The Real Rebecca Page 7

  ‘Let’s play something!’ said Alice, and I said she should start playing something and I’d try playing along. Alice has been learning classical guitar but of course she can play chords and stuff too, so she plugged in her dad’s guitar. But we couldn’t start rocking straight away because she had to tune it first which took about five years. Then she did a big chord. Even though the amp is tiny it sounded pretty good. It sounded very rock and roll.

  ‘Wow,’ said Alice. And we both looked at each other and started laughing. Then she started playing a song by that sixties band the Kinks – the one that goes ‘all day and all of the night’. It only has three chords in it so she could just about manage it. I started drumming along and it was a bit wonky and I couldn’t work out the foot pedal thing but it worked! Well, I was more or less in time with the music. I am a drummer! We tried a few more songs and Alice sang a bit (she says it’s hard to play and sing at the same time but she did quite well) and I was surprised at how tiring it was, bashing away. But it was brilliant. It was the most fun I’ve had in ages and ages. We’re going to have another practice tomorrow – Cass is coming out too.

  Sunday

  First proper band practice today! It went really well, to my surprise. I say surprise, because the way Cass was going on I thought we’d have to spend the entire time helping her turn on the keyboard. She was acting like she barely knew how to play the piano even though she’s done her grade 4 exams, which apparently means she should be able to play fairly complicated stuff. When we got off the bus at the end of Alice’s road (or rather, country lane, because it’s not really what you’d call a road. There’s grass growing in the middle of it and only two other houses apart from theirs. Also, it’s about 20 metres long) she was still moaning on about how crap she was going to be which was weird because Cass is hardly ever nervous. On the worrying scale, Alice is probably the most neurotic, then me, and then, a long way away, Cass. But today she was all over the place. It was very surprising. However, when she saw the practice room (as we are now calling the garage) she cheered up a bit.

  ‘Wow,’ she said. ‘It does look very … official.’

  ‘Will we try that Kinks’ song?’ said Alice. Cass thought she didn’t know it and started dithering again but then she realised she did know it after all and we got going. And it sounded … well, not good, exactly, but it sounded like music. Cass realised that playing bass lines on the keyboards is actually pretty easy if you have any sense of rhythm at all (which she does, thank God) and she figured one out pretty quickly. In fact, I hate to say it, but I think I myself might be the weakest link at the moment. I can’t quite get the hang of the cymbals yet. Or the whole playing-the-bass-drum-with-my-feet thing. I wish I could take the drums home so I could practise during the week but that’s not very practical. I’d never get them on the bus, for one. And there’s no way Mum would help me lug them around the place. Anyway, I can practise playing the drums on cushions, even though Rachel tells me to stop every time I start, because apparently the faint noise of drumsticks hitting cushions ‘drives her mad’. She should count herself lucky I can’t take the drums home, you can barely hear those cushions.

  Anyway, we are all very excited about the band. But we’re not going to tell anybody about it. It was Cass’s idea, and she’s probably right.

  ‘They might want to hear us. Or they’ll want to know the names of songs and stuff,’ she said. ‘And we won’t have anything to tell them so we’ll look mad. We should wait until we can actually, you know, play more than one song.’

  I think this might be a good idea.

  MONDAY

  Ugh. I hate my school. I spent the entire day wishing I was practising my lovely drums instead of sitting in that stupid place. Apparently my mother doesn’t even bother telling me when she’s going to humiliate me now. It seems there was an article yesterday in some newspaper we don’t get at home all about Mum and her stupid new book. And as well as a ginormous picture of Mum (which, sadly, is the sort of thing I’m used to by now), there were photos of me and Rachel as small kids! Dancing around on a beach in stupid pink shorts! I remember that photo being taken – it was when we were on holiday in Kerry when we were little. We were working out a dance routine to a Destiny’s Child song. One of these photos was on the noticeboard in our classroom when I got into school today.

  No prizes for guessing who was sniggering away next to it.

  ‘Hey, Rafferty,’ said Karen. ‘I see you were in the paper again. Looking good!’

  ‘Oh, thanks,’ I said. ‘I’ll lend you my lovely shorts if you like.’

