Time
to
Shine
Lisa Clark

Table of Contents

Cover Page

Title Page

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Tweleve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-one

Chapter Twenty-two

Chapter Twenty-three

Chapter Twenty-four

Chapter Twenty-five

Chapter Twenty-six

Chapter Twenty-seven

About the Author

Copyright

About the Publisher

Chapter One

“Finally Lola, this is your chance!” Sadie says, gently digging me in the arm. “You always said you were a should-be starlet, right? Well this is it, this is officially your time to shine!” Sadie sings ‘Time to Shine’ at the top of her voice while doing the same crazy jazz-hand movements that Lilly, played by Hollywood teen queen Farah Grant, does in the movie.

How do I know this?

Well, because…Shhhh, don’t tell anyone, but I’ve seen it.

At least three times.

Okay, maybe even more than that, but like I say, shhhh.

I’m whispering because I need to keep this piece of info on the serious down low.

Why?

Because my passion is for old movies. The really old kind, filled with gorgeous and glamorous stars of yesteryear, like Audrey Hepburn and Marilyn Monroe, so Time to Shine, a super-cheesy, over-the-top, sing-along musical, should not be on my radar, in any way, shape or form.

Except it is. In fact, it’s a total guilty pleasure. Like taking a nap in the middle of the day, or eating a whole bar of chocolate in one sitting. You know you shouldn’t do it, but it’s so, so good when you do. It’s the same with Time to Shine. You really shouldn’t like it, but you don’t care, you just do. Because really, what’s not to love about a musical set in the 1950s with quiff-toting boys and floral frock-wearing girls, insanely catchy tunes that you can never, ever stop singing, and a storyline that proves with a perma-positive, sunny disposition everyone gets their Time to Shine?!

“Don’t be silly, Sadie,” I say, nudging her back playfully. “I don’t want to be in a school musical!”

The thing is, I don’t think she’s silly at all, in fact, I’m so excited about the idea I’m doing somersaults of happiness in my head just thinking about it. Time to Shine is as contagiously happy as Hairspray, it’s as sing-along-able as Mamma Mia and as feel-good fabulous as Fame, and if Parkfield Comp needs a Lilly, then I could most definitely be their girl. Don’t get me wrong, I’d be scared x 1000 to actually audition, let alone take to the stage, step into the spotlight, and sing.

Oh, and dance.

Oh, and kiss a boy. Actually, forget it, because, scarier x 100 million trillion is the fact I’d have to literally lock lips with whoever plays Richie, and no matter how cute the potential leading man might be - it could be Jake Farrell for all I care - that is so completely, utterly, totally out of the question.

“C’mon, Lola, you’ve got to audition at least,” Sadie says, pulling at the sleeve of my school cardi that she’d helped me customise with different coloured sparkle buttons. “You’re always singing that ‘Life is Too Short to be a Spectator’ song. And I mean, always. Go on, you know you want to - I’ll come along and hold your hand!”

“Er, Sadie,” I say, lowering my voice so that my fellow corridor dwellers are unable to listen in, “even if I were interested in auditioning, which I’m not, I think you’re forgetting something. Something VERY important.”

“I am?” she says, looking at me with a quizzical expression on her sweet-as-sugar face.

“Yes, yes you are. You’re forgetting the scene. You know, the scene.” I whisper, making air quotation marks with my fingers.

“What scene?” shouts Sadie, causing a tall girl, with surfer-girl tumbling curls, to turn and see what all the fuss is about. We both flash her a smile, and, as the unwritten but well-known rules of Parkfield Comp dictate, on realisation that we’re both in the year below her, she turns right back around, without even acknowledging our existence - which, in this case, is a very good thing.

“Shhh, Miss Sades!” I say, putting my finger to my lip, before attempting to explain. Again. “Y’know, the scene where Richie and Lilly, y’know, get, um…smoochy-smoochy.”

“Ahhhhhhh!” she says, and I have to put my finger to her lips in an attempt at volume control. For someone so super-cool, Sadie really isn’t grasping my need for the hush-hush. “But I don’t get it, Lo-Lo. Why would a smoochy scene stop you from auditioning?”

Seriously, whoever has taken my super-cool, super-hip Pink Lady, Sadie and replaced her with an equally as cute, but nowhere-near-as-bright version, could you bring her back now please?

