Brave New Girl (8 page)

“You saved my life!” The woman said to the driver. She was out of breath and pink in the face. “Thank you so much!”

“What is going on in that place now?” the driver said. “A mother's meeting?”

“No.” The woman was still a bit out of breath. “It's mother and baby films. It's great!”

“What, like
Finding Nemo
or
Toy Story
or something?” asked the driver.

“No,
Kill Bill
,” the woman said and went to sit down. The bus driver's face was a picture.

I knew what she meant. They had a mother-and-baby screening, where mums could come and bring
their tiny babies, and they could just feed them or hold them while they watched a film.

The bus stopped at the lights, and suddenly I had an idea. I thought that Dad could do a special for the mums and babies.

What if Dad laid on tea and cake, and someone like me or Sasha – not Nene – could keep an eye on the babies while they chat? I happened to know, from years of research of course, that the only thing mums like more than cake is chat. Maybe that would help. Keith knew everyone at the cinema by their first name, he was bound to have a number I could pass on. Dad could talk to them, or I could ask at Film Club. It was worth a try.

The bus swished past the shopping centre, where there was a brand new banner flapping in the wind: LONDON 2012 WELCOMES THE WORLD! it said.

Now I had more bad news. I sighed, so the glass of the window fogged up in front of my mouth. I didn't care about the world, I just wanted Sasha to welcome me. How was I going to manage that?

“Once I've signed this out for you, Keith, this camera becomes your responsibilty, for the whole week,” Miss Tunks said.

It was lunchtime, and me and Keith were in the Drama office. I was furthest away from the desk, backed into a shelf of multiple copies of
A Midsummer Night's Dream
.

“Yes, Miss Tunks.” Keith nodded and cradled the camera in his hand as if it was a silver, metallic kitten. I wouldn't have been surprised if it had started purring.

“You know how it all works?” she said.

“Yes, Miss Tunks.”

“And you'll be using your own memory stick?”

“Yes, Miss Tunks.” Keith flicked the camera on and flipped out the viewing screen.

I had to admit it did look dinky and flashy and very, very lush.

Miss Tunks must have seen the look on my face. “And as it's signed out in your name, Keith, that means
you
will be the one using it and carrying it at all times.”

“Yes, Miss Tunks.”

“And not any persons round here with a talent for falling over...” She looked straight at me and I looked away. That woman would never let me forget the Christmas show.

“Right.” Miss Tunks picked up the mug from her desk and took a sip. It read STAR in red letters. “I'll give you the key for the costume cupboard, Keith, make sure you lock up and give it back to me after lessons. I'll be in the staffroom. I'm sure it'll go well. You've got a great eye, don't forget that.”

“No, Miss Tunks,” Keith said, smiling, and she shooed us out.

Out in the corridor I mimicked, “No, Miss Tunks!” over and over until Keith had to push me to make me shut up.

“That is so why she likes you!” I said. “Three bags full, Miss Tunks...”

“Yeah. But I got the camera, didn't I?” He patted
his bag. “And I got the key to the costume cupboard.” He twirled the key on its fat, plastic key-fob.

On the other side of the corridor, I saw Fay and some of Sasha's mates. They looked knives at me, but since they'd been doing that for the past three days it was starting to feel like normal.

“Have you told Sasha about her job yet?” Keith asked.

“Sort of,” I said. “It's hard when she's not talking to me. At all.”

“Seren!” Keith sighed. “You really don't do yourself any favours. The quicker it's done...”

“I wrote her a note,” I said.

Keith looked at me and his face told me I was the biggest idiot in the whole school.

“There was nothing else I could do! She's never in the same space as me for more than a few seconds and if I so much as try to talk to her she looks away, moves away.”

“You should have got your dad to do it.”

“I wish! He's too much of a soft touch. That's his whole problem.” I thought of Nene. “I was going to text her but that seemed a bit harsh. So I wrote her a note. I stuck it in her locker this morning. I expect she's read it by now.”

I could still feel the Year Elevens staring as Keith opened the door to the costume cupboard, which was under the main stairs and next to the stage. It was bigger than an actual cupboard but not much, and it stank of old sweat and stale make-up. On either side were metal clothes-rails thick with floor-length dresses, cloaks and funny trousers, and on the floor were black bin-liners, marked with labels written in fat marker on sticky tape. One read TOGAS, another, OLIVER.

Me and Keith each took a rail, and started to look through it. Sometimes a heavy waft of stale sweat and old deodorant seemed to puff out of the clothes as if they were alive. “This is rank,” I said, passing a mothy old velvet doublet and moving on past a Victorian crinoline, made out of what looked like net curtains. “You have to admit it does stink like someone's old armpits in here.”

Keith breathed huffily. “We need to find something for Miranda.”

“But you said earlier you wanted your Miranda to look ordinary,” I said. I pulled out a Medieval dress complete with pointy hat and veil. “Like this, maybe?”

Keith rolled his eyes. “No! More ordinary, well, not
completely ordinary, out of the ordinary. You've got to stand out. You're not going to be saying anything so you've got to look different, exceptional....”

“Yeah, and not like some Turkish-English giant girl who likes her cake.”

“You are so not fat!” Keith snapped. “Girls!” He pushed his glasses back up his nose. “It's because you are tall that you can wear anything,” he said.

“Who are you all of a sudden? Gok Wan?”

“Seren!”

“Sorry.” Christina had used that one on him so often it had got very stale.

“There's nothing here!” Keith leant against the wall and crossed his arms.

“We'll find something,” I said.

“Miranda is supposed to be this girl who is trapped...” Keith sighed.

