Find the Girl

by Lucy Connell

  ‘I’m Nancy,’ I correct, being sure to smile at her so she doesn’t think I’m annoyed.

  ‘Oh,’ she says, looking disappointed.

  ‘But I actually did her make-up and hair that day, so if you want to make a note in your phone I can tell you what products I used.’

  ‘That’s OK,’ she says, putting her phone away. ‘I’ll ask Nina when I see her.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ I ask. ‘She’s kind of useless with make-up. I don’t think she’ll be much help whereas I can tell you exactly how to get this look. The highlighter is actually a new find and it’s so good, if you just –’

  ‘That’s OK,’ she interrupts, before heading back to her friends, where I overhear her say, ‘It’s not Nina – it’s the other one.’

  My jaw drops to the floor as I watch them scurry away. The other one. I feel a stab in my stomach as her words echo round my brain. Since when was I … the other one? Only a few months ago I was one of the most popular girls in school and everyone was asking me for style tips and encouraging me to do vlogs on how to get the perfect curls using straighteners. How did this happen?

  Jimmy comes round the corner and starts laughing at my expression.

  ‘OK, what happened?’ he asks, leaning on the locker next to mine. ‘The last time I saw you looking this shocked was when that pigeon almost landed on your head the other day.’

  ‘Nothing,’ I say hurriedly, too embarrassed to tell him the truth. ‘How are you?’

  ‘Good. I’ve chosen our next book for book club. You want to know what we’ll be reading this month? It’s a classic and it looks brilliant.’

  ‘Jimmy,’ I sigh, taking some textbooks from my locker and slamming it shut, ‘how many times do I have to tell you that I am NOT part of your book club? If you can call it that, considering the only two members are you and your dad.’

  ‘You know, it’s lucky that we’re friends now, otherwise I might be insulted by comments like that one.’ He grins, falling into step with me as I head towards my form room. ‘I just thought, after all those texts you sent me last weekend, you might want to reconsider my generous offer to join my book club so you had something to focus on.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ I ask, stopping in the doorway of my classroom.

  He raises his eyebrows. ‘Are you serious? Do you know how many times you texted me last Saturday?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ I shrug. ‘A few.’

  ‘A few?’ He tips his head back and laughs loudly. ‘You messaged me fifteen times telling me in various ways how bored you were.’

  ‘No way. That’s not true. I was not that bad.’

  He smiles. ‘I speak the truth, Nancy Palmer. I counted.’

  ‘Yeah, well, whatever,’ I huff defensively. ‘Mum was at the shop all day and Nina was on her course. I was only checking you weren’t too bored without Nina around.’

  ‘How thoughtful of you,’ he says, folding his arms and then giving me a look. ‘You do know that Nina’s course is for a few weeks, right? It’s not a one-off.’

  ‘Yes, of course. Why?’

  ‘What are you going to do this coming weekend when she goes off to London?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I say, suddenly realizing that I have no plans AGAIN. ‘I’ll have to think of something.’

  ‘Maybe it’s a good opportunity to try something new,’ he says. ‘Have you signed up for any of the career talks this term?’

  I shake my head.

  ‘You should,’ he says encouragingly. ‘There’s some quite good ones. A newspaper editor is coming in next week, which I think will be really helpful. You should come with me.’

  ‘You’re thinking of going into journalism?’

  ‘Yep, I’ve got it all planned out,’ he says. ‘I’ll study English at Oxford, intern at a major publication during the holidays, run the student newspaper in my final year, then land a competitive job at a huge news corporation, write ground-breaking investigative reports and insightful features, working my way up to become editor-in-chief by the time I’m thirty.’

  I laugh. ‘Wow, you really do have it all planned out. How do you know exactly what you want to do?’

  ‘I guess writing and debating has always been my thing. Or being “very opinionated”, as Mr Barber wrote in my report.’ He grins. ‘So, journalism makes sense.’

