by Ann Bryant
When the last model had done the third walk, the music rolled seamlessly into another piece for the finale that we’d practised in the last rehearsal. Some of the models had to quickly change back into outfits from the two previous categories, so that when we walked back out, in pairs and with our own designers this time, we were wearing a mishmash of outfits. I was happy because I was able to keep my aquamarine dress on. The choreography that Miss Pritchard had done was a total masterpiece, because it had been quite easy to learn and yet it looked stunning. Sometimes there were only three people on the catwalk, sometimes six, and so on, up to twenty-four, and we moved smoothly in and out of shapes and patterns in our threes, stopping for several seconds so that the audience could connect up the designers with the models. The crowd didn’t stop cheering and whistling and clapping from start to finish. At one point I had to pass Tansy, and she gave me the first real smile she’d ever given me. That was another lovely moment.
After the finale there was a fifteen-minute break while refreshments were served to the audience, and we got to sip sparkling mineral water and eat chocolates backstage, but we could only manage a thin little mint crisp or two because we were all so nervous waiting for the judges to make their decision. I’d never seen Elise looking so tense.
“Don’t talk to me, I’ve got a terrible headache,” she said dramatically at one point.
Miss Owen asked us all to set out chairs on the stage, so that when the curtains opened for the judges’ speeches we would be seated neatly with our designers. Lara squeezed Sophie’s and my hands as we sat down together, then whispered to us both, “Thank you for being the bestest of the bestest models!”
Then the audience was back in its seats and the chief judge stepped onto the stage to rapturous applause. She was a very elegant lady, who really was a lady – Lady Alexandra Cooling. Apparently she used to be a fashion designer before she retired. Lara said she was inspirational, and I’m sure she was, but I was more interested in peering out into the audience and trying to spot Mum and Dad. The bright lights were shining full in our faces because we were still on show, so it wasn’t easy to see, but I scanned every single row as far back as I could, looking for Mum’s gold and white headdress with the folds of white that fell into her wrap. I was expecting to see it at any moment, or Dad’s box-shaped golden headdress. But there was no sign of them. My parents simply weren’t there. My heart sank, and I realized I’d been looking forward to seeing them and making them proud, ever since Dad had told me he was relying on me and looking forward to seeing me on the catwalk. Then I told myself not to be silly. They were obviously sitting further back than I could see through the glaring lights.
As the television cameras rolled, Lady Alexandra started off by saying that she couldn’t understand how the standard at Silver Spires just got higher and higher every year. She praised the choreography, especially of the finale piece, and the overall organization, and then she went on to talk about the designers, going into quite a bit of detail on the three different categories, and explaining what she and the other two judges had been looking for.
“So now for the moment you’ve all been waiting for,” she eventually said. “First I’d like to present vouchers to the two runners-up. In third place…” She paused dramatically. “Elise Finnigan-White!” Everyone cheered. “And in second place…Charley Respighi! Please come up, girls.”
All eyes were on Charley and Elise as they went to get their vouchers, and I clapped and clapped along with everyone else. Elise shook Lady Alexandra’s hand first, and I caught a glimpse of her face as she flounced back to her place. She didn’t look at all happy and even rolled her eyes at Tansy as she sat down. Charley was smiling broadly and the audience rewarded her with an extra round of applause when she gave them a big enthusiastic wave.
“And now for our winner,” said Lady Alexandra.
Beside me, Lara flinched and looked down, and I suddenly desperately wanted her to be the winner, because she so deserved it. She’d worked harder than anyone and her outfits were amazing. But a little voice at the back of my mind was reminding me that Lady Alexandra had chosen two very flamboyant designers as the runners-up, and Lara’s outfits were probably just too simple.
“And so it is with great pleasure that I would like to present the first prize to…” My heart beat faster in the electric silence. “…Lara Hall!”
