Secrets, Schemes & Sewing Machines

by Katy Cannon

  “Seriously, what is going on with you and that Connor?” Lottie asked. “Because that was kind of intense.”

  “I have had a grand total of two conversations and an understudy audition with the guy,” I said. “Trust me, there’s nothing going on with him. You’d know if there was.” It used to be that when I started dating someone, it was the biggest news at school that day.

  “But there is something going on with you, right?” Yasmin said, standing next to me. “Something you haven’t told us about.”

  “I thought we decided last year that secrets were a bad idea,” Jasper said, flashing a grin at Lottie. “Especially between us.”

  I didn’t want to tell them. Not because I thought it was a huge shameful secret or anything, although my mum and dad obviously did, or they’d have told me years ago. Like, any time before Faith arrived and screwed everything up. It wasn’t even that I was embarrassed by the whole thing, even though I was, a bit. I mean, it was just weird. This kind of thing didn’t really happen to people, did it? Except it had.

  But the main reason I hadn’t told them was because I hadn’t decided how to spin it yet. Unless I could find a way to make the story funny, or make me look good, then finding out your parents were stupid enough to have unprotected sex as teenagers was just plain embarrassing.

  The other thing was, if I didn’t tell it right, I knew my friends would make it a thing. There’d be sad eyes and group hugs and offers to talk. And I didn’t want that. I mean, yeah, I like attention as much as the next person. OK, maybe more. But not that sort of attention. I didn’t want them feeling sorry for me, like we all had for Lottie when we found out about her mum. I didn’t want my friends having secret meetings about how they could help me.

  I didn’t need anything from them. I just needed to get on with my life. To get my plan back on track. Was that so much to ask?

  But somehow I didn’t think they were going to let me get away with that.

  I sighed, and my friends took it for the sign of weakness it was and moved in for the kill.

  “You’ve been hiding out in your bedroom in the evenings more,” Yasmin said. “I know, because you keep Skyping me when I’m trying to do my homework.”

  “And Violet told me you missed the Drama Club auditions and only just talked your way into an understudy role,” Lottie said, her eyebrows knotted in a concerned sort of way. “She said you were helping out with the costumes, instead. That you’d joined Sewing Club.”

  Cue gasps from Jasper and Yasmin.

  I turned to Mac. “You got anything to add?”

  “You seem normal to me,” he said with a shrug. God bless Mac. But then Lottie elbowed him, and he added, “But, you know. We’re all here for you. Or whatever.”

  “So,” Jasper said, resting his chin on his hands on the counter. “You going to tell us what’s going on?”

  It wasn’t like I hadn’t planned for this moment. I’d acted it out in my head a dozen different ways. Did I want to be brave, lower-lip trembling Grace? Or don’t care Grace? Or matter-of-fact Grace? Or amused, you won’t believe what my parents did Grace? Or even honest, hurt and confused Grace?

  In the end, I went for a combination of all of them.

  “So, the thing is … it turns out I have a sister.”

  I don’t know what sort of big reveal they’d all been expecting, but it obviously wasn’t that. Lottie blinked several times, really fast. Yasmin’s eyes just got really, really big. And Jasper’s elbow slipped off the counter so he nearly brained himself on the edge of the formica. Almost like watching a cartoon, but more depressing because these were my actual friends.

  Mac just nodded, as if to say, “Well, that makes sense.” Which it didn’t.

  “How can you… Don’t people tend to notice that sort of thing a little earlier in life?” Yasmin asked.

  “Not to mention the fact that you’re clearly an only child,” Jasper said. “Just like me,” he added, when I glared at him.

  “What happened, Grace?” Lottie asked, in her annoyingly sweet and concerned voice. Except even I found it hard to be annoyed at Lottie these days.

  I settled down on to a spare stool. “OK, so it was the night before school started back, right? Mum and Dad were in their office, I was in my room, and there was a knock on the door. So far, so normal. Except when I answered it, there was this woman I didn’t know standing there. She said her name was Faith, and she wanted to speak to Mum and Dad.”

