Rebecca Rocks (21 page)

‘Be careful what you wish for, Cass,’ I said. ‘It was that pony’s fault that Alice broke her wrist.’

‘Just fractured,’ said Cass. ‘Speaking of Alice, where is she?’

‘Still helping Richard in his crisp choices,’ I said.

‘Hmm, there’s Evan,’ said Cass. ‘You know,’ she said to Liz. ‘One of Charlie’s band.’

‘I hope he doesn’t cause any trouble,’ said Liz. She sounded a bit nervous, understandably.

‘Well, he was the one who stood up to Charlie,’ said Cass. ‘So I think he’ll be okay.’

And he was. In fact, he was more than okay. He came over to us, and although I felt a bit nervous when I saw him approach, I needn’t have been. He looked even more nervous than I felt.

‘Hey,’ he said. He turned to Liz, who was holding Cass’s hand tightly. ‘Um, I’m Evan.’

‘Hey,’ said Liz.

Evan took a deep breath.

‘I just wanted to say … I’m sorry about Charlie. And the way he acted all summer. I should have … I dunno. I’m sorry I didn’t stand up to him more. Anyway, if it’s any consolation, me and Finn have had enough of him. We’re going to start a new band.’

‘Ah,’ said Cass. ‘Thanks. Seriously, Evan. Thanks.’

‘Cool,’ said Evan. ‘That’s that. Um, your band were great today. And your sweets were really good. So … I’ll see you later?’

And he went off, looking very relieved.

‘Wow,’ said Liz. ‘I think I need a nice cold drink. Or at least some crisps.’ So we went off to get some.

The rest of the party was (mostly) brilliant. Veronica was the DJ, and she played really good music that you could
actually
dance to. (I know I have not been to many clubs − or any, in fact − but I hate when you’re at a disco or a party, and they play a song that is good but not, like, funky, so everyone just ends up swaying around stupidly.) It was so much fun. At one stage, I looked around, and Cass and Liz and Alice and Richard were all grooving around to the old hip-hop song that Veronica was playing. Jane and Ellie were sort of acting out the lyrics, which was pretty funny. Nearby, Tall Paula and Small Paula were dancing together. It was almost a
synchronised
dance routine (one of my favourite things). Even Karen and Bernard the Fairy-tale Prince were dancing around and having a good time. And for a minute, I felt totally, perfectly happy.

But something happened later that made me feel a bit funny. And I feel weird that I felt a bit funny. If you know what I mean. Anyway, it happened towards the end of the night. I was talking to Cass and Ellie, and then Ellie said, ‘Wow, look
at Gemma and Sam. No, don’t turn around, they’ll see you!’

‘Oh for goodness’ sake,’ I said. ‘How can I look at them if I can’t turn around?’

‘Okay, you can turn around now,’ said Ellie. ‘But don’t do it obviously.’

So I did. Gemma and Sam were near the stage, standing really close together, and she was sort of leaning towards him and smiling. And he was smiling back. And just as I turned around, she leaned over and started snogging him.

‘Whoah,’ said Cass.

And this is the funny thing. When I saw them kissing, I suddenly felt weird. Not like the time I saw Paperboy in town with a girl before we were going out and I thought she was his girlfriend. Not like that. That was terrible; it felt like having my heart wrenched out. This just felt … really strange. Not jealous. Just weird.

Well, maybe a tiny bit jealous. I knew I didn’t like what I was seeing. But why? I am actually amazed at my own
feelings
. I mean, I don’t fancy Sam, do I? Of course I don’t. I’ve had plenty of time to think about it. But I still didn’t feel good when I saw him and Gemma all over each other.

‘You can stop staring now, Bex,’ said Cass. ‘They might see you.’

And just at that moment, they stopped kissing, and Sam looked up and saw me staring at them. So of course I turned away and kept talking to the others. And I wasn’t really talking to Sam much after that, which is a shame because I do really like him. As a friend. And I like Lucy. At the end of the night, we bumped into each other queuing for the cloakroom.

‘Hey,’ he said, smiling. ‘Well done on the gig earlier, you were all great. And so was that fudge.’