  ‘OK, well, what if you don’t have a talent. What happens if you’re just –’ I search for the word – ‘meh. I can’t think of anything I’m good at or really stand out in. It’s not like I really have any hobbies. Before, if I had some spare time and I was bored, I’d think up a story for my Chasing Chords blog, but I can’t exactly do that now.’

  ‘Why don’t you do some vlogs?’ Jimmy suggests. ‘People at school are always asking you for make-up tips, right?’

  I grimace, thinking of the ‘other one’ incident only a few minutes ago.

  ‘Not any more. I don’t think I’d get any hits unless Nina was on it and I can’t exactly ask her to help me out with vlogging; it’s not like she has the time. Argh, Jimmy, what am I going to do this weekend? Last weekend was the WORST. I had nothing to do. I’ll go mad if I have to sit around the house on my own again with nothing to distract me except homework.’

  Jimmy looks pensive for a moment as students in my form barge past us into the classroom.

  ‘I know!’ he says, his expression brightening. ‘You could help your mum in the shop.’

  ‘PLEASE tell me you’re joking.’

  ‘What?’ He laughs at my horrified expression. ‘It is not that bad.’

  ‘Yeah, so while Nina is up in London on her amazing music course, being papped by photographers with her envy-inducing make-up and drinking hot chocolate with her pop-star boyfriend, I’m supposed to sit in my mum’s shop in the middle of nowhere all day? No thank you. That will make me feel more left behind than ever.’

  The bell rings, signalling the start of registration.

  ‘I better go or I’ll be late; I’m on my last warning,’ Jimmy says. ‘I’ll see you at morning break and, in the meantime, consider the book-club offer. You could spend your Saturday lost in the world of Thomas Hardy if you want!’

  ‘I’ll think about it,’ I call after him as he races down the corridor.

  I sit down at my desk at the back of the room. I used to sit over by the window with Layla and Sophie, but since the events of last term I’ve moved across to a desk that I now share with Nina. It took a lot of persuading to get her to agree to sit at the back of the class as she used to like being up front, but I put my foot down on that one and she eventually relented. I have a reputation to uphold.

  At least, I thought I did before this morning’s events.

  Our form tutor, Mrs Smithson, comes in with her coffee and settles us all down, telling Layla to put her phone away before it’s confiscated. Mrs Smithson is yet to confiscate Layla’s phone despite threatening to do so at least three times a day.

  ‘Where’s Nina today?’ she asks, noticing the empty seat next to me.

  ‘I’m here!’

  Nina comes bustling through the door and hurries over, plonking her books on the desk with a loud thud and sliding into her seat, pushing her hair out of her face.

  ‘Where’ve you been?’ I whisper, as Mrs Smithson ticks the register.

  ‘Practising.’

  ‘Again? You’ve been practising non-stop all week. I’ve barely seen you.’

  ‘I know, but, like I told you, Guildhall is intense. I’m definitely the worst. If I don’t improve, they’ll kick me off.’

  ‘Nina, don’t be silly – you’re a total star. You should have a little more faith in yourself.’

  I can tell she’s so stressed by it all that she’s not listening to a word I say. Mrs Smithson finishes checking the register and clears her throat, standing at the front of the class.

  ‘I have an exciting announcement to make,’ she says. ‘Today, we are launching a competition and the prize is really quite someth
ing. Last week, the headmistress was at an event and she happened to meet someone who had a very interesting job. A creative director at the Disney Channel in London. And guess what? This Disney creative director has offered an internship for students to work alongside her and learn the ropes during the Easter holidays!’

  I sit bolt upright. An internship working at the Disney Channel? That would be AMAZING. I’ve loved Disney for as long as I can remember and it would be a dream to work there one day. I stick my hand as high up in the air as possible.

  ‘Nancy, I see you already have a question?’

  ‘How do we apply, Mrs Smithson?’

  She smiles. ‘I was getting to that. The headmistress thinks this is, of course, a fantastic internship but also thought it might be quite a fun opportunity to start a new school competition to get your creative juices flowing.’

  ‘Wait a second,’ Layla says, looking unimpressed. We have to win the internship through a competition?’

  ‘That’s correct.’

