Stagefright (10 page)

Nothing had been said, but Hailie and Roula now allowed Velvet to sit with them at lunch. Velvet’s jam roly-poly pudding might not have been healthy, but it tasted good and the three of them were eating it with their fingers.

“You’re not listening, are you?” Roula said.

“What? Yes, I am.” Velvet’s mind had been somewhere else. “Something about red-back spiders living in your cousin’s hair.”

Hailie went off to the toilets. Roula and Velvet followed her. They were all sticky and needed to wash their hands.

“I was thinking about the play,” Velvet said. “I’ve had an idea about a scene where the whole cast sings a song with lots of harmonies, something to liven up the second half.”

“You’re such a loser, Velvet,” Roula said, looking at herself in the mirror and arranging her hair, which now had pink streaks. “It’s like this play is the only thing in your life.”

It was, but Velvet wasn’t about to admit to that. “I like to excel at everything I do. You wouldn’t understand that.”

There was only one person who cared as much about the play as Velvet did. She decided that it was very immature for the scriptwriter to not be on speaking terms with the musical director. She knew Taleb would never be the first one to say something after their argument over Mei’s song. It was up to her to set the standard for professional behaviour.

“Where are you going?” Hailie said, as she came out of the toilet cubicle.

“I’ve had an idea for the play. I’m going to see what Taleb thinks.”

“Why don’t you tell him this arvo?”

“If he hates the idea, I’d rather find out privately than have him yell at me in front of the others again.”

Roula and Hailie shared a look. “Yeah, right. You just want to go and talk to him.”

“I do not. Not everyone is like you, Hailie. Communication between boys and girls doesn’t have to be based on primitive urges.”

Hailie pulled a face in the mirror.

At lunchtime, Taleb hung out near the canteen with the other members of Toxic Shock and their followers. It was perfectly reasonable for Velvet to discuss artistic matters with him. She composed her face so that she looked calm and disinterested, before turning the corner to the canteen.

Taleb was sitting on a bench. Usually he was strumming a guitar, but that particular day, instead of a guitar strap, a girl’s arm was wrapped around his neck.

Velvet stopped dead.

It was Sofia Ritano, the judo champion who had decked her in first term. The casual words she had prepared got stuck in her throat. The greasy lead singer was the only one who noticed her standing there.

“Hey, Taleb. You’ve got a visitor.”

They all turned to look at her.

“So what can we do for you, Ms Snobnose?” Hailie’s name for Velvet had spread.

“Nothing. It doesn’t matter.”

Sofia’s lips formed a thin line, which could have been a sneer or a smile. Taleb didn’t move.

“Come on.” Eddy the drummer sneered at her too. “You didn’t come all the way over here from the library, or wherever it is you hang out, for no reason.”

“It can wait till class.”

Velvet turned and fled. Her heart was pumping, her face burning. She ran straight into Hailie who had just come out of the canteen with six dim sims.

“Watch where you’re going.”

Velvet tried to get past Hailie, but her feet wouldn’t do what she wanted them to.

“I’ve got to sit down.”

Hailie looked over Velvet’s shoulder at Taleb and Sofia. She took Velvet by the arm, led her to the edge of the oval and sat her down on a bench next to Roula.

“What’s wrong, Velvet? You look awful.”

Velvet was close to tears. “I don’t feel well. I think I’m coming down with something.”

“I think you’ve already got it,” Hailie said.

“Got what?” Roula asked, helping herself to one of Hailie’s dim sims.

“She just saw Taleb with Sofia Ritano.”

“Oh.”

“It’s not that … it’s …”

“It’s okay, Velvet. You can talk to us,” Hailie said. “You’ve got nobody else.”

“Yeah. Stop fooling yourself.”

“I ate too much roly-poly pudding.” Velvet watched Roula bite into a dim sim. “And the smell of those dim sims is making me feel sick.”

“It’s not the dim sims or the pudding, Velvet. Face it. You’re in love.”

“Oh, God.”

Velvet lurched to her feet and threw up in a nearby rubbish bin. Then she sank back onto the bench, supported on either side by Roula and Hailie.

“What will I do?”

“I dunno,” Roula said. “I’ve never felt that way about anybody.”

“It must have happened to you hundreds of times, Hailie.”

“Only once.”

“But all those boyfriends …”

“That’s different. I just like them. Most of them anyway. They’re someone to have around.”