“Because, Sadie,” I begin, trying desperately hard not to turn a shade of mortification-red at having to actually say what I’m about to say out loud. “I am NOT having my first ever smooch-a-rama live on stage in Parkfield Comp. That is absolutely, catergorically not going to happen. In this lifetime, or any other for that matter. So there.”

“Ohhhh, well, since you put it like that, Lo…” Sadie says, taking an in-breath of air, and blowing it out as she shakes her pretty curls at me and pauses for thought. Literally. Putting her aquamarine painted nails to her chin and rolling her eyes skyward.

“Okay,” she says, breaking from her position of thought to one of real-life actual action - this involves a mini pirouette in the corridor - don’t worry, Sadie does this a lot, she’s adorable. “Lo-Lo,” she whispers as she points to the audition poster, “you can’t let the teeny problem of being smooch-deficient stop you from rocking it up starlet style - you just can’t. In fact, I won’t let you. Surely they won’t make you actually kiss anyone Lo - this is a school production after all!”

I purse my lips and move them from side to side in contemplation. Sadie’s got a point. This is Parkfield Comp, not Hollywood. There’s no way in this world that Mr Pike, our head teacher, would allow a public display of smooch just because the storyline in a movie that he would never, ever have seen demands it.

He is not a fan of the smooch.

Just recently, he made Andrea Child, a girl in Year 11 who wears vixen-red lipstick and lashings of black mascara, write a five hundred word essay about how much bacteria is passed through kissing because he caught her partaking in the act of smooch with a boy-type when she should have been in Maths class. If that wasn’t bad enough, he made her read it out in assembly. In front of EVERYONE. Cringe x 100000.

I let out a huge sigh of relief. If the role isn’t going to involve smoochy-smooch time, then I think I just might consider auditioning. If ever there was a lead role I wanted to play, besides being the star-girl in my daily performance of Livin’ La Vida Lola that is, it’s Lilly. She isn’t like Sandy in Grease - a good girl who thinks she has to turn bad just to get a boyfriend - she’s feisty and fabulous, just like me. She also gets to wear cute 1950s ensembles - think ankle socks and a twin-set - and is wooed by the dee-lish jock-boy, Richie Taylor. Sigh.

Now, if my first smoochy-smooch is going to be with Richie Taylor, then maybe, just maybe, I’ll consider my first lockage of lips to take place in public. You would too, he’s dee-blimmin’-licious. I also know all the words to all the songs. In fact, all the Pink Ladies do. Even Bella. Although she’ll never admit it. Not ever.

I look at Sadie, wriggle my pout from side to side in an ‘I’m thinking, okay?’ motion and slowly break out a killer-watt grin.

“Okay, okay - I give in! Sign me up!” I say, twisting the sparkly plastic button on my cardigan back and forth.

Ohmystars - what on earth have I let myself in for?

“Woohoo!” She lets out a trademark Sadie squeal - high-pitched and squeaky - and writes ‘Lola Love’ in pink ink under the heading ‘Lilly Auditionees - sign up here’. I then hold up my hand reluctantly, because I know what’s coming next. It’s the now mandatory, Pink Lady celebration method, for just about anything: a high five.

Chapter Two

There is a total vision of rock-girl fabulousness standing at the school gate. Sadie and I run towards her, and her much-practised snarly pout melts into a smile. Miss Bella is looking every inch the rock chick that she absolutely, positively is. Her platinum blonde hair is in a bubbly beehive and is tied with a red, oversized bow. She has thick black eyeliner around her eyes and she’s wearing a ripped pair of red tights, denim shorts and a baggy tee cinched at the waist with a borrowed-from-me red belt.

Bella rocks. This is total and utter factuality.

Seriously, she is just so good at throwing together an outfit that simply shouldn’t work and making it look like designer high-end couture or something. If you ask Bella about how she actually does it, she’ll simply say ‘it’s all about the ‘tude, sweet thing!’ and well, Bella should know: she’s the official queen of ‘tude.

“Walk tall and know that you rock, Lola - and I swear, you’ll be able to wear absolutely anything!” she told me once when I was debating whether a pink trilby hat was maybe a little too much for my already rather pink ensemble. I placed the trilby on my head, gave my reflection a wink of approval and Bella was right, I worked it. I deffo got some sideways glances, but hey, you wouldn’t wear a pink trilby hat if you didn’t want to get noticed, right?

