by Alesha Dixon
“I will PERSONALLY call the Chief of Police and you will go to prison for the REST OF YOUR DAYS!”
“All right, all right, no need to be so dramatic!” she says, riffling through the pages in her hands. “You can go on the school trip if you like.”
“WHO ARE YOU? WHAT DO YOU WANT WITH ME?”
“You haven’t seen pages eighty-four and eighty-five anywhere, have you? I’ve left them somewhere and they’re crucial to the plot,” she says, ignoring me. “I’m meeting the author this morning. They’re the next big thing; you heard it here first, Ruby.”
“What sort of place is this?” I ask desperately, gesturing around me. “Where am I? Who is Ruby?”
“All important life questions, darling. I look forward to discussing those with you another time. Now, can you get ready for school, please!” she says, disappearing round the corner before I hear a door shut.
“This is crazy.” I lower the tennis racket, bewildered. “This is so weird.”
I hear the sound of paws plodding up the stairs and gasp when I see that big, fluffy, muddy dog appear on the top step. It spots me standing there and its tail starts wagging like mad, dirt splattering across the walls.
“Good dog!” I squeak, putting down the tennis racket on the floor so it knows I come in peace. “G-good dog!”
With an excited bark, it pelts towards me. I turn on my heel and run for my life, racing back into the bedroom and slamming the door behind me. The dog barks on the other side and then begins to whine noisily. After a few minutes, it gives up crying and instead I hear some weird slobbery noises.
Working out what to do next, I try to slow my breathing, but there’s a loud knock on my door and I jump out of my skin.
“Ruby! You know how you attacked me with a tennis racket when I came out of the shower? Did you mean to leave it on the floor out here?”
“Leave me alone!” I yell back.
“All right, calm down. I was going to let you know that Daisy has chewed up the grip. And broken quite a few of the strings. I’ll take it downstairs and put it somewhere she can’t reach. And hurry up, Ruby! If you miss the bus, Mum will make me stay behind with you and I need to get in early for the school paper editorial meeting.”
“Who is Ruby?” I ask, tucking my hair behind my ear.
“RUBY!” Another voice yells through the door, making me jump away from it. “Hurry up! You’ve got five minutes before we go.”
But as I touch my hair, I notice it’s much knottier than normal. Like, SO much frizzier. Which makes no sense because I’ve been using this amazing, expensive conditioning mask recently to ensure this doesn’t happen.
“First my nails and now my hair!” I exclaim, stomping my foot. “Who has done this to me?!”
There’s a mirror in the corner next to the desk. My heart beating so hard that my ears are ringing, I kick aside the clothes and books on the floor and head towards it. And then I turn to see my reflection.
Oh. My. God.
My hands fly up to my face. It’s not me! My reflection isn’t me! It’s that girl from the library!
I let out such a blood-curdling scream that three boys come bursting through the door and, before they can stop it, the dog slips through their legs and leaps at me with its giant muddy paws.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
(AS NAOMI)
Who knew a limo had so many buttons?!
“Anyone would think you hadn’t been in a limo before,” Riley Starr says wearily, typing into her phone as I press the button that opens the door of a mini fridge in the armrest for the hundredth time.
It is so cool.
The whole limo thing is distracting me from the CRAZY that is my current situation. This is going to sound mad but, somehow, I have become Naomi Starr.
I KNOW.
None of this makes any sense! Obviously I’ve been freaking out about it ever since I first saw my reflection in the mirror an hour or so ago and there was Naomi Starr staring right back at me. I screamed so loudly that I fell backwards into the bath and then all these bodyguards came bursting into the room to check I wasn’t being attacked by a crazed stalker or something.
“What’s wrong?” one of them yelled.
“I’M NAOMI STARR!” I yelled back, scrambling out of the bath and pointing at my reflection in the mirror. “I’M NAOMI STARR!”