“Who was the one?”

“I was in love with Michael Abilovski last year.”

“I remember him,” Roula said. “He had nice curly hair. Not my type though.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing. I tried to talk to him and he ignored me. I moped around for a couple of weeks and then it went away.”

“So you think that’ll happen to me? It’ll just go away?”

“Yeah.”

Velvet thought about that for a few moments. Did she want it to go away?

“Taleb’s got no taste in girls, that’s for sure,” Roula said.

Velvet couldn’t get the memory of Sofia Ritano’s spiteful smile out of her mind.

“Sofia’s such a cow.” It was like Hailie could read her mind. “Just don’t let him know you’re upset.”

“Yeah, he’s not worth it, is he?”

Velvet didn’t answer.

Roula and Hailie exchanged another look.

“Come on, Velvet. The bell will be going in a minute.” Hailie dragged her to her feet. “You look terrible. You’ve got to get yourself together before cultural studies.”

They went back to the toilets. After Hailie had practically drowned her in cold water, Velvet managed to regain some of her composure. In a way, she felt better. She’d confessed her feelings. Not only to Hailie and Roula, but to herself.

The bell rang.

“You’ve got to promise you won’t tell anybody, Hailie,” Velvet said as they walked across the oval.

“God’s honour.”

Velvet wasn’t sure that meant a lot coming from Hailie.

“Do you think Taleb knows?”

“Nah. Boys are really stupid about that sort of thing.”

They reached T6.

“Are you ready?” asked Hailie.

Velvet nodded.

“You don’t have to say anything in class this afternoon,” Hailie said. “Everyone will just think you’ve got period pains.”

Hailie was right. All Velvet had to do was sit quietly at the back of the class and let Drago rave on endlessly about his latest idea for the play. Any other day, she would have argued every point, but today she’d keep quiet.

Unfortunately, this week it was Taleb who had the ideas.

“If this is supposed to be a musical, we better start thinking about some music.”

“You’re writing the songs aren’t you?” Jesus said.

“Yeah, but don’t you think we need some musical accompaniment?”

“I thought you were going to play your guitar.”

Taleb rolled his eyes.

“One guitar all the way through? We need a band.”

“That’s a great idea, Taleb,” Mr MacDonald said.

“There should be a …” Peter turned to Velvet. “What do you call the music at the beginning?”

Velvet’s mind went blank. She couldn’t think of the word.

“Overture,” Mr MacDonald said.

“Yeah. We need an overture, and some of us might need something to help us stay in tune.” Taleb glared at Hailie.

“Will Toxic Shock play it?” Drago asked.

“Are you kidding? They wouldn’t be seen dead in this play.”

“You’re going to be seen in it.”

“I don’t have a choice.”

“So who’s going to be in the band?”

Taleb looked at them. “Who do you think?”

“Just us, I guess.”

“Right.”

“So, you’ll be on guitar,” Peter said. “What else have we got?”

“Hailie on sax. Velvet on piano.”

Velvet flinched at the mention of her name. She felt fragile, as if her skin were made of tissue paper and if anyone poked her she’d deflate like a balloon.

Taleb sighed. “That’s it. That’s all we’ve got.”

“Me on recorder,” said Roula.

“I don’t think so,” Taleb said. “Eddy might play drums for us.”

“You just said Toxic Shock wouldn’t be seen dead in our play,” Peter said.

“Eddy owes me a favour. If it wasn’t for me, he wouldn’t be in the band.”

“The guy with green hair and a ring through his top lip?” Hailie asked.

“Yeah.”

“We don’t want him in our band,” Jesus said.

“You can play drums, can you?”

“No.”

“So, we’ll ask Eddy.”

Taleb was frowning. “We need something else. What happened to that kid who could play
Chariots of Fire
?”

“He recovered from his injuries. He’s back playing sport.”

Taleb turned to Velvet. “Didn’t you say you played clarinet?”

Velvet nearly jumped out of her chair. There was a strong possibility that she might throw up again. She managed to squeak out one word in answer.

“Yes.”

“Can you play clarinet better than you can play piano?”

“Much better.” Two words, she was doing well.

“But I thought she was playing piano.”

“She can play both.”

“Huh?”

“Not at the same time, Drago.”

Velvet no longer owned a clarinet, but she didn’t trust herself to get out a whole sentence.

