by Alesha Dixon
“Is this the only place to get food around here? I am SO ordering in. There’s got to be a good restaurant around here somewhere that delivers. Can I borrow your phone?”
She bursts out laughing. “You’re being so weird today!”
Not to be rude, but she didn’t exactly answer my question. I’m about to tap her on the shoulder and ask again when some girl with long, glossy red hair comes marching over to us as though she owns the place.
“Hi, Ruby,” she says crossly, putting her hands on her hips. Another girl has accompanied her and seems to be copying her every move, including the hands on hips pose.
Beth rolls her eyes at me. I take a wild guess that this is someone neither of us like.
“So, I spoke to John,” the girl says, all narky.
“OK,” I reply, already bored. “Good for you.”
“He told me you never gave him the invitation.”
“What invitation?”
She looks at me as though I’ve just slapped her across the face.
“The invitation to my party! The one I gave you on the bus yesterday? I told you to give it to him!”
“Give out your own invitations,” I say, looking her up and down because NO ONE talks to me this way. “Who do you think you are?”
My words have an immediate effect. I hear a sharp intake of breath from Beth next to me, while everyone in the queue around us is staring and whispering. The canteen starts to descend into a hush as people become interested in our conversation.
From the way this girl is acting, I take it that she is one of those popular kids I’ve seen in movies, who everyone worships, but is also scared of.
And from how surprised everyone is that Ruby is standing up to her, I guess that Ruby is the opposite.
Oh well. Time for a change.
“What did you just say to me?” the girl hisses.
“I said, give out your own invitations,” I repeat, before turning away from her to look at Beth. “Seriously though, can I borrow your phone to order a delivery? The smell in here is making me feel ill.”
Beth is so shocked, she can’t seem to find the words to reply. The girl who accosted me, however, is desperate to continue the conversation.
“Excuse me!” she says shrilly. “Aren’t you going to apologize?”
“Why would I apologize to you?”
Her cheeks flush furiously. “Because you took my party invitation and didn’t deliver it to John like you said you would! Did you hide it from him just because you’re not invited? That is SO immature.”
“HA! Why would I care about being invited to your party?”
She narrows her eyes at me. “You shouldn’t say you’re going to pass on invitations, if you’re going to be so petty about it.”
“OK, clearly you’re not going to drop this, so let’s sort it now,” I say in a bored voice, before clearing my throat and yelling out, “JOHN?”
A boy I recognize from Ruby’s house earlier waves at me from across the now completely silent room. He looks VERY uncomfortable at the attention.
“Great. John, you’re invited to. . .” I pause, turning back to the girl. “What’s your name?”
Beth sniggers and the girl says, “Ali!” as though I’ve committed a terrible crime.
“John,” I begin again, “you’re invited to Alice’s party.”
“ALI!” she cries.
“Whatever. Ali’s party. Did you hear that, John?”
He nods.
“There, see?” I say to Ali with a smile. “All sorted. Bye, then.”
For a split second, she looks as though she’s going to either shout at me or burst into tears. Obviously deciding that neither are acceptable, she turns on her heel and marches out of the canteen with her friend behind her going, “Ali! Ali! Wait up! Are you OK?”
“Ruby, I don’t know what’s happened to you,” Beth says, grinning as she watches Ali flounce out the room, “but whatever it is, it’s BRILLIANT.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
(AS NAOMI)
“So,” Riley begins, as we stroll through the doors of an empty shopping centre, “where would you like to start?”
This is mad. Completely and utterly MAD. They have closed the entire of the huge Westfield in Shepherd’s Bush just so I can go shopping without being disturbed. There is no one else here except for the shop assistants, who are all standing in the doorways of the different stores waiting to see if I’ll choose their one.
Oh yeah, and I can pick anything I want. For free.
Please can I never wake up from this dream?
“I guess, a clothes shop?” I say excitedly, feeling like I might pass out from all this happiness.
“What a surprise.” She laughs, typing out an email on her phone. “Come on then, lead the way.”
With Sam and a bodyguard a few steps behind us, we head into a designer clothes shop where the store manager greets me and then gestures to the staff standing in a straight line next to her.
“These will be your personal shoppers, Miss Starr. If you need anything at all, please just ask. They’ll be happy to assist.”
“Wow. Thanks!” I inhale deeply, taking in all the beautiful, posh clothes hanging neatly on rails around the brightly lit shop.
“I need to make a call about the Berlin concert tomorrow,” Riley says, causing a wave of fear to wash over me. She notices my reaction. “But you don’t need to worry about that today. Go on, go have some fun.”
I don’t waste any time. I wander through the empty shop like I’m in a daydream, selecting clothes I like the look of and handing them to one of the shop assistants, Andrew, who insists on carrying them for me. When his arms get too full, another assistant comes hurrying over to take those from him and carry them to the dressing room, while I continue selecting more items.
When we eventually make it to the dressing room, Andrew, with a knowing smile, puts on a Naomi Starr album, so I feel EXACTLY like I’m in one of those film montages where the main character tries on different clothes and happily dances about in them.