‘Yeah, you were brilliant!’ said Lucy. She was wearing her glasses and bright red lipstick and looked really good.

‘Thanks!’ I said, trying to forget about my weird feelings earlier. ‘Small Paula was a hard act to follow.’

‘Yeah, wasn’t she amazing?’ said Sam. ‘I didn’t know she had it in her.’

‘Me neither,’ said Lucy. ‘You definitely can’t judge a book by its cover.’

Which is true. Lucy really is so nice. I can’t believe I thought she was rude.

‘I couldn’t do it myself,’ said Sam. ‘You know how nervous I get about being in the spotlight. I had nightmares when I thought I might have to be John’s understudy in the musical.’ He shuddered.

‘What about the art show?’ I said. ‘You were sort of in the spotlight then.’

‘Ah, that was just my comics,’ said Sam. ‘It’s different if it’s me. Having a big light shone in my eyes is my idea of hell. Hey, speaking of hell … did you finish that
Sandman
book?’

‘Oh, yeah!’ I said. ‘It was brilliant! Though it was a bit scary. Actually very scary. But in a good way.’ Then something struck me. ‘Oh. I forgot all about giving it back to you. It’s still at home.’

‘Ah, don’t worry about it,’ said Sam. ‘Sure, we’ll all see each other over the holidays. Right?’

‘Yeah, people are talking about going into town during the week, to the café at the Knitting Factory,’ said Lucy as we reached the top of the queue. ‘Maybe Wednesday?’

‘Cool,’ said Sam. He had got his coat now and was ready to go. ‘Right, I’d better run, my lift is outside. See you then, Bex?’

‘Oh yeah, definitely,’ I said. And off he went.

And then Lucy said she’d started a Facebook group so we could all stay in touch – us and the Wicked Ways and
Exquisite
Corpse and Puce and Small Paula and the art kids and the drama gang. Basically all the nice people we’ve met at
the camp. Which is great, so I suppose I’ll see everyone on Wednesday. I hope Sam comes, otherwise I’ll feel like a thief for keeping his book. And I can find out what’s the story with him and Gemma. She’s cool, so I hope she doesn’t mess him around. He’s so nice. Even though I don’t fancy him.

Anyway! I have no time to think about him right now, because the showbiz magic never stops around here. Well, sort of. It is, of course, the first performance of
Oliver!
tonight. Mum and Dad seem a bit nervous, and who can blame them? I can’t say I’m looking forward to seeing them humiliate (a) themselves and (b) me in front of the world (well, as much of the world as can fit into a primary-school hall, which is where the show is being produced). Cass and Alice are coming along for moral support, but I don’t mind them seeing the show. They’ve seen my parents being embarrassing so many times, one more won’t make any difference. And they’re staying over afterwards – my parents don’t often agree to big sleepovers, but they’ve been so distracted by their impending showbiz debut this week they’d have agreed to anything. I should really have taken more advantage of this and asked them for some more favours.

Anyway, they’re not due until after six, so after the excitement
and drama of the last few days, I will spend the day relaxing. I just saw Mrs Mulligan drive away with that stupid kid Sorcha in the back seat, so at least I know I won’t be tormented by my enemy. After all, I need to build my strength before the performance − I have a feeling being in the audience as my parents prance about will be more stressful than actually
performing
on stage yesterday. I think I will go and have a nice lemonade to steady my nerves.

MY MIND HAS BEEN BLOWN.

And my world has been turned upside down. And it’s all because of my parents and
Oliver!
. My parents were both so worked up about the show yesterday that they kept coming up with stupid chores for me to do (so much for my plans to spend the day relaxing and building up my strength). And for Rachel, of course, but she escaped to Jenny’s house for a while in the afternoon. Anyway, at about six o’clock, after they had made some pizzas for a post-show treat (with my help, yet again I was forced to chop vegetables) and put them in the
fridge, they went off to the school theatre to get ready for the show. So I could finally sit down.

But not for long, because soon Cass and Alice arrived to dump their bags.

‘I’m quite looking forward to this,’ said Cass. ‘I like
Oliver!.’

