, who wants it? You ask me she sounds like she’s just sat down hard on something pointy.
Shit – it’s the last bit. I spin my body round just in time and thrust one leg out, running my hands up and down my sides next to Valerie, trying to put on an entertaining pout without looking like a porn star. Can’t tell what Patty’s thinking. She’d make a great poker player. Six counts and then it’s into the fanny thrusting.
The real reason I’m feeling so shitty is because I’m crashing. Like, big time. I didn’t bring nearly enough blow in with me. What I did smuggle into the house was only s’posed to be for emergencies, only that went out the window after the second day. It’s not like I can’t handle the pressure, it’s just that when you’re getting up at seven in the morning and working through to ten at night, and surrounded by giggling brats that never shut up, you need the odd pick-me-up, take my word for it. Trouble is, I didn’t think far enough ahead, and now the performance is tomorrow night and I’m definitely going to need a few lines to get me through. That’s a few lines more than I got. It wouldn’t be such a problem cept that this place is like Alcatraz, with no getting out unless you’re ill or dead.
Okay girls, says Patty, as I stand behind the others in my final position trying not to shake cos of the stress, that’s it. I suggest you all get an early night so you’re fresh for the performance tomorrow.