“Guess what, Bella?” Sadie says, linking arms with us both and encouraging us to skip down the hill towards the sea.

“What?” says Bella, breaking into a full knee-lifting skip, not before checking around to make sure that no-one she knows might actually see her first.

“Lola’s auditioning for the school production of Time to Shine!” Sadie squeals with excitement.

“Really? What’s Time to Shine, exactly?” Bella asks inquisitively. Her over-enthusiastic skip has now become more of a soft-shoe shuffle as we reach the amusement arcades. From this point, it’s now only seventy four more skips to Sadie’s house. I know this because last week we managed to skip the entire way home without stopping - forget aerobics, skipping is a far more fabu way to get fit.

“Bella!” Sadie and I both sigh, before tutting loudly and shaking our heads in Bella’s general direction. I told you she’d deny all knowledge of ever having seen Time to Shine, didn’t I? Despite the fact that I’ve sat next to her while she’s watched it at least three times in my room. I know it’s cheesy, but unless you’re dairy intolerant, cheese really is rather fabulous, don’t you think? Well, Bella obviously doesn’t, although I don’t entirely know why, because I think she’s super-cool no matter what movies she watches.

“Seriously,” Sadie sighs, giving her a tap on the arm, “you don’t have to pretend with us, y’know!”

“Sadie, I don’t have a crazy clue what you’re talking about…” Bella says, shooting Sadie a don’t-mess-with-me-on-this-one look.

I have literally run out of ways in which to tell you that Bella is just one of those people that doesn’t have to work at being cool, she just is. So why she must insist on defending her perma-cool-factor at all times, I just don’t know. She’s funny like that.

In fact she’s funny in a lot of ways because when Sadie goes on to explain about my audition, her shuffle turns to a stone kick and an almost foot-stomp.

“Bella, if you’re going keep up your ‘’pretend I’ve never seen it, even though I’ve seen it at least three times’ story, then fine, it doesn’t matter.” Sadie tells Bella. “What does matter is that Lola’s going to audition - cool huh?!”

“Well,” I interrupt, “I’m still not sure whether I’m actually going to go through with it yet,” I say, giving Bella the perfect opportunity to turn big sister, like she normally does, and pass on her two-years-more-experience-than-us words of wisdom. But right now, Bella is scoring a big fat zilcho in the interest department.

“Make her do it, Bella, make her!” Sadie pleads, paying no attention to the slightly miffed, not bothered expression currently making a not-nice look on Bella’s face.

“Lola can do whatever she likes,” Bella says in a clipped tone, usually reserved for the likes of Sadie’s bro, Scottie-too-Hottie, who, FYI, she’s not a fan of AT ALL.

“Well,” Sadie says, as sarcastically as Sadie can manage, because sarcasm is not really Sadie’s ‘tude du jour, “thank you very much Bella, your support here has been totally invaluable!”

“Well, I mean it, it’s only a silly school production!” Bella shrugs, picking up her pace and muttering something about getting to band practise before Scott hogs the entire basement.

Ouch.

Bella is feisty, fun, fearless and fabulous 99% of the time, but there are times, like right now, when she could quite easily be a Negative Nina. Now, I know that no one is totally Think Pink perfect all of the time, and I know that we all get an attack of the Gloomy Grumps every now and again - f’rinstance, I definitely get them when I’m lacking in chocolate goodness - but it makes me all kinds of sad that when my very own gal pal Bella gets the Gloomy Grumps, and for no apparent reason takes it out on me. My aunt Lullah used to say that we often take out our Gloomy Grumps on the people closest to us, mainly because we know they’ll forgive us, but I’m not entirely sure that makes it okay.

“Look,” exclaims Bella, “are you two going to be getting your groove on anytime soon? We’ve got band practise in five minutes or doesn’t that matter anymore? Is your school production more important now?”

She pulls a just-bit-into-a-lemon face when she says the word ‘school’ and I’m just about to explain to Bella that of course band practise matters, it’s my most favourite part of the day - well, besides sleeping of course, because sleeping…well, sleeping really is the very best part of anyone’s day, isn’t it? But she quickens her pace to one with which only a marathon runner could compete.

“Lo-Lo,” Sadie soothes, squeezing my arm tightly, “don’t worry about Bella, you know how she gets when we talk about anything school-related.”

I nod because I do know how Bella gets when we talk all things school-related. She gets like this. Narky and surly and Negative Nina-like.

