Fanmail (16 page)

Jason Devaney

c/o Stephen Scowl

Talentfactory

PO Box 47863

London SW19 8DR

Hi Jason,

How are you doing? How are you BOTH doing, if you get my drift? I suppose you … um …
found
yourself and you’re now being doubly annoying and twice as naked?

Anyway, I thought I’d drop you a line to say thank you. I know I could email you now or even text, but this is how we’ve chatted so far and I kind of like it. Also I am still unsure about people spying on emails etc so this is probably safer. Don’t want to be a Cat-Astrophe all over the internet again.

So thank you for contacting Gemma. I’m not sure why you did it but she turned up at our house and it was AMAZING! She’s funny and beautiful and rude to me just like big step-sisters are meant to be. She also has her own flat so I can go and stay with her sometimes (which will be useful when I want to escape my new evil step-sister, the Perfectly Lovely Aggie).

Also thank you for unknowingly being part of my plot to separate my biffle (Gorgeous Dolores that I told you about) and Freddie who I was hugely crushing on, if you remember? Chemical reactions all over the place. Messy.

They’re now going out together so my plan didn’t work, and even though Double D and I made up and are still BFFs it kind of hurts to see them together.

The other thing is that Dolores only has so much spare time what with working for the Bigger Boobed, and now she spends half of it with Freddie, so it’s a bit lonely. Not so lonely I’d consider double dating, though, ever again in my ever, ever life. Ho hum. GCSEs soon, so I’ll be too busy to worry about it, and now I can always sneak off to see Gems.

So finally, I think I should say thank you for not being as truly awful as I first thought and even letting me weep on you, for Stephen’s sake (Hawking). I sincerely hope your bulgy bicep and leather jacket have recovered. As I won’t be seeing you again now, I guess, I’d just like to wish you all the best trying to control … you know, your
alter ego
… and all those millions of screaming girls in lerrrrrv with you. Must get tiresome.

It was fun getting to know you, Jason, in a weird and unexpected way. I’m kind of sorry we weren’t actually at the same school. I might even have talked to yo
u
.

Bye,

Cat x

Aka Catherine Melissa Andrews which you very cleverly remembered in full
xx

Aka Melissa Mayhem (which I’ve invented like your Divine Jazzy D name, seeing as my life has been largely chaos for the last few weeks).
xxx

Aka your actual friend and penpal, not just friended on Facebook.
Xxx (too many kisses, sorry, don’t know what got into me there)

The few weeks after Dolores and Freddie got together felt like sleep-walking. Nightmare-walking, actually, what with having to see them together. Even though Dolores did her very utmost best to make sure I never actually caught them holding hands or anything R, V-W or UU, it was still obvious that they’d just sprang apart, or couldn’t wait to spring back together whenever I walked in on them. What was even worse was the embarrassment at knowing my friend and my CRY must have had a chat about me and how not to upset me, so there was no longer any doubt that Freddie knew that I knew that he knew I liked him, and him being nice about it felt pretty much the same as him pitying me for it, and that was just evil to put up with.

Still, put up with it I did, AND boring dinners with Mum and Dean and Aggie where we all joked about Numpty Naked Jazzy and I didn’t bother putting them straight about the real Jason Devaney and how he was actually very smart. And kind. And able to laugh at himself. And, all things considered, pretty talented in the musical department. Muscly. Handsome. Tousled in the hair department and not at all bothered about it. Fond of his parents and missing his dead dad etcetera …

I talked to Gemma about him a little, as she would keep on asking about him. Had I spoken to him? No. Was I going to speak to him? No. Had I thanked him for g
etting hold of her? Yes. Was I going to thank him again? No. Didn’t I like him? Yes. No. Depends which version of him you mean. Of course, I didn’t bother explaining that one as very few people in the whole world would get it (Dean and a few Japanese investors, I was guessing) but she didn’t question it anyway, and instead starting grilling me about Aggie and how we were getting on.

This was all on our trip to Germany to see Dad, which was massively exciting and wonderful in itself as well as allowing me to practice my Deutsch (it was s
chrecklich, btw). Dad was just as I remembered him (which was not that surprising seeing as we did have lunch together last Christmas) and Gemma was beyond excited to have us all together again, and even Dad’s new girlfriend was very nice. And German. Which means I can practice my Deutsch on a real Deutsch person whenever I like.

Other than that, it was work work work as the exams got closer, which I didn’t mind at all, even though it was harder than usual as I couldn’t seem to keep my mind on the subject in hand. Quite often, I’d find myself staring out of the bedroom window instead of concentrating. Occasionally I went down to the shed to smell the slugs.
Sometimes I was literally so bored and dismal that I went online to see what Double Vision were up to. Preparing to be special guests at the music awards, apparently. And recording an album. And practicing their dances for YouTube (and when I say dances, I mean synchronised pec twitches and more games of organised leap-frog).