‘Me too,’ said Alice. And then they started singing ‘
Consider
Yourself’ very loudly until Rachel came in to see what all the noise was.

‘Oh, it’s you two,’ she said. ‘Are you coming to see our
parents
make a show of themselves?’

‘It wouldn’t be the first time,’ I said.

‘True,’ said Rachel.

Anyway, we all headed down to the theatre together. I have to admit that I was quite intrigued myself. I mean, my
parents
have been going on about their musical skills for months, but, apart from their singing around the house, I’d never
actually
witnessed them in action. By the time we’d settled into our seats, though, I was feeling more nervous than excited. I mean, embarrassing as it all was for me, it would be worse for them if they made a total show of themselves. When the curtain went across, I caught Rachel’s eye, and she made the sort of face that showed she was worrying about exactly the
same thing. But we couldn’t worry for long because, as Dad was playing the Beadle who runs the workhouse, he was in the very first scene.

‘Oh God, here we go,’ whispered Rachel, as little orphan Oliver (who wasn’t very little at all, he must have been about fifteen, and he didn’t look like he’d ever been starving in his life) walked up to the Beadle and asked if he could have some more food.

‘More!’ bellowed Dad, and I cringed. He did some more bellowing at Oliver before launching into the big song.

But then something happened. Dad was singing, and he was … good. Like, seriously, really good. He stopped looking like an ordinary history lecturer from Drumcondra who was going a bit bald and started looking like an evil old Victorian Beadle, a Victorian Beadle with a very good deep singing voice. As he marched around the stage singing about all the terrible things he was going to do to Oliver, I almost forgot it was Dad.

‘Woah, he’s brilliant!’ Cass whispered, but I barely heard her because, to my horror, the music had changed, and Dad was starting to dance.

‘This wasn’t in the film!’ whispered Rachel, who sounded just as horrified as I was. But then I stopped feeling horrified
because − and I can’t believe I’m writing this – it turns out Dad really can dance. I mean, he can’t dance on, like, a dance floor to pop music like a normal person. I have seen him at my cousin’s party, and he was awful. But that’s a different sort of dancing. This time he was dancing like, well, someone in a musical. He leaped. He twirled. He did some impressive tap dancing. He sort of glided across the stage. I wasn’t even embarrassed because it was so obvious that he could really move. Daisy was right. He was poetry in motion!

I was so stunned by the whole thing I barely noticed what was happening in the next few scenes, though I could see Mum singing with great enthusiasm in the chorus.

As soon as the curtains closed for the interval, Rachel and I turned to each other in amazement.

‘Did I just imagine that?’ said Rachel.

‘No, you didn’t,’ I said. ‘He was brilliant!’

‘He really was,’ said Alice. ‘I can’t believe it. No offence to your dad, of course.’

‘None taken,’ I said. ‘I can’t really believe it either.’ We were still in shock when the second half began. And then I got another surprise, because there was a scene where Nancy is singing in a pub, and Mum joined the actress playing Nancy
and did a dance around the stage, and she was really good too! Not as impressive as Dad, but she was singing (very well) while waltzing around the stage, and, as I discovered when we were doing our own musical, it is surprisingly difficult to sing while you’re walking, let alone dancing. When it was all over, we found ourselves joining in a standing ovation. The whole cast came out to take their bows, and Dad got an extra big cheer, especially when the director revealed that he was the understudy.

‘Your parents should do this professionally,’ said Cass. ‘They’re amazing!’

‘Don’t give them ideas,’ said Rachel as our parents emerged, beaming, from backstage. But I could tell she was proud of them really. So was I.

‘What did you think of my dance, girls?’ said Dad, after we’d all told them how good the show was.

‘I don’t remember the Beadle doing that dance in the film!’ said Alice.

‘No, the directors added it in once they saw my moves,’ said Dad happily. And I couldn’t even mock him for referring to his ‘moves’ because those moves really were so good. ‘Come on, let’s go home and have that pizza.’

And so we did, and it was a lot of fun. We all ended up singing ‘Pick a Pocket or Two’ around the kitchen table – even Rachel, who generally acts like she’s too grown up to do any messing. I suppose my family aren’t that bad sometimes.