Stagefright (14 page)

Drago had realised that Mei could actually understand English well, and it was their Australian accents that had confused her at first. She’d developed a good heavy metal style of singing, but Taleb was struggling to get her to pronounce his lyrics correctly. She had a habit of dropping the ends off words and substituting familiar words for ones she didn’t know.

“Spotted toad. Bottled spider,” Taleb said for the nineteenth time.

“Spotty toe! Bottom spy!” Mei replied.

“Give it a rest, Taleb,” Peter said.

“You’re not supposed to understand heavy metal lyrics anyway,” Roula said.

Taleb was about to make them run through the prophecy song again, so Drago distracted him.

“I think I’ve found a bit that will make the second act more interesting.”

“If this is another feeble attempt to put in a sex scene, Drago …”

“No. This is high drama.” He pulled a dog-eared copy of the play from his pocket.

“Geez, Drago,” Hailie said, “you really have been reading the play.”

Drago ignored her. “The night before the battle, Richard is in his tent near the battlefield getting nervous. The ghosts of all the people he’s killed come and guilt trip him.”

“Cool. A ghost scene.”

“We could make it really spooky.”

“That’s a great idea, Drago,” Velvet said.

“And then the ghosts visit Richmond in his tent and tell him he’s going to win the battle,” Drago said.

Velvet was very pleased that Drago had been reading the play. “We could have Richard and Richmond on opposite sides of the stage and light one first and then the other. Make it look like night and then have some pink light to make it look like dawn.”

“So who gets to come back as a ghost?” Jesus asked.

“All the dead people,” Mr MacDonald said. “Clarence, the little princes, Buckingham and Lady Anne.”

“Does Lady Anne die?”

“Yes,” Velvet said. “Shakespeare hints that Richard poisoned her. It’s not true, of course.”

Mr MacDonald continued. “Then comes the battle and the bit where Richard shouts, ‘a horse, a horse, my kingdom for a horse’ and Richmond kills him.”

“But he was brave,” Velvet said. “Even Shakespeare says so. Can we get that in somehow?”

Peter groaned. “Give it a rest, Velvet.”

Velvet had come up with a lot of ideas for defending Richard’s name. She wanted to have faceless black figures walking across the stage with placards proclaiming Richard’s innocence. She’d written a scene where Anne defended Richard against the other women, but no one liked it.

“Let’s stick with Shakespeare’s story, Corduroy,” Drago said. “Even if it isn’t true.”

Velvet was disappointed, but proud. Drago was defending Shakespeare. That was because of her.

Velvet and Drago were trying to get the seduction scene right. It wasn’t working.

“This is a first for me,” Mr MacDonald said, “but I’m inclined to agree with Drago.”

“No,” Velvet insisted. “I am not kissing him.”

Mr MacDonald had told them to use their own experience for their performances. It was hard enough trying to think of Drago as someone who could seduce you, but Velvet just didn’t have any experience to draw on.

Taleb was still trying to get Hailie to sing in tune. He was convinced she’d get the hang of it once he’d explained a few musical principles to her. Because he was naturally musical himself, he didn’t understand how anyone couldn’t get it right. Hailie didn’t think her singing needed improving.

“I need my own song,” she said. “After King Edward dies, I should have a sad song. Something that will have everyone in tears.”

“Anything you sing will have people in tears,” Peter said.

“I’m not writing another song,” Taleb said.

“Why not? When Velvet suggests a new song, you write it.”

“Velvet is the director. If she suggests a song, it’s to improve the play, not to give herself more time in the spotlight.”

Velvet tried not to look pleased.

They continued with the scene. Hailie’s acting wasn’t good either. She clomped around with her foot in plaster trying to look seductive.

Peter was unusually impatient. “It’s no good. You can’t have a couple of Year 9 girls trying to be sexy women. It just doesn’t work.”

“And what would you know? When was the last time you came on to anybody?” Hailie snapped.