In real life, trying on clothes in shops is actually very tiring and boring and hot, and usually I get stuck in a jumper, with my head in one of the armholes, and Beth has to come in and help me out.
Not today, though. Today I’m a glamorous pop star and trying on clothes is a breeze.
“What do you think?” I ask Andrew, when I emerge wearing item number one of about thirty pieces waiting for me to try.
“Beautiful!” he declares, the other shop assistants nodding in agreement.
“Then I’ll take it.” I grin, admiring the dress in the mirror. It is the most beautiful dress I think I’ve ever seen: a silver-grey lace maxi dress embellished with delicate beaded flowers. As Ruby, I’d never get the opportunity to wear a dress like this, let alone be able to afford it.
But when you’re Naomi Starr, you can wear whatever you like.
After a few minutes, Andrew has loaded several bags with the clothes I’ve decided to take and I get stuck on whether I like a pair of bright pink trousers or not.
“Can you get Riley for me? She’s in the shop somewhere,” I say, examining my reflection. “I could use some advice.”
He disappears and then returns to inform me that she’s gone to do some work in one of the cafés with Sam.
“Do you want me to go find her?” Andrew offers.
“Oh. No, don’t disturb her, it’s fine.”
I pull the curtain back and get changed out of them. I would ask Andrew and the other shop assistants their opinion, but so far they’ve answered “beautiful” to every item I’ve tried on, even the ones that looked really bad. I guess no one wants to risk insulting a famous pop star, but if you only ever get showered in compliments, soon enough they don’t really mean much.
I wish Beth was here to give me a real opinion. I hold up the trousers and try to imagine what she’d say.
“Duh. They’re bright pink,” her voice says in my head. “OBVIOUSLY ge
t them!”
I grin and stroll out, letting Andrew know I’ll be taking the trousers, too.
“I’ll prepare the bags for your assistants to collect. Enjoy the rest of your shopping experience, Miss Starr,” he says, bowing his head slightly as I thank him and leave the shop, ready for the next one.
The bodyguard who has been accompanying me all day confirms that Riley and Sam have set up in the Starbucks and will be there for at least the next hour or so working.
“Ms Starr asked me to pass on the message that she hopes you have a wonderful time and to head there once you’re done,” he explains.
“OK.” My voice echoes around the deserted shopping centre. “How about handbags and shoes next?”
I realize I’m talking to myself as my bodyguard repositions himself just behind me and doesn’t reply, because of course, he’s doing his job, he’s not here to shop. I wander into an accessories shop and can’t help but smile as the waft of posh leather hits me walking through the doors. There are dozens of beautiful handbags and shoes dotted round the shop.
“Let me know if you need any assistance, Miss Starr. I’ll let you shop in peace,” a smartly dressed woman tells me warmly, before retreating behind the counter.
As unbelievably amazing as this experience is, it would be so much better with Beth. I feel a bit awkward, wandering around the bags and shoes on my own, knowing that everyone is watching me. I always thought that the hustle and bustle of other shoppers was irritating, but without them, it’s eerily quiet and empty. I wish Riley or Sam had stuck around.
I gasp as I notice a pair of sparkly silver shoes.
“Can I try on these please?” I ask, taking one carefully from the stand. “My size is—”
“That’s all right, Miss Starr,” the woman behind the counter says, coming over with a fresh pair already. “I took the liberty of finding out your shoe size before you arrived today, and prepared every pair of shoes in the shop for you, ready to try on.”
“Whoa,” I say, taking them from her, “that is really nice of you. Thanks.”
She smiles modestly and then scurries back behind the counter. I sit down and slip on the shoes, admiring them in the mirror.
“These are amazing!” I beam, looking up and then realizing that, again, I’m talking to no one.
With no one to discuss how gorgeous the shoes are, I’m not really sure what else to do but sit down and take them straight off again. The lady comes rushing over and takes the shoes away to be boxed and prepared for someone to collect when I’m done.
As I put my shoes back on in the silence, I realize that most of the fun of shopping isn’t the shopping at all – it’s the people you’re shopping with. When Beth and I head out together, we spend most of our time cracking up with laughter as we try on stupid things, or we’re super excited to buy something we’ve saved up for ages to get.
I have to admit that shopping on my own, even like this, where I can pick ANYTHING in the whole place, just isn’t as fun.
“Right,” I say, standing up and walking over to my bodyguard, who’s waiting by the door, looking moody in his sunglasses. “Where next?”
Ruby, can I ask you a question?
Oh my god, hi, Naomi! AHHH
Naomi Starr is texting me!
Sorry, it’s still so crazy!!
By any chance, did you fall down the
steps coming off my private jet as you
landed in Berlin?
No
Are you sure about that?
Yes
Your friend Beth just showed me all
these pictures on social media of ME
lying face down on the tarmac like a
STARFISH
Ah. Oh yeah! I may have had a
TINY little trip. But don’t worry, no
one saw. I was so stealth about it
IT IS ALL OVER SOCIAL MEDIA.
EVERYONE SAW. THE WHOLE
WORLD SAW.
