Rebecca Rocks (12 page)

‘Come on, Bex, it’s hardly indecent exposure!’ she said. ‘Would you prefer all women over the age of thirty-five go around wearing sacks?’

‘Of course not!’ I said. ‘I’m just worried you’ll … feel
self-conscious
.’

But she just rolled her eyes and told me to chop some leeks. She clearly doesn’t appreciate my concern. As usual. I don’t know why I bother.

Today we had a workshop in stage performance. The mentor who was doing it is called Shane O’Driscoll. He is the lead
singer of a band called The Invited, who aren’t my sort of thing, but lots of girls really fancy him for some reason. He is definitely not my type, though. He is kind of hunky in a
fairy-tale
prince sort of way, and his hair is all tousled with gel. He has lots of tattoos in Chinese lettering, and he wears leather trousers and lots of leather wristlets and necklaces and things. Which must be very hot in this weather, now I come to think of it. I was wearing a denim skirt with bare legs today, and I was still roasting.

Shane believes it’s really important for bands to put on a big show. He started off by saying that we all have to find our own way to capture the crowd’s attention, but I think he thought his own way was the best.

‘You’ve really got to put your soul into your performance, he said, which is fair enough. But then he said, ‘I like to
gesture
to the crowd, like I’m singing straight to their hearts. And when I reach a particularly emotional part of the song, I like to stretch out one hand and then draw it back to my chest, like I’m pulling the audience closer.’

I tried to imagine me and Cass and Alice doing that on stage. I couldn’t, not least because we’re all playing
instruments
most of the time. If I started waving my arms around
and opening and clenching my fists, I’d drop my drumsticks.

‘I also have a move I call “prowling”,’ said Shane. ‘I like to walk from one side of the stage to the other like a panther, looking out at the audience the entire time. It’s like I become a charismatic big cat.’

I can’t imagine Alice prowling across the stage like a
panther
. Or any sort of charismatic big cat. She’s the only one of us who could even try, because me and Cass are stuck behind instruments. If we tried prowling we’d have to push our instruments in front of us as we went around the stage, which wouldn’t look very cool.

Shane also suggested that we think about having stage sets, which, of course, was music to Cass’s ears.

‘When Bon Jovi toured a few years ago they had a big set that looked like a scuzzy nightclub,’ said Shane. ‘Loads of neon signs, poles, that sort of thing. You could build some props, create a proper stage set.’

I could tell that Cass was getting quite excited at the thought. I looked at her.

‘No, Cass,’ I whispered. ‘You are not making us a scuzzy nightclub. Anyway, you don’t even know how to make neon signs.’

‘I don’t want to,’ she said. ‘But we could do something else.’

She could be on to something, I suppose. Maybe we could have some sort of set. Maybe we could make the stage look like, I dunno, an ordinary sitting room. Or even the shed where we practise. But definitely no neon. Or poles.

Anyway, Cass wasn’t the only one who was intrigued by Shane. Niall, the lead singer of Puce, looked like he was
listening
very intently all the way through, even when Shane was praising his own leather trousers.

‘These old trews are a part of me now,’ said Shane, which didn’t sound like a good thing to me. ‘They’re like my rock uniform. The way I see it, if you want to be a rock god, you’ve got to dress like a rock god! So find your uniform. It could be leather. It could be feathers. It could be denim. It could be eye-catching jumpsuits. It’s up to you.’

I could see Niall taking notes. I can’t imagine him in an eye-catching jumpsuit, but you never know, maybe he could pull it off.

Shane is also fond of explosions and fireworks and trap doors − ‘Audiences love seeing you pop out of a trap door!’ − but he admitted that we might find arranging all of these things quite difficult when we’re only starting out.

Anyway, it was all quite interesting, especially when we got the chance to try out some of the techniques (sadly we didn’t get to try out trapdoors or fireworks. Or, indeed, jumpsuits). Tall Paula from Exquisite Corpse was particularly good at prowling. She even did a bit of a panther-esque snarl as she paced from one side of the stage to the other, which made Shane nod seriously and say, ‘Very good, Paula. You’ve got great stage presence.’ Small Paula, however, didn’t want to
perform
at all.

‘Don’t you want to give it a try?’ asked Alice. But Small Paula shook her head.

‘Not yet,’ she said. ‘I’m not ready.’

‘Fair enough,’ said Alice, but we were all a bit disappointed. Now Small Paula is the only person on the course whose music we haven’t heard yet. It is very intriguing. I can actually
imagine
her prowling like a panther, even though she looks more like a small pony than a big cat, with that impressive fringe.

I just tried doing some prowling in front of my mirror, but I’m not sure I pulled it off. I think I looked a bit silly. Also,
whenever I looked in the mirror, I couldn’t help noticing my stupid fringe, which was starting to work its way out of its hairpins and fall down over my face. Of course, it didn’t help that I turned around and saw that horrible Mulligan brat across the road laughing her hideous head off at me. I just glared at her and drew the curtains. I can’t believe that
appalling
child is forcing me to live in darkness in the middle of summer just because she has no manners.