I opened a bag that said BUGSY MALONE. There was a twenties flapper dress which was cream-coloured and fringy. Shazna had worn something like it for the Christmas show, and I remembered being dead jealous. I looked at the flapper dress. Shazna's had been much prettier, more delicate. I closed the BUGSY MALONE bag and rummaged through the other black bin-liners: LEOTARDS, PANTOMIME
HORSE. Suddenly, there it was. GROVE END'S GOT TALENT. That was it, last Christmas. I pulled the bag open and looked inside. There was the mermaid's tail some girl in Year Nine had worn, a cat mask and a Superman outfit. I dug down deeper, touched something silky near the bottom and pulled.

There was the dress. I looked at it for a long minute, remembering the rehearsals we'd had all through November, me, Christina and Shazna. I thought it would be just me and Christina at first, but ever since the start of the autumn term things had been different. It hadn't been me and Chris any more, she hadn't been Chris any more. She had become Christina and it was always three of us, Shazna was always there.

Shazna hated Keith, she said he was a total weirdo just because he was a boy who talked to girls. I should have realised then just how bad things were. I still thought we could all be mates.

I even smiled, thinking about the time I suggested Shazna take the lead in the dance routine we'd worked out, watching her and Christina, and gradually realising, as December rolled round, that they didn't want me in it at all. Why didn't I take the hint? I shivered and closed my eyes. Because I had done all the work, sorted out the moves – everything.

I remembered standing on our school stage, looking like some kind of giant next to Shazna and Christina, grinning like an idiot, so happy to be up on stage. So excited to be there in the dark of the hall, the curtains pulled tight so the afternoon light wouldn't sneak through. There was a sudden rushing in my ears and I thought I would be sick if I remembered any more.

I snapped my eyes open and looked at the dress. I took deep breaths to make the vomity feeling go away, and forced myself to concentrate on here and now.

The dress was pale grey with silver sequins and fringing, that moved and rippled like water. I had wanted to wear this so much. Shazna got it because she was smaller than me, and to be honest it wasn't long enough to be a dress on me. I took my school jumper off and put the dress on over my shirt and school trousers. It was more of a tunic top on me. “What d'you think?” I said.

Keith got out the camera and flipped down the viewing screen. I pulled my best Kate Moss faces at him.

Keith looked at me seriously. He nodded his head. “You know what, Seren, maybe that's it....” He looked
back at the flipped-down screen and smiled.

There was a high-pitched bleeping noise from the camera. “Dammit!”

“What's happened?”

“Dunno. I'll just pop back and see if I can find Miss Tunks. I won't be a sec.”

After Keith had gone, I found a mirror behind one of the clothes rails and admired myself a bit. I did love this dress. I was mid-admire when the door flew open.

“Did she sort it?” I said, looking round.

But it wasn't Keith.

Standing in the open doorway was Sasha. For a tiny nano-second I thought she had come to find me to make everything up. We would be friends again. Or if not friends, then sisters.

“Fay said you were sneaking around in here.” The tone of her voice made it obvious I had been wrong. And she wasn't alone. I could see Fay behind her, smiling.

“I'm not sneaking,” I said. I stood up. The fringes of the dress rustled. Fay sniggered and I realised it wasn't just Sasha and Fay. There were others too, at least three or four.

One of them said, “What is she wearing?” And
I backed away into the dark. Sasha stepped forward into the cupboard, and even though my instinct was to shrink back I still couldn't prevent the tiny seed of happiness I felt because Sasha had come and found me.

She took a crumpled piece of paper out of her bag. It was my letter. She had read it! She must understand now, mustn't she? I had written that Dad told me he'd had to let her go, that he didn't want to and that he was really sorry. That the café wasn't doing too well and it wasn't anything she'd done.

“I'm really sorry,” I said. “About the job.”

I realised Sasha was red in the face. The corners of her mouth were pulled down into a frown. There was practically steam coming out of her ears. The tiny speck of happiness fizzled away into nothing. Sasha was so angry she might explode.

“You!” She waved the letter at me. “You did this! I bet you did.”

I didn't get it. “Yes, I wrote it.” I said. “Dad was such a chicken he couldn't get the words out, well, you know what he's like.... Can we talk about this at home, Sash, you know, there's loads of people....” I was gabbling. Trying to calm things down, but I could feel my heartbeat racing away.

“You wish!” Fay said.

“I bet,” Sasha snarled. She took a deep breath. “I bet you put your dad up to this. I bet it was you who got him to sack me!”

“She must have,” Fay said. “S'obvious.”

“No, I never!” I was pleading. “Sash, I didn't!”

“I bet you went round there and told him to sack me! Are you doing my job now? Earning my money?”

I shook my head desperately. “No!”

“Well, you can tell him from me it was a stupid bloody job! A stupid bloody job!”

“It wasn't me, Sash! I would never do that! I wouldn't. Dad's losing money! He might have to shut down and move! It's not just about you!” I sighed. “He can't afford...”

“Don't give me that! Why did he give us that money? You know what? You don't know how much I hate that you're my sister!”

“Sasha?” I said. She was leaning towards me and I could feel the flecks of spit firing into my face.

Sasha's face had contorted. She looked like one of those stone things in old churches, all twisted up and almost crazy. “You screw up my social life! Did you know the whole year is laughing at me now? Did
you? Every day in school the whole year is laughing at me.”

“I never meant...”

“Shut up! And now this! Now my job!” She came closer so her head was almost touching mine and the door flapped shut. It felt as if I was trapped.

I was on the floor now, sitting on one of the bin-liners with Sasha shouting down at me, pointing her finger in my face, the hate streaming out of her. I turned away, I couldn't look into her eyes any more. I wanted the costume cupboard to swallow me up into its smelly darkness.