The Time of Your Life (6 page)

Belle: Belly-dancing and Sweet Music

Belle loved the Garrick library.

The old-fashioned desks each had their own little
green lamp. Light streamed in through the tall windows
at each end, illuminating motes of dust suspended in
the still air.

She settled down with a book on the Tudors. It was
Thursday lunch time, and she'd come straight from a
history lesson. Their teacher, Miss Chase-Smythe –
who looked like minor royalty herself, in pearls and a
frilled blouse – had been telling them in her ultra-posh
voice all about the Tudor kings and queens. As an
American, Belle hadn't studied much English history
before and she was fascinated: all that marrying and
beheading and burning at the stake – it was so gory, yet
so romantic . . .

Some time later, she looked up from reading about
Henry VIII's six wives to see Jack Thorne strolling
towards her, silhouetted against the window. She felt
the familiar popcorn sensation in her stomach, but
she was determined not to let his x-ray eyes phase her
this time.

He smiled and was about to say something,
when Bianca shot out from behind a shelf of
Greek myths. 'Oh, Jack! I'm so-o-o glad you're
here!' she gushed. 'I need a book but I can't reach
it. That one, right up there!' She pointed – at
random, as far as Belle could tell – at a book on the
very top shelf.

'Are you sure this is the one you want?' Jack asked,
grinning as he handed Bianca the book.
'Belly-dancing
for Beginners?'

'Oh, er, it's not for me!' Bianca spluttered. 'It's
for . . . Lettie. She's got this thing about, er,
belly-dancing,
you know. Weird or what! Come on, let's
go and get lunch.'

Yeah, right!
Belle thought. Bianca had appointed
herself as Jack's personal stalker ever since she'd seen
him talking to Belle in the Football-in-Corridor
Incident. She'd also taken to dressing even more
fashionably than usual. She was now wearing a red
Christian Dior suit with a velvet-trimmed tulip skirt,
which – even to Belle's sophisticated tastes – was a
little
over the top for a Thursday afternoon library session.
But Bianca was clearly a girl who was used to Getting
What She Wanted.

And she wanted Jack!

And although Jack wasn't exactly leaping into her
arms, he didn't seem to be objecting much either.

As she returned her attention to Anne Boleyn's
beheading, Belle felt an odd hollow sensation under
her ribs, like a swallowed yawn. Was it indigestion? Or
could it be that she was actually
jealous
of Bianca?

She sighed. If she was jealous of Bianca, it could
only be for one reason . . .

And it
wasn't
that Christian Dior suit!

Mr Garcia's Thursday afternoon advanced singing
class was Belle's favourite lesson of the week. The
only downside was that neither Cat nor Holly were
there – they had advanced acting and dancing classes
on Thursday afternoons instead. After a thorough
warm-up of breathing exercises, scales and arpeggios,
Mr Garcia told them to take a short break and then
get into pairs. 'We're going to work on improving
our phrasing today,' he boomed in his earthquake-rumble.

Belle leaned back in her chair, sipped her water and
glanced around for Nick Taggart. She usually worked
with Nick in singing classes, ever since they'd been top
of the class on a harmony project together. No doubt
he'd charge over to find her any second now, teasing
her with one of his dumb jokes! But, to Belle's surprise,
it was Jack who sat down next to her.

'So, could you bear working with the new guy?'
he asked.

Belle's heart did a somersault. But before she could
reply, Bianca zoomed in like a heat-seeking missile. She
hovered behind Jack's chair, leaned over his shoulder
and said – in a stage whisper that Belle was so-o-o
meant to hear – 'Don't bother, Jack. Belle
always
works
with Nick Taggart. They make
such sweet music
together
– if you know what I mean!'

Belle was outraged. Bianca was obviously trying to
make it sound as if Belle and Nick were dating or
something – just to put Jack off. 'Don't be so
ridiculous,
Bianca,' she said quietly, her voice trembling with fury.
'Nick and I do not make
sweet music together,
as you call
it – and we never have done!'

Belle looked up to see Nick Taggart standing right
in front of her with an odd expression on his face. It
was clear he'd heard the entire conversation. Suddenly
she felt dreadful.
Poor Nick! He must think I'm trying to
deny that we ever work together,
she fretted,
just so I can be
partners with Jack. But that's not what I meant!

