Phoebe Finds Her Voice (3 page)

I grabbed Dad's hand and tried to turn back towards the door, but unfortunately Miss Howell came straight over to us before I could make a run for it. She looked amazing. She dyes her hair a different colour practically every week and it was jet black with bright yellow tips, sticking up like the spikes on a hedgehog.

“Phoebe, hi, it's
so
great to see you. Come and stand over here with me in the circle, we're just about to start some warm-up games. Oh, and Mr. Franks, if you could fill out a form – they're in a pile over there on the piano – that would be great.”

I had a quick look round. There were loads of children, all talking and messing about – some from Woodville and some from other schools. The hall itself was pretty ordinary. I'd half expected it to look like a proper theatre with special lights and fancy seats and stuff but it wasn't like that at all. At one end there was a huge, wooden stage with heavy-looking, blue velvet curtains. Then just in front of the stage there was an ancient piano that looked as if it was about to collapse at any moment, but apart from that and a stack of chairs it was empty.

I stood next to Miss Howell in the circle but kept my eyes fixed firmly on Dad filling out the form. I was trapped in a room with Polly Carter and I didn't know what to do. I stared at Dad's back, trying desperately to communicate telepathically that I wanted him to take me home. But it didn't work. Of course it didn't. I mean we don't even communicate
non
-telepathically these days.

He finished the form in double quick time, mouthed “
see you later
” and disappeared through the double doors. I stood totally still to stop myself from running straight after him. Tara Perkins from my class was standing next to me in the circle.

“I didn't know you were coming, Phoebe,” she said, peering at me through her little round glasses.

“Nor did I actually, Tara,” I felt like saying. “Not until Donny Dallesio more or less tricked me into joining.” But of course I didn't say that at all, I just gave her one of my best twisted-up smiles and mumbled, “Hi.”

Ellie waved at me from the other side of the circle. She was wearing a new top and her thick, glossy hair was dead straight like she'd used straighteners on it. Sam was next to her and she was wearing exactly the same top. In fact, even though Sam's hair is blonde and curly and Ellie's is dark brown, they looked like clones or something – standing there like that in their matching tops.

Next to Ellie on her other side was a boy with sticking-up red hair – not ginger, but bright red like a postbox. My heart started to thud. I looked away and then looked back. It couldn't be.
It couldn't
. But even with his hair dyed that ridiculous colour, I knew it was: Montgomery Brown, also known as Monty B, my ex-next-door-neighbour and Most Irritating Person Ever.

Monty B lived next door to us for years; I think I was only four when he moved in. He used to call me Frankie and he was over at ours all the time like he thought we were best friends.

He grinned at me across the circle but I looked away, my face burning up. He moved out of our road about two years ago, and I don't even know why but seeing him here after so long was more embarrassing than anything.

“Before we get started,” Miss Howell was saying, “I want to have a little chat with you about Star Makers, and about what I'm hoping we can achieve here.” She looked at each one of us around the circle.

“Star Makers is
not
about being the best or getting the biggest parts,” she said, serious for a moment. “Star Makers is all about being part of a group; a special group, where everyone is important and everyone has their moment to shine.”

“But some people will get big parts, won't they?” Sam called out.

“Of course some people will have bigger parts than others, Sam, but as each of you grows in confidence, over time, your turn to have the biggest part will come.”

Sam looked a bit disappointed. She probably thought she was going to get the biggest part every time.

“Now let's start with some name games,” said Miss Howell. “Oh, and talking of names, I'd really like the children who go to Woodville to call me Mandy while we're at drama.”

“That will be so weird, won't it?” whispered Tara. “Calling Miss Howell, Mandy.”

But I couldn't answer. I was too busy working out how I was going to escape – from Polly Carter
and
Monty B.

“We're going to go round the circle and when it gets to your turn I want you to say your name and do an action at the same time,” said Miss Howell. “It can be any sort of action you feel like: a clap, a stamp, a kick, anything at all – and then everyone else will repeat that person's name and copy the action.”

Say my name? Do an action?
In front of strange people?!
I really had to get out of there and fast.

“Oh, can I start, Mandy?” Sam called out, but before Miss Howell could even answer she kicked one of her legs high up into the air and shouted, “I'm Sam, yes I am!” like she was a Dr. Seuss character or something. Ellie was next. She said her name and then burst into giggles, so everyone said her name and giggled back. Then it was Monty B's turn. He yelled “Monty B!” did a flying cartwheel right across the circle and landed in a heap at my feet.

I couldn't tell you what anyone else did after that. I desperately wanted to make a run for it, but I knew that if I moved or spoke or even breathed something horrible would happen.

As Tara Perkins finished her go twenty pairs of eyes turned towards me like deadly lasers and I wished more than anything that I
could
drop dead – or magic myself back home with Mum. I didn't think I was going to say or do anything at all. I was pretty sure that even if I tried to speak no sound would come out of my mouth.

But then something clicked in my head like an invisible switch turning on and this picture of Donny appeared, as clear as if he was standing right in front of me. He was grinning wildly and doing a double thumbs up just like in my poster – and before I could even think about what I was going to do next, I said “
Phoebe Franks
” in the tiniest whisper – I doubt anyone even heard it – and
I
did a double thumbs up.

For a minute I couldn't believe I'd spoken out loud. Maybe I'd imagined the whole thing, like in my bedroom. But then everyone else shouted out “
Phoebe Franks!
” and did a double thumbs up, and the game carried on around the circle. I wiped my sweaty palms on the back of my jeans, said a silent
thank you
to Donny and breathed again.

