Superstar Babes

by Narinder Dhami

  I sat forward in my seat as the clip of Kieron King reading out the result was shown. This was followed by a swift cutaway to everyone jumping up and down in our living room, cheering. Neither Geena, Jazz nor I dared to say anything. The picture moved back to show Molly exiting the house to cheers and applause. I hadn’t seen any of that yesterday because I’d caused such uproar. Then there was a close-up of Jazz and Dad, and Jazz let out a squeak of pleasure, but didn’t risk saying anything else.

  ‘And not only are they celebrating Molly’s victory, but the family are also planning their very own Who’s in the House? style contest!’ Martha declared enthusiastically. ‘As Ambajit Dhillon explained to us . . .’

  Whoops. I just hoped Mr Grimwade wasn’t choking on his porridge.

  And there I was, in close-up on the screen, telling everyone about my idea.

  Ten contestants, including myself and my sisters, will be locked up inside Coppergate School . . .

  Now it was real. It was out there. Could I pull it off?

  ‘Sounds like a great fund-raising idea, doesn’t it?’ Martha declared. ‘We’ll definitely keep you posted! This is Martha Rigby reporting from—’

  Dad snapped off the TV. ‘Time to go,’ he said to Geena and Jazz in a tone that brooked no argument.

  The two of them scrambled off the sofa, giving me sympathetic looks, and went out.

  Silence.

  ‘Ambajit,’ said Dad. Note the full name. Oh dear, this was bad. ‘What have you got to say for yourself?’

  I squirmed a bit.

  ‘Mr Grimwade phoned Mr Morgan immediately, and he called us last night,’ Uncle Jai said.

  ‘After we’d gone to bed,’ Auntie added. ‘Mr Morgan wants to see you first thing on Monday morning.’

  ‘Look, I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I didn’t think things through. But now that I have, I know it could work. I really do.’

  Three pairs of eyebrows shot up.

  ‘I know my idea sounds ridiculous, but we can’t possibly raise all the money we need by Christmas,’ I went on, ‘unless we go for something really big. You saw how our mates were yesterday – they all want to be in the contest! I think it could be a great laugh, and I know we could raise lots of money this way. Otherwise we’d have to ask Dad to pay, and we really want to do this ourselves. For Mum . . .’

  I stopped, horrified to hear my voice wobbling a bit. I hadn’t meant to play the sympathy vote, but all three of them were now looking marginally less stern.

  ‘All right, Ambajit,’ Dad said coolly. ‘Let’s assume, just for one crazy moment, that this could actually happen. How do you think it would work?’

  I brightened a little. I knew that they just wanted to point out to me exactly why it couldn’t work, but I was confident I could answer most of their objections. I’d gloss over the rest.

  ‘Well, I though we could do it at the end of term. There’d be ten pupils who are contestants—’

  ‘Forget it, Amber,’ Auntie interrupted. ‘Ten pupils locked up without any adult supervision? No chance.’

  ‘OK.’ That was my ideal scenario, but I’d never really thought it would be allowed. So then I played my ace. ‘Well, there’s six of us, for a start.’

  ‘Us?’ Dad repeated.

  ‘Yep.’ I ticked the family off on my fingers. ‘You, me, Auntie, Uncle Jai, Geena and Jazz.’

  They stared at me as the penny dropped.

  ‘You want us to take part?’ Auntie said, looking utterly astounded.

  ‘Well, yes,’ I replied, wide-eyed.

  That had floored them, just as I’d hoped. If all those adults were there to look after us, what could possibly go wrong?

  Auntie was first to rally.

  ‘We wouldn’t really be contestants though,’ she said. ‘We’d just be there to supervise. No one’s going to be interested in us adults.’

  ‘You have to be joking,’ I replied. ‘You and Uncle Jai are Coppergate celebrities, especially since you got married. Everyone loves you to bits. It’s Dad no one’s going to be interested in. But I thought it would be nice to have him along.’

  ‘How kind,’ said Dad, raising his eyebrows.

  ‘Baby would have to come too,’ Auntie pointed out. ‘Her parents don’t come back till Christmas Eve.’

  ‘What?’ That had never even occurred to me. ‘Her school won’t let her have time off, will they?’

  ‘It’s a private school so they finish earlier than you,’ Auntie reminded me. ‘She’ll already be on holiday.’