I think the thing to take away from
this is that you need to invest in some
shoes that you can actually walk in
I can walk in my shoes!! It’s YOU
who can’t! Now can you PLEASE
stop making me look stupid?! I have
a reputation to uphold you know.
Anyway, how are things going?
Is everything OK?
Not exactly.
Right now, I’m hiding in a cupboard
Why are you in a cupboard?
I’m hiding from your mum and the
tour manager. Also that Martin
guy, your choreographer. Who
really doesn’t like you by the way.
And he DEFINITELY doesn’t
like you now
Explain.
To get out of rehearsals on the arena
stage earlier during soundcheck, I told
him I was allergic to his scent
YOU WHAT?!
I panicked!!! I also tried to get
out of the concert tonight by
telling everyone I was allergic to
spotlights, but no one believed me
NO KIDDING
Have you got any ideas?? I’m running
out of time! I’m meant to be on the
stage in half an hour!
OK. Don’t panic. Just say you’re ill.
Really ill.
I tried that! But it turns out you have
your own private doctor who came
with us on the jet and examined me.
According to him, I’m all good.
WHAT AM I GOING TO DO?!
Ruby. You may have to go on
What? NO
It’s OK. You can just say you don’t
want to sing live! Then you can mime
it. You know my songs right? You said
you were a fan! Problem solved!
Yeah, but singing along to your
songs in my bedroom at home is
a bit different to singing in front of
SEVENTEEN THOUSAND PEOPLE
You can do this, Ruby. You have to
do this! For me! PLEASE. I can’t miss
another concert. My career will be
OVER. Just mime, it’s easy!!
I can’t!!! I’m not a pop star!!
I’m a nobody!!
YOU HAVE TO DO THIS
No. No way. I can’t.
I’m going to be sick
I’ve got to go. Your mum keeps yelling
that it’s dinner time. Seriously why
do you have to all eat together at the
same time as “a family”? Ew, it is SO
cringe. Anyway, look, just do this for
me, please, Ruby? I promise you,
you’re going to be great.
YOU CAN’T LEAVE ME!!
We still need to think up an excuse!
I CAN’T GO ON STAGE!
Ugh, she is telling me I have to get
off my phone. Can’t she see I’m busy
texting? Now she’s saying she’s going
to confiscate it if I don’t come for
dinner. Who does your mum think she
is?! There is no way that she is going
to take this phone from me and stop
me from
HELLO? NAOMI?
NO MUM GIVE HER
THE PHONE BACK!
NAOMI? NAOMI, ARE YOU THERE?
Help.
A sudden knock on the cupboard door makes me jump out of my skin and drop the phone.
“Naomi? Are you in there?”
“No!” I call back. “Naomi isn’t in here, I’m a backing dancer. Maybe she’s on the other side of the building.”
“That’s funny, because all the backing dancers are in position and one of the crew members saw Naomi come into this dressing room and shut herself in this very cupboard.”
Busted. I push open the cupboard door and look up at Riley Starr and Sam.
�
��Is this some new concert preparation thing?” Riley asks, raising her eyebrows.
“Yep. That’s right. Apparently, it’s good luck in Europe to shut yourself in a cupboard backstage before a big show. Gather your thoughts and stuff.”
“Time to get out of the cupboard, Naomi,” Riley says, offering me her hand. “Your fans are waiting.”
I reluctantly let her pull me to my feet.
“All right,” she sighs. “Tell me what’s really going on.”
“You wouldn’t believe me,” I croak, the back of my neck sweating profusely. I can hear the muffled sound of a huge audience waiting in the arena.
“Give it a try.”
She gestures for me to sit down and pulls up a chair opposite, while Sam dashes over to the fridge in the corner and gets out some bottles of water. They then both wait in patient silence for me to explain why I’ve been hiding in a cupboard when I should be getting ready to stroll out on to a stage and perform to thousands of fans, just like I’ve done pretty much my whole life with no trouble whatsoever.
I wish I could tell them. I wish I could blurt out the truth. But as Naomi and I discussed at the Ritz, no one will believe us. They’ll think Naomi Starr has gone crazy.
“Naomi, whatever it is, you can tell me,” Riley says, leaning forward to look into my eyes intently. “Why are you acting so strangely?”
“Um . . . OK . . . well, I’m. . .” I pause, my brain searching desperately for something to say. “I’m nervous.”
“You’re nervous,” Riley repeats slowly. “That’s what you haven’t been telling me.”
“Yeah. I know that sounds strange because I’m Naomi Starr. And I perform concerts all the time. But there you go. I’m nervous. Really nervous. So, I don’t think I should go on.”
That’s when Riley acts in the strangest way. She laughs.
Not like a belly laugh or anything, but like a that’s-no-big-deal kind of laugh.
“Naomi,” she says, chuckling, “of course you’re nervous! I can’t believe you were worried to talk about that! We talk about it all the time!”
I stare at her, baffled. “We . . . we do?”
“Oh come on, don’t you remember what happened the time you played in Dublin?”
“Uh . . . remind me.”
“You were so nervous that you refused to go on for about an hour! The tour manager had to give you a major pep talk. And then, what about when you did your first show in New York?”
