The anti-princesses squeal in utter joy.
‘I can’t wait until we get back to the treehouse, I want to propose a mission right now,’ Bella says. ‘Is that okay, Ms President?’
Emily nods with a smile.
‘Mission Bride: Design a wedding outfit for Svetlana…what was her name?’ Bella asks.
I yell excitedly: ‘KARPINSKAIA!’
Bella yells back: ‘All in favour?!’
Chloe, Emily and I raise our hands so quickly they hit the roof of the car.
‘I’ll start sketching right away,’ Bella says. ‘I’ll have some drawings ready for Svetlana to choose from. She won’t be able to resist.’
We hum the Wedding March all the way home to Bella’s.
I sprint across the front lawn like a gazelle.
‘Mum, Dad!’ I yell. ‘Tom, Harry!’
They’re all in the kitchen packing food into containers.
‘Hi, Grace,’ Mum says. ‘We’re going to the hospital to have dinner with Oliver.’
I thought the anti-princesses looked mopey this afternoon, but my family is worse.
‘I have some exciting news to tell you first,’ I say. ‘It’s about Manchester United.’
Dad slams his fist on the sink. The noise shocks Mum and she drops a tub of salad on the floor.
‘We need to forget about Manchester United, Grace,’ Dad says. ‘It will drive us all insane to keep thinking about it.’
Tom’s throat wobbles. He’s not ready to give up, and neither am I.
‘But Dad, I found out where they’re staying,’ I say. ‘They’re at the Harbour View Hotel in town.’
Harry claps his hands in delight. ‘We could stalk them! When they come out we could tell them what happened to Oliver. I bet they’d give us tickets if they knew our story.’
Dad helps Mum pick up lettuce leaves. ‘Look, kids, I’m sorry to let you down,’ he says. ‘But don’t you realise there’d be at least another dozen people who missed out on tickets with sob stories just like ours?’
Surely Mum will see the light.
‘Mum, come on,’ I say. ‘It’s our last chance.’
She bites her lip.
Harry and Tom look at her anxiously.
‘Your dad is right,’ she says. ‘We need to move on, if not for ourselves then for Oliver’s sake. He blames himself for our missing out on the tickets. When we get to the hospital I don’t want to hear another word about it. He’s in enough pain as it is.’
I slump onto a stool and lay my head on the kitchen bench.
‘This is SO unfair!’ Tom yells, and storms off to his room with Harry.
I grab a pen and a piece of paper from next to the telephone and start to scribble madly.
Mum and Dad might not want us to talk about the game anymore, but they didn’t say anything about writing.
I vow to get that letter to the Harbour View Hotel. It just may be the ticket to completing Mission ManU.
‘Oh no,’ Chloe says. ‘Apparently, this is a perfume recipe.’
I take the piece of paper from her hand.
‘Mr Ashton handed these out just before the recess bell,’ Chloe says. ‘I guess it’s further instruction for my assignment.’
Mr Ashton spots us on our way to the picnic table and calls out, ‘What do you think, Chloe? It’s basic, but a popular combination.’
Matt Vernon, who’s in Chloe and Bella’s class, is walking two steps behind us. ‘Mr Ashton, would it be okay if we didn’t do the exact experiment we’ve been allocated?’ he asks. ‘I’m not sure this rocket is what I want to make.’
Chloe doesn’t need to hear that twice. She turns around to swap her perfume recipe with Matt’s instructions.
‘Of course you don’t need to follow those instructions rigidly,’ Mr Ashton says. ‘In fact, I’ll be awarding extra marks to those who think outside the box.’
Matt and Chloe frown, confused. What was the point of the whole boy-girl thing if they could choose their own experiment?
‘So, can I make perfume?’ Matt asks. ‘Because I’ve got a great idea for a vanilla and bergamot blend.’
Mr Ashton holds his belly and laughs. ‘Good one,’ he says. ‘No, what I mean is, if you can make a bigger, better rocket than the one I’ve given you instructions for, you could top the class. Same goes for the girls. If you can make an original perfume from your own recipe, you’ll earn a better mark.’
Mr Ashton still thinks science comes in pink and blue.
‘I also have an exciting announcement I’ll be making in class,’ he continues. ‘How would you like to be the first to know?’