They were all silent and then they went away, one of them muttering, “Remind me never to work with pop stars again,” as they left. I paced around the bathroom for ages after that, trying not to panic and wondering what I should do. I splashed cold water on my face several times, but every time I looked in the mirror, there was Naomi’s face staring right back at me.
“How is this possible?” I whispered to no one.
I’m in Naomi Starr’s body. And if I’m in her body, then what’s happened to mine? And what’s happened to Naomi?
I was freaking out. Freaking out BIG TIME.
After sitting on the bathroom floor for a few minutes trying to work out if I was crazy or not, Riley Starr knocked on the door asking if I was OK and did I still want the massage.
I thought about saying something along the lines of, “I actually don’t have time for a massage right now because I have ended up in SOMEONE ELSE’S BODY.”
But what was I going to do about it? I needed time to think and work out a plan. I needed to process the craziness of it all. I needed to stop freaking out and get my brain in gear. To do that, I needed to relax. . .
And what better way to relax than to have a massage?
If I was in Naomi Starr’s body and everyone was treating me like Naomi Starr, then I might as well act like Naomi Starr, right?
And yeah, OK, so I haven’t come up with a plan yet BUT I have had the best day of my life so far. The massage was incredible. They used all these amazing-smelling oils and stuff. I fell asleep within five minutes. Then, I was woken up half an hour later to have my nails done.
Sam kept bringing me healthy, delicious smoothies the whole morning and then he said, “Oh, Beyoncé has sent over her new album. Shall I put it on for you?”
“It’s not out yet,” I corrected him, enjoying my hand massage. “It’s released in two weeks.”
“Yes, but she’s sent it to you ahead of release date,” he replied. “As always.”
I couldn’t believe this was happening to me. ME. Ruby! It didn’t make any sense. I sat there, listening to incredible unreleased music, having my nails done and drinking freshly made smoothies when I should, in fact, be at SCHOOL.
Mwahahaha.
As someone named Tina massaged my temples in soothing circles whilst the last coat of polish was applied to my nails, I tried to work out exactly how this had happened. Was it all a crazy dream? Because, if not, and this was ACTUALLY happening, then it had to be down to some kind of. . .
Magic.
And that’s stupid.
Anyway, I don’t know what I’m going to do about it, but in the meantime, it is really fun to sit in a posh limo and press all the buttons on the way to brunch at the Ritz. Plus, I got to pick my outfit for the day from Naomi Starr’s wardrobe. And let me tell you, she has A LOT of clothes. The wardrobe is basically the size of my house and is filled with every designer you can think of. Then, she has a separate wardrobe for shoes and handbags. Seriously. Her shoes have their OWN WARDROBE.
I decided on a blue Marina Blair dress to wear with tights and these amazing silver-studded black boots that I’d never be able to afford in a million years. It took me ages to pick a handbag, but I chose a leopard print one that I happen to know Naomi herself designed.
It went perfectly with the outfit and it was big enough to fit the HOW TO SHINE book in. It sounds weird, but I wanted to bring it with me because it was the last thing I remember reading as Ruby before this all happened. It felt important.
“By the way,” Riley says, not looking up from her phone as we drive through central London, “it’s going to be worse than usual when we get
to brunch. Someone has leaked where we’re going to the press.”
“Don’t worry, Ms Starr,” the bodyguard sitting next to me replies. “It won’t be a problem.”
“Huh?” I say, noticing another button I haven’t spotted before and pressing it. Blaring music suddenly fills the car.
“Naomi! Turn that down!”
“Sorry, sorry,” I say quickly, pressing all the buttons to work out how to turn it off.
Luckily, Sam comes to my aid and leans over to press the right one and switch it off.
“As I was saying, it’s going to be worse than usual,” Riley warns me, although I have no clue what she’s talking about. “As you can imagine, yesterday caused quite a stir. All of them will be here.”
“All of who?”
“We’re here,” the driver says.
“Wait. Who’s going to be here?”
