Drama Queen Page 5

  Rolo had the grace to look a bit embarrassed then but I knew from experience that it wouldn’t be enough to stop him snuggling up to Uncle Ian the next time he saw him.

  “I thought maybe you could take him,” I said.

  “He’s your dog,” Mum growled. “So you have to be there to walk him, I’m afraid.”

  I sighed as my last hope flew out of the window. “Okay, fine, I get the message.”

  She swung Joshua onto her other hip. “Good. What was so important that you decided to try and ditch us, anyway?”

  I told her. When I’d finished, she looked a bit less cross. “Oh. Well, I’m sorry you might miss out on the part you want but I’m sure Miss Skelly understands. If she wants to give you the role, she’ll have to work around you.”

  Which is probably true but not what I would call helpful. This is what happens when your mother doesn’t understand you. I bet Angelina Jolie’s kids don’t have this problem.

  You know when you hand in a piece of homework and part of you wants to know what your teacher thought and part of you doesn’t? That’s how I felt about the audition results. I’d spent the whole weekend worrying and fretting and by the time Monday morning rolled around, I’d decided that I shouldn’t even bother going back to EDDDA. What I really needed was to discover a mysterious spinning wheel in the attic which sent me into a deep sleep lasting a hundred years, or at least until lunchtime, but there is never an evil fairy around when you need one.

  I SUPPOSE it is all for the best – as much as I’m sure there is no hope for me, I do want to be there for Molly and Shenice, even though Molly and I are secretly worried about Shenice’s short audition.

  The twins were already in their high chairs when I went down for breakfast. Joshua was wearing most of a banana and Ethel was using butter instead of wax to boost her super-fine baby hair – neither seemed to have any useful advice to offer me. Liam was nowhere to be seen – still in bed, I assume. Dad says if sleeping was an Olympic sport, Liam would win gold.

  Shenice’s mum arrived to pick me up at eight o’clock. The plan was that our parents would take it in turns to pick us up and drop us off but Mum obviously has her hands full with the twins and so Mrs Coleman and Mrs Papadopoulos are doing it most mornings. It is probably a good thing – between the baby seats, the buggies and the half-chewed breadsticks in our car, there’s no space for anything else.

  We didn’t talk much in the car. I could practically taste the nerves, although Joshua shoved his grubby fingers into my mouth just before I left so it could have been mushed-up banana. In the corridor outside the dance studio, there was a big crowd clustered around the noticeboard. We looked at each other – this was it.

  “Let’s get it over with,” Molly said.

  Linking her arms through ours, she marched to the front of the crowd, dragging us with her.

  I could hardly bear to look. Beside me, Molly let out an excited squeal and I squinted at the list. Sure enough, her name was there, right next to the words “Blousey Brown”. Then I heard a sharp gasp on my other side and an even louder squeal. I looked down the list and saw Shenice had been cast as Tallulah!

  “I can’t believe it,” she said, looking shocked and delighted all at the same time. “And look who got Bugsy!”

  You didn’t need to be a genius to guess it was Harry. Molly was jumping up and down with glee but my eyes were scanning the list, looking for my name. I found it halfway down: CASSIDY BOND – VELMA, FAT SAM’S SPEAKEASY GIRL.

  Disappointed is not the word – it felt like someone had punched me in the stomach. Velma isn’t even the best Speakeasy Girl part – Bangles has more lines than her. This was just a pat on the head – a “Well done for trying”. I wanted to cry. But I couldn’t, not when my besties’ dreams had come true.

  “Yay,” I croaked, doing my very best to smile. “You guys totally smashed it.”

  They stopped squealing.

  “At least they gave you something,” Shenice said, sympathy dripping from her voice. “Velma has a line, I think.”

  “It’s only because you’re missing a whole week of rehearsals,” Molly said. “They obviously wanted to give you a bigger part but maybe they couldn’t because you’re going away in two days’ time.”

  I knew what they were saying made sense but it didn’t make me feel any better. And to make things worse, I saw that Imani had been given the role of Lena – the one I’d asked for on my audition form. It was all too unfair for words.