It wasn’t like me at all.
Had to be sickness. Depression? I could only think that the surges of serotonin and dopamine and the like that I’d had with the chemical reactioning of Freddie had left me feeling empty.

That’s how I felt, really. Empty.
Like there was nothing really happening.

Sleep-walking.

Then just as Mum had started flashing expressions of concern at me in the kitchen because I was being so quiet and sort of floppy, the weirdest thing happened.

I got a text from Jason.

‘JAZZY ON THE LOOSE. HEADING YOUR WAY. PLEASE INTERCEPT! JD x’

For some reason I stared at my mum, which set off all her alarm signals. ‘What’s wrong? Who’s that? What’s the matter? Talk to me, darling!’

‘Nothing’s wrong.’ I stuffed my phone in my pocket and smiled at her. ‘Wrong? Haha. Nothing is wrong at all. No. Not at all.’

‘Well, now you’re over-stating it so I know there’s something wrong.’

‘There really isn’t. It’s fine. I’ll see you later.’

‘Where are you going?’

‘Uh … school?’ I said, rolling my eyes.

‘It’s Saturday.’

Ah. Yes. Saturday, when Dolores helped others of her breed in the Double D club by providing them with sturdy underwear (she’d taken my perky bra back, on my insistence) and then hung out with Freddie. Euuggh. Saturday, when Gemma was always busy doing flat things (by which I mean things for the flat, not say, sheets or CDs) with Arlen. Saturday, when music awards were apparently happening that very evening with paparazzi everywhere …

… and Jazzy D was heading nakedly towards our house.

Okay, I couldn’t vouch for the nekkid part, but it was a strong chance given his previous form.

Mum was still staring at me, now with a wrinkly forehead.

‘I meant the library,’ I said quickly. ‘Exams soon.’

She seemed satisfied with that. ‘Okay. Don’t forget Dean and I are looking at hotels for the reception and sampling a few dinners, so I won’t be back until late.’ As she paused, I could already hear what she was
about to say. ‘I imagine Aggie…’

‘… is very, very busy. She’s got exams too.’

With a sigh, Mum studied my face for a moment and then shrugged. ‘You’re probably right. Shall I drop you at the library?’

‘Sure,’ I said, grabbing my bag. Actually I had no intention of going IN the actual library but it would get her well of
f the trail if muscly teen idols suddenly showed up in the begonias.

Twenty five minutes later, I was back at the house, actually humming to myself. Oo! This was exciting, and there hadn’t been any exciting in my life for ages – not since last time there was a teen idol in our garden, now I thought about it. In fact, since then everything had been pretty much dismally awful.

Time to text Jason back.

IS HE DRESSED?

WHAT?

DOES JAZZY HAVE CLOTHES? AND WHAT’S HE DOING? WHY’S HE COMING HERE?

WE HAD A
ROW AND HE’S COMING TO THE VORTEXICON.

Oh, sweet Dawkins, this was huge!!!
He was going to de-create himself. SO HE’S GOING TO THE LAB?

YES!
DON’T LET HIM, CAT. HE CAN’T DO THAT TO HIMSELF!

No, but there was a certain science genius who could help with a certain genetical process in a certain science genius’s soon-to-be step-dad’s Vortexicon machine
. This was all too much to text, so I just texted, ‘DON’T WORRY! I’LL HELP!’

Then I pocketed my phone again and called a cab, ignoring the insistent beeping in my jacket as I leapt into the taxi and started checking for si
ghtings of Jazzy D – naked or otherwise – anywhere in the vicinity.

‘Yes!’ I shouted aloud, as the first
YouTube posting of Jazzy D appeared, taken just outside the university campus. He was close, then.

‘Faster!’ I yelled at the taxi driver, who was already flicking anxious glances at me in the rear view mirror.

‘I’ll lose my licence if I go any faster, love,’ he said over his shoulder.

‘I’ll make you a new one!’ Okay, so maybe the Vortexicon power was going to my head a little bit.

At that point the driver must have decided I was obviously a complete nutter, as he screeched to a halt in the same layby that Mum had pulled up in, and not-so-politely asked me to get out. I threw some money at him and ran up the hillside, scanning the area madly for any sign of Jazzy D.

What I saw instead was the ramshackle dwelling of my future family, with the huge wooden door standing wide open.

Aggie was home alone, with a potentially naked Jazzy D.

Now I really ran.

I got to the door in record time, helped I’m sure by my very active hair wings, just in time to hear Aggie say in a rather trembly voice: ‘I really don’t know what you’re talking about, Divine Jazzy D.’

‘The machine!’ he was yelling. ‘The whirly machine!’

‘The … the washing machine?’

