The Real Rebecca (11 page)

TUESDAY

We can’t decide what to call the band. We spent most of lunchtime hiding under the coats in the cloakroom having a discussion about it. I think some of the others wondered what on earth we were being so secretive about. Anyway, we all had lots of ideas but none of them seemed quite right.

‘Should it be a “The” name?’ said Cass. ‘You know, like The Beatles.’

‘The Girls with Evil Mothers,’ I said.

‘My mother’s okay,’ said Alice.

‘Mine’s about a medium,’ said Cass. ‘Not perfect but not totally evil either. So no.’

‘Okay, okay,’ I said. ‘I didn’t mean it really. Ummm … the Does.’

‘The what?’ said Cass.

‘The Does,’ I said. ‘Like the dear. Doe, a dear, a female deer …’

‘We’d have to explain it to everyone,’ said Alice. ‘Otherwise they’d think it was d’oh, like Homer Simpson.’

‘Oh yeah, good point,’ I said.

‘Maybe it should be a Someone and the Somethings name,’ said Alice. ‘Like Florence and the Machine.’

‘But then whose name would we use?’ I said. ‘You, me or Cass?’

‘Alice and the … Antidotes,’ said Alice, dreamily.

‘We’re not your backing band, Alice,’ said Cass.

‘And all of us sing anyway,’ I said.

‘Okay, okay,’ said Alice. ‘It was only an idea.’

We lay on the ground of the cloakroom and thought. We came up with a few more names (Daisychain, Kitten Attack, The Antidote), but they just weren’t very good. None of them seemed right. I never realised finding the right band name could be so difficult.

‘We’ll know the right one when we see it,’ said sage-like Alice.

‘But what if we don’t see it?’ said Cass. ‘We’ve got to pick a name at some stage. Imagine if you had a baby and
let it go this long without a name. Everyone would say it was child abuse.’

‘I’m not sure our band is quite as important as a baby,’ said Alice.

She’s probably right. I suppose. It’s quite important to us, though. So we really have to come up with a name.

WEDNESDAY

Well, we’ve come up with a name now, but I wish we hadn’t. Not because of the name, but how it happened.

Today was awful. First of all, everyone in the class knows about the band now. We didn’t really plan on telling anyone until we were actually, you know, able to play properly, but I couldn’t help it. It happened at lunchtime. We’d just sat through Mrs O’Reilly blathering on about Christopher Columbus and his ridiculously-named ships for forty-five minutes and another Miss Kelly geography class (she spent about twenty minutes telling us about what we’ll have to do to survive once all the water runs out. I will have nightmares for weeks). This was all traumatic
enough, and I was not in the mood for Karen Rodgers and her nonsense. But Karen has somehow managed to get her paws on Mum’s book AND she’s read it. I can’t believe she got through it so quickly. I didn’t even know she could read.

Anyway, I knew someone would read the book eventually, and I knew it would probably be someone like Karen who doesn’t like me, but it didn’t make it any more fun. We had a free class in the library and when we arrived the librarian wasn’t there and there were no teachers around. Alice and I were having a look at the fiction shelves when Karen suddenly produced a copy of
May the Best Girl Win
from God knows where (probably her pants).

‘Hey, everyone!’ she cried. ‘Look what I’ve got!’

And of course everyone laughed. Not Cass or Alice or even Ellie, of course, but other people who I thought were my friends or at least liked me. This whole experience is making me lose my faith in human nature.

‘Listen to this,’ said Karen. She turned to me. ‘I bet your mum didn’t even have to make any of this up. She just had to steal your diary.’ And she started to read from the book.

‘“Dear Diary,’ she said, in a stupid squeaky voice. ‘The competition is hotting up! I’ve got to work harder. Today Caoimhe chose her victim – I mean, future boyfriend. At least, that what she hopes! He’s a guy who goes to St Joseph’s and I’ve got to admit, he’s not bad. In fact, I wish I’d seen him first! But I’m still determined to find the perfect boy for me.”’

Karen put down the book for a moment and flicked through the pages, while everyone sniggered along. ‘It gets better, everyone. Listen to this. “I know this sounds crazy, but I have a funny feeling about …” She paused dramatically. ‘“Wildfire. I really think our group is going to be famous someday. I know I’m not the prettiest girl in the world. I’m not very tall and my eyes are a boring grey colour and my hair’s a kind of ordinary wavy brown.”’ Karen paused again and gestured towards me. And PEOPLE LAUGHED. I hate my class. And my mother. Why couldn’t stupid Ruthie have been 5 foot 11 and had black or blonde or red hair? Anything but a wavy brownhaired midget! Anyway, Karen wasn’t finished reading aloud. ‘“But when we’re all together and we’re all dressed up, I feel gorgeous! I know I can sing too. It’s not boasting;
it’s just something I’ve always known. And when we’re singing and dancing together, I feel like there’s nothing stopping us being pop stars. We just need to get discovered. I wonder if we should enter one of those TV talent shows? After all, it worked for Girls Aloud.”’

Karen laughed again. She is very easily amused. ‘So, Rebecca,’ she sniggered. ‘You think you’re going to be the next Cheryl Cole, do you?’

I gritted my teeth. ‘I know you find this hard to believe, Karen,’ I said. ‘But that book is actually MADE UP. It’s not true.’

‘Huh,’ said Karen. ‘Well, I can’t wait to see you and your little chums singing and dancing with, heh heh, Wildfire. Do you get to do a solo?’