Fortunately, after that, Drago started to argue with Mr MacDonald about whether they should do the play in medieval costume or not. Velvet was able to sink back into silence while she waited for her heart to stop pounding.

“Our costume budget is zero,” Roula said.

“We’ve got to have fancy dress,” Drago was insistent.

“No, you don’t. I saw a performance of
Hamlet
once,” Mr MacDonald said, “and all the actors wore duffel coats.”

“Duffel coats?”

“It was a long time ago. It was very groovy.”

“Groovy?”

Mr MacDonald was staring out of the window. “I was about your age.”

“Thanks for sharing, sir.”

“We can’t wear ordinary clothes,” Peter said. “It’s not like we’re terrific actors or anything.”

“But we haven’t got any money to hire costumes.”

“It doesn’t have to be totally historically correct.”

“What if we wore modern clothes and hired a few bits of really good costume, proper stuff, and wore them over the top?” Roula suggested. “Richard could wear one of those fancy doublet things over jeans.”

“Normal schools would have money for props and costumes for the school play.”

“Yeah, well this isn’t a normal school. If we were putting on a gym display we’d get money.”

“There must be something in the school budget for cultural studies, Mr Mac.”

Mr MacDonald frowned. “I doubt it, but I’ll ask.”

Velvet’s stomach had settled down and she could breathe properly again. She was just convincing herself that it had been the dim sims after all, when Taleb turned to her.

“What did you want to say at lunchtime?”

Velvet’s stomach lurched again.

“I had an idea for act two,” she managed to say. “I thought we could have a song where everyone sings together, with harmonies.”

There were no immediate objections.

“We could have a coronation scene,” suggested Peter, “when Richard is crowned king. Everyone would be there, wouldn’t they?”

“Yeah. Except Clarence, he’s already dead.”

Velvet took the plunge. “What do you think, Taleb?”

He shrugged.

“I got the idea from the soundtrack of
Fiddler on the Roof
. Ever heard of it?”

Dumb question. Why would a Syrian heavy-metal guitarist have heard of an American musical about a Jewish milkman?

“Do you want to have a listen?”

Velvet pulled something from her bag.

“What’s that?” Roula asked.

“It’s a cassette tape,” Taleb said. “It’s what music came on in between vinyl and CDs.”

They all stared at the tape like it was a historical artefact.

“Haven’t you got it on your phone?”

“Yes, but it won’t let me choose what I play anymore. Is there a tape player anywhere, Mr Mac?” Velvet asked. “Didn’t you have one when the music program was going?”

Mr MacDonald went to the back of the room. He moved aside piles of gym mats and easels to reveal a cupboard. He took out his keys and unlocked the doors.

“This is the remains of the music program,” he said sadly.

The cupboard doors swung open. Inside there was a huddle of bent music stands, a box of plastic recorders, a pile of sheet music. There was no tape player.

“There’s one in my car,” Mr MacDonald said.

They all went out to the teachers’ car park and stared at Mr MacDonald’s faded red Holden Camira.

“This is like a museum piece,” Jesus said. “Do you have to turn one of those handles to start it?”

“Very funny.”

Mr MacDonald sat behind the steering wheel. Velvet slid along the bench seat next to him and handed him the cassette. Drago and Peter got in the back. Hailie sat on Peter’s lap.

“You better sit in the front, Taleb,” Roula said, squeezing in alongside Drago, “so you can hear it properly.”

Taleb shrugged and got in the front seat. Velvet felt her cheeks start to burn again. Mei got in the front too. Taleb moved even closer to Velvet. There was no room for Jesus, so Mei wound down the window and he leaned in.

“I haven’t used it for a while.” Mr MacDonald pushed the cassette into the tape player.

Nothing happened.

“It’s a bit touchy.”

He fiddled with knobs. He thumped it three times. Finally, he jammed a pencil into the player. Velvet could feel Taleb’s thigh pressed against hers. She could hear his breathing. A whirring sound came from speakers in the doors.

“Here we go!”

Mr MacDonald turned up the volume. There was the sound of a single violin. Then singing.

“
Tradition!
”

Velvet hadn’t heard the song in a while. The car’s speakers were better than she’d expected. The sound of those voices singing together sent a tingle down her spine as it always did.
Fiddler on the Roof
was the first live musical she had ever been to. It had been an amateur production that her Aunt Evelyn’s theatre group had put on.