Blondetourage (17 page)

'You didn't used to dress like this, did you?'
Anouschka continues, turning her shoulder to
Ashleigh and it becomes immediately obvious she
was never talking to her all along, but was talking
about George.

Ouch.

George's eyes widen. 'You like my outfit?'

Anouschka gives her another once-over. 'What's
not to like? Vintage is hot. Especially if you know
what to look for. And you obviously do.'

In the background, Ashleigh's face turns thunderous
and a nasty shade of grey.

'But ...' George looks completely confused. 'I
thought you hated my clothes! That you thought
they were trashy and stank of mothballs?'

Anouschka looks equally confused. 'Why would
you think that? I've noticed you before. You've got
a great eye. I'm not really into vintage, so I'll have
to get some shop names off you for my new show.'

'I don't understand ...' George starts again,
looking more confused than ever. But then she
spots something, out of the corner of her eye. That
someone slithering
away
from us this time, still like
the snake that she is.

The look on her face changes with that and I
watch as the fog of misunderstanding lifts from
around her.

How could she have been so stupid?

I guess there's her answer, headed away from
her, dressed from top to toe in designer white,
blonde hair flowing, trying to look like an angel,
but being nothing remotely like one.

Ashleigh. Again.

Oh, yes. And where things seemed confused
and muddled a minute ago, they now seem as clear
as the day is outside.

And then some.

Both George's jaw and mine harden as we
watch Ashleigh exit the room, using those snakelike
senses of hers to know just the right moment
to slink away from danger. I'd tried to give her
the benefit of the doubt. Tried to think that she
couldn't be pure evil. Tried to understand her.
What a waste of time. It seems she's been up to all
kinds of tricks ever since JJ and I appeared on the
scene and for a long time before, too. My mind
flits back over the past couple of weeks. I bet it
was her that day, in Paris – I bet it was her who
let Fluffy out, but blamed it on Anouschka. And
no wonder the paparazzi knew where Romy and
I were going to be – Ashleigh told them! But how
did she know what we were doing? Oh ... she
asked for my password to my computer and I gave
it to her! How dumb was I? But wait, I changed
it, remember? Oh, um, yes. To 'Fluffy'. Probably
the most obvious thing I could have chosen.
Then of course there's all the lies she spread about
Anouschka 'helping' Romy to break her foot and
Romy desperately wanting to quit the show, and
I'm sure Rhys and I getting along so well didn't
make her warm to me any, either.

As I watch the arch that Ashleigh has just disappeared
through, there's a second where I want to go
and chase her – hunt her down and lay poisonous
snake bait pellets of tales that will make sure she
never enters the house again. In other words, tell
Romy and Anouschka everything that has gone on.
But then I hear something – George laughing at
something Romy has said, Anouschka and Romy
joking with each other, and then I spot Toby and
Rhys heading on over to see where the fun is at.
And instead of worrying about Ashleigh, I'm drawn
back to the group. My group. To my friends. And as
I turn back to them and look at each one – George
with her amazing outfit, Romy with her happy face,
Anouschka with her (still kind of scary, but I'm sure
I'll get used to it) impeccable grooming and staccato
words and the boys being ... well ... the boys – I
dismiss unworthwhile Ashleigh from my thoughts.
Surprisingly, for someone who's occupied so many
of my thoughts recently, she's easily dismissible.
What a waste that she's taken up so much of my
time (no,
our
time) already. Because who knows
how long we've got? In this crazy business, we
have to make the most of every second. And that's
exactly what I'm going to do.

'What are you guys doing tonight?' I focus
back in on Romy and Anouschka and everyone
surrounding me with a grin. 'Because I think we
should have a little fire pit celebration. A proper
one this time. And I hate to sound like Ms Money
Bags, but the marshmallows are on me.'

S
oon enough, my grades are getting steadily
better, thanks to Melinda's guidance and
George tutoring me mercilessly (she almost invests in
a whip). Speaking of George, she's back to wearing
her gorgeous (Georgeous?!) vintage clothes full
time and is often begging to use any extra suitcase
space I might have going because of her developing
shopping fetish. She seems really different – it's
like a weight has been lifted from her shoulders. She
even confesses to me one day that she's had a bit of
plastic surgery thanks to me – a little something she
calls a 'scowlectomy'. She's also made friends with
Anouschka, which is really weird. She came clean
about the donkey sanctuary, which Anouschka (like
me) thought was hilarious until George showed her
the photos and now she's a donkey saving convert.
They're even planning to visit there soon to shoot
a country segment for Anouschka's show! I asked
George if Anouschka was going to do a style
makeover on Mr Peanuts, but George didn't think
that was particularly funny.

As for Romy, she's been in huge negotiations
about not just one fragrance, but a whole line! The
company she's been talking to is pushing to have
her products on the shelves yesterday, but Romy
is being great about standing her ground. She's
determined to take things slowly – to complete her
study and to make sure she's one hundred per cent
happy with the products that are going to come
out bearing her name. She has some amazing ideas
already and I can't wait to see what she comes up
with – it's sure to be the best celebrity product
ever and is bound to sell millions, if not billions of
units. I know I'll be lining up for one of the first
bottles to hit the shelves. She's pledged ten per cent
of the profits to a dyslexia research society, too.
I'm really proud of how she's changed her life. She
keeps saying it's all because of me, but I just have
to keep reminding her it's not. All I did was give
her a shove in the right direction.