  She’d looked scared, her baby blue eyes huge under her fringe. She hadn’t looked six years older than me then. She’d barely looked my age, holding out that envelope with my mum’s handwriting on the front.

  Then my dad had come to the door, then my mum, and they’d stared, too, for a moment. Then Mum had sobbed and pushed past me to wrap her arms around Faith, saying all these things that couldn’t possibly be true, my dad trying to explain things to me at the same time.

  I hadn’t understood anything at all. I’d just dropped back to lean against the wall because it felt like the floor was shifting under me, like the sea.

  I’d felt seasick ever since.

  “Turns out my parents had a baby when they were, like, our age.” I shrugged, as if this kind of thing happened everyday. “They decided they were too young to bring her up themselves, so they agreed to give her up for adoption. My mum wrote to her when she turned eighteen, in case she wanted to get in touch, but she didn’t. Until this summer.” Giving my parents the chance to start over with a daughter who hadn’t let them down yet, and making me totally surplus to requirements.

  The long, awkward pause that followed was broken by the sound of an oven timer going off. We all looked up and, after a moment, Yasmin yelped, “Oh!” and dashed off towards the ovens.

  “So?” Jasper always was the most impatient of the lot of us. “You can’t leave the story there. What happened? Why did she show up on your doorstep?”

  “She’s getting married,” I said. “The people who adopted her, they were an older couple. They both died a few years ago. So she wanted to find her biological parents.”

  “And sister,” Yasmin added, returning with a plate of cookies.

  “Guess so. Anyway, so that’s what’s going on. We’ve been having all these getting-to-know-you sessions and stuff. We were out for Sunday dinner last weekend and were up quite late. I forgot to set my alarm, so Mum let me sleep in the next morning because she didn’t know about the auditions…”

  “And that’s why you missed them,” Lottie finished. “Still doesn’t explain Sewing Club, though.”

  I reached for a cookie. I wasn’t ready to tell them about my plan to win back the lead role by proving myself utterly indispensible. I had a feeling that Lottie, particularly, wouldn’t approve.

  “I just figured that if I couldn’t be in the play, I could probably help out another way. Mr Hughes suggested I take on the costumes, which means joining Sewing Club, too. That’s all.”

  “Makes sense, I suppose,” Yasmin said, although the look she exchanged with Lottie suggested she still thought there was more to it.

  “Anyway, in summary, everything is fine. A little weird,” I admitted. “But fine.”

  “Well, you know, if there’s anything we can do…” Lottie trailed off, as if uncertain what help to offer someone whose only problem was a surprise sister.

  “I’ll ask,” I promised. Then a thought occurred to me. “Actually…”

  “Oh God,” Jasper groaned. “Look at that evil grin. You’re going to regret offering, Lottie.”

  “Hey!” I tried my best to look innocent. “All I was going to say was that I could use some help with the props and costumes. In, you know, Sewing Club.” Nothing like backup to make an awkward situation easier. Besides, I’d tried a few bits from Gran’s book the night before – just some basic stitches – and, to be honest, I did need the help. Especially if I ever wanted to be good enough to finish Gran’s quilt one day. Or even just learn how to sew little cupcakes
on stuff.

  “Sorry,” Lottie said, looking genuinely apologetic. “I’d love to, but I work at the bakery after school on a Monday.”

  “And I babysit for my nephews,” Yasmin added. “But I could help out at rehearsals on Fridays, perhaps?”

  I turned to Mac, who put up his hands and said, “I don’t even go to this school, remember?”

  Which just left Jasper. “No,” he said, then stuffed a cookie into his mouth so I couldn’t press for his reasons.

  “Come on, it could be fun!”

  Jasper shook his head and kept on chewing.

  “I really do need the help. You’d be doing me a huge favour.” I tried to look desperate, but it didn’t seem to make a difference.

  Jasper swallowed. “No. No way.”