  A proper BFF would be able to overcome her own disappointment and enjoy seeing how over the moon Molly and Shenice were, I told myself as I blinked back tears. They were going to be the stars of the show and I should be happy for them.

  And don’t get me wrong, I am pleased for them. But it’s being swamped by the cold horrible feeling that I’ve failed. It doesn’t matter how many times I force myself to smile, or how often I remind myself that I can still help them to sparkle, there is still a ragged empty hole where my heart should be. I gave 110 per cent and it wasn’t enough.

  Great. Now I’m a terrible friend as well as a rubbish actor.

  What else can go wrong?

  Chapter Eight

  If you’ve ever wondered what hell is like, let me tell you. It is being stuck in a car for eight hours on a rainy Wednesday with your family. Liam smells like only a teenage boy can, Rolo has thrown up on my feet and the twins have grizzled so much that my brain has turned to slush. The traffic in Cornwall reminds me of a disaster movie where everyone is trying to escape from the monster-ravaged city at the same time – in other words, totally gridlocked, although why everyone would head to Newquay is a total mystery to me. And if Dad makes us listen to THE BEST OF ELVIS PRESLEY one more time, I may just leap out of the window and run for the cliffs.

  The only good thing about this trip is that it is taking me further and further away from EDDDA.

  I haven’t seen much of Molly and Shenice since Monday – they’ve been off having private rehearsals with the other principal stars of the show. To make up for being the Worst Friend Ever I helped them run through their lines on Monday evening – Shenice was all “Harry this” and “Harry that”, which Molly and I put up with because Shen’s never really had a crush on anyone before and it’s pretty cute.

  I’m still trying my hardest to fight off the GREEN-EYED MONSTER over their brilliant parts, but being in the chorus is not helping. Yesterday we started setting the scenes up onstage, working out what we had to do and where we needed to be. I don’t know if it is just me but I find the whole stage right and stage left thing very confusing – stage right is only right if you are on the stage, otherwise it is left. And stage left is actually right if you are looking at the stage. Why not keep them the same as real life? Plus our dance captain, Charlotte, keeps telling us to “dance like no one is watching” but it’s very hard to do that when actually there is someone watching and they keep telling you off when you get it wrong.

  Anyway, if you’d asked me last week I would have told you that the last thing I wanted to do was stay in a rubbishy old caravan for a week but now I quite like the fact that no one will be shouting at me about scissor steps. Although at the rate this traffic is moving it will take us a week just to get there. Shenice’s mum would probably have some kind of eco-theory for it but Dad says it’s just the call of the beach.

  “Stop moaning, Cassie,” Mum said when I asked if we were nearly there yet. “Play some I-Spy with Liam.”

  Honestly, I think she has missed the last five years of our lives and thinks I am still six. Liam pulled his earbuds out. “What?”

  “Mum wants us to play I-Spy,” I told him.

  He shrugged. “I spy, with my little eye, something beginning with L.”

  “Lorry,” I said, gazing out of the window at the twisty country road. “Lamp post, legs, Lamborghini.”

  “Where?” he said, his head whipping around.

  I smirked. “Oh sorry, it’s a Mini. My mistake.”


  The game went on for another few minutes until I gave up. Liam looked straight at me and made an L sign on his forehead. “Loser.”

  There wasn’t much I could say to that because he is absolutely right, I am a LOSER. Scowling, I slumped back in my seat. “Takes one to know one.”

  Still grinning, he put his headphones back in and the tinny sound of WOLF BRETHREN’s finest filled the car. I sighed and leaned forward. “Seriously, Mum, are we nearly there yet?”

  Mum turned around to glare at me and I knew she was about to lose it. But then the car rounded a bend in the road and Dad gave a shout. “Yes! I can see the sea!” He pointed at the windscreen. “There!”

  I squinted a bit in the sunshine and suddenly I could see it too – a shimmering mass of aquamarine underneath the paler blue of the sky. Even Liam looked excited and took his headphones out again.

  “There’s a sign for Happy Sands over there,” he said, pointing at the side of the road.

  “Thank goodness for that,” Mum said and even Rolo let out a small wuff of relief. We drove under a sign that read WELCOME TO HAPPY SANDS, with a huge palm tree on either side, and rolled slowly past caravan after caravan. And I started to realize that maybe I’d got the wrong idea about the kind of place we were going to stay in.