Peter looked like he might have had something to say, but if he did he kept it to himself. Velvet, aware of her own shortcomings in this area, was immediately defensive.

“How old do you think Lady Anne was when this was really happening?”

“I don’t know,” grumbled Peter. “But I bet you’re going to tell us.”

“She was fifteen.”

Velvet got the reaction she wanted. The others were all genuinely surprised.

“She was not. That was Juliet.”

“She was fifteen and already a widow. And she’d had a horrible time with her first husband.”

“So it’s all right if you can’t act,” Peter said. “Is that what you’re saying?”

Drago came to her defence.

“She’s doing okay, Peter. Stop giving her a hard time. So how old am I, Corduroy?”

“Nineteen at this point.”

“Is that all?”

“Yep. Richard fought his first battle when he was nineteen. He led a battalion or division or whatever they’re called. And he got badly wounded in the shoulder. That’s what gave him a slightly lopsided look and what historians later turned into a hunched back.”

“I thought they were all old,” Jesus said.

Mr MacDonald broke in. “So now you can feel comfortable in these roles. If Velvet feels out of her depth being seduced, that’s just the way she should play it.”

Velvet didn’t have time to go to the library at lunchtime any more. She had script meetings with Drago on Mondays and Wednesdays, self-defence with Jesus on Tuesdays. Mei had offered to do Chinese conversation practice with her on Thursdays. And now Taleb had organised extra band practice for Friday lunchtime.

Velvet’s science class had gone over time. Velvet hated being late. She took a shortcut down the stairs near the science lab. No one ever went out that way. The stairs led to a back door near the rubbish skip. Not only was it smelly, it was also where the delinquents hung out. Velvet hurried down the stairs and ran straight into Eddy, the Toxic Shock drummer, and other assorted thugs.

“Look, guys, it’s Ms Snobnose Pye.” Eddy blocked her way with a tattooed arm.

“She must want to get into your pants, Eddy.”

Eddy smelled bad.

“Let me through,” Velvet said.

“Why should I?”

Velvet turned to go back up the stairs, but Eddy pulled her round so that she was looking into his ugly face. His breath had that smell of cheap cigarettes. He slid his hand down her back and grabbed her bottom. The other boys sniggered. Velvet looked into Eddy’s eyes and smiled sweetly. She pulled back her knee and aimed for his groin. Eddy crumpled onto the stairs, his eyes nearly starting out of his head, tears streaming down his face, in too much pain to cry out. Velvet didn’t move, stunned by what she’d done.

Taleb came down the stairs, paused for a moment to take in the scene. He stepped over Eddy.

“Come on, Velvet,” he said, grabbing her arm. “You’re late for band practice.”

When they were outside, he shook his head. “I saw you heading for the stairs. You know Eddy always hangs out there.”

“I was in a hurry. I didn’t think.”

“I was just about to come and rescue you. I should have known you could look after yourself.”

“It’s what Jesus taught us. I didn’t mean to hurt him. It was just instinct. I’ve only ever done it to a punching bag before.”

“Eddy’ll live.”

They went through the hall and into the dressing room that Taleb had discovered behind the stage, where the band could practise unseen and unheard by anyone. The lunchtime sessions weren’t popular with the other members of the band. No one else had turned up.

Velvet sat down, still shocked by what she’d done.

“This is the coronation song,” Taleb said, “the chorus song that you wanted. I haven’t got all the lyrics yet.”

He plugged a device into his guitar. It looked like the foot pedal of a sewing machine.

“What’s that?”

“It’s a distortion pedal.”

He played a strong, stirring melody, bending the notes with the pedal. Velvet watched him play and calmed down a little. She still wasn’t sure about Taleb. Sometimes she was positive he liked her, other times – like when he yelled at her for playing something wrong – she was convinced he didn’t.

“What do you think?” he asked, without looking at her.