  I looked around for support, and soon Jasper was facing down three girls giving him pleading looks. Mac gazed at the ceiling, obviously trying not to laugh.

  “Oh, come on!” Jasper slumped down on his stool. “Isn’t it enough that I’m already baking my way through my teenage years? Now I have to sew as well? Can’t you leave me some manly pride?”

  “Baking can be manly,” Mac said, but no one was really listening.

  Then I hit upon what I knew would be my winning argument.

  “If you learn to sew,” I said, leaning across the counter to look Jasper in the eyes. “You could make Ella her Christmas stocking.”

  Lottie gasped. “Jasper! That would be perfect. She’d love it, you know she would.”

  Jasper groaned again. “OK, OK. I give in. I’ll do it.”

  Lottie and Yasmin high-fived and gave a little cheer.

  “But I want it noted that I’m only doing this for love,” Jasper yelled over them.

  “Whatever you say.” I smiled, as I passed him another cookie. “Whatever you say.”

  What you need:

  An old T-shirt with a central

  picture or motif

  Stuffing

  What to do:

  1. Iron your T-shirt and lay it out flat, right side showing.

  2. Measure a square around the motif on your T-shirt just bigger than you want your cushion to be and mark it with tailor’s chalk.

  3. Pin both layers of your T-shirt together, then cut through both to give you two equal squares.

  4. Place the pieces with their right sides together and pin in place.

  5. Sew all around the edge of the cushion, leaving a 5cm gap on one side.

  6. Turn the cushion the right way round, through the gap, then fill the cushion with stuffing.

  7. Sew the gap closed by hand.

  Friday afternoon’s Drama Club meeting was in the school hall, so I met Yasmin outside her business studies classroom to walk over together. It was going to be weird enough walking into that group with everyone knowing I was only the understudy. At least this way I could prove I still had actual friends.

  “This is going to be fun,” Yasmin said, hitching her bag up on to her shoulder as we walked across the school campus. “I’ve never worked backstage on a play before. You’ll have to show me the ropes.”

  “Sure,” I replied, even though I had no idea what the ropes were, or even where they might be located. I’d never worked backstage, either. For me, it had always been about the performance. About being on stage, under those lights, with the audience staring at me.

  We’d figure it out though, between us. I mean, I’d never really baked before last year, and look at me now.

  First, we just needed to get through this rehearsal looking like we knew what we were doing. Especially if Connor O’Neil was watching. The last thing I wanted was to give him any more evidence I was utterly useless at the job I’d talked my way into. I could only imagine how much more irritating he’d be if he had proof of how totally out of my depth I was.

  “Ready?” Yasmin asked, when I paused outside the hall doors.

  I pasted on a smile. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  Yasmin gave me a look that told me she knew every single reason why I might be nervous to go in there, but she didn’t say any of them, which I appreciated.

  “Come on, then.” Yasmin pushed open the heavy double doors, and I took a breath then walked through.

  The hall was filled with students, milling around like they weren’t quite sure what to do yet, and all ignoring the circle of chairs set out in the centre of the room. But even with that usual first-rehearsal unease, you could see the groups forming if you looked at the scene closely.

  Over by the stage, Violet was laughing too loudly at something Sara, the girl playing Hero, had said. Violet leaned against the edge of the stage casually enough, but I knew what that lean said. It positively screamed “this land is mine”. She was staking her claim as the star, safe in the knowledge that, for the next few months at least, she ruled this room and everyone in it.

  Well, until I claimed it back, anyway.

  Next to them were a few of the other main characters, close enough to be associated with the star, but not close enough to be properly part of the group. It would take a few more rehearsals before that happened.

  Dotted around the hall itself were other smaller gangs – the bit parts and chorus, most of whom had also been cast as the other understudies in the last week, and then, at the back of the hall near the lighting desk, the tech team.

  All exactly the same as every other year, except this year I had no idea where to stand. With the understudies? Or the backstage crew? Neither felt quite right.