  It wasn’t an overgrown field after all and the caravans weren’t the beaten-up types I was used to seeing blown up on old repeats of TOP GEAR. These were shiny and modern and nice. They weren’t very mobile, either – some of them had decking attached to them and porches. In fact, a few of them looked like they might be even bigger than my nan’s house. The road we were driving on was smooth and lined with colourful flower beds, there was a gigantic glass dome in the distance that looked a lot like a waterpark and we passed several people in shorts carrying surfboards. Behind it all was the twinkling blue sea. It was the definition of awesome.

  I exchanged a look with Liam. We’d both had our doubts when Mum and Dad had told us what their summer holiday plans were, but it seemed we couldn’t have been more wrong. Liam wrapped his earbuds around his phone and tucked them carefully into his pocket.

  “Last one in the pool is a moron,” he said, grinning.

  Okay, Happy Sands OFFICIALLY ROCKS.

  Liam and I spent a couple of hours in the waterpark and he only dunked me twice, and our caravan is nothing like as titchy as I thought it would be – there are three bedrooms and two bathrooms and a TV with at least some of the good channels.

  Dad says we can have surfing lessons down on the beach, although I think it might be more fun to stay on the sand and watch Liam fall off.

  Anyway, the first night wasn’t as disastrous as I was expecting it to be. There was one minor incident in the small hours of the night when Dad got up for a wee and tripped over the twins’ travel cot but he made more noise than they did. You would think he had broken his toe the way he went on. He insisted he couldn’t take Rolo out for a walk in the morning so I took him for a quick run while I had a good nose around. The park is built around a village bit in the middle, with a big entertainment complex called THE HUB and some shops, restaurants and even a bowling alley. There’s a path that leads down through some sand dunes to a gorgeous golden beach.

  I snapped a photo and sent it to Molly and Shenice.

  SUN + SAND + SEA = AWESOME. Wish you were here? XX

  All in all, not too shabby. Maybe this holiday is just what I need to get over my shattered dreams.

  I KNEW it was too good to be true. On the way back from Rolo’s walk, I saw something that made my blood run cold. Outside THE HUB, where no one could possibly avoid seeing it, was a picture of my dad in all his Elvis finery. And underneath it said:

  OMG, I think I might die. I really do. I thought he was JOKING when he talked about doing a deal by offering to perform. Seriously, what kind of father would do that to his kids? Even Victorian parents were not this cruel and they sent their children up chimneys. Liam is going to go nutso when he finds out. We are going to have to pretend we do not have a father. It is the only way.

  Typically, Dad showed no signs of being sorry when I confronted him back at the caravan. He also refuses to cancel the booking, on the grounds that he is a professional and I of all people should understand that the show must go on.

  Huh. The show mustn’t go on. The show SHOULDN’T go on under any circumstances, not when it will cause severe emotional distress. It will be a disaster, anyway – no one will go. Surely the last thing people want when they are on holiday is to come and watch a middle-aged man dancing around in a wig and a onesie?

  “It’s a done deal,” he said, shaking his head at me. “You don’t have to come and see me but it would be nice if you could be a little more understanding.”

  I glanced over at Liam for help but he threw me a pitying look. “She doesn’t get it, Dad. She’s not a true performer.”

  “I am a performer, actually,” I snapped back. “I’ve got a speaking part in the show.”

  “One line,” Liam said, rolling his eyes. “Get that Oscar ready now.”

  OMG, he is so RUDE. He goes around acting like some kind of ROCK GOD but really no one outside of Windsor has heard of WOLF BRETHREN. And I don’t know why my father can’t be happy with his boring office job like everyone else’s dad. I am starting to wish my talent was being able to turn invisible, then no one would know I exist, let alone that I am related to them.

  Am I old enough to leave home yet?

  Chapter Nine

  Everyone has dreamed of running away at least once in their life – just them and a backpack on the open road.

  When I tried, I only got as far as the beach and I forgot to take my backpack, although since it only has a dried-up glitter pen and my old half-filled UNICORN PALS notebook in it, that wasn’t such a disaster.

