Drama at Silver Spires (3 page)

“Better go to the bathroom,” said Grace. “It's nearly nine. Matron will be here in a sec.” And everyone started to get up.

But I didn't want the conversation to end yet so I spoke at about a hundred miles an hour before they all disappeared. “Films-are-completely-different-from-the-theatre-
and-
from-books, Naomi.” There was a knock at the door and I knew it would be Matron.

“We'll talk in bed,” whispered Naomi.

But I was desperate to finish what I was saying so I talked even faster until the words all tumbled into each other. “'Coseverythinghappensintheblinkofaneyeinfilms…”

And we all burst out laughing, even me, which was how Matron found us when she opened the door.

“What's all this hilarity in aid of?” she asked, looking round suspiciously as the others grabbed their toothbrushes and toothpaste and rushed off to the bathroom. Then she gave me what I call her dry look. “Why are you sitting in the middle of the room instead of getting ready for bed, young lady?”

Mia hung back. “Georgie's excited about auditioning for a main part in the junior play, Matron.”

“I see. Well, I can tell you that Miss Pritchard doesn't put up with any nonsense, you know. Come on, Georgie! Chop-chop!”

“I won't give her any nonsense,” I said, flashing my biggest smile at Matron.

She didn't smile back, just looked round our dorm and spoke extra briskly. “Bathroom. Now!” But her eyes definitely twinkled as I scuttled past her with my washbag.

Later, when I was lying in bed, I realized Matron hadn't actually made any comment about me auditioning for a big role, apart from what she said about Miss Pritchard. And I felt a stab of anxiety in case she thought it wasn't worth saying anything as I'm only Year Seven, and not likely to get a main part.

I knew really that it was only one of those silly night-time thoughts, because Matron would hardly start chatting when it was time for bed, and anyway, it was a good thing that she'd not made a comment because that showed she thought it was perfectly natural for me to audition for a main part. After all, Cara got a main part when she was only Year Seven, didn't she? So why shouldn't I? Yes, I would just shock everyone by being absolutely stunningly fantastic at the auditions.

There was a nasty scratchy niggle at the back of my tired mind trying to point out that I had to be better than Cara if I wanted to get the part of Amy, and that maybe I ought to think of another part. But I had set my heart on Amy and nothing else would do, so I ignored the nasty niggle and instead went into a beautiful daydream about Mum and Dad and Roxanne sitting proudly in the audience with Grandma, and everyone clapping their heads off, or maybe that should be clapping their hands off…

I was practically asleep but something made me snap on my little night light and pull my script out from under my pillow.

“Don't suppose anyone wants to test me on my speech?” I whispered into the gloom, but they must have all been in the land of snooze, so I tested myself and finished up by reading through the whole script again. It was nearly eleven o'clock when I finally switched off the light.

The next morning I felt so full of happiness about the auditions being one day nearer that I shot out of bed and off to the bathroom in about two seconds flat, which earned me a round of applause from the others as I'm usually the last up. When we were on the point of setting off for breakfast I suddenly had the urge to get hold of a copy of
Little Women
so I could have that lovely feeling I always get when I read the book and find myself in the world of the four sisters, imagining myself as Amy. I also wanted to recall every single bit of the story, because the mini-scripts that Miss Pritchard gave us were a short version of the whole play, just for learning parts for the auditions.

There's a small library in one of the common rooms, which consists of a few shelves of books that no one ever looks at. At least
I
don't. But right then I felt like the biggest bookworm in the world, because I was so dying to read
Little Women.
It was the one and only book I'd ever actually noticed in the common room, because I remember thinking that the front cover was quite plain compared to the cover of the version that I'd got at home.

In the common room I scanned the books on all three shelves as fast as I could, expecting to see
Little Women
immediately, but it wasn't there, which made me panic slightly because I'd set my heart on reading it before Thursday. So then I decided to slow down and look carefully because I must have missed it. No one ever takes these books out.
Do
they? I crossed my fingers as I examined every title on the top shelf.
Please let it be here somewhere. Please let it…
But it wasn't, so I started on the second shelf, still praying hard, and it wasn't there either. By the time I'd done the last shelf my spirits had sunk down to Australia.

I walked over to breakfast in a bad mood, but by the time I joined the queue for hot meals, I'd had an inspirational idea. I could go to the library in the English block straight after breakfast. There would most likely be a copy in there. I'd be a bit late for double maths, which was the first lesson, but I could probably get Jess to give some excuse to Mr. Ledbetter for me. I knew she wouldn't be over the moon about that idea though, because it wasn't the first time I'd asked her, as I don't like being on time for maths or it lasts so long I always think I'm going to die of boredom.

When I'd got my sausage, bacon, egg and mushrooms, I looked round the massive dining hall for my friends and spotted Mia's back with her long blonde ponytail hanging neatly down the middle. At that very moment she turned round and smiled, and that took me right back to something that happened before I even joined Silver Spires. It was on the trial day, before summer, but I can remember it like yesterday. We were all gathered in the hall with our parents, just kind of milling around waiting till everyone had turned up, and I decided to play a game that I sometimes play when I wish I could see into the future. I said to myself,
Right, if that girl with the long blonde hair turns round before I've counted to seven
(my lucky number)
, it means it's going to be good at this school.

And like some kind of miracle, she not only turned round on six, but looked right at me and gave me a shaky smile. I was so made up with this result that I grinned at her like a Cheshire cat, and that was the beginning of our friendship.

I told Mia my library plan as I gobbled down my delicious breakfast and Grace tried to make me slow down.

“You can't be digesting it properly,” she said with a worried frown.