‘Oh my God, Karen!’ I shrieked. ‘I am not Ruthie Whatserface!’

Karen looked at me and smirked. I’ve never hated anyone so much in my life. Not even Mum. Not even Rachel when she read my diary when I was twelve (there wasn’t anything particularly scandalous in it, but it was the thought that counts). ‘Well, yeah,’ she said. ‘I suppose I can’t imagine you actually doing anything as cool as
starting a band. Even a sad girl band.’

And I was so angry that I spoke without thinking properly. Or thinking at all, really.

‘Actually,’ I said, ‘I
am
in a band. And it’s nothing like the ridiculous one in the book. We’re an indie band. And I’m the drummer.’

Next to me, Alice and Cass froze. I could almost hear them thinking ‘oh no …’

‘Yeah, right,’ said Karen Rodgers. ‘You’re the drummer in an indie band. Of course you are. God, you’re sad.’

‘I’m sad?’ I said. ‘You’re the one who went to the trouble of getting my mum’s book and reading it just to annoy me. That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard. And yes, I am in a band. With Alice and Cass.’

Karen gave a fake sort of laugh.

‘Oh yeah?’ she said. ‘So what are you called?’

Of course, I didn’t know what to say, so I stared at the shelf next to me. And the first thing that caught my eye was a battered old paperback by an author called Deborah something or other called
Hey, Dollface
.

‘Hey Dollface!’ I said suddenly.

‘What?’ said Karen.

‘What?’ said Alice and Cass, but luckily no one seemed to notice that they’d said anything because Karen was doing another stupid loud fake laugh which probably drowned out any other sound in a five-mile radius.

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘That’s the name of our band. Not,’ I forced a laugh which sounded almost as fake as Karen’s, ‘Wildfire. I’m sure you’ll get to see us at some stage. We’ll be playing some gigs eventually.’

I could almost feel Alice and Cass glaring at me. Karen opened her mouth to say something, but then the librarian came in so we all had to hurry into our seats. As I was passing Karen I whispered, ‘Thanks for buying Mum’s book, by the way. That money will buy me a new set of drumsticks!’

It won’t, of course, because writers only get a tiny amount of money for every book they sell, but Karen doesn’t know that. And she looked as sick as a pig. Ha!

My triumph was shortlived, of course, because at lunchtime everyone started asking about the band. We sort of acted like we’d been doing it for ages, because we didn’t want to admit we’ve only had one practice.

‘Yeah, I got the drums a while ago,’ I said, taking my
lunch out of my bag. ‘And Alice and Cass have been playing the guitar and the piano for ages.’ Well, that’s all technically true.

‘I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!’ said Ellie.

‘Well, we were going to keep it quiet for a while,’ said Cass, giving me a meaningful look. Cass is very good at giving meaningful looks. Maybe it’s because they are intensified by her glasses. ‘We wanted to wait until we were ready to play gigs.’

‘So who do you sound like?’ asked Jessie McCabe.

Of course, we don’t really sound like anyone yet. We’ve only really played one song, and that was by the Kinks.

‘Um, we’re still working on our general sound,’ I said. Then, of course, Karen, who was sitting at the next desk, had to stick her oar in.

‘Well, at least we know you can sing,’ she said. ‘At least, your alter-ego can. She was boasting about it in this ridiculous book.’

I ignored her and started eating my sandwich.

‘Are you going to play any concerts?’ asked Ellie. ‘You have to tell us if you do.’

‘Well, we really want to play gigs,’ said Alice, although
to be honest I’m not sure Cass actually does. ‘But, um, we’re not sure how. I think we’re too young to play most places.’

‘You should ask Rebecca,’ said Karen. ‘After all, Wildfire played a concert.’

I rolled my eyes as if I was just mildly amused by Karen’s ravings, as opposed to wanting to kill her. This seemed to annoy her because she shut up for a while. And then we went out to sit in the playing field and eat crisps, and I managed to avoid her for the rest of the day.

Alice doesn’t really care all that much about everyone knowing about the band, but Cass does. She says she didn’t want anyone to know about it until we were amazing musicians and had written loads of songs, rather than three girls who had only had one practice. ‘And only two of us can play our instruments properly,’ she said. ‘No offence.’

‘I’m not that bad,’ I said.

‘Sorry,’ said Cass. ‘But you know what I mean. It’s not that you’re bad, you just haven’t had much chance to practise.’

‘Hmm,’ I said. ‘Fair enough.’

Anyway, it’s done now, and there’s nothing we can do to change it, as Alice very sensibly pointed out. She also
said everyone will forget about it soon, although that wasn’t quite as sensible. No one in our class seems to forget anything. They’re like elephants in hideous wine-coloured uniforms. Some of them still go on about the time Jessie accidentally called Frau O’Hara ‘Mum’ in class and that happened nearly a year ago.

THURSDAY

Have been practising the drums on the sofa cushions. I think I am getting better. In fact, I know I’m getting better. You just have to learn to relax your wrists. Of course, the pedal thing still freaks me out a bit, but I’ll figure it out. And I don’t really need to play a big bass drum very often (I hope). I’m kind of avoiding playing the cymbals for the same reason. Also, it turns out that playing the drums (or cushions) is very good way of letting out your rage. Obviously I have had lots of things to be angry about recently (Mum, Mrs Harrington, Karen Rodgers, Vanessa Finn) and after a good bash I do feel much better.