No one answers me because they don’t need to. As soon as the car door opens, there’s an eruption of noise and hundreds of camera flashes as a huge crowd of paparazzi swarm around the limo.
Whoa.
“I’ve got you,” the bodyguard says to me simply as I grip the edge of my seat. “Just keep your head down. The usual protocol.”
“But—”
He climbs out of the car, shielding the doorway from the reporters desperately trying to reach over him with their cameras, lenses zooming in on me as I nervously slide across the back seat. I shield my eyes from the flashes and look for the sunglasses that Riley insisted I brought with me when I left the house.
“Let’s go!” the bodyguard instructs impatiently.
I step out of the car and feel lost in a blur of noise and light. Someone’s arm is gripping me tightly – the bodyguard’s, I think – and another comes in to flank my other side. I’m dragged towards the door, barely able to see with all the cameras going off in my face, and tripping over my feet as the crowd surges to get closer to me. They’re all shouting over one another, trying to get my attention by shoving microphones in my face.
“Naomi, what happened yesterday?”; “Naomi, why did you let down all your fans?”; “Is it true that you had a fight with your management and that’s why you ditched the concert?”; “Naomi, who are you wearing?”; “Is it true you’re retiring from music at the age of thirteen?”; “Do you have anything to say about the rumours that your record label is dropping you because of your diva behaviour?”; “Naomi, do you have a response to claims from your dancers that you never perform live?”
I’m pushed through the revolving doors and into a beautiful foyer. The noise of the reporters becomes muffled, drowned out by the soft tinkling of the piano being played in reception. I stop to catch my breath as the bodyguard lets go of my arm.
“That was horrible,” I say, taking my sunglasses off. “I never want to do that again.”
“Welcome back, Miss Starr,” the head concierge says, coming over to greet me. “Would you like your usual table? We have it set up for you but can seat you somewhere else if you’d prefer.”
“My usual table sounds great,” I tell him, looking round me in awe. It’s like a palace in here.
As we’re shown to the best table in the restaurant, I start giggling.
“What’s so funny?” Riley asks, as a waiter places her napkin on her lap.
“I feel so lucky. I can’t believe I’m here at the Ritz. Having brunch with you.” I take the gold-tasselled menu that a waiter is holding out for me. “This is all very surreal. It’s amazing.”
She looks taken aback. “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me in a while.”
I notice that guests at the other tables are staring at us. I suppose it’s a bit odd that at the table next to us there’s two uniformed bodyguards not eating and Sam scrolling through his computer tablet and every now and then picking up the phone and saying in a strained voice: “No, I’m afraid she is not available.”
I catch the eye of a couple watching us from a table across the way. They quickly avert their eyes.
“Don’t you ever get annoyed by it?”
“By what?” Riley answers, scanning the menu.
“Everyone looking at you all the time.”
She pauses, thinking about her answer. “I’ve been in the public eye so long, I suppose I’ve grown used to it.”
“Oh yeah.” I nod. “Your first album came out when you were eighteen, right? And it was a huge hit right away.”
“That’s right. Feels like a long time ago.” She smiles. “I still remember that feeling when my manager told me it had hit number one. It was incredible. My life was turned upside down.”
“In what way?”
“Well” – she nods her head towards a table of people staring at us – “suddenly I was recognized everywhere I went. I wasn’t born into this world, like you were. In one day, my life went from being completely unglamorous to being unbelievably wonderful. You can’t imagine what that’s like.”
I smile to myself. “No, I can’t possibly imagine.”
“And that’s why it’s important to keep working hard,” she says enthusiastically, leaning forward slightly, “why it’s important to keep doing interviews and photo shoots and attending the right sort of events. I know it’s tiring and can be boring, but, trust me, it’s worth it. It’s all crucial if you want to keep those albums going to number one and keep your career momentum.” She waves her hand around. “All this can be taken away very quickly. It’s about building a brand and we need to keep yours as strong as possible.”