  “Lots of people,” Yasmin said, gazing around the room.

  “It takes a full team to put on a great show.” Mr Hughes moved towards us, clipboard in hand, and smiled at Yasmin. “I assume you’re here to help Grace with the props and costumes?”

  Yasmin nodded, and I said, “This is my friend Yasmin.”

  “Great to have you on the team, Yasmin.” Mr Hughes gave her a huge smile. “Trust me, there is going to be lots and lots of work for you and Grace to get stuck into. Just wait until you hear what I’ve got planned… Why don’t you both take a seat, and I’ll try and call the rest of this rabble to order.”

  He wandered off towards the stage – towards the stars – and left Yasmin and me staring at the circle of chairs and trying to decide where to sit. Or at least, I was. Turns out that Yasmin was staring at something else altogether.

  “I didn’t know he was going to be here,” she said, her voice soft.

  I jerked my gaze away from the chairs to follow hers instead. There, across the room, stood Connor O’Neil, chatting to the only actor in the bunch not fawning over Violet. Connor looked relaxed, at home, in a way I hadn’t expected him to. More at home than me, anyway.

  “Connor? I told you, Mr Hughes made him stage manager. Unfortunately.” Of course, as I spoke, he looked up and caught my eye, raising his eyebrows at me. I looked away, trying to pretend I hadn’t just been caught staring, but even without looking I knew he’d be laughing at me.

  He did that a lot, for someone who barely knew me. And I was pretty sure not all of it was in my head.

  “Not Connor,” Yasmin said, so quiet I almost didn’t hear.

  Which meant I had to look again. Damn it.

  Resigned, I tried for a quick glance across the room to see who Connor was talking to, without looking at Connor himself. But since Connor was still staring at me that was kind of hard.

  This time, he wasn’t mocking. With his eyebrow raised and a small smile on his lips, he looked honestly curious, which was … unexpected. I looked away.

  Back to the mission in hand, I checked out his companion. “Ash? He’s playing Benedick. He’s the male lead. You know him?”

  “He’s in my stats class,” Yasmin replied, staring at her feet. “I didn’t even know he was in Drama Club. I thought he just played football and stuff.”

  “He joined last year, I think. He worked backstage on that play, but Mr Hughes asked him to audition for this one, then gave him the lead. Not bad going, reall
y.” Sort of a reverse of my own trajectory. I turned my attention back to my friend, taking in the slight pinkness colouring Yasmin’s dark cheeks. Well, now. This was far more interesting than Connor laughing at me again.

  But before I could quiz her further on exactly where Ash sat in their stats class, and what had happened between them already, Mr Hughes clapped his hands.

  “OK, everyone, time to take a seat and get to work. We’ve got too much to do to waste more time chatting!”

  Everyone dived for the seats like a game of musical chairs, desperate not to be left standing. I slipped into a seat three chairs down from Mr Hughes, Yasmin beside me, and realized too late that Connor was sitting almost directly opposite me. Hard not to be caught staring at a guy when he’s in your direct line of sight.

  And Yasmin had just realized that Ash was next to him. At least her crush might make this whole rehearsal a little more entertaining. For me, anyway. Any distraction from the way Violet was holding court was very welcome indeed. And I was pretty sure Yasmin would need advice on how to win Ash over. Yasmin hadn’t really dated much in the time I’d known her, and I knew she was a little shy about the whole idea. I could totally help with that. In addition to my many other talents, I definitely knew how to deal with dating. Before I joined Bake Club, boys and shopping were basically my only hobbies.

  “Right,” Mr Hughes said, setting his clipboard down on his lap. “Firstly, I want to say how great it is to have you all here together, and how excited I am about this production. Much Ado is my absolute favourite Shakespeare play and I can’t wait for the chance to put together a really knock-out production of it. I think – no, I know – that all of you are going to fall in love with Benedick and Beatrice, and Hero and Claudio, just as much as I did when I was your age and acting in this play for the first time.”