“It’s great. Of course. All your music is good. I’m even getting used to Queen Margaret’s song.”

Taleb looked at her. “What about my Toxic Shock songs?”

“I wouldn’t go that far. I saw you play once at a lunchtime concert. I only listened to one song, if that’s what you call them. It was too noisy for me.”

Taleb smiled as he tuned his guitar. Once he got the braces off, his smile would be beautiful.

“These are the lyrics I’ve got so far.”

“
Three cheers for his majesty
,

He’ll rule England well
.

Ring the bells for his majesty
,

Da-da-da-da-da-del
.

“
Make way for his majesty
,

Who wears the royal crown
.

Da-da-da his majesty
,

At his feet bow down
.”

“I couldn’t think of anything to rhyme with ‘well’ that worked.”

Velvet went through rhyming words in her head.

“How about ‘
All our fears he’ll repel
’?”

“That’s good.” Taleb wrote down her words. “What about the other missing bit? ‘
Something, something, his majesty
’.”

“We’ve had cheering and bell ringing and bowing. What about singing? ‘
Sing praise for his majesty
’?”

Velvet tried to look like it was no big deal that Taleb had asked her to help him write a song.

“Do you think it needs a chorus?” he asked.

“Songs in musicals usually have choruses. Perhaps it could be a contrast to the verses. Like an aside. People whispering their doubts about Richard.”

“Go on.”

“
We don’t really like him. We’re scared what he’ll do
.”

Taleb finished it off. “
They say he killed the princes. And his brother Clarence too
.”

He wrote it down. “That’s great. I can make the chorus music sound a bit menacing. Plunky bass notes.”

An image of sheet music with “composed by Haddad/Pye” printed on it flashed into Velvet’s mind.

“Toxic Shock’s playing at Yarrabank Plaza on Saturday morning,” Taleb said. “You should come. See if you think we’ve improved.”

“I think I better keep out of Eddy’s way.”

“Don’t worry about Eddy.”

Taleb plucked a few notes on his guitar.

Velvet remembered something Drago had said the previous term.

“Do they give you a hard time about this play, the others in the band?”

Taleb groaned. “Yes. Nonstop. About the play, the music, the company I keep.”

“They don’t like me.”

“Especially you. Mostly they give me a hard time about you.”

“What did I do?”

“You don’t have to do anything. They find you threatening.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re smart, rich …”

“I’m not rich. I used to be. Not any more.”

“… and stuck-up.”

“I’m not stuck-up.”

“They think you are.”

“Do you?”

“You used to be.” Taleb smiled again. This time he looked at Velvet, just quickly, but long enough to make her heart thump.

That’s when Jesus arrived, clinking and rattling with his latest collection of percussion “instruments” – three coke bottles with different levels of water in them, an empty Milo tin and a lunchbox containing a handful of dried peas. Hailie followed him in, carrying the saucepan lids that Jesus had been using as cymbals.

“Let’s get to work,” Taleb said. “Velvet and I have written some lyrics for the coronation song.”

They all turned to him. “What, together?”

Roula was behind them. “I just saw Eddy,” she said. “He says we wants his keyboard back.”

“He was limping. What happened? Did you have a fight with him, Taleb?”

“Not me. It was Velvet.”

“Go, Velvet.”

“It was instinct. I just did what you taught us, Jesus. I thought you were exaggerating when you said it’d make boys cry.”

“I taught her everything she knows,” Jesus said proudly.

“Yeah, it’s terrific, but now we haven’t got a keyboard.” Taleb wasn’t smiling anymore.

“I’ve got a keyboard at home. Dad bought it at an op shop,” Velvet said. “It’s not very good.”

“It’ll have to do.”

Hailie and Roula looked up when Velvet entered half-way through humanities class. She’d been absent all morning.

“Where’ve you been?” Hailie asked.

“I had a doctor’s appointment.” Velvet was lying. She’d been to sit the Endeavour High entry exam.