Superstar Babes

by Narinder Dhami

  ‘Look, girls!’ he declared. ‘Our beloved Molly Mahal is everywhere, all over the newspapers, TV, radio! And now you’re going to hold your very own Who’s in the House? contest. Or should I say, Who’s in the School?! I saw your interview, Amber. Very good!’

  ‘That’s right,’ I said, going into my prepared speech. ‘And we were wondering if you’d like to be involved . . .’

  Mr Gill listened with close attention as I explained how the contest would work, and how other local businesses were sponsoring us. I did not say that Mr Morgan hadn’t actually given the go-ahead yet.

  ‘And how is the contest going to be policed?’ Mr Gill asked.

  ‘Sorry?’ I said, confused.

  ‘Well, on TV it’s hilarious to see some of the contestants trying to escape from the house!’ Mr Gill chuckled. ‘I was wondering if you were all going to be locked up securely, like in the real programme.’

  ‘Oh, we will be,’ I replied. ‘We won’t be able to leave.’

  ‘And there’ll be security guards to make sure of that?’ Mr Gill asked.

  ‘Absolutely.’ I didn’t have a clue why he was being so insistent about security, but there didn’t seem any harm in going along with it. I suppose you could call the school caretaker and his assistant ‘security guards’, at a push.

  ‘Excellent!’ Mr Gill beamed. ‘Then, just for a bit of fun, how about if I offer a reward if one of the contestants can escape from the school, once the contest begins? Shall we say a thousand pounds?’

  ‘Yes, let’s!’ I agreed, grinning from ear to ear. Jazz and Geena were wide-eyed with glee and giving me the thumbs-up.

  One thousand pounds for strolling out of school halfway through the contest? I’d have some of that! This was going to be so easy . . .

  ‘After much discussion with the school governors, I’ve come to a decision.’ Mr Morgan leaned forward and eyed Jazz, Geena and me solemnly. We’d been summoned from our various classes by Mrs Capstick just before lunch the following day in order to hear the verdict. ‘Due to a good deal of interest from local – and, I may say, some national – media, as well as local businesses, I will allow this fund-raising event to go ahead, the week before the end of term.’

  ‘Yes!’ I blurted out triumphantly, although Geena and Jazz somehow managed to contain themselves. ‘Sorry, sir.’

  ‘However,’ Mr Morgan went on sternly, ‘the details are still being worked out by myself and the senior teachers, and in future, everything will be co-ordinated by Mr Arora and Mr Grimwade. You will do and say nothing without consulting them first. Is that clear?’

  We nodded, grinning sideways at each other like loons.

  ‘And you will make up the school work you miss for those five days,’ Mr Morgan added, ‘during the Christmas holidays.’

  Jazz turned and pulled a face at me.

  ‘Mr Arora informs me that you wish to have a lottery for the remaining contestant in order to raise more funds.’ I thought I saw a flicker of admiration for our business acumen flit across Mr Morgan’s face, but I could have been mistaken. ‘He and Mr Grimwade will organize that, and also make sure that anyone who wants to take part has parental consent.’

  ‘Thank you, sir,’ I said ecstatically as the lunch bell rang.

  ‘Good luck, girls.’ Mr Morgan stood up, signalling that our meeting was at an end. ‘And just remember that we must maintain the good name and reputation of Coppergate School at all times.’

  ‘Was that a veiled threat at the end there?’ Geena mused as we went out.

  ‘Probably,’ I said. ‘What on earth is that?’

  A low rumbling noise was sweeping towards us down the corridor. It seemed to be coming from outside. I flung open the doors and saw a large crowd of pupils gathered there. When they saw us, they all started yelling questions. I staggered back slightly under the wall of noise.

  ‘What’s happening?’

  ‘What did Mr Morgan say?’

  ‘Is the contest going ahead?’

  ‘Silence!’ I shouted, holding up one hand.

  Miraculously, the noise died away almost immediately.

  ‘The contest will be going ahead near the end of term,’ I announced imperiously, feeling like a Roman emperor at the gladiatorial games. The reaction was one of frenzied excitement. I waited for silence again before continuing.

  ‘The contestants will be filmed every day and you’ll be able to watch the results after school,’ I explained. ‘We’ll be holding challenges, and you can pay to vote for your favourite contestants. The winner will be the person who has the most votes by the end of the week.’