You see, Bella gets really funny about all things school because…well, she doesn’t actually go. Bella is home schooled by her bendy wendy, Yoga Dad. His job as a yoga guru-type takes him all over the world, so instead of enrolling at a different school every time they move, he teaches Bella from home, wherever home happens to be.

“Maybe I really shouldn’t audition,” I say to Sadie. “The last thing I want to do is upset Bella.”

“Lo-Lo, don’t be silly,” Sadie says, gripping my arm tighter in hers. “Bella’s just super-sensitive where the ‘school’ thing is concerned. Let’s make a vow, here and now, to include Bella in all things school production. She’ll try to resist, but we won’t let her, ‘k? For sure, she’s older, pretends she doesn’t know what Time to Shine is and has that whole rock-girl ‘tude thing going on, but she’ll want to be involved, I know it. Maybe I could ask Miss Elliot if she could come in and help with the music?”

“Yeah!” I agree. “Except, we’d better make it seem like Miss Elliot is looking for help - that way Bella won’t think we’re treating her like a charity case or something!”

“Good idea, Lo-Lo!” Sadie says, and we give a barely visible high five to each other so as not to raise any unnecessary Bella attention. Although we needn’t have worried: Bella’s way ahead of us now, and though Sadie and I try desperately to catch up with Bella’s speedy new pace, we ultimately fail, what with Bella having legs that go all the way up to her armpits and all. So instead we watch her do her speed-walk-of-stomp all the way to Sadie’s basement and trail behind singing the lyrics to ‘Adorability’ from Time to Shine at the top of our voices.

Chapter Three

“Shut up!” exclaims Angel so loud that I have to hold my mobile, pink-natch, - away from my ear.

I was so upset by Bella’s reaction to my audition news, that as soon as band practise was over - which was when Bella had finished making a noisy, aggro guitar screech along to some shouty lyrics about the ‘90s - I came straight home to seek the opinion of Pink Lady and my all time BFF Angel, just to make sure I was doing the right thing.

“That’s amazing, Lo! You’ll be a totally kick-ass Lilly!”

Now this is the kind of reaction I’ve been looking for. Bella would do well to take a few lessons from the ‘how to react when your gal pal is about to do something super-exciting’ book of Angel, instead of pretending that Sadie and I had never, ever mentioned a school production and playing her guitar really, really loudly anytime it looked like someone might want to speak.

Now, all the Pink Ladies have something in their Think Pink vanity case that will help deal with a messy, stressy head, and making hurty-ear noises on a guitar is Bella’s.

FYI: mine is writing in my journal, Sadie’s is bashing on her drums and Angel’s is flicking through fashion magazines - all are Pink Lady tried and tested methods that can help to cure an attack of the Gloomy Grumps.

I’m totally okay with Bella screeching out to chase away the GGs, but I’m still a teeny, tiny bit miffed that she didn’t talk to me about how she was feeling or at least say ‘sorry’ or ‘good luck’ or ‘way to go, girlfriend!’ She could have even offered up a high five if words were too much of a problem, and they sometimes are for someone who is susceptible to moments of stubbornness like Miss B, but she didn’t, and I know she’s upset, but now I’m a bit upset too. I really want to tell Angel, but I don’t want her to make a drama where there isn’t one, because between you and me, Angel, as adorable as she is, LOVES a drama. So, instead of entering into a goss-fest about beautiful Bella, I pull on my metaphorical pink wellies and paddle in the love my BFF is sharing via phone link.

“Just like America Ferrara is the only person that could ever play Ugly Betty, you, Lola Love, are the only person that can play Lilly!” Angel informs me as if it is cold hard fact.

I love her for that.

“Well, besides Farah Grant obviously,” I remind her, “what with her playing Lilly in the movie and all.”

“Deetails, schmeetails, Lola!” Angel tuts. “This is awesome! I’ll be there on your opening night, I’ll throw roses at the stage and whoop until you come back for an encore!”

See what I mean about her being a drama queen? While my life is the pink-tinted blockbuster movie Livin’ La Vida Lola, Angel’s is nothing short of a full-blown Broadway production, with belt-out, show-stopping numbers and over-the-top theatrics.

“I haven’t got the part yet, Angel!” I tell her, knowing that in Angel’s world, this is a mere technicality. A minor smudge on the bigger picture. In Angel’s world I’ve already got the part. I like Angel’s world. A lot.