The sudden applause was deafening, and when Lara leaped to her feet, Sophie leaned over and gave me a big hug and kissed me on both cheeks. I clapped until my hands stung, and felt so happy for Lara. The brightest of spotlights shone on her as she shook Lady Alexandra’s hand, and the two of them stayed in their smiling pose as the audience rose to its feet and camera after camera flashed and flashed, and the video camera rolled.
At last the clapping faded and the spotlights dimmed as the house lights went up. Ms. Carmichael, the Head of Silver Spires, joined Lady Alexandra on the stage and gave her a big thank you. Then everyone crowded round and congratulated Lara, and the smile never left her face. I noticed Elise didn’t move out of her chair, but she sent a strong glare in my direction when she saw me looking at her. I quickly looked away and, for at least the tenth time that evening, I felt an enormous wave of relief that I’d changed to being Lara’s model.
A moment later I left the stage and met Katy and the others. They were full of hugs and excitement about what an amazing evening it had been, but my eyes were continually looking over their shoulders for Mum and Dad.
“Well done, darling!”
And there was Mum right by my side, with Dad smiling behind her, and I hadn’t even seen them coming over. Then I suddenly realized why. Neither of my parents was dressed in traditional African costume tonight. Both of them wore ordinary plain suits in dark colours.
Dad smiled and gave me the smallest of nods. I knew exactly what that nod meant. It was saying, Yes, we’re not wearing our traditional costume, we knew you wouldn’t want it. I felt a tightness in my throat. He knew more about my feelings than I’d thought. I introduced them to all my friends, starting with Katy, and they shook hands with each one, because that’s their way. When it came to Georgie, she actually curtsied, which made Mia giggle, but it was like a magnet to the television camera. Within seconds we were being filmed.
Then Miss Owen clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention and said she had an announcement to make. The chatter melted away as she began to talk about how the money raised was to go to a very important charity. My heart banged against my ribs. Miss Owen added that we didn’t have a grand total yet, but she knew that Just Water in Ghana would benefit enormously from our efforts, and we were proud to be supporting such a worthwhile charity. But nobody seemed all that interested, because they all went straight back to their conversations the moment they’d dutifully clapped.
“Very pleased to meet you,” said a man’s voice just behind me, and I turned to see someone shaking hands with Petra, while Elise stood nearby.
“Jolly good job! Well done!” he said to Petra. And I noticed she didn’t look quite so sulky now. In fact she was actually smiling at him. But with his next words the smile left her face abruptly.
“I expect Elise has told you, I’m a buyer with Topshop, so I know a thing or two about clothes!” He gave Petra a friendly smile, but she flicked round to Elise and gave her a daggers look. I felt sorry for Elise’s dad. How could he have known that Elise had made him out to be an important talent spotter instead of someone with the more ordinary job of buying clothes in to Topshop?
Katy and I exchanged a look, and then I realized that a man with a microphone was standing right beside me. “What does it feel like to be one of the models for the winning designer?” he asked me brightly.
I gulped and froze. What did it feel like? What was I supposed to say?
Then I got a shock, because Elise was suddenly right beside me, smiling away as though we were the best of friends. “Naomi is involved with the charity Just Water in Ghana. I actually c
hose the charity myself for the fashion show, because I knew how much it meant to Naomi,” she went on in her loud voice. “Naomi has a big attachment to Ghana.”
The man with the microphone thanked Elise, then turned to me. “So what exactly is your connection?”
I took a deep breath.
“She’s a Ghanaian princess,” came Elise’s bright voice beside me. She smiled right into the camera and I could tell she loved being in the limelight.
For a moment time seemed to stop, as a picture of Abina trudging to the well in the dark filled my mind. Somewhere back in the real world I heard a gasp. It sounded like Katy. She must have thought I’d be upset that Elise had made her announcement.
But I wasn’t. I was actually very calm. Because I knew it was okay to use my status for a good cause.
“Is that so?” asked the man, with a new brightness in his voice.
I looked at my father to see whether he wanted to speak about Just Water, but he took a step back, and that gave me my answer.