  ‘I think that is very likely to be me,’ Jazz murmured as the crowd broke into excited chatter again.

  ‘Why so?’ asked Geena.

  Jazz looked amazed. ‘It’s a popularity contest,’ she said, by way of explanation.

  Geena glared at her. ‘And your point is?’

  ‘I’m incredibly popular,’ Jazz replied with dignity.

  Geena burst into mocking laughter. ‘In your dreams, Jasvinder.’

  ‘Girls, girls, girls.’ I shook my finger at them. ‘This might look like a popularity contest, but that’s not the main reason for taking part, is it? Let’s not forget why we’re really doing this. To raise money for Mum.’

  Geena and Jazz looked a bit embarrassed and said no more. I smiled slightly. Of course, I fully intended to win the contest myself.

  ‘We have a place left for just one contestant,’ I proclaimed. There were a few dark mutterings at this. It had almost been two places because Auntie and Dad had at first flatly refused to have Rocky and Baby. Baby, of course, had been thrilled and had told Rocky immediately. I’d finally managed to get round Dad and Auntie by pointing out that Rocky and Baby would have absolutely no opportunity for lovey-dovey-type behaviour as they would be with the rest of us at all times. I did not say that I was hoping for diva-style tantrums and tears, but I was sure they’d guessed that anyway.

  ‘So we’ll be holding a lottery to find that lucky person!’ I went on. ‘A pound per go.’

  ‘Can we have more than one go each?’ shouted George Botley, who’d somehow managed to jostle his way to the front of the crowd as usual.

  ‘You can have as many as you like,’ Jazz butted in, ‘as long as you pay up.’

  I gazed around with satisfaction as everyone began talking excitedly. Our event was now creating as much of a thrill as Who’s in the House? had done. That was exactly what I’d set out to do. I just knew this was going to be the best, the biggest, the most rewarding Coppergate School fund-raiser of all time.

  Not only that, I had a secret idea to raise even more money. I wasn’t going to tell anyone my plan, not even Geena and Jazz. It was too amazing and astounding and brilliant to talk about just yet.

  Besides, I wasn’t at all sure that I could actually pull it off . . .

  The next two weeks before the lottery draw took place were a mad, mad whirl of activity. Uncle Jai was looking after the arrangements for the lottery, and there was a constant stream of kids heading to his classroom every break time to enter. Rumours were flying around that George Botley had entered over thirty times. Meanwhile Uncle Jai was going quietly crazy, trying to ensure that everyone had got their parents to sign the consent form, as well as spotting the forgeries.

  Preparations were also going ahead for the actual contest, and Mr Grimwade was working with the other senior teachers to set everything up. The sixth-formers, with much muttering and complaining, had been kicked out of their block and had moved into the main school building. Ten camp beds and blow-up lilos had been put in two of the empty classrooms (one for the boys and one for the girls). Meanwhile, Mr Attwal and Mrs Openshaw, the cook, had got together and organized the food supplies.

  Not only were there the living quarters to think about, but also how we were going to be filmed, and then how the film was going to be edited quickly enough to be shown to the rest of the school at the end of the day. The IT and
media studies departments were sorting that out between them. Almost every teacher and pupil in the school had become involved in some way, and Christmas was really taking a back seat at Coppergate this year. All the talk was about the contest.

  The lottery draw took place in assembly, and as Mr Morgan mounted the stage, there was a murmur of excited tension in the air. In the middle of the stage sat the huge wooden tombola that was brought out for every school fête and fair. It was stuffed with entries for the contest.

  ‘If I pull out now, we could get Mr Morgan to draw two winners,’ Kim, who was sitting next to me, whispered in my ear.

  ‘No chance, Kimberley,’ I retorted.

  ‘As you all know, the fund-raising contest will be taking place just before the end of term,’ Mr Morgan said, raising his voice above the rustle of anticipation. ‘I will now draw the name of the tenth contestant.’

  He gave the tombola a push, and as it spun round, I wondered just how many times George Botley’s name was in there. For the first time I began to feel quite nervous about the unknown person who was going to be locked up with us for five whole days. Now I came to think of it, there were quite a few oddballs in school. Kevin Dwyer in Year Ten, for example, who was a Marilyn Manson fan and had been sent home for wearing black lipstick. And Renata Collins, who bred mice to feed her pet snake. Gulp.