“I’ll coach you through the audition, Lo,” Angel informs me. “There’s no way you won’t get that part!”

After Bella’s reaction to the school production, I was worried about mentioning anything to Angel in case she got an attack of the Gloomy Grumps about it too, but I really needn’t have worried. Angel is a cheerleader of fantastic fabulousness. Not only is she totally ruling out any possible doubt or fear-like wobbles that she knows I’m prone to with her über-confidence in me, she’s going to be my audition coach too! I feel like I’m starring in my very own episode of MTV’s Made or something.

I should have known Angel, queen of all things dramarama, would be excited for me, not just because I’m her BFF, and both of us have over-active imaginations, but Angel and I, well, we we are no strangers to a production.

When we were younger, there was nothing we loved more than to put together our very own Lola and Angel show. Don’t worry, what we lacked in original name choices we more than made up for in dedication and enthusiasm. Our audience, consisting of a somewhat varied assortment of teddies and cuddly toys, never failed to be impressed, and why wouldn’t they be with such sparkling performances as ‘Davina’s Day of Dreadful Disasters’? Granted, they weren’t the most animated of audiences two would-be starlets could hope for, but they never criticised either, and well, that was just fine with us.

But Time to Shine is the real deal. Livin’ La Vida Lola the movie starring me, Lola Love, rocks, there’s no doubt about that, but getting to perform on a real stage with lights and everything is too exciting for wordage. This is my chance to step into the pink-tinted spotlight and rock a role that could have been written all about me - except for the bit about Lilly kissing her boy crush, because my boy crush is Jake Farrell and he is kissing Eva Satine. Boo. Nope, if I’m ever going to score me the role as leading lady in this production, there is seriously no one more qualified to coach me than the Queen of Dramarama, Miss Angel Trueman. And with her on Team Lola, what could possibly go wrong?

Chapter Four

“Lola Love, what do you think you’re doing?” Sadie shouts in her best teacher-like tone while grabbing the pen from my hand.

“I, I…” I stutter, but it’s no use. I’ve been caught. She knows exactly what I’m doing, that’s why she’s pulling a pout and has her hand on her hip.

“Lo, I thought you were cool with auditioning,” she says, frowning. “Is it because of Bella? Because if it is, I’ll talk to her, I promise…”

But I’m not about to cross out my name on the audition poster because of Bella. In fact, after speaking to Angel last night, I’ve been super excited x 1000 about the whole auditioning thing. But today, when I arrived at school having been listening to the Time to Shine soundtrack on my mp3 player, full blast, on repeat, I saw that Evil Eva Satine had signed up for the role of Lilly too.

I don’t know why I was so surprised. The school production is Eva’s territory after all, and no one has ever dared challenge her for leading lady status. Well, until now, that is, but when I saw her name in her distinct loopy handwriting, I became an instant Doubtful Doris.

Sadie follows my eyes to the audition poster and lets out a big Sadie-sized sigh when she spots the real reason for my attack of the nearly cross-outs.

“Lola, that’s even worse! You simply cannot let Evil Eva stop you from auditioning,” Sadie pleads. She’s reading my mind in the only way a gal pal who has known you for a little while can, because she’s right, that’s exactly what I was going to do. “This is your chance to take centre stage, Lo-Lo. You’re a Think Pink Princess, right?”

I nod, because I am.

“Right, so when we Think Pink we don’t let Eva-shaped obstacles stop us from doing what we want to do, do we?”

I shake my head, because we don’t.

“Besides, you’re cool and kick-ass just like Lilly, and Eva…well, she’s neither cool or kick-ass…”

Sadie’s voice trails off and she tugs at my school cardi while doing a googly-big-eye thing.

“Um…Sades, what’s up?” I ask, trying to work out why my prettilicious pal is making really wrong shapes with her face, but then I smell it. It’s a strong and sickly-sweet scent of rose-perfumed rudeness, which can only mean one thing.

Eva Satine has entered the building.

Followed, of course, by her girl-gang, the Negative Ninas.

It’s really obvious that their straight-from-a-teen-flick corridor strut has been practiced a million times, yet it never, ever fails to impress. Not that it impresses Sadie and I, obv. No, we know they’re badness x 100. But the rest of the school…well, they just don’t see it. With a flick of her signature gold-spun locks, a fixed smile without teeth - which FYI is a neon-flashing sure sign that someone is being false - and the clickity-click of her totally-not-appropriate-for-school heels, Eva Satine really does have the pupils of Parkfield Comp in a constant hypnotic state of ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs.’