Chloe and Matt clearly couldn’t care less. Mr Ashton’s announcements have so far been major let-downs.
‘Oh, all right, I’ll tell you,’ he says. ‘We’ll be unveiling these projects at a special open day that your families will be invited to. Won’t that be grand?’
I cover my mouth and try not to laugh. The thought of Chloe presenting a bottle of sweet-smelling perfume to her parents and Yiayia is pretty funny. They would be as confused as we are to see Chloe fiddling with a delicate bottle of rosemary and lavender.
‘Just great, Mr Ashton,’ Chloe says. ‘See you in class.’
I giggle as Chloe’s teacher waddles away.
‘He doesn’t know what he’s in for,’ Chloe says. ‘I’ll be kicking up quite a stink at that open day. Quite a stink.’
If her practice run involved eggs and vinegar, I don’t doubt my friend’s words.
It’s time to say goodbye to Emily’s baby.
Bella, Chloe and I gather around Emily as she sits in front of the computer. This must be the hardest thing she’s ever done.
‘I’d better explain myself to the anti-princesses first, I suppose,’ she says. ‘So I don’t get bombarded in the playground.’
Emily opens the Anti-Princess Club website and logs into her chatroom.
Emily throws her hands in the air and turns to the rest of us. ‘What has this become? The gossip almost makes me want to shut it down. I don’t want to moderate something like this.’
Emily blows her nose and slumps. Bella rubs her back while I pass her a glass of water.
‘You’ve got to do it,’ I say. ‘We don’t want you in any more trouble with Mrs O’Neill.’
Emily brings up a page of coding the rest of us don’t understand. She starts typing and her sniffles become more intense.
‘Wait,’ Chloe says. ‘What if you didn’t completely take it down? You could just temporarily disable it, couldn’t you?’
Emily nods. ‘Well, yes,’ she says. ‘But why would I do that?’
Chloe lifts up three fingers. ‘We’ve come up with a mission to help Bella, another for Grace and a third for me. I think it’s time we set a mission for you, Emily.’
Emily runs her fingers across the keyboard. ‘I can’t propose a mission to keep the website up,’ she says. ‘I’d be in detention every lunchtime for the rest of the year.’
Bella clicks her fingers. She’s had a lightbulb moment. ‘Reconstruct!’ she yells. ‘Rebuild the website. Write an anti-gossip code or something. You know what you’re doing.’
Emily wipes her eyes and straightens her shoulders. She grins as she starts typing again.
A white screen pops up with a red message scrolling through the centre.
SITE UNDERGOING MAINTENANCE.
‘That should do it,’ Emily says. ‘The nuts and bolts are still there, as you would say, Bella. But no one can get in. For now, anyway.’ She swings around to face us. ‘I guess I don’t need to ask if you’re all in favour, then?’
We throw our arms around Emily in a massive group hug.
We’re not saying farewell to the baby after all. It’s being reborn.
Mission Rebirth: Create new and improved Anti-Princess Club website.
The Harbour View Hotel is one of the tallest buildings in Newcastle. As Dr Singh pulls up across the road, I wonder which floors the ManU players are on.
Probably the top.
‘Ready, girls?’ Dr Singh asks. ‘The manager’s name is Mr James, okay?’
Bella hugs her sketchpad to her chest and grins like a Cheshire cat.
‘Now, he’s organised a five-minute meeting for us with Svetlana Karpinskaia, but no more than that,’ Dr Singh says. ‘So, we need to be succinct and not get too excited, okay?’
I’m clutching my letter to Manchester United, hoping my palms aren’t sweating too heavily on the paper. ‘Um, Dr Singh? I have a letter for Manchester United. Do you think Mr James could organise a meeting with them too?’
‘That may be pushing our luck, Grace,’ Dr Singh says. ‘I think we’ll have to settle for Svetlana Karpinskaia.’
I’m determined to get that letter into the hands of ManU somehow. ‘What are the chances of the players being here now, Emily?’ I ask. ‘You know, from a mathematical perspective.’
Emily screws up her face. ‘I’m afraid I can’t work that out accurately,’ she says. ‘There are too many unknown variables. Are they even staying in Newcastle tonight? Maybe they’re training out of town. Are they together or separated?’