  And I just sat down at my desk. Luckily that was when Miss Kelly came in and started talking about polar bears dying horribly. I’ve never been so glad to be terrified. After the class Ellie pulled down the picture and tore it up. Thank God she did, because our next class was in the same room and it was Mrs Harrington. Imagine if she’d been going on about those shorts! She was awful as it was. We are meant to be doing Romeo and Juliet, but Mrs Harrington keeps going on about the importance of romantic love. The thought of her getting romantic with anyone is too much.

  Then after the class was over, Vanessa Finn proved she really has lost her mind by saying ‘Hey, Rebecca, I thought you looked really cool in that photo’ as she passed by me and Cass. She is definitely insane. There is no way on earth she can possibly think that is true.

  Anyway, at lunchtime I went to find Rachel to warn her about Mum’s latest betrayal. I never usually look for her at school, as we generally pretend we don’t know each other while on school grounds, but recent events have made us realise we need to stick together. I stuck my head in the door of her form room and one of her classmates said, ‘Oh God, Rache, is that your sister? I didn’t recognise her without her lovely shorts.’

  So obviously Rachel already knew about the disaster. But she came out to me anyway. She was all red and cross-looking.

  ‘What is it?’ she said snappishly.

  ‘Oh, charming,’ I said. ‘I came over here to warn you about that stupid article and this is the thanks I get.’

  Rachel looked slightly ashamed of herself, for once.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘Oh God, I can’t believe she gave them that photo.’

  ‘Rafferty!’ came a voice from inside Rachel’s classroom. ‘Are you and Rebecca practising your dance routine again?’ It was her friend Jenny, so I knew she was only joking, but Rachel looked like she was going to explode.

  ‘This,’ she said, ‘is the final straw.’

  ‘We hope it is,’ I said. ‘Who knows what Mum has planned next?’

  Who indeed? When I got home I politely asked Mum about that terrible article.

  ‘Where did they get that horrible, horrible photo of me and Rachel?’ I bellowed.

  Mum looked uncomfortable.

  ‘I gave it to them, of course. And before you start shouting and roaring, it was a few weeks ago, before I realised how upset you’d be about the whole thing. I thought you’d think it was funny.’

  ‘FUNNY?’ I shrieked. Then Rachel came in and started shouting too. EventuallyMumstopped looking apologetic and started looking cross.

  ‘Look girls,’ she said. ‘I have to give interviews to promote the book. I do this for all my books. It’s part of my job, which is selling books, so that your dad and I can pay the mortgage and look after you two. We need this money and this is part of how I earn it. So unless you’d like to have no new clothes or nice holidays in France or dancing classes …’

  ‘We haven’t gone to dancing classes since I was ten,’ said Rachel grumpily.

  ‘Oh for God’s sake! Well, no pocket money or new shoes or iPods or new music. That is what my job and your dad’s job pays for, as well as the food on the table and the clothes on your backs and the roof over your head, and it would be nice if you ever appreciated it!’ And she looked very cross and walked out of the room.

  Rachel and I looked at each other.

  ‘She has a point,’ said Rachel.


  ‘Well, she would if she hadn’t given them that photo. I mean, no one made her do it,’ I said.

  ‘True,’ said Rachel. We tried not to speak to Mum for the rest of the evening, but I don’t think she even noticed. Some mother she is.

  Dad is, of course, on her side. ‘I know it was embarrassing,’ he said. ‘But your mother really did think you’d find it funny. So did I. I mean, it’s a lovely photo of the two of you.’

  ‘It might be lovely in a family photo album,’ said Rachel. ‘Although that’s a matter of opinion. It’s not lovely in a newspaper that somehow everyone in school managed to see. I don’t even know how they did it. It’s not like that paper puts every article online.’

  ‘Well, if it’s any consolation, all this publicity stuff will be over soon,’ said Dad. ‘And then everyone will forget about it.’

  He seemed very confident about this, but I bet they won’t. I’m going to get compared to that awful Ruthie O’Reilly for the rest of my life. I know I will.

  TUESDAY

  We can’t decide what to call the band. We spent most of lunchtime hiding under the coats in the cloakroom having a discussion about it. I think some of the others wondered what on earth we were being so secretive about. Anyway, we all had lots of ideas but none of them seemed quite right.