Sadie and I are about to vacate the vicinity, not because we’re scared of Eva - because really, she’s not scary at all, she’s just super-mean - but because we know that if we don’t, there’s a good chance that Eva and her hang-gang members will take it as a go-ahead cue to turn their mean switch to the highest setting of all: wicked.

But we’re too late. Eva has shimmied up beside us and made her way straight to the Time to Shine audition poster.

“So Lola,” Eva says, glancing from the audition poster to me, then back to the poster with her ice-blue eyes. “It seems that a certain someone has got a tiny bit too big for their rather unattractive footwear, doesn’t it?”

The Negative Ninas all laugh out loud at Eva’s first-of-many-I’m-sure put down. Seriously, could they be any more predictable?

Answer: No.

“Do you know,” Eva coos sarcastically, “I think it’s really, really sweet that you, Lola Lard - oops sorry, Love - with your trash pink hair and over-sized…well, everything, think that you actually have a chance at playing Lilly. It’s quite possibly the sweetest, most deluded thing I’ve ever heard - what do you think girls?”

She turns to the Negative Ninas who, as if controlled by a remote control, all mimic Eva in an eager-to-please over-enthusiastic way, saying stuff like ‘yeah, she’s totally deluded, Eva. Totally.’

Ouch.

Even though I know that being mean is an Olympic event for Eva, it still feels like a hefty punch in the tummy when she delivers one of her gold-medal-winning verbal blows. Y’see, in Eva’s universe, someone like me, with my pink hair, love of writing and my go-girl ways would never, ever be a star-girl. Eva’s universe is all about the superficial. For a start, to hang in her gang, you have to be blonde. People have actually dyed their hair Eva’s suggested shade of blonde-girl-blonde in order to score a position as an official hang-out bud with the Negative Ninas. I know, how crazy is that?

But people do that sometimes. They do whatever they can to fit in and NOT stand out. For sure, being yourself and celebrating what makes you totally fabulous is quite possibly the coolest thing to do, ever, and really, it’s the absolute most sure-fire way to becoming a star-girl in your own universe, but it’s not always easy.

In fact, it can sometimes feel like really, really hard work.

Especially when every magazine, TV show and so-called ‘pretty’ girl in your school is rockin’ a look that’s so very different to your own.

Or when a mean girl, like Eva, who feels completely threatened by your go-girl ‘tude and stylin’, will do and say anything to take you from hero to zero in a nano second.

Now, I try not to let Eva make me feel bad, but if I’m really honest, that’s why I was going to skip the audition; it just seemed like the easiest way to avoid her nasty-rude comments. But the easy option really isn’t an option at all when you’re a Pink Thinking Princess. Nope, when you Think Pink, you do the right thing.

Even if it does mean having to deal with Evil Eva. Grr.

Chapter Five

I say nothing, because I know that more than anything, Eva wants me to react. That’s how girls like Eva work. She wants me to make like JT and cry an entire river, or get so mad I turn a shade of super-rage-red, but I won’t. Instead, I try really hard to force my lips into a teeth-bearing smile shape in the hope that kindness will win out.

And it does, in a funny way, because when Eva realises that this particular Pink Lady isn’t playing her bad-girl games, she tuts, she huffs and just like that, she turns her attention to something far more interesting.

Jake Farrell.

Le Sigh.

Jake Farrell is Eva’s boyfriend. Which by default should make him an extremely unattractive boy-type, but it doesn’t. Not one teeny, tiny bit. In fact, I am head over pink, kicked-in Converse heels in crush with him. He’s so sweet, he gives me toothache. He’s sunshine on a rainy day. He’s a whole lot of bass-playing, yummy-scrummy goodness. Jake has been the heir to my heart since way before he started seeing Eva, and despite his poor, poor taste in girlkind, I still can’t help but make moon-eyes at him. A lot.

“Jakey,” Eva coos, tickling his nose with the blue, fluffy feathers at the end of her pen. “Did you want me to sign you up, or do you want to do it yourself?”

He brushes the feathers away from his face and wiggles his nose in a way that sends him soaring off the cuteness scale into a whole new stratosphere of cute.