  ‘What do we have to do?’ shouts someone at the front.

  ‘Disney is looking for a creative and innovative intern, or interns – those who are knowledgeable about media and have a good connection with an audience. So, we thought it would be fun to start a competition for … the best new website!’

  ‘We have to create a website?’ Layla wrinkles her nose. ‘About what?’

  ‘Ah, that’s the whole point,’ Mrs Smithson enthuses. ‘You need to get creative and think of something exciting and different! Towards the end of term, the headmistress will whittle down the entries to those she thinks are the most outstanding and then we’ll put it to the school for a vote. The website that gets the most votes wins. And its creator, or creators, get to spend their Easter holidays behind the scenes of the Disney Channel! You can either create the website yourself or as a maximum group of three. The creative director has said that she’s willing to take on up to three students.’ She claps her hands excitedly. ‘What a fabulous thing to put on your CVs!’

  ‘And I bet you get to meet loads of celebrities!’ Sophie adds.

  Mrs Smithson nods. ‘This certainly isn’t the sort of opportunity that comes along every day, and I already have a bet on with the other teachers that the winning student will come from my form. I have by far the best and most creative class in the school.’

  Nina catches my eye and we share a giggle.

  ‘So, the most popular website will win?’ asks Timothy Davies, one of the boys sitting at the front of the classroom. ‘Will it be measured by the number of hits it gets by the time it’s judged?’

  ‘There will be many factors. The websites that get through to the final will be judged on things like how many hits they have got, as you say, Timothy, but also things like the quality of content, their appearance, and what they deliver that’s different to anything else. Once the final sites have been decided on it’s up to you, the students, to judge the websites and vote for the one that you like the best.’

  ‘Isn’t it going to be tricky to do this alongside all our homework?’ a girl named Ellie points out. ‘And the internship will be during our GCSE revision time.’

  ‘Ah, yes, well I thought of that,’ Mrs Smithson says solemnly. ‘This is purely voluntary, so it’s only if you think you have the time around your revision. And, as for the internship, it’s a week that has been offered, leaving plenty of holiday time to do your revision before your exams in the summer term. Now, speaking of revision, however exciting the competition is, I want to spend the few minutes we have left of form time to run through some excellent revision tips. If you have any more questions about the competition, feel free to ask me at the end or in break times.’

  As she turns her back to us to begin writing on the board, I lean in to Nina.

  ‘That’s a pretty cool prize, isn’t it? Imagine working with a creative director at the Disney Channel. You’d get to see how everything works and how it all comes together.’

  ‘It would be great experience,’ she agrees, copying Mrs Smithson’s bullet points into her notepad. ‘But it’s not for me.’

  ‘You’re not even considering the competition?’

  ‘I have so much on; I can’t think about a competition when I’m trying to juggle schoolwork and Guildhall stuff,’ she says. ‘And, anyway, I wouldn’t know the first thing about creating a website or have anything to say on one.’

  ‘Jimmy is going to love this. Just before class started, he was telling me about his plans to become a journalist. This could not be more perfect for him.’

  ‘Nancy Palmer,’ Mrs Smithson calls out from the front of class, ‘please don’t think that because you’re at the back of the room I can’t hear your whispering. I assume that you and Nina are busy discussing the excellent revision tips I’m currently writing on the board for your benefit?’

  I get my head down and start copying the bullet points, but I’m distracted by the idea of getting to go behind the scenes of the Disney Channel. I can totally see myself wearing one of those cool headsets that people in TV always wear and coming up with new creative ideas for bringing in an audience.

  My heart sinks. Why am I letting myself daydream about this? I can’t create a website. The Chasing Chords fan-fiction thing was just a blog, just loads of fangirl stories, not really a proper website. And what would I even say? Up against people like Jimmy, who actually know what they’re doing, I’d have no chance of winning. I should just forget about the competition and concentrate on these very helpful revision bullet points. I should not let myself think about working at the Disney Channel.

  ‘Nancy?’