  There was a tense hush around the hall as Mr Morgan pulled out a name. He unfolded the paper and his eyebrows almost shot off the top of his head. My heart plunged. Obviously the name was that of a total freak.

  ‘And the winner is . . .’ Mr Morgan drew out the moment almost as dramatically as Kieron King on the TV. ‘Mr Hernandez.’

  ‘Mr Hernandez!’ I shrieked, but luckily everyone else in the hall had started talking too so my protest was drowned out.

  We hadn’t actually excluded the teachers from entering the lottery, but we’d never dreamed that any of them would do so. On the other hand, Mr Hernandez was incredibly popular because he was mental. In a good way, obviously. Well, he would certainly liven the contest up a bit.

  ‘Hurrah for me!’ called Mr Hernandez, looking remarkably pleased with himself. ‘I haven’t handed in my parental consent form yet, though. Must get that sorted out!’

  There was laughter and a few whoops at that. Mr Morgan raised his hand for silence, looking as if he was having ten teeth pulled without anaesthetic. I guessed he was already stressing over how he was going to cover Mr Hernandez’s classes while he was locked up with the rest of us, as well as Uncle Jai’s.

  ‘Mr Grimwade would now like to have a quick word with you all,’ Mr Morgan said glumly.

  Mr Grimwade stood up. ‘I just want to reassure those of you who are going to be parting with your hard-earned cash that this contest is going to be properly policed,’ he announced pompously. ‘The rules are very clear. The ten contestants will not be allowed any contact with the outside world and will not be allowed to leave the school at all for five days and four nights, except in an emergency. For example, a serious fire.’

  ‘Oh, so a small fire is OK,’ I whispered to Kim. ‘What’s Grimwade going on about anyway? This is supposed to be a bit of fun.’

  ‘While we all hope that Ambajit, Geena and Jasvinder achieve their aim and raise a lot of money, we have to ensure that the rules are followed to the letter,’ Mr Grimwade went on. ‘We have to stop our contestants breaking out, but we also have to stop outsiders breaking in.’ He smiled smugly. ‘For that reason, I have enlisted the services of the caretaker and his assistant, and some of the teachers, as well as a large group of sixth-formers, led by Gareth Parker and Soo-Lin Pang. They will be in charge of security, day and night.’

  ‘He’s got to be kidding!’ I muttered. Jazz, who was a few rows in front of me, had turned round and was staring at me in dismay. I turned to look at Geena, whose mouth was a round O of horror, and caught Gareth Parker’s eye. He looked grim and forbidding, and like he’d never heard the words a bit of fun.

  This was rather disastrous. This would be Gareth Parker’s supreme revenge. He and his minions would make sure we were well and truly holed up without any possibility of escape.

  So how was I going to make sure that I won Mr Gill’s thousand pounds reward?

  But desperate times call for very desperate measures. As we filed out of the hall, I slipped out of line, hung back for a second or two and waited for George Botley to stroll past. Then I grabbed his arm and hauled him out of sight round the corner.

  ‘Hey, Amber.’ George grinned broadly. ‘If you wanted a kiss, you only had to ask.’

  ‘Be quiet, George, and listen carefully,’ I snapped.

  ‘Ooh, I like masterful women,’ George said with a wink.

  I tried not to glare at him. Much as I hated to admit it, George Botley was my one and only faint hope.

  ‘George, I have another task for you,’ I announced urgently. ‘When the contest begins, you have to get me out of the school, even if it’s just for five minutes. I don’t care how you do it. But you have to get me out.’

  Chapter Nine

  ‘HOW MUCH LONGER do we have to wait?’ Baby complained, pulling out her make-up mirror and studying her reflection for the hundredth time. ‘I’m bored.’

  She twisted round and poked Rocky, who was listening to his iPod, hard in the ribs.

  ‘Ouch!’ he groaned, doubling up in pain. ‘What did you do that for?’

  Baby grabbed both headphone wires and yanked them out of his ears. ‘I’m bored! Talk to me!’ she demanded.