“Sign up for what?” he asks, looking genuinely confused. Now, confusion is a look he works on a regular basis, but this really is no reason to judge him, okay?

“For the role of Richie in the musical, silly!” she says, rolling her eyes and shaking her head at him.

“Er, I don’t know about that, Eva,” he says, taking a step back from her. “School productions aren’t really my thing - maybe I could help out with the music instead?”

“Jakey!” Eva squeals, stepping right back into the space he’s made between them. “Of course it’s your thing! Gosh, you really are silly sometimes!” She does a perfected faux-laugh and shoves the pen back in his face. “Here, sign.”

“But Eva…” he protests, through gritted teeth, “I can’t act, I’m a musician!”

“JAKE!” Eva shouts. Foot-stomping is most definitely imminent, until of course she realises that her position as Her Majesty Queen Eva, Ruler of the Corridors, is in jeopardy, at which point she turns on her razzle-dazzle, smiles at passers by and lowers her voice. “Jake.” She smiles a no teeth smile. “Will you look at us? We’re practically Parkfield’s very own Richie and Lilly as it is. Come on, you want to really, don’t you?”

Although it sounds like she’s was asking him, anyone who knows Eva knows that when she ends a sentence with a question, she doesn’t actually require a response. So I’m slightly shocked and stunned to hear Jake still talking.

“But Eva,” he pleads. He’s persistent; I’ll give him that. “I don’t think I want to.” Oh, and brave. Definitely brave.

“Jake,” Eva says, changing tack, cocking her head to one side and fluttering her far-too-much-mascara-ed eyelashes right at him, “I’m not altogether sure that matters. What does matter however, is that you love me, and if you loved me, you’d do it.”

Oh, that’s a really low blow. It’s not altogether surprising though - mean girls like Eva can apply emotional blackmail as easily as Pink Lady Angel applies lip-gloss.

Jake lets out a sigh and throws his arms above his head in submission.

“Fine, whatever,” he says, looking deflated and defeated. “Seriously, do whatever you want Eva, you normally do!”

Eva smiles a sickly-sweet smile of satisfaction, plants a lipstick-y kiss on his cheek and takes his comment as a green light to write his name under ‘Richie auditionees’.

In my Jake-filled dream scenes that really ought to be coming to a screen near you soon, this would be the moment where Jake, in all his square-jawed glory, would say, “Enough is enough, Eva - we’re through!” in a suitably American-o daytime soap type way, at which point his eyes would lock with mine, our surroundings would become soft focus, and Jake would finally realise that the girl he should be with - that’s me btw - is right here in all her pink-tinted fabulousness.

What really happens is nowhere near as entertaining.

Jake catches Sadie and I trying to pretend we’re not eavesdropping, when quite clearly we are, and shrugs his shoulders in a ‘what can you do?’ motion just as a jock-boy in knee-high socks and football boots gives him a boy chum greeting. The kind that involves lots of grunting and back-slapping, which personally, looks nowhere near as fun as squidgy, girly hugs.

Although he might not want the role of Richie in Time to Shine, Jake really is pretty much perfect for it. Just like Jake, Richie is a jock-boy and just like Jake, he plays in a band too. Except, unlike Jake, Richie finds himself falling for the super-kooky Lilly who isn’t part of the so-called cool clique - she’s not part of anyone’s clique she walks her own path, making pink kitten heel-shaped footprints as she goes. He’s never met anyone like her before, and he’s totally mesmerised by her whimsical and slightly off the wall ways.

Oh Jake, I could totally be your Lilly.

Sadie shakes her head in disbelief. “Did that just happen?” she whispers.

“Uh-huh.” I confirm. “Poor Jake, huh?”

“Er…no, Lo, not poor Jake at all,” Sadie says, pulling me to one side out of Eva’s earshot. “It’s because people like Jake let her get away with her insecure, bad-girl behaviour that she keeps on doing it. If Jake’s not big enough to stand up to her then fine, but there’s no way I’m going to let her stop you from auditioning, okay?!”

“Okay!” I agree, hugging Sadie tight.

Eva may have pretty hair, get good grades and date the bee-you-tiful Jake Farrell, but I’ve got one thing that she hasn’t got. I’ve got an amazing, sparkly-gorgeous Sadie, and if you ask me that makes me by far the luckiest girl in Girlsville. Fact.