I burst into the lounge, heroic and brave. Not that I needed to be heroic and brave really – this was just a cloned naked idiot. ‘He means the Vortexicon,’ I said, as two heads whipped around in my direction.

‘Hi, Cat,’ drawled the cloned idiot.

Jazzy
was dressed, thank the stars, only in a tracksuit so white and shiny that I had to shield my eyes from the glare. ‘I almost preferred you naked,’ I said, then regretted it instantly as Doofus shrugged casually and started to strip. ‘Joking! Please keep your clothes on, Jazzy.’

‘Yes, please do,’ said Aggie, not altogether convincingly. Then she turned to me. ‘Cat – what’s going on?’

Did you ever have one of those moments that seem to last about forty minutes while you stare at someone and at the same time in your head you run through a whole list of pros and cons of telling the truth versus making up something new? This was one of them.

(
Like:

Pros of telling the truth –

I wouldn’t be the only person in the entire world who knew there were two Jazzy D’s – the plainer original and the embellished but dumb-as-a-brick copy. Aggie could help me de-create him. I could finally explain all the nonsense in the dining room.

Cons of telling the truth –

Aggie might not believe me. She would think me mad. She might tell my mother.

Pros of making up more lies –

Oh, for Pete’s sake, can I really be bothered to even think of pros for lies? But the biggest one is I don’t have to tell the truth.

Cons of making up more lies –

Takes more brain power than I currently have. Jazzy would have to agree with everything I say. Jazzy is a not-naked idiot.)

On the whole, it wasn’t a huge debate, and the decision was made very much easier by the sudden realisation that Aggie was the daughter of a world-renowned geneticist, who knew he had in his laboratory just over the road a very exciting piece of equipment that could do amazing things. More amazing than even he knew.

So I plumped for TRUTH.

‘Aggie, Jazzy here is not the real Jason Devaney. Jason Devaney is currently preparing for tonight’s music awards and is texting me right now.’ I held up my phone. 23 unread text messages. ‘This Jazzy is a double, or probably better to call him a clone, that was created in the Vortexicon in Dean’s lab.’

‘You’re kidding,’ said Aggie, not unreasonably.

‘Nope. All true.’

Jazzy just smiled amiably, glancing between the two of us and nodding at intervals as he practiced a little dance routine aro
und the room. It involved a fair bit of jumping over the sofa.

‘But how …’

‘It was the collar. Remember when Dolores ripped Jason’s collar off?’ It was quite strange that now I knew the actual Jason, I could no longer call him Jazzy or Divine or anything other than his proper name. ‘Well, I had a piece of it with me when I met you and Mum in the Vortexicon. I left it there by accident, and then Jazzy appeared. By accident.’

‘That’s where I was born,’ drawled Jazzy. ‘In the Fort Oxygen. Jason explained it to me,’ he said when I turned to him in astonishment.

Aggie, meanwhile, was as mute as the waxy man with her hand over her mouth. ‘Does … does my dad know?’ she finally managed to stammer.

‘No. Not yet. I’m not sure he ever should, to be honest.’
That was a whole different discussion for when there was much, much more time. ‘For now, there’s work to do.’

Right then, Aggie seemed to pull herself together. ‘Okay then. What are we doing?’

I was about to protest that
we
weren’t doing anything, that I was going to de-create Jazzy and go home as if nothing had happened, but then I remembered how useful Aggie could be. ‘Have you got keys to the lab?’

Aggie thought for a moment, then raised a finger. ‘The emergency stash! Dad keeps spare keys here in case there’s a fire or anything.’ She dragged a black metal box out from under a floorboard, and hauled out a jailor’s set of keys.

‘And is your dad’s car here?’

‘In the garage.’

The car would stop us being noticed, hopefully. I put a hand on Jazzy’s shoulder to stop him bouncing around the room, and spoke directly into his face as if to a toddler. ‘Jazzy, we’re going to the lab now.’

‘Great!’ he said, winking at Aggie who still swooned even though she knew he was a Fake Jason. ‘Soon there’ll be lots of us.’

‘Yes, soon there’ll be … what?’

No no no no no. That wasn’t the plan at all.

‘Jason said I wasn’t quite ready for the band, so I said, Dude, I’m gonna make my own band, in the Fort Oxygen.’ He struck some kind of Divvy pose in the mirror and then nodded at his reflection as if to say, yeah, see you in a minute.

‘Holy crap,’ screamed Aggie, and in the circumstances it seemed like the right thing to say. ‘We can’t do that!’

‘No no no no no. We’re going to …’ I dropped my voice to a whisper. ‘… de-create him.’

‘How?’

Good lord, what was it with this girl and her sensibleness? ‘I don’t know exactly. Put the machine in reverse. That’s bound to shrivel him up, or something.’

That time I forgot to whisper. Jazzy spun round. ‘You’re not shrivelling me up. We’re going to make more of me. Yeah.’