by Alesha Dixon
“Oops. So sorry, Ruby, didn’t see you there,” she says, before sauntering out of the canteen, giggling and whispering with that friend, Charlotte, who always follows her.
“Seriously, why does she think she runs this school?” I ask Beth, irritated.
“Ignore her,” Beth advises, glaring at her back. “She’s just overconfident because it’s the auditions now. She’s full of herself today.”
“Auditions? For what?”
“Are you serious?” Beth rolls her eyes. “The talent show! What is with your memory lately?”
“Oh right, the talent show. And that’s a big deal?”
“You know it is, especially to Ali. Why do you think she’s having her big party next Saturday? The talent show is Friday night and so she plans on winning the trophy and then celebrating herself the next day. It’s sickening.”
“Why are you so sure she’ll win?”
“Because she always wins. It pains me to say, but she’s quite good at singing and dancing.” Beth takes a sip of her water, watching me closely. She must notice my intrigued expression, because she adds, “Of course, she’s not as good as you.”
I know Ruby is good at singing and dancing. I’ve seen her on stage. Her performance in Berlin is all over YouTube and she’s performed a couple of songs on chat shows since then. She’s brilliant.
But her family haven’t mentioned anything about her talents. It’s like she’s kept them a secret. And from the texts she sent me before the Berlin concert, I gathered that she’s not mad about being on stage.
“You think I’m good at singing and dancing?” I ask casually.
“I’ve told you a hundred times,” Beth says in hushed tones. “But you refuse to do the talent show! If people could see what you could do, there’s no chance Ali would win.”
“And I refuse to do the talent show because” – I have a go at guessing – “I’m too nervous? Too scared? Have stage fright?”
“I don’t know why you have it in your head that people won’t take you seriously. I wish you’d believe in yourself a bit more.”
I take a sip of my drink, a plan brewing in my brain. I feel excited. Because if I pulled this off, I wouldn’t just be having fun, I’d also be helping Ruby. And I’d be helping the whole school if I knocked Ali off her perch. I slam my glass down on the table.
“Beth