  ‘Oh, right,’ I said slowly. It had only taken a moment or two for me to realize that maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing. Baby, with her tantrums, pouts, sulks and skimpy outfits, might prove as much of a draw as Romy Turner had. ‘Well – OK, then. That’s seven of us.’

  ‘Amber, there are a lot of health and safety issues to consider,’ Uncle Jai said. ‘There’s the whole question of people staying overnight in the school, for one thing—’

  ‘Oh, didn’t the sixth-formers hold a sponsored sleepover in their block a few months ago?’ I interrupted smoothly. ‘That’s exactly why I was thinking that we could hold the competition in the sixth-form building. It’s separate from the rest of the school and it’s got its own kitchen and all that.’

  ‘And where would the sixth-formers go?’ asked Auntie as Uncle Jai blinked several times, probably astounded by my brilliant forward planning.

  ‘Well, if we held the contest near the end of term, most of the sixth-formers don’t even bother coming in then,’ I replied.

  ‘That’s true,’ Uncle Jai agreed, then looked embarrassed.

  ‘And we wouldn’t do it for weeks on end, like the TV programme,’ I went on.

  ‘Thank God for that,’ Auntie remarked.

  ‘Just for maybe five days, Monday to Friday.’

  ‘You seem to have this all thought out, Amber,’ said Dad. He said Amber. Good sign!

  ‘I have, Dad.’ I stared hopefully at him. ‘The school’s got TV cameras and webcams and loads of TVs and computers. I’m not exactly sure yet how the filming would work, but I bet Mrs Cartwright and Mr Okenuwe could sort it all out.’

  ‘The heads of media studies and IT,’ Uncle Jai supplied helpfully.

  ‘We’d be filmed, and then they could edit the film for everyone in the school to watch the same day,’ I explained further. ‘Maybe they could show it after school or something. And the contestants could do challenges, like the TV programme.’

  ‘And how, exactly, is this going to raise any money?’ asked Dad.

  ‘Well, people would pay to vote for their favourite contestants,’ I replied confidently. I’d seen just how enthusiastic all our friends were yesterday. ‘They could pay a pound to vote after every challenge, just like the TV programme. There are about fifteen hundred pupils at Coppergate, so if they all vote just once, that’s fifteen hundred pounds!’ I looked round at them, hoping that they were impressed. ‘And even if only half of them ever vote, maybe they’ll vote two, or three, or more times, which will be . . .’ I screwed up my face as I tried to do a load of calculations in my head, but I quickly gave up. ‘Well, a lot of money, anyway.’

  Dad, Auntie and Uncle Jai were trying not to look too interested, but I could see that they were intrigued, to say the least. Hurrah!

  ‘No evictions though,’ Auntie said sternly. ‘That could end up with all the grown-ups being voted out first.’

  ‘Fine,’ I agreed breezily. ‘No evictions. We just announce the winner, the person who gets the most votes throughout the week, on the Friday.’

  They all fell silent. Did I have a glimmer of hope?

  ‘This is still the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard,’ Dad said, shaking his head. ‘What did I ever do to deserve such a crazy daughter?’ But he was smiling ever so slightly.

  ‘Well, what do you think?’ I dared to say.

  ‘I think . . .’ Dad paused and I waited hopefully. ‘I think that, against all the odds, it might just work—’


  ‘Thanks, Dad!’ I screamed, leaping to my feet.

  Dad held up a hand. ‘But, Amber, it’s not us you have to convince. It’s Mr Morgan . . .’

  ‘When’s the Who’s in the House? contest, Amber?’

  ‘Can I be in it?’

  ‘Me too!’

  ‘And me!’

  The clamour and the crush at the school gates were unbelievable on Monday morning. Geena, Jazz and I, along with Kiran and Kim, couldn’t even get through them, there were so many kids hanging around waiting for me.

  ‘See?’ I yelled at the others. ‘I knew this was a great idea!’

  ‘I still think you’re mad,’ Kim replied, almost lifted off her feet by the pressure of the crowd.

  ‘So did I,’ Geena shouted, ‘but I’m coming round to it.’

  ‘Well, I think it’s fab,’ Jazz shrieked. ‘All these idiots want to give us their money.’

  ‘Not quite so loud, please, Jazz,’ I muttered.