Belle was torn. She would love to work with Jack.
But Nick was her friend and she couldn't just drop
him . . .
I
must be crazy,
she thought.
I'm turning Jack
down because it might hurt Nick's feelings. Nick Taggart! The
class clown who makes fun of me and winds me up every
chance he gets!

But friends were friends . . .

Just as she was about to refuse Jack's offer, Nick
suddenly spoke up irritably. 'Yeah, so Belle and I work
together
sometimes.
But we're just
friends –
not sure
you'd know the meaning of that word, Bianca – and
I was just about to ask
Lettie
to be my partner
anyway.'

Now Belle was
totally
confused! She was shocked
by the anger in Nick's voice. And had he really been
planning to work with Lettie all along? She couldn't
help feeling a little disappointed that Nick didn't want
to be her partner any more.

'Break over!' Mr Garcia shouted. 'In your pairs, now.'

Bianca grabbed Jack by the hand. Nick and a
delighted-looking Lettie followed them over to where
Mr Garcia was waiting with Frankie and Mayu and all
the other happy couples.

'Not found a partner yet, Belle?' Mr Garcia asked
her. 'Never mind, you can work with me today.'

The rest of the class passed in a blur. Belle couldn't
help worrying about Nick. He'd sounded
furious.
Was
he upset because he thought she'd been going to work
with Jack? And would he even
believe
her if she tried to
explain that she'd been about to
refuse
Jack's offer? Out
of the corner of her eye she watched Nick laughing
and chatting with Lettie. But as Belle knew only too
well, he was a great comic actor. Maybe he was just
hiding his injured pride. The thought of losing Nick as
a friend was giving Belle a lump in her throat that
wasn't helping her singing at all.

And then there was Jack! Watching him work with
Bianca, poring over the sheet music of
Love Changes
Everything
from
The Phantom of the Opera
and marking
in the best breathing places, Belle felt that peculiar pain
in her ribs again.

There was no doubting it now.

It was pure, one-hundred-per-cent-organic
jealousy.

When the class was finally over, Belle drifted across the
courtyard, scuffing through piles of fallen leaves.
Usually Nick would have been in her face, making her
laugh with his stupid pranks. But today he had
mumbled a quick
'Hasta la vista'
and hurried off with
Lettie. Belle smiled ruefully to herself: all those times
she'd wished Nick would leave her alone, and now that
he had, it felt terrible!

Belle was due at a
Macbeth
rehearsal in ten minutes.
She'd been looking forward to it, but she was suddenly
overcome with gloom. Normally she didn't mind
being alone – but for the first time since she arrived at
Superstar High, she was
lonely.
What she longed for,
Belle realized, was a girls' night in with Holly and Cat.
They'd be able to tell her what to do about Nick; they
were so much better at all this complicated friendship
stuff. It was all uncharted territory to Belle, who'd been
educated by private tutors and coaches before coming
to the Garrick.

Maybe she would even tell them how she felt about
Jack!
Which is
what
exactly?
she asked herself.
OK,
she
finally admitted,
I like him. I like him a lot!

But Holly was so busy with her dance classes, and
being
in luuuurve
with Ethan. And Cat was always
rushing around in a frenzy these days . . . Would the
three of them ever find time to just hang out and have
fun like they used to?

Could their friendship survive the pressures of
Superstar High?

Belle: March of the Zombie Robot

Belle arrived at the Redgrave Theatre and added her
name to the sign-up sheet that Mr Sharpe put up on
the stage door to keep track of attendance at rehearsals.
Most of the other actors had signed in already.

But there was one name missing.

Cat was not there yet.

Where
was
she? This was the first costume call – for
the wardrobe managers, Serena Quereshi and a Year Ten
student called Lucy Cheng, to check whether anything
needed altering – and the entire cast needed to be
there. Mr Sharpe had been hopping mad when Cat
turned up late after the
Oliver!
audition. She would be
in a heap of trouble if it happened again today . . .

Belle pushed open the door to find Mayu and
Bianca loitering on the other side. 'You're late!' Mayu
told her.

'And why haven't you got your costume on yet?'
Bianca asked. Belle noticed that she was sporting a
spectacular black witch-goddess dress, woven with tiny
serpents crafted from silver wire, while Mayu was in
the long plain dress and white apron of a castle servant.
'Lucy and Serena want everyone on stage
in costume,'
Bianca whispered. 'Right now.'