  Rocky glared at her and made an elaborate show of zipping his mouth shut, like the teacher used to make us do in reception class.

  ‘Oh, you’re so childish!’ Baby snarled.

  ‘I want to kill the pair of them already and the contest hasn’t even started yet,’ Geena said in my ear.

  It was the Great Day. All ten contestants were gathered in one of the classrooms in the main part of the school, awaiting our triumphal procession across to the sixth-form block. I could hardly believe that it was really happening – today – after all the days of planning and preparation.

  ‘I’m scared of being locked up,’ Kim moaned. ‘You know how I get claustrophobic.’

  ‘Maybe you’ll have a panic attack,’ Jazz suggested helpfully. ‘You might win sympathy votes.’

  Dad was pacing nervously up and down. Uncle Jai was trying to sit still and keep calm, but he kept jumping up to stare out into the playground. A large crowd had gathered, mostly pupils and teachers, but also some local residents, including Mr Attwal, Mrs Dhaliwal and Mr Gill. We’d been promised even more money from local businesses, and their publicity banners were draped along the playground railings. A local news crew had turned up with a camera and were interviewing Mr Morgan. I recognized Martha Rigby and the two men who’d come to our house.

  ‘Well, here we all are, Amber,’ Auntie remarked. ‘Let’s hope this whole thing is a huge success. And not just a huge mistake.’

  I knew what she meant. How had I managed to pull this off? It was as much of a mystery to me as to everyone else.

  And then there was my extra-special, secret plan. True, I still wasn’t sure if it would actually happen yet, because it all depended on someone else. But if it did, it would be absolutely amazing.

  I was so excited, I felt sick.

  ‘Jai, will you please sit down,’ Auntie snapped as he went over to peer out of the window yet again. ‘You’re just making us all feel more nervous.’

  Uncle Jai glared at her. ‘I fail to see how me walking over to the window is affecting anyone else,’ he said, quite huffily. Which was not at all like him.

  The preparations for the contest had been so frantic that I’d completely forgotten my suspicions that something wasn’t quite right with Auntie and Uncle Jai. But now that I thought about it, he’d been staying late at school almost every evening over the last few weeks. Of course, there had been a lot of arrangements to make for the contest. But still, they had only just
got married. It was a bit worrying.

  I glanced over at Geena and Jazz, who both raised their eyebrows at me. Kim was squirming in her seat, looking very embarrassed. Of course, we were all too polite to say anything.

  ‘Ooh, what’s going on with you two, then?’ Baby exclaimed nosily.

  Auntie and Uncle Jai ignored her. Pity, as the rest of us were also dying to find out what was going on. Because something obviously was.

  ‘This is going to be very strange,’ Dad remarked, taking out his mobile and checking it for messages. ‘No TV, no radio, no phones, no emails for five whole days.’

  ‘I bet your girlfriend’s going to miss you, Uncle,’ Baby said sweetly.

  ‘Baby!’ Jazz snarled.

  ‘It was a joke,’ Baby said in an injured tone. Dad shook his head sternly at her and put his phone away.

  ‘I wonder who’s going to come second in the contest,’ Baby went on idly, taking out her makeup mirror again.

  ‘That’s an odd thing to say.’ Geena frowned. ‘Don’t you mean, you wonder who’s going to win?’

  ‘Well, hello.’ Baby stared at her in genuine amazement. ‘I’m going to win, of course.’

  ‘Says who?’ Rocky interjected.

  ‘It’s obvious, isn’t it?’ Baby shrugged. ‘The best-looking person’s bound to win.’

  ‘That would be me then,’ Rocky said confidently.

  ‘Like Amber said, this isn’t a popularity contest,’ Jazz pointed out. ‘It’s all about raising money for the library.’

  ‘It so doesn’t matter who wins,’ Geena added.

  ‘Oh, get out of here!’ Baby scoffed. ‘Like Amber doesn’t want to win the whole thing herself!’

  I wriggled uncomfortably as everyone turned to stare at me. ‘Jazz is right,’ I said loftily. ‘It’s the taking part, not the winning, that matters.’

  ‘You sound like Molly Mahal,’ Baby jeered.

  ‘I think Baby’s the one who’s got it right,’ Kim, the traitor, put in. ‘Don’t tell me you three aren’t all desperate to win.’