‘Okay, let’s go in,’ I say. ‘I guess I can leave the letter at reception and hope it’ll be passed on.’
Emily gives me a wink. ‘What I can predict is that there’s a far greater chance of the hotel staff passing the letter on to one of the players than you coming into contact with one of them yourself.’
Dr Singh greets the doorman and he lets us in without hesitation. A huge chandelier hangs from the foyer ceiling and a marble staircase curls up to the second floor. ‘Wowee,’ Bella says. ‘This place is a work of art.’
Dr Singh leads us to the concierge. ‘We have a meeting with the manager, Mr James—’
‘Dr Singh!’ a voice calls out from a doorway near the base of the stairwell.
Bella’s mum waves to a bearded man in a fancy suit. At his side is a tall, blonde woman in jeans and a T-shirt.
We follow Dr Singh over to the pair.
‘Girls, this is Mr James,’ Dr Singh says.
‘Welcome,’ he says. ‘May I introduce you all to Ms Karpinskaia.’
The blonde woman extends her hand to each of us. ‘Lovely to meet you,’ she says in a Russian accent. ‘Are you girls rock-climbing fans?’
Bella tells a white lie. ‘Yes, I love rock-climbing,’ she says. ‘In fact, it gave me the idea that you should get married at a mountain called Hangman’s Peak. We heard on the radio that you hadn’t chosen a wedding spot.’
Svetlana laughs. ‘I’ve actually just returned from Hangman’s Peak,’ she says. ‘It was a great climb, but I don’t really want to get married on a mountain. I’m always climbing mountains.’
Bella thinks fast. ‘What about a lovely church?’ she asks. ‘There are loads of examples of great architecture around Newcastle.’
Svetlana yawns and inspects her fingernails. ‘I’m not religious,’ she says. ‘Daniel and I want something a little more…exciting. So, do you have any questions about rock-climbing?’
I pinch Bella on the leg.
‘What about a bridge?’ Bella asks. ‘The harbour bridge. It’s at least a hundred metres high. I bet no one has ever got married on top.’
Svetlana stares at Bella curiously. She cocks her head to one side and begins to whisper, ‘Yes, yes, yes.’ Her whisper turns to a little squeal. She claps her hands and jumps up and down – just like we do when we’re excited. ‘The harbour bridge sounds perfect! And it would be such a beautiful spot at sunset.’
Svetlana turns to Mr James. ‘Could you help me find a celebrant willing to climb the bridge?’ she asks. ‘I hope we haven’t left it too late…March fifth is so close.’
Mr James starts punching a number into his mobile phone. ‘I’m sure there are plenty of celebrants who would be more than willing to climb a bridge to marry such a famous couple.’
Svetlana claps again.
I reach into my pocket. ‘I have this letter for Manchester United,’ I say. ‘Do you think you could pass it on?’
Svetlana frowns. I think she’s sensed that I’m more interested in soccer than rock-climbing. ‘Sure,’ she says unconvincingly as I pass her the letter.
‘Okay, well, it was lovely to have you here, girls,’ Mr James says. ‘But Ms Karpinskaia is on a tight schedule.’
Bella opens her sketchbook. ‘Wait, I have one more thing to show you.’
Mr James ushers Svetlana to the staircase.
‘I’ve designed you a wedding outfit,’ Bella says. ‘It’s right here!’
Svetlana calls back to Bella, ‘Sorry, sweetheart, but Donatella Almasi insists I wear one of her designs – she’s friends with Daniel.’
As we walk back to the grand doorway, Dr Singh rests her hand on Bella’s shoulder. ‘Donatella Almasi is a famous fashion designer. But you could still make your design for your class project, Bella. It doesn’t matter if Svetlana doesn’t wear it.’
‘I’m not giving up,’ Bella whispers. ‘I think she’s a size ten. Do you think she wants to wear white?’
I take a last look back at Svetlana.
Then it happens.
She hands my letter to Mr James and disappears at the top of the staircase.
Yes, we got into the Harbour View Hotel. Yes, we met Svetlana Karpinskaia. Yes, we found out when and where she’s going to marry Manchester United striker Daniel Hastie.