When the circle games were finished, Miss Howell asked us to walk around the hall using all the available space. I tried to stay as near to Ellie as I could without making it obvious. But she kept changing direction and she was walking so fast she was almost running, so it was more or less impossible for me to keep up with her.

In the end I gave up and walked around by myself. I was just thinking about how much I wanted to go home and about how amazing it was that one measly morning could somehow seem like a whole entire week, when Polly Carter walked past me with two of her mates from school.

“
All right, Phoebe Franks,
” she said, sarcastically, giving me a thumbs up. She looked back at her friends sniggering, but before I could answer – or stick my thumb in her eye – Miss Howell shouted “Freeze!”

“Right, guys, get into groups of four with whoever you're standing closest to,” she called out from the front. “And I don't want to see anyone running across the hall to be with their friends!”

Of course Ellie was nowhere in sight, and I wasn't about to go with Polly, so I shuffled over to Tara from my class – at least she was someone I knew. Then this really funny girl called Neesha who lives in Ellie's road came over – and so did Monty B.

“Hey, Frankie,” he said, lifting his hand up for a high five.

I looked at him, horrified. “Don't call me Frankie here,” I hissed. “And why on earth is your hair bright red?”

His face lit up as if I'd paid him a massive compliment or something. “Oh, it was kind of like a dare that went wrong,” he said. “I thought it would wash out but I bought the wrong stuff and it turns out it was permanent. My dad hit the roof big time – but Mum said it was an expression of my individuality – you know what she's like.”

“
An expression of your individuality
?” snorted Neesha, rolling her eyes and grinning at me. “What are you – a traffic light?”

“Very funny, Neesha. But did you know that, statistically speaking, people with red hair are more likely to succeed than people with brown hair like yours?”

“So you'll be a really successful traffic light!” said Neesha. “Congratulations.”

I sneaked a look at Monty B while they were talking, but he caught me peeking and winked at me. I couldn't believe he was the same annoying little boy I used to ride my bike with, and roll down the hill in the park with, and do other horribly embarrassing things that I didn't even want to think about.

We did loads more games in our groups, had a quick break, and then Miss Howell called us over to the piano to teach us a song.

“The auditions for
The Dream Factory
will actually be next Saturday,” she said, handing round some sheets with the words on. “I know it doesn't give you much time to prepare but we're going to be performing the show in February, so I'd really like to get going. This is the song I want you to learn for the singing audition. It's…”

“Oh, I just
love
auditions,” cried Sam. “I did this audition once and I was nearly chosen to be on telly. It was
so
amazing.”

Personally I couldn't see what was so great about
nearly
being chosen to be on telly, but then Sam has this way of making everything she does sound like it's
so
amazing.

“It's sung by Sabine right at the beginning of the show,” Miss Howell went on, giving Sam a look. “Sabine is one of the main characters. She lives in the factory with the Sweet-Dreamers, who make all our
sweet
dreams, and the Jelly-Skulls, who make all our nightmares. Her parents, Baron-Von-Bolt and Ice Bomb, run the factory and they're really cruel to her. They treat her like a servant – kind of like Cinderella – so this song is all about how wretched her life is.”

Name games and thumbs up and audition songs – I didn't know what I was doing there, or why I ever thought I was the sort of person who could join a drama club, let alone audition for a part in a show. Talk about nightmares and wretched lives. There was no way I was going to come back – not in a million years.

But then Miss Howell started to play Sabine's song on the piano and, by the time she'd played it through twice, all that other stuff had flown straight out of my head. I don't even know why, or how, or what happened, but it was as if Sabine's song had cast a spell over me.

So what if I was Phoebe Franks,
World's Shyest Person
? So what if Sabine was one of the biggest parts in the show? So what if I could barely say my name in front of the others, let alone sing a solo? I knew in that instant – as the music filled my head – that I
had
to be Sabine, no matter what.

As soon as we got home, I left Mum and Dad arguing on the doorstep and raced up to my room to start practising. Whenever Dad drops us back on a Saturday they end up shouting at each other. Well, Mum shouts and Dad just stands there, which totally winds Mum up and makes her shout even more. They argue about me and Sara and arrangements and money and a whole load of other boring stuff.

I usually hide under my covers with my earphones in until Dad leaves, but today I sat on my bed and sang Sabine's song to drown them out. Miss Howell had given us the
Dream Factory
script and I could still hear the tune playing in my head. I sang it through three or four times, getting louder and louder, as Mum started screaming at Dad and Sara started to wail. Then I grabbed a hairbrush to be my microphone and stood in front of my full-length mirror to sing it again – even louder.

I felt so different up in my room where no one could see me, it was like
magic
, and for a few minutes I was right there, in that wretched factory, singing about how tragic my life was. I didn't only sound like Sabine, I
was
Sabine. I couldn't even hear Mum and Dad arguing any more – it was as if they didn't exist – but then suddenly there was an almighty bang from downstairs – and the spell was broken.

I looked at myself in the mirror and saw my reflection. I mean
really
saw it. I saw how flat my hair was, stuck to my ears like overcooked spaghetti, and how completely stupid I looked standing there pretending to be a singer.
And
how stupid I must have looked standing in the circle at drama doing that pathetic thumbs-up sign. I flopped down on my bed in despair. If I was ever going to convince Miss Howell in a million years that I was the right person to be Sabine, I needed to make some changes – and fast.