“But Naomi’s brand . . . I mean . . . uh, my brand,” I correct as she gives me a strange look, “as in, I mean, the Naomi Starr brand is pretty big.”
“Yes, it is. Thanks to all the hard work you and your team have put in.” She hesitates. “But if you do what you did yesterday every day – if you skip concerts and don’t show up to rehearsals – then the fans will grow bored, the people you work with will grow bored, the media will grow bored and, eventually, the record label might grow bored. I’ve seen it happen to other pop stars. I don’t want you to risk losing everything you’ve worked so hard to achieve.”
“That makes sense,” I say, smiling graciously up at the waiter placing a glass of sparkling elderflower in front of me.
“I’m saying all this, Naomi, because I want to explain why I’ve been so hard on you in rehearsals recently. And why I think it’s a good thing that you’re having a day off today to regather your strength and let your hair down. But tomorrow we need to get back to work – we need to fix everything that’s happened and work hard to persuade the world it was a tiny glitch in your sparkling career. Does that sound like a plan?”
“Sure. It sounds like an excellent plan,” I reply, imagining that’s what Naomi would say.
She breaks into a smile, her shoulders visibly relaxing. “Great. I’m really glad we’ve talked about it. Now that we’ve got that out of the way, how do you feel about not talking about yesterday’s nightmare for the rest of the day? Let’s just concentrate on having some very welcome time off together. We don’t get days like this very often, so let’s make the most of it!”
“Yeah,” I say with a wide grin, holding up my glass of elderflower to clink against her glass of champagne. “Let’s.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
(AS RUBY)
“Ruby! Wait up!”
A girl with bright pink hair, dressed in the same school uniform, is calling out to me as she comes up the road to the house I’ve just darted out from.
“You’re going the wrong way to the bus stop,” she points out. “Where are you going?”
“I need a car! Immediately!”
“Huh?”
“I said, I need a car! Do you have one?”
“Um, in case you’ve forgotten, we’re thirteen years old so . . . no.” She folds her arms, looking at me strangely. “What’s going on?”
If only I could answer that question. I’m in some kind of horrific nightmare where I’ve landed in som
eone else’s body. It sounds absolutely MAD, but it’s true! When those three boys came bounding into the bedroom after I saw my reflection, I tried to explain to them what had happened.
“I’m Naomi Starr! NAOMI STARR!” I whimpered, looking at my reflection and seeing a stranger staring back at me. “I’m in someone else’s body! HELP ME!”
They all started laughing at me and shaking their heads, one of them saying, “Whoa, Ruby, your obsession with that pop star has taken a new level.” He then pointed at the uniform folded up on the chair by the desk and said, “You had better get dressed. We’ll miss the bus.”
When they left the room, I spent a few more moments freaking out before I got to action. I had to get out of that house and get back home, and I couldn’t do that in pyjamas. The school uniform was better than nothing. I could see the HOW TO SHINE book lying on the bed as I got dressed into the disgusting uniform – seriously, forcing anyone to wear this horrible shirt is a CRIME – and decided to bring it with me. It’s the only familiar thing to me right now.
I searched for something to carry the book in and all I found was an old, scruffy backpack.
“As if I’m going to be seen with this,” I sighed, stuffing the book in there.
Then, before anyone could stop me, I raced down the stairs and out of the house, that scruffy dog barking as I left.
“I don’t have time to explain but something . . . crazy has happened. I need a car to get to my house,” I tell the girl with pink hair, desperately looking around to see where I am.
We’re in a residential road and I don’t see any taxis lurking nearby. I don’t have any money but I can’t worry about that. My mum will pay for everything once I get home.
“Your house is behind you,” the girl says, pointing at the door I just sprinted from.
“Do you have a phone? Can you call me a taxi? It’s an emergency.”
“Why do you need a taxi? Should I be worried about you?” Her eyebrows furrow together. “Ruby, it’s me! You can tell me anything!”