“Yes,” I said quietly to the man from the TV. “Yes, I am a princess.” Then I straightened up a little. I was ready to talk now. “I spent the half-term week in my country, learning about the work that Just Water do.”
I was vaguely aware that my voice seemed too strong, but then I realized it wasn’t me getting louder, it was the hall growing quieter, and my next words were spoken into a deep silence as all eyes turned on me. I noticed Poppy, surrounded by her friends, staring at me mockingly, but I didn’t feel nervous. I wasn’t on a catwalk now, fighting the terror of the spotlight, or even letting myself enjoy the brief feeling of rightness I’d had. I was talking about the most important thing in my life, and my voice didn’t shake, because it was peaceful inside my head.
“In the north of Ghana, where the water is dirty and dangerous, there’s a disease called Guinea worm. The worm grows inside you, up to a metre long, and eventually breaks through your skin.” I heard the audience gasp in horror and, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Poppy clap her hand to her mouth in shock. The mocking look had left her face now. I carried on talking. “I’ve seen that sight, and I’ve seen the pain on the faces of the poor suffering people.” I paused to let that sink in, then I carried on, raising my voice slightly. “Look around you. How lucky we all are, gathered here in our beautiful clothes, not one of us more than fifty metres away from clean safe water. And now picture a girl I met called Abina. She and I are the same age. She gets up at five every morning and walks for miles to try and find water. But it’s cloudy with mud, even when she’s patiently waited for hours and hours in the hope that it might clear a little.” I stopped and glanced around. Poppy and her friends were standing completely still, wide eyes staring out of serious faces. “I want to help Abina. That’s why I’m so glad I’ve had the chance to be involved in this fashion show. The money we raise tonight will go towards digging wells and installing pumps so that the water is no longer contaminated and the awful disease will gradually be stamped out.”
Suddenly I felt exhausted, but there were four more words that needed to be said. I looked at Poppy and the others as I spoke them. “I hope you understand.”
Then my mum was hugging me and I was happy that I could bury my face in her shoulder and not have to face anyone for a few seconds. She was patting my back as she used to when I was a little girl, and I had to fight back tears, especially as I’d noticed Miss Carol close by, wearing such a proud look.
It was Poppy’s voice that made me finally look up.
“I didn’t know princesses did that kind of work, Naomi. I just…didn’t realize…”
I could hardly speak, I felt so choked. I’d seen something in Poppy’s eyes that I’d never seen before. Respect. And that meant so much to me.
“Well done,” Dad said quietly, with a nod to show he approved of my speech. He didn’t go in for hugs and kisses, my dad, but I could still tell how pleased he was with me.
“Excuse me, Your Majesty,” said Georgie, taking a step forward and looking at Dad nervously.
He gave her a kind smile. “My dear, ‘Mr. Okanta’ is fine.”
Georgie nodded, wide-eyed. “Er…right. I was just wondering why you didn’t come in traditional costume tonight, er, Mr. Okanta?”
“Well,” replied my dad, stroking his chin thoughtfully as he glanced first at Miss Carol, then at me, “sometimes we have to let go of our principles in order not to let people down.”
I bit my lip and swallowed.
“Your father and I had quite a chat in the interval, Naomi!” Miss Carol said with a twinkle in her eye. “And well done, by the way…not just for being a brilliant model, but simply for being a model. Good decision.”
Katy gave me a hug. “The best!” she said.
And I hugged her back really tightly, not even caring that the television camera was still on us. I was here with my friends and my family and I was surely the luckiest and happiest girl in the world.
School Friends Fun!
Although I was nervous about strutting my stuff on the catwalk, modelling in the fashion show was not only exciting, but, more importantly, it helped raise money for a great cause! There are so many ways to get involved with deserving charities and have tons of fun with your friends at the same time – here are a few ideas to inspire you!
How to make fund-raising fun!