  ‘Should it be a “The” name?’ said Cass. ‘You know, like The Beatles.’

  ‘The Girls with Evil Mothers,’ I said.

  ‘My mother’s okay,’ said Alice.

  ‘Mine’s about a medium,’ said Cass. ‘Not perfect but not totally evil either. So no.’

  ‘Okay, okay,’ I said. ‘I didn’t mean it really. Ummm … the Does.’

  ‘The what?’ said Cass.

  ‘The Does,’ I said. ‘Like the dear. Doe, a dear, a female deer …’

  ‘We’d have to explain it to everyone,’ said Alice. ‘Otherwise they’d think it was d’oh, like Homer Simpson.’

  ‘Oh yeah, good point,’ I said.

  ‘Maybe it should be a Someone and the Somethings name,’ said Alice. ‘Like Florence and the Machine.’

  ‘But then whose name would we use?’ I said. ‘You, me or Cass?’

  ‘Alice and the … Antidotes,’ said Alice, dreamily.

  ‘We’re not your backing band, Alice,’ said Cass.

  ‘And all of us sing anyway,’ I said.

  ‘Okay, okay,’ said Alice. ‘It was only an idea.’

  We lay on the ground of the cloakroom and thought. We came up with a few more names (Daisychain, Kitten Attack, The Antidote), but they just weren’t very good. None of them seemed right. I never realised finding the right band name could be so difficult.

  ‘We’ll know the right one when we see it,’ said sage-like Alice.

  ‘But what if we don’t see it?’ said Cass. ‘We’ve got to pick a name at some stage. Imagine if you had a baby and let it go this long without a name. Everyone would say it was child abuse.’

  ‘I’m not sure our band is quite as important as a baby,’ said Alice.

  She’s probably right. I suppose. It’s quite important to us, though. So we really have to come up with a name.

  WEDNESDAY

  Well, we’ve come up with a name now, but I wish we hadn’t. Not because of the name, but how it happened.

  Today was awful. First of all, everyone in the class knows about the band now. We didn’t really plan on telling anyone until we were actually, you know, able to play properly, but I couldn’t help it. It happened at lunchtime. We’d just sat through Mrs O’Reilly blathering on about Christopher Columbus and his ridiculously-named ships for forty-five minutes and another Miss Kelly geography class (she spent about twenty minutes telling us about what we’ll have to do to survive once all the water runs out. I will have nightmares for weeks). This was all traumatic enough, and I was not in the mood for Karen Rodgers and her nonsense. But Karen has somehow managed to get her paws on Mum’s book AND she’s read it. I can’t believe she got through it so quickly. I didn’t even know she could read.

  Anyway, I knew someone would read the book eventually, and I knew it would probably be someone like Karen who doesn’t like me, but it didn’t make it any more fun. We had a free class in the library and when we arrived the librarian wasn’t there and there were no teachers around. Alice and I were having a look at the fiction shelves when Karen suddenly produced a copy of May the Best Girl Win from God knows where (probably her pants).

  ‘Hey, everyone!’ she cried. ‘Look what I’ve got!’

  And of course everyone laughed. Not Cass or Alice or even Ellie, of course, but other people who I thought were my friends or at least liked me. This whole experience is making me lose my faith in human nature.

  ‘Listen to this,’ said Karen. She turned to me. ‘I bet your mum didn’t even have to make any of this up. She just had to steal your diary.’ And she started to read from the book.

  ‘“Dear Diary,’ she said, in a stupid squeaky voice. ‘The competition is hotting up! I’ve got to work harder. Today Caoimhe chose her victim – I mean, future boyfriend. At least, that what she hopes! He’s a guy who goes to St Joseph’s and I’ve got to admit, he’s not bad. In fact, I wish I’d seen him first! But I’m still determined to find the perfect boy for me.”’