  Kiran began shouldering her way through the mob and we followed in her wake like celebrities behind a bodyguard. If I’d had any doubts before today, they’d vanished completely this morning. It looked like almost everyone in the whole school wanted to be involved. Even Baby, when she’d found out she’d have to come too, hadn’t been that snooty about it.

  ‘I knew I was right!’ I said triumphantly. ‘This is going to be the greatest event ever in the glorious history of Coppergate School!’

  ‘Or possibly the greatest number of detentions ever handed out to a single person at Coppergate School,’ Geena remarked.

  I didn’t understand what she meant until I saw Mrs Capstick standing outside the school office. She was not smiling. Grimly she beckoned me to follow her.

  ‘Oh dear.’ I felt a little of my confidence and bravery seep away. ‘I suppose I’d better go and see Morgan and get it over with.’

  ‘Can I have your locker if you’re expelled?’ asked Jazz.

  Mrs Capstick did not say a word as she marched me along to Mr Morgan’s office. I strode in rather more confidently than I felt and Mrs Capstick closed the door behind me with an indignant bang.

  ‘Ambajit,’ Mr Morgan said coldly, staring at me over his glasses, ‘I’m waiting for a satisfactory explanation for your extraordinary behaviour on Friday night.’

  ‘Well, you did say you liked to see Coppergate pupils showing initiative, sir,’ I replied.

  ‘Not that much initiative,’ Mr Morgan snapped. ‘Of all the silly, ridiculous, downright irresponsible things to do . . .’

  ‘You’re alive!’ Jazz said when I tottered out of Mr Morgan’s office a gruelling twenty minutes later. She sounded slightly disappointed. ‘What happened?’

  ‘He gave me a right telling-off for about five minutes,’ I replied, squirming as I remembered some of the choice phrases Mr Morgan had used. ‘He practically roasted me alive.’

  ‘Well?’ said Geena. ‘Are you suspended? Expelled? Permanently in detention until you leave school?’

  ‘None of the above.’ I managed a grin. ‘Guess what? Morgan eventually admitted that he rang the TV company to get the interview pulled, and they somehow persuaded him not to. They’ve asked him to allow the competition to go ahead, and they want to come and film the preparations and then do a special news report about it.’

  ‘Oh, let me guess,’ said Geena, rolling her eyes. ‘After ripping you to shreds, Mr Morgan secretly wanted the contest to happen all along?’

  ‘Of course he does,’ Jazz butted in. ‘He lurves that kind of publicity for the school.’

  ‘But he still had to tell Amber off because she did a very stupid thing,’ Kim added.

  ‘Thank you for your input, Kim,’ I replied with a glare. ‘Mr Morgan hasn’t actually said yes to the contest yet, but he hasn’t said no either. He told me he’s thinking about it.’

  The rest of my conversation with Mr Morgan had been a bit easier than the first hairy five minutes. He obviously very much liked the idea of Coppergate featuring in a special news report. On the other hand, I could tell that he was pretty nervous in case my (totally radical) fund-raising idea turned out to be a complete catastrophe. Which, if it was plastered all over the local news, could be an absolute public relations disaster for Coppergate School.

  ‘You jammy so-and-so, Amber,’ Kiran said admiringly. ‘So what happened then?’

  ‘Well, Morgan asked me how things would work and I told him my ideas,’ I replied. ‘He said pretty much the same stuff as Dad, Auntie and Uncle Jai. The contest can’t be pupils only, and we wouldn’t be allowed to vote anyone out, in case all the grown-ups get kicked out first.’

  Geena nodded wisely. ‘They’re obviously trying to avoid some kind of nightmarish Lord of the Flies scenario.’

  ‘Lord of the what?’ asked Jazz.

  ‘It’s a famous book, Jazz, you numbskull,’ Geena explained. ‘A group of boys are stranded on an island after a plane crash, and they turn into savages. A couple of them are actually murdered by the others.’

  ‘I can understand that,’ Jazz replied. ‘After all, we’re going to be cooped up with Baby for five days.’

  ‘So do you really think Mr Morgan’s going to go for it?’ asked Kim.