“And the faster you eat the sooner you'll find yourself hungry again,” Naomi warned me, with a bit of a teachery look.

I didn't reply because I'd been looking round the dining hall and caught sight of Cara pretending to be in ecstasy eating a spoonful of marmalade, and of course all her fans were appreciating her wit as usual. The sight of her made me tense right up, so I concentrated on my sausages, but next minute I found myself tuning in to a conversation at a table of Year Nines behind me.

“What part are you going for?”

“Well I was going to try for Amy, but Cara Ravenscroft's doing that, so I might try for Meg…”

The name
Cara
was beginning to get on my nerves. Everyone talked about her as though she'd just won an Oscar. I bit my lip. Well,
I
wasn't going to change my mind about Amy. No way. But maybe I ought to have a second choice of role in mind, like Miss Pritchard had suggested. I like the character of Aunt March, because she's feisty and strong, even though she's quite old. Perhaps I'd have Aunt March as my second choice, and then I wouldn't be quite so disappointed if Cara got the role of Amy. I shivered at the thought of that happening and knew I was kidding myself. I'd be gutted if she got the part and I didn't, so I'd just have to work and work at preparing for the audition to make sure that didn't happen. I kept reminding myself about all the main parts I'd had at primary, and then there was the time when I acted in a local pantomime with the amateur dramatics society. There were only five children in it and they'd chosen us out of about twenty, so I
must
be good, mustn't I?

In the end I told Jess not to worry about making up an excuse for the maths teacher.

“Just save me a seat. I'll do it myself,” I told her. “In fact, if I really rush I won't even be late.”

But I was. In fact I was nearly ten minutes late and I was also in a very bad mood because
Little Women
wasn't in the library. I'd looked it up on the computer to check that there definitely was a copy, and there was, which meant that someone had taken it out.

“Sorry I'm late, Mr. Ledbetter. You see, there was a hole in my tights that was growing so fast I thought I might finish up with more ladder than tight,” I explained as I flopped into my seat next to Jess.

The rest of the class found my excuse hilarious because they all cracked up and one or two gave me a thumbs up, which means,
Thanks for injecting a bit of fun into this boring lesson.
Mr. Ledbetter was not amused, however.

“Other people might appreciate your acerbic wit, Georgie, but I don't. What you fail to realize is that missing work is not doing you any favours.” He looked at me over his glasses. “End of term is looming and I'm sure you don't want a bad report.”

It was true my dad would blow a fuse if I had a bad report, because my parents could only just afford to send me to a fee-paying school and I was supposed to be working hard and getting myself a good education. That's all Dad ever talks about. So half my brain was making big resolutions about turning over new leaves and concentrating harder in lessons, but the other part was wondering what acerbic meant and whether or not it was a good thing. I watched Mr. Ledbetter tapping the interactive whiteboard with a stern look on his face, and decided it might not be the best time to ask him.

After lunch I went to test Mia on her scales. She's doing her grade six piano exam in a few weeks, which shows what an incredibly talented musician she is. We were in a little practice room and I had the list of scales in front of me. I love pretending I'm the examiner, reading out all the technical-sounding words.

“Chromatic in contrary motion from C and E please, Miss Roberts.”

Mia giggled. “Just say the scale, Georgie. You don't need to say ‘Miss Roberts' every time.”

When we'd done about fifteen, Mia said she was going to carry on with her pieces, so I went out into the corridor to practise the Amy speech I'd chosen. Later, I went back into the practice room and Mia pretended to be Miss Pritchard listening to me saying it again.

“It sounds brilliant to me!” she said when I'd finished. “I'd give you the part any day!”

I was over the moon because Mia looked really impressed, but she brought me down to earth with her next words. “What's your second choice of part, Georgie?”

“Erm…I thought I'd try Aunt March…”

“Is that a smaller part?”

“Well, it's not
all
that small.” Mia was looking at me in a teacherly way so I quickly said, “Not as big as Amy, though.”

“All the same,” she came straight back, “don't you think you ought to try something slightly smaller? I mean, there'll probably be loads of Year Eights and Nines going for the big parts. Here, let me have a look.”

She started reading through the notes at the front of the script about all the different characters. “What about this one…Hannah the housekeeper? It's a sort of medium-sized role but you'd have to really act like mad to pretend to be so old and slow, and kind of strict, it says here, yet fond of all the girls…”

I sighed as I took the script back from her. “To be honest, I'm not really interested in being Hannah. Just because I'm only in Year Seven it doesn't mean that I can't have a main role. Miss Pritchard will judge on talent not age.” But Mia was frowning and looking anxious so I said something that I knew would please her. “Tell you what, I'll prepare for Amy, Aunt March
and
Hannah, just for you!”

“Have you got time to get all three speeches really good, though?”

“I'll make time. I'll utterly devote myself to them.”

And that's exactly what I did over the next two days. As time went on I kept wondering whether or not to tell Mum and Dad that I was going for the part of Amy, but I decided not to because Dad would go off on one about schoolwork and say that if I'd got any time to spare I should be working at something important like maths or science, instead of learning masses of lines.

In the end I e-mailed home to say that the junior play auditions were coming up and I was going for a small part because all the big parts usually went to Year Nines and I wanted to make sure I had enough time for schoolwork. I thought that was quite clever of me because now they'd both think I was really brilliant if I got a star part and Dad would be so proud of me that he wouldn't care quite so much if I got a bit of a rubbish report.

In my heart I thought that the time when Dad stopped worrying so much about my schoolwork would be when the moon turned green, but I tried not to think about that.