Today we had the first proper Hey Dollface sweet-making
session
because Alice was FINALLY free at the weekend. So we all went round to Cass’s house to work our magic. We had plenty to talk about before we started our sweet-making because Cass came out to her parents last night. She hadn’t even planned it. Apparently her little brother Nick was being really annoying at the dinner table and going on about the summer camp and asking whether Cass had fallen in LUUURVE (as he put it) with any of the boys on it. He just wouldn’t shut up so
eventually
Cass got really annoyed and told him to go away. Except
she didn’t actually say ‘go away’.

And her mother gave out to her for using a rude word and to Nick for trying to annoy her, but afterwards, when Nick had gone off to do whatever stupid twelve-year-old-boy stuff he does, her mum got all serious and said that she wasn’t to ever worry about not having a boyfriend, and the thought of her mother having a ‘serious chat’ about LOVE with her was so horrible that Cass said, ‘I’m not worried, I’m gay!’ basically just to shut her up.

Anyway, not only was Brenda (for that is Cass’s mother’s name, and she insists that we are on first-name terms) not upset, but she reacted a bit TOO well. She seems to think that having a lesbian daughter makes her cool (‘As if anything could,’ said Cass), and she keeps going on about it and trying to be all understanding. Like, ‘Well, Cass, as a lesbian, I’m sure you appreciate this …’ Cass says it is terrible, and I can see why. In fact, Cass is starting to wish she’d never told her at all. But, as she said herself, ‘Her being so freakishly positive about it is much better than the other way around.’

She much preferred her dad’s reaction, though. He was a bit surprised, and then he said, ‘And do you really like this girl?’ And Cass said yes. And he gave her a hug and said, ‘Well,
if you’re happy then I’m happy, Boldness.’ And Cass was so touched she didn’t even mind him calling her Boldness, which was her family nickname when she was very very small and which usually drives her mad if her parents call her it. So it has worked out very well.

Anyway, Brenda only told us how great it is to be gay once while we were making our fudge, and then she went off to her Pilates class. Our fudge went really well. I think we’re getting the hang of it at last, although maybe it was better than our previous efforts because this time there were three of us so we could share out the beating of the ingredients. It was much less exhausting than when it was just me and Cass. We also put on music so we could work in time to our favourite tracks.

It was still surprisingly hard work, even with Alice and the music, but it paid off. Even Nick, who is the sort of rude person who just spits out any food he doesn’t like, said it was ‘not bad’. Which is high praise coming from him.

‘Maybe we could experiment next time,’ I said. ‘Like, add nuts. Or chocolate. Or a different flavouring. Like, I dunno, orange or lemon or something.’

‘Or raisins,’ said Cass.

‘Ugh, no, I hate raisins,’ I said. ‘What do you think, Alice?’

‘Hmm, I don’t know,’ said Alice. ‘Maybe we should perfect the vanilla sort first.’

‘I think it’s perfect already!’ said Cass, and we did a special triumphal dance around the kitchen, which Alice eventually joined in.

Poor Cass is missing Liz, though. Even our dancing (and our delicious creations) weren’t enough to make her forget her sorrow for the whole afternoon. Liz’s phone was confiscated at the Irish college, and she has only been able to ring Cass once when she was meant to be ringing her parents. In their very brief conversation, she told Cass that when they arrived it was like one of those films where someone goes to prison and has to hand over all their possessions. And then they get them back, like, ten years later and everything’s out of date. Anyway, it sounds pretty tough, though apparently the actual Irish
college
is quite fun apart from the lack of phones and internet access, and she has learned how to do lots of set dances. Not that this is any consolation for poor Cass.

‘I feel like she’s been gone forever,’ said Cass. ‘And it’s only been two weeks!’

I know how she feels, of course. I too have known the anguish of long-distance love. Although a part of me thinks
Cass is making a fuss out of not very much. I mean, Liz will be back in two weeks. Paperboy went to Canada forever! That is true misery. But I didn’t say that to Cass. I don’t think it would have cheered her up.

It did all remind me, yet again, of my lonely single state. I had such a fun afternoon, but when I got home I felt a bit sad. I don’t even know why I feel so bad. It’s not like the others would make me feel left out. It’s just that I can’t help feeling I’ll never meet anyone again. I mean, like I said before, I am surrounded by boys at the camp, and I still don’t fancy any of them. And it’s not like I fancy any of the girls either. I’ve wondered about whether I ever could, especially since Cass came out, but I haven’t so far. Though surely any girl would be preferable to, say, Charlie. Except, you know, Vanessa or someone. Anyway, I don’t fancy any girls or boys on the camp. And I know it shouldn’t be a big deal. But when I think about Cass and Alice being all loved up, it feels like it is. And then I feel guilty for feeling bad about my friends being happy. Life is very complicated sometimes.