I go over the list of yeses in my head as I sprint around the school oval. I’ve left Bella and Chloe on their own for lunch while Emily’s in detention. I need some time to think and I do that best when I’m running.
I figure I can’t rely on Mr James passing my letter on to the team. I need to come up with another way to get those tickets.
‘It’s not the end,’ I tell myself. ‘There’s still six days to the game.’
The bell rings and I jog back to class.
Everyone’s standing outside. The classroom door is locked and there’s a blue and red sign on it.
‘What could it mean?’ Emily asks. ‘New Jersey? Nice job? No joke? Norma Jean?’
There’s only one NJ that comes to my mind. ‘Emily, I’ve got it!’ I say. ‘We were wrong to be targeting Manchester United for tickets. We should’ve gone to our home team – the Newcastle Jets!’
Mr Talbot claws through the crowd. He’s wearing a red and blue Jets jersey.
‘Good afternoon, all,’ he says. ‘Ready to come inside and find out what’s going on?’
Everyone screams: ‘Yes!’
Mr Talbot opens the door and we spill into the classroom. It’s covered in streamers and posters. There are even soccer balls rolling around on the floor.
‘Take your seats, everyone,’ he says. ‘I’ve got an announcement to make.’
My butt hits my chair so quickly it sends a jolt up my spine. Emily takes her seat beside me and I squeeze her hand.
‘Ouch, Grace!’ she says. ‘You’re stronger than you realise.’
Mr Talbot does a mock drumroll on his desk with his palms. ‘The best soccer team in the world, the Newcastle Jets, has come to me with an amazing opportunity.’
I start sweating. I’m breathing hard and fast. I may hyperventilate.
‘They’re looking for six students to perform during half-time at Newcastle Stadium when they play Manchester United,’ he says. ‘So, I’m organising tryouts for anyone who wants to during lunchtime this Friday.’
Emily slaps me on the back. ‘You’re in, Grace! You’re the best player in the whole school!’
I can’t believe my luck. Could it really be so easy?
I throw my hand up.
‘Yes, Grace?’ Mr Talbot asks.
I stutter as I try to get my words out. ‘I’m just…I’m…so excited…so…just wondering…’
Mr Talbot waits patiently until I get myself together.
‘If we are chosen,’ I blurt, ‘can we bring our families along?’
I cross my fingers as Mr Talbot
scans his notes. ‘Yes,’ he says at last. ‘You’ll receive a family pass.’
I knock over our desk as I jump into the air. I bounce so high, the ceiling fan skims the top of my hair.
I missed out on my first two chances for tickets, and now I’ve got a third. This won’t be a case of three strikes and out. It’s all up to me.
This should be a blast – literally.
Bella, Emily and I are sitting with Yiayia in the school playground.
We’re waiting for Chloe to present her science project to an audience of at least fifty parents, teachers and other fifth-graders.
‘I hope my granddaughter does not get into trouble for this,’ Yiayia says.
I giggle and point to Mr Ashton. ‘I guess it depends on him.’
Mr Ashton introduces himself to the crowd. ‘Welcome to this special event,’ he says. ‘To begin the school year we’re showing off the unique skills and passions of our students.’
Bella and Emily groan. Mr Ashton is absolutely clueless.
‘First up we have the very great pleasure of meeting some of our top scientists, then we’ll move on to other areas such as geography, mathematics and even fashion design,’ he says. ‘Let’s give them a round of applause.’
The audience claps and I lean into Bella. ‘What are you going to do when it’s your turn?’
‘Show the class what I’ve designed for Svetlana,’ she says. ‘And I’m taking it along on Saturday, even though Donatella What’s-her-name has already designed an outfit.’
Chloe, two other girls and four boys line up in front of us.
The other girls are holding small bottles, the boys have rockets, and Chloe is standing by a large crate with a sheet draped over it.
‘I’ve had a peek at some of these projects,’ Mr Ashton says. ‘But not all of them. So even I’m in for a treat today. Let’s start with you, Matt.’
Matt steps forward with his rocket. ‘Well, it’s made from a drinking straw, paper and sticky tape,’ he says. ‘I rolled the paper around the straw, folded the top down and stuck it with tape. Then I pulled the straw out.’
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