Chapter Six

“Lola, can you come in here for a minute, please?”

For a second I fail to recognise the nice, not-at-all-shouty tone of my ma-parental, but as I’m in our house, passing our living room, I think it’s safe to assume that it’s definitely her, it’s just that the new-and-improved ma-parental is still taking a lot of getting used to.

It’s not that I don’t like this version, because I absolutely, positively do, but I sometimes worry that the holler-back ma-parental, whose voice would echo through the entire neighbourhood, might come back and make an appearance one day, and well…I’d hate for that to happen.

I poke my head around the door to see the ma-parental, sitting on the living room floor, crossed legged, in a mess of silver wrapping paper and sellotape, being circled by Cat.

“What do you think?” she asks, holding up a length of black beads with a small black Buddha hanging from it.

“Well, it’s not really you, Mum, is it?” I say, which is a totally fair comment to make, because it really isn’t. In fact, up to about six months ago, I’d have bet my favourite pink polka-dot prom dress on her not knowing what a Buddha even is.

FYI: If I’m honest, six months ago, I didn’t know what a Buddha was either, I thought it was just a really cool statue of a super-smiley guy with a round belly that you rub for good luck. But Bella has actually been to countries like India and Thailand - I know, how awesome is that? - And because I’m a sucker for learning - not maths though (ick) - I insisted Bella gave me an Eastern philosophy 101. Deep, huh? Bella really does know ever such a lot about a lot of things; she just doesn’t want to know about me right now, and that makes me sad.

“It’s not for me, Lola!” the ma-parental giggles. Giggling is yet another new addition to her ever-growing repertoire of ways to express joy and happiness, something that has deffo been lacking from her world. “It’s for Lawrence,” she says, smiling.

Lawrence?

Woah - back up. When did we start calling yoga-dad Lawrence? I know it’s his name and all, but, the ma-parental and I have always referred to him as ‘Bella’s yoga-dad’ - that’s just how it’s been. We’ve NEVER called him Lawrence, not once. I know that, just like Bella and I have become friends, so have the ma-parental and yoga-dad, but hearing her call him his actual name, Lawrence, well, that implies that they might be getting close or something.

“Is it his birthday?” I ask.

“No, I just wanted to get him a little something to say, I…” The ma-parental pauses and slips into a trance-like state. And it’s then that I see it. The face. She’s making the same face that goddess-girls in old black and white movies make when they’re in L.O.V.E. This is weird. This is all kinds of crazy-weird. And not in a good way. “Oh, I don’t know,” she says, shaking her head free of any dream-like thoughts, “I just wanted to get him a present to say…thank you, I suppose.”

“Oh,” I say, not knowing entirely what to say. I don’t want to ask her outright, because, y’know, we’re still working on the whole mother/daughter thing and while there’s definite progress, I don’t think we’re at a place for me to ask if she’s dating my gal-pal’s dad.

Also, I’m not sure I really want to know the answer, especially if that answer is yes.

“Well, I think he’ll really like it, mum” I say, because while I don’t know yoga-dad all that well, thanks to my Eastern philosophy 101, I do know that both he and Bella are big fans of all things Buddha.

The Mothership smiles with satisfaction and like a mirror, I find myself reflecting a smile right back at her because despite the icky feeling I’m feeling in my tummy, I’ve not seen the Mothership this happy in a long time, and I like it.

“I’m just heading over to Sadie’s,” I tell her as I hold down the paper ready for sellotaping. “She’s just texted me to say that her and Ooh-la-la Charlie are planning one of Sadie’s famous soirées, and they want me to help!”

“Is Bella going with you?” Ma-parental asks, sticking the sellotape over my fingers. Turns out we’re not altogether too good at wrapping.

“Er…I don’t think so,” I tell her. “She’s not really talking to me at the moment.”

“Really? Why?” Mum asks, peeling the back off a self-stick silver bow.

This is a definite first in my movie, Livin’ La Vida Lola.

It seems that the Mothership and I are about to enter into what they commonly refer to as a mother/daughter convo, and apparently, we don’t suck at it either, because I find myself telling her all about the school production, how Bella got angry at me, the fact that I’m going to audition tomorrow and how Evil Eva is too - all the stuff I usually would have told my Aunt Lullah if she was here and not in swanky NYC, but would never, ever have dared tell the ma-parental, because…well, she just wouldn’t have got it.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.