What else? Oh, yes. Fluffy. Well, over the
months that have passed, Fluffy has sort of become
all mine. He and Anouschka never really hit it off
(she's more of a dog person) and just last week,
Anouschka gave me all of Fluffy's papers and
signed him over to me properly. I had to hide the
papers away immediately unless he saw his real
name. The one from his breeder, I mean. Ready
for this? It's:

Sweetmew Let Me Love You of Hey You Go
Girl.

How cruel is that? Even more cruel than Fluffy,
which I didn't think was possible.

Deep breath.

Okay, okay, I'll admit it. I've saved the best till
last. Blush.

So, George has also realised something else apart
from the clothes thing – that she and Toby were
meant to be and (blush again) Rhys and I have
even been out on a double date or two with them.
Which (blushing for a third time), I have to admit
has been kind of nice.

And I guess you're wondering about Ashleigh?
Well, as it turned out, her mother decided not to
renew her contract with the show. She ended up
signing a new contract to produce a reality show
called
Carbon Counters
where families have to make
their carbon footprint as small as possible. Ashleigh
ended up going eco in the middle of nowhere and,
the last we heard, she's learning all about how to
compost and is having to pee into pits of worms.
Such a worthwhile lifestyle couldn't happen to a
nicer person. (Though I do feel kind of sorry for
the poor worms!)

Lastly, and bestly, now that everyone is a bit
happier, both Romy and Anouschka have officially
signed up for season five of
Rich Girls.
Which
means that there will actually be a season five,
which means that JJ and I will be hanging out with
the gang for at least another eighteen months all
up. Apparently at the start of season five, we'll be
jetting off to the Bahamas. And as that will line up
nicely with the school holidays in Australia, Steph
will be coming along for the ride for a while, too.

Keep your fingers crossed for me that season five
is a tad quieter than season four.

Or maybe not. After all, maybe all the fuss and
the bother and the highs and the lows are simply
part of the fun of being in the Blondetourage.

Having failed at becoming a ballerina with pierced ears (her
childhood dream), Allison Rushby instead began a writing career as
a journalism student at the University of Queensland. Within a few
months she had slunk sideways into studying Russian. By the end of
her degree she had learnt two very important things: that she wasn't
going to be a journalist, and that there are not many jobs going in
Brisbane where you need to speak Russian.

After much whingeing about how hard it would be, she began
her first novel. That is, her husband (then boyfriend) told her to stop
whingeing, sit down and get writing. Since then, Allison has had
nine novels published: five for adults and four for young adults. These
include the popular young adult Living Blonde trilogy beginning
with
Diamonds are a Teen's Best Friend.

These days Allison writes full-time, mostly with her cats, Vi and
Flo, purring contentedly on her lap and her two children, Ivy and
Teddy, playing quietly with educational toys on the floor (okay,
watching episode after episode of
In the Night Garden).

You can read more about Allison (and view her sad proud-
mummy photos) at
http://www.allisonrushby.com
.

Excerpt from
Diamonds are a Teen's Best Friend

'Is this the boat to Europe, France?'

Honestly, I tried to stop myself asking the
question, I truly did. In front of me, the porter guy
looks at me as if I'm a fourteen- (almost fifteen-!)
year-old idiot. Beside me, dear old Dad looks at
me as if I'm delusional (that's because a lot of the
time he actually thinks I am – he's even had me
tested to make sure I'm not). And he's about to
open his mouth to start in on me (again ... sigh)
when, behind me, I hear it – someone laughs.
Right on cue.

I swing around quickly, my head zipping from
side to side, trying to see who it is, but it's practically
impossible in this traffic jam of a crowd,
especially when you're as short as I am and your
dad won't let you wear a kitten heel, let alone
rhinestones in the daytime. I bet Marilyn Monroe's
mother never said a thing about Marilyn wearing
rhinstones in the daytime. Then again, Marilyn
Monroe's mother let her get married at sixteen and
spent a great deal of time in a mental institution,
so that's probably not saying very much. I'm just
about to give up on the searching thing when the
crowd parts and someone dressed entirely in red,
going out/in/out (in all the right places) and hips
swaying, passes me by with a wink and a lift of
one perfectly arched eyebrow.

'Honey,' she says, in the kind of voice that
makes everyone turn and look at her. 'France is
in
Europe.'

Oh. My. God.

It's one of those moments when you just know
you'll think up a zillion and two perfect things to
say later, but instead you stand there looking like
you've recently had a lobotomy. Especially when
I realise that the someone is actually a Someone
and that the woman now heading up the escalator
to the biggest ship I've ever seen in my life is, in
fact, Holly Isles.

Yes,
the
Holly Isles.

Actress, Goddess. Star of stage, screen and
various tabloid magazines that you skim as fast as
you can at the supermarket checkout because your
dad will never let you buy them and everyone else
is allowed to rot their brain so why can't I, Holly
Isles.

Someone whistles. And, this time, I don't need
to look around. This time, I know for sure it's not
for me. (Laughing, sure. Whistling? I am sincerely
doubting it ...) And because I don't turn around,
I don't move for the guy. The one who smacks into
my shoulder (ow!) and says, 'Excuse me. I need to
get to my
aunt.'

I follow his gaze directly up the escalator to
Holly. His aunt? Holly is his aunt? Well, la de da.
I go to give him my best 'Get your filthy mitts
off me, don't mess with the outfit and don't go
anywhere near the hair, buster' look when my
mouth drops even further. Hello, sailor! Cute boy
ahoy! He's not kidding around. This guy is definitely
related to Holly in a big way.

'Ah ...' my dad exhales, the lecture he'd been
working on giving me obviously forgotten. Funny,
but he's got the same kind of lobotomy look as me.
And he's staring straight at Holly.