  Karen put down the book for a moment and flicked through the pages, while everyone sniggered along. ‘It gets better, everyone. Listen to this. “I know this sounds crazy, but I have a funny feeling about …” She paused dramatically. ‘“Wildfire. I really think our group is going to be famous someday. I know I’m not the prettiest girl in the world. I’m not very tall and my eyes are a boring grey colour and my hair’s a kind of ordinary wavy brown.”’ Karen paused again and gestured towards me. And PEOPLE LAUGHED. I hate my class. And my mother. Why couldn’t stupid Ruthie have been 5 foot 11 and had black or blonde or red hair? Anything but a wavy brownhaired midget! Anyway, Karen wasn’t finished reading aloud. ‘“But when we’re all together and we’re all dressed up, I feel gorgeous! I know I can sing too. It’s not boasting; it’s just something I’ve always known. And when we’re singing and dancing together, I feel like there’s nothing stopping us being pop stars. We just need to get discovered. I wonder if we should enter one of those TV talent shows? After all, it worked for Girls Aloud.”’

  Karen laughed again. She is very easily amused. ‘So, Rebecca,’ she sniggered. ‘You think you’re going to be the next Cheryl Cole, do you?’

  I gritted my teeth. ‘I know you find this hard to believe, Karen,’ I said. ‘But that book is actually MADE UP. It’s not true.’

  ‘Huh,’ said Karen. ‘Well, I can’t wait to see you and your little chums singing and dancing with, heh heh, Wildfire. Do you get to do a solo?’

  ‘Oh my God, Karen!’ I shrieked. ‘I am not Ruthie Whatserface!’

  Karen looked at me and smirked. I’ve never hated anyone so much in my life. Not even Mum. Not even Rachel when she read my diary when I was twelve (there wasn’t anything particularly scandalous in it, but it was the thought that counts). ‘Well, yeah,’ she said. ‘I suppose I can’t imagine you actually doing anything as cool as starting a band. Even a sad girl band.’

  And I was so angry that I spoke without thinking properly. Or thinking at all, really.

  ‘Actually,’ I said, ‘I am in a band. And it’s nothing like the ridiculous one in the book. We’re an indie band. And I’m the drummer.’

  Next to me, Alice and Cass froze. I could almost hear them thinking ‘oh no …’

  ‘Yeah, right,’ said Karen Rodgers. ‘You’re the drummer in an indie band. Of course you are. God, you’re sad.’

  ‘I’m sad?’ I said. ‘You’re the one who went to the trouble of getting my mum’s book and reading it just to annoy me. That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard. And yes, I am in a band. With Alice and Cass.’

  Karen gave a fake sort of laugh.

  ‘Oh yeah?’ she said. ‘So what are you called?’

 
Of course, I didn’t know what to say, so I stared at the shelf next to me. And the first thing that caught my eye was a battered old paperback by an author called Deborah something or other called Hey, Dollface.

  ‘Hey Dollface!’ I said suddenly.

  ‘What?’ said Karen.

  ‘What?’ said Alice and Cass, but luckily no one seemed to notice that they’d said anything because Karen was doing another stupid loud fake laugh which probably drowned out any other sound in a five-mile radius.

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘That’s the name of our band. Not,’ I forced a laugh which sounded almost as fake as Karen’s, ‘Wildfire. I’m sure you’ll get to see us at some stage. We’ll be playing some gigs eventually.’

  I could almost feel Alice and Cass glaring at me. Karen opened her mouth to say something, but then the librarian came in so we all had to hurry into our seats. As I was passing Karen I whispered, ‘Thanks for buying Mum’s book, by the way. That money will buy me a new set of drumsticks!’

  It won’t, of course, because writers only get a tiny amount of money for every book they sell, but Karen doesn’t know that. And she looked as sick as a pig. Ha!

  My triumph was shortlived, of course, because at lunchtime everyone started asking about the band. We sort of acted like we’d been doing it for ages, because we didn’t want to admit we’ve only had one practice.

  ‘Yeah, I got the drums a while ago,’ I said, taking my lunch out of my bag. ‘And Alice and Cass have been playing the guitar and the piano for ages.’ Well, that’s all technically true.

  ‘I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!’ said Ellie.

  ‘Well, we were going to keep it quiet for a while,’ said Cass, giving me a meaningful look. Cass is very good at giving meaningful looks. Maybe it’s because they are intensified by her glasses. ‘We wanted to wait until we were ready to play gigs.’