  I jolt my head up. I’d been lost in a vision of me sitting at a table with a load of creatives and producers, saying, ‘Come on, people, I need ideas! Let’s get brainstorming!’ I hadn’t even heard the bell ring or noticed everyone packing up their stuff. Nina is already standing, her bag over her shoulder, giving me a strange look.

  ‘Sorry,’ I say, sliding my chair back. ‘I was distracted.’

  ‘No kidding.’ Nina smiles. ‘You’ve got biro on your cheek from where you were leaning on your hand.’

  I hurriedly get my pocket mirror out and examine my face, attempting to rub the blue smudge off my foundation.

  ‘I’ll see you in the next lesson,’ she says, checking her watch.

  ‘You’re not going to wait for me? I’m coming now – I just want to get this biro off.’

  ‘I’m going to see if I can catch Mr Rogers in the music room to ask him a question about this new piece I’m trying out; I’m really stuck on a section. Can you let Miss Sanders know I’m on my way?’

  ‘Sure,’ I say, as she thanks me and rushes off.

  I finish getting the pen off my face as best I can and then shove my books under my arm. I’m the last one to leave the classroom and Mrs Smithson stops me as I reach the door.

  ‘Nancy,’ she says, clicking the cap on to her board pen, ‘before you go, I wanted to ask – what do you think about the competition?’

  ‘I think it’s cool. It’s a great prize.’

  She smiles. ‘Yes, I thought you’d be interested in it.’

  ‘Yeah, well, I’ve always loved Disney movies. Nina and I were obsessed with them growing up and … I’m still obsessed with them, I guess. Whoever wins that prize will be seriously lucky. I hope it’s Jimmy. He works really hard and it’s his big dream to go into media, so he really deserves it.’

  ‘And not you?’ Mrs Smithson says, tilting her head slightly in surprise.

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘I thought that you’d be interested in entering the competition and winning the prize. It’s right up your street.’

  ‘Mrs Smithson, I think you’ve got me muddled up with someone else. I couldn’t win a prize like that. Are you sure you’re not thinking about Nina?’

  ‘I’m quite sure, thank you, Nancy,’ she says, leaning back on her desk and folding her arms. ‘You’ve got a wonderful flair for writing; don’t thin
k I haven’t noticed.’

  I blink at her. What is going on? Has she fallen over and bumped her head? A flair for writing? I mean, English probably is my best subject because I love reading, but I hardly ever get As on my essays, unlike Nina or Jimmy.

  ‘Um, Mrs Smithson, I don’t have a wonderful flair for writing. Don’t you remember the essay I wrote last term on Jane Eyre? I got a B minus and Jane Eyre is my favourite book, so I don’t think I’m going to get any better than that.’

  ‘I’m not talking about essay writing. I’m talking about creative writing,’ she explains, watching me carefully. ‘I saw all the blog posts you did for that band.’

  ‘You read my Chasing Chords fan-fiction stuff?’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ She chuckles. ‘I didn’t know about it until the commotion last term and I thought I’d have a little read of what you’d been putting all your effort into, as you certainly weren’t putting much effort into your classwork. Well, it was very enlightening. The stories were creative and entertaining. I read quite a few and ended up a Chasing Chords fan by the end of it. That Chase Hunter really does have incredible cheekbones, doesn’t he?’

  She gets this dreamy look on her face.

  Gross.

  ‘It’s really good of you to bother reading those stories, but I was just messing around.’

  ‘Ah, but that’s what I’m trying to tell you,’ she says, waggling her finger at me. ‘You weren’t just messing around. You created a brilliant website because you were passionate about the subject. I think that with your ability to write captivating content and your natural ability to grow an audience, you have as good a chance as anyone in this school of winning this competition. It would be nice to see you give it a go at least. Have you considered a career in the media? I think you should.’

  ‘Mrs Smithson, I appreciate your encouragement and everything, but Nina is the twin with all the talents and cool lifestyle, so I think everyone would be more interested in what she has to say. Anyway –’ I glance at the clock above the board – ‘I better get going otherwise I’ll be in trouble.’