School is a great place to hold fab fund-raisers, because there are lots of people to support your event. Getting your whole school involved means getting your teachers on board first, but it’s worth it! Here’s what to do:
* First you need to choose your charity. Think about issues that are important to you, and do your research. Most charities will have their own website – you’ll be able to find out if they’re running any events you can join in with, and where you should send any money you raise.
* Have a non-school-uniform day and ask everyone to pay to wear their own clothes to school. Not only will you raise money for charity, but you’ll also get a day off from wearing uniform! If you’re really brave, you could even have a fancy-dress day. Just make sure your teachers approve the idea first.
* Hold a bring-and-buy sale! It’s ideal for getting rid of your old clothes, books and CDs, whilst also giving you the chance to bag some bargains of your own! You could even cook up some yummy cakes and treats to sell on the day – shopping always works up an appetite.
* Why not run a cool quiz, or even a talent contest? You can charge everyone a small entry fee to raise money, and discover your friends’ weird and wonderful abilities into the bargain. Let the entertainment begin!
So what are you waiting for? Grab your friends and have some School Friends fun!
Now turn the page for a sneak preview of the next unmissable School Friends story…
Chapter One
“That’s coming on nicely, Jess.”
I jumped a mile at the sound of Mr. Cary’s voice because I’d been in a world of my own, blending shapes and patterns in a collage. It was my favourite lesson of the week: art. With my favourite teacher.
Mr. Cary and I both laughed at the way he’d given me such a shock.
“Sorry, Jess, I forget how absorbed you always get! I’ll cough or something to warn you I’m approaching in future.” He leaned forward and studied my picture carefully, then took a step back and nodded to himself. “Hmm. I like the shape that’s emerging through the colours of the collage.”
I frowned at my picture because I didn’t get what Mr. Cary meant. I hadn’t intended there to be any shape.
“Look,” he said, seeing the puzzled look on my face, as his finger drew a line in the air just above the painting. “It’s a shoe!”
“Oh wow! So it is!”
“Let’s have a look,” said my best friend, Grace, coming over from her easel. “Yes, it’s a trainer!” she said, smiling to herself. “I think it’s one of mine!”
I grinned at her. Some people wonder why she and I are best friends when we don’t seem to ha
ve anything in common. You see, Grace is the most talented girl in Year Seven at sport and she’s really good at most other subjects too, whereas I’m no good at anything except art. But Grace is a very sensitive person so she understands what it is I love about art, and when I show her stuff I’ve done, she doesn’t just say, Oh yes, very nice. She asks questions and tries to see what I see. And that’s lovely for me because, apart from Mr. Cary, Grace is the only person in my entire life who really understands me.
“Are you getting ideas for the art exhibition, Jess?” she asked me, her eyes all sparkly. Grace is from Thailand and when she smiles she’s so pretty. Her whole face kind of crinkles and lights up.
“Just what I was about to ask, Grace!” said Mr. Cary. “I’m looking forward to seeing what you come up with for the exhibition, Jess.” He smiled. “Remember, you don’t have to limit your work to a painting. Or even to craftwork. Last year we had sculptures, pottery, silk screening, installation art—”
“Installation art?” said Georgie, bouncing over with a paintbrush in her hand.
“Georgie, you’re dripping!” said Mr. Cary, pretending to be cross, even though everyone knows that Mr. Cary never really gets cross. None of the art teachers do. That’s one of the lovely things about art – there’s no need for crossness. There’s no right or wrong. No horrible words. Just lovely, lovely pictures, and everyone simply slides into the magical world of whatever they’re creating.
For me personally, I really feel the magic. I’ve always felt it, ever since I was four, moulding a ball of Play-Doh into an elephant at nursery. I can still remember the excitement I felt as I made two thin plate shapes for the elephant’s ears. I was having a little competition with myself to see if I could make the whole elephant without tearing any bits off the dough and sticking them back on again. I was trying to just keep moulding away, teasing out the legs and the trunk and the ears and the tail until the blob of dough turned into an elephant.