  ‘I’m almost certain he will,’ I said, ignoring the disapproval in her voice (Kim can be so annoyingly prim and proper at times). ‘He’s just trying to save face at the moment because I went public before I’d checked it out with him first. And I think he wants to make sure that it’s been properly planned out before he gives the official go-ahead. Anyway, I think we ought to sort out our list of ten contestants, so we’re ready. We have seven so far. How are we going to choose the others?’

  There was silence for a moment.

  ‘What about Rocky?’ said Jazz.

  ‘Rocky!’ I roared. ‘No flipping way!’

  ‘Imagine being locked up with him and having to listen to his vile rapping for days on end.’ Geena shuddered. ‘No, thank you.’

  ‘Look, we’re supposed to be making lots of money, aren’t we?’ Jazz pointed out. ‘We want contestants who are going to behave badly and get everyone hooked. Baby and Rocky are perfect. They argue all the time, for a start. It’ll be hilarious.’

  ‘True,’ I said thoughtfully. ‘And Auntie will be watching them like a hawk. It could be funny if they try a sneaky snog. OK, Rocky’s in.’

  ‘Oh, really, Amber!’ Kim said in a very disapproving tone. ‘I can see you’re not going for the highbrow option.’

  She was totally starting to get on my nerves.

  ‘I don’t know what you’re getting so uppity about, Kimberley Henderson,’ I snapped, ‘because you’re going to be one of the contestants too.’

  Oops, I hadn’t actually decided that yet. It had just slipped out. But Kim’s prim and proper manner and constant predictions of doom and gloom could be funny for the viewers. Besides, I was secretly thinking that it might be useful for me to have someone I could rely on (meaning, someone I could boss around and force to do my bidding).

  ‘What!’ Kim gasped. ‘But I don’t want to.’

  ‘Not even for our mum?’ I asked pointedly.

  Kim subsided into silence, looking worried.

  ‘That’s not fair,’ Jazz moaned. ‘If Kim’s coming, then Geena and I should be allowed to have a mate each too.’

  ‘Absolutely,’ Geena agreed.

  ‘Well, you can’t because we only have one place left now,’ I said, glancing at Kiran.

  ‘No, thanks,’ Kiran said quickly. ‘My mum needs me at home to babysit the kids. Why don’t you have a lottery or a raffle or something for the last place? It looks like almost everyone in the school wants to be a part of it, so you could raise a bit more money by charging them for buying a ticket.’

  ‘Superb idea!’ said Geena, and Jazz and I nodded.

  ‘Now all we have to do is wait for Mr Morgan’s official permission to go ahead,’ I said with confidence.

  ‘And if he decides against it, y
ou’ll have made an enormous fool of yourself on local TV for nothing,’ Jazz added helpfully.

  I waited impatiently all day for Mr Morgan to call me to his office and tell me his decision, but the silence from that direction was deafening. No matter. I was going to carry on laying my plans so that we were ready to go when he said yes. If he said yes.

  Remembering what Mr Attwal had said about getting local businesses involved, I dragged Geena and Jazz down to the Broadway after school to ask around. Mr Attwal was as good as his word and promised to supply food for the contestants free, in return for advertising his minimarket. He also gave us a cheque for one hundred pounds, which was a huge surprise.

  ‘A lovely woman, your mother,’ he said warmly. ‘You three are a credit to her.’

  Next, we popped into some of the other shops where Mum had been a regular customer. Everyone we spoke to either gave us donations, or promised to, and soon we were well on the way to raising another thousand pounds. With Dad’s donation and the money we’d raised ourselves, we had just under three thousand pounds so far.

  ‘I hope we don’t have to give all this money back if Morgan says no,’ Geena remarked, looking worried.

  ‘Oh my goodness,’ said Jazz, screeching to a halt outside the Kwality Kar Emporium. ‘Look at this.’

  The Kwality Kar Emporium was where Molly Mahal had taken part in the Touch the Car competition when she’d been staying with us, and the owner, Mr Gill, was a mad Molly fan. He’d pasted up film posters of Molly in the windows of the shop, as well as the front pages of the Sunday newspapers, all of which showed pictures of her celebrating her Who’s in the House? triumph.

  ‘Mr Gill might help,’ I said hopefully, pushing open the glass doors.

  Mr Gill was in a state of great excitement. Short and tubby, he bounced across the showroom towards us like an outsized rubber ball, clutching a copy of the local newspaper.