  Mum thought I was playing in the adventure playground – yet more evidence that she has forgotten I am twelve in less than a month. Liam was supposed to be keeping an eye on me but he was playing the arcade games in the PlayZone and couldn’t care less what I was doing.

  It’s strangely calming watching the waves crash onto the golden sand over and over again, impossible to stop, although they do remind me of the RELENTLESS SHAME-FEST that is my life. Miss Skelly told us that an actor must live in the moment while drawing from the past and I am trying to keep calm but it is hard when the past and the present are both made of utter HUMILIATION.

  The beach next to the holiday camp isn’t huge, but there were plenty of surfers out catching the waves. I know that Newquay is famous for surfing but it looks a bit dangerous to me. Still, it was good fun to watch, especially when someone caught a really big wave and looked like they were dancing on the top of it. It was almost enough to make me forget why I was hiding between the sand dunes in the first place.

  “Alright, dweeb?” Liam said when he found me half an hour later. “I thought this was where you’d be.”

  I hate it when he does this, acts like he knows me when really he is an ALIEN from another planet sent to ruin my life. “What do you want?”

  He sat down beside me. “I think you’re being too harsh on Dad. I know he goes on and on about Elvis and I agree that outfit he wears is terrible but you have to give the audience what they expect.” He glanced at me sideways. “You’re wearing costumes for this show you’re doing, right?”

  The wardrobe mistress had measured me before I left so that they could get mine sorted out while I was away. All I knew was that it involved feathers. “Yeah.”

  “Well, imagine if you didn’t wear it. Do you think the people watching would believe you were one of Fat Sam’s dancers in 1920s New York?”

  I stared at him, amazed for several reasons. I didn’t realize he’d been paying attention when I’d been rattling on about the show. Normally he makes a big point of NOT listening. And he had a point about the costumes. “I suppose not.”

  “So it’s the same for Dad. People expect a big black quiff and a satin jumpsuit – t
hat’s what Elvis wore. If Dad rocked up in his office clothes, no one would give him a second look.”

  I could see what he was getting at. “But why does he have to do it here? Everyone will know he’s our dad. We’re going to be laughing stocks.”

  I don’t actually know what a laughing stock is but it probably isn’t good. Liam threw me a strange look. “Because staying somewhere like Happy Sands in the summer holidays isn’t cheap and in case you haven’t noticed, we don’t have much cash to splash. I’m proud of Dad for getting booked for a solid week of performances. That doesn’t happen unless you’re good. And you don’t get good unless you put the work in.”

  Call me a dumb salami, but it hadn’t ever occurred to me that Dad might have had to work on his Elvis routine to perfect it, or even that he might be GOOD. All I’d thought about was how mortifying it was to have a parent who did what he did. I’d never realized he was just playing a part, basically the starring role in his own one-man show, but Liam was right – people don’t pay unless you are good.

  What was it Miss Skelly had said – something about a paying audience being hard to please? And I remembered how much my knees shook during my audition, and how my heart felt like it was about to explode with terror. If Dad felt like that every time he performed, he didn’t deserve my mockery. He deserved a medal.

  “It hurt to get overlooked for the part you wanted, right?” Liam asked.

  I hugged my knees, remembering the sting of seeing Imani’s name on the wall instead of mine. “Yeah.”

  “Dad knows all about that – he’s had plenty of failed auditions and knock-backs in the early days but he didn’t let them grind him down and now he’s finally becoming successful. Forget for a minute that he’s our dad and try being supportive for once.” He stared hard at me. “In fact, try to be a bit more like your mate Molly.”

  I didn’t need to ask what he meant – Molly was WOLF BRETHREN’s number-one fan and went way over and above the call of duty to support them, although that was mostly because she fancied the disgusting three-day-old pants off Liam. But she’d done her best to help Shenice and me to up our audition game, too, even though she’d had her own song to learn. And then I thought about how expensive this holiday was, even though it might not be a lot for some families, and remembered that Mum and Dad had paid quite a lot of money to send me to EDDDA, on top of the bursary. And that was money Dad needed to earn all over again, by being Elvis when he should have been relaxing on holiday. Suddenly I felt brattier than a toddler in a tantrum.