'But where
is
my costume?' Belle asked, rattled by
the prospect of being late, and still distracted with
worries about Jack and Nick.

'Look in the main dressing room,' Bianca hissed. 'All
the costumes are hanging up with name tags on them!'

'Thanks,' Belle muttered.

She soon found her costume. A cardboard tag, clearly
bearing the name BELLE MADISON, was firmly attached.

She was a little surprised to find that it was a full suit
of armour.

Complete with helmet.

She'd thought it was just knights who wore
armour . . . But who was she to argue?
Macbeth
was
set in the olden days, after all. In Scotland. Maybe
messengers had to wear armour as they travelled
around in those times – to protect them from
highwaymen or wolves or something.

But getting into the armour was no easy task. The
metal sections were heavy and cumbersome and they
fitted together in some mysterious, intricate fashion. It
was like a cross between a tank and a Rubik's cube. But
Belle was not going to be beaten by
an article of clothing,
and finally – bruised, battered and dripping with sweat
–
she was in!

Now she just had to get to the stage. But the armour
weighed a ton and the joints were so stiff she had to
walk with her arms and legs sticking out like a zombie
robot. She peered through the narrow eye-slit in the
helmet. The other dressing rooms were all deserted.
Everyone else must already be in the theatre,
she thought.
She lumbered along the corridor –
move right leg, clank;
drag left leg, clatter
– somehow pulled herself up the stairs
into the wings and, with a noise like an explosion in a
cymbal factory . . .

. . . crashed onto the stage.

She paused, waiting for the clanging to stop
reverberating in her ears.

There was silence. Then laughter. Loud, uproarious
laughter.

Belle tugged off the helmet and looked around.
There were all the other students, in medieval dresses,
tunics and breeches.
No armour in sight! Not even a
breastplate!
And there were the other Messengers – all
wearing simple tunics and cloaks.

One of those Messengers was Jack. He was
laughing at her.

Nick was working on something down on the
sound-editing desk. He was laughing at her too.

'Belle Madison! What do you think you are doing?'
Mr Sharpe yelled, bristling with rage. 'This is not a
fancy dress party! Get off my stage now!'

Serena looked up from pinning the hem of Nathan's
tunic. 'Belle, where did you get that costume?' she gasped.

'Do you need a tin-opener, dude?' Zak shouted
from the back of the stage, where he was painting
scenery with Frankie and Mason.

Every fibre of Belle's body screamed out 'RUN
AWAY!' But, clad in several tons of steel, running
wasn't an option.

Just when she thought she might die of humiliation,
there was a commotion on the other side of the stage.
Everyone turned to see Cat rush in, holding up the
train of a black velvet cloak. Beneath it was a long
blood-red dress with a low bodice that exposed acres
of snowy-white cleavage, adorned with a magnificent
necklace dripping with ruby-red stones. There was a
stunned silence as everyone admired the effect. Even
Mr Sharpe was speechless.

But not for long. 'I will not tolerate a Lady Macbeth
who is constantly late!' he bellowed. 'You obviously
don't realize how important this production is for the
reputation of the entire school!'

'Tut, tut!' Mayu simpered, her dimples going
into overdrive.

Duncan shook his head sadly. 'Yeah, sorry, Cat, but
this is getting a bit much . . .'

'My sentiments precisely,' announced Mr Grampian.
The head of the Drama Department had been sitting
quietly at the back of the theatre, observing the
rehearsal. 'I quite agree that a final warning would be
appropriate at this juncture, Mr Sharpe.'

Mr Sharpe harrumphed irritably. Belle had the
distinct impression that in his view, Cat had gone way
past the final-warning stage some time ago.

Relieved that everyone's attention was now focused
on Cat's dramatic arrival, Belle took the opportunity to
slink – or rather clank – back to the dressing room.

As she wriggled out of the armour, she was kicking
herself. Mentally, that is; actually kicking yourself in full
armour would be a very dangerous move.

Why, oh, why hadn't she smelled a big fat rat when
Bianca and Mayu informed her, oh-so-helpfully, where
to find her costume?

No wonder they were laughing louder than anyone
else when she appeared on stage looking like the Tin
Man meets Frankenstein's Monster.

They'd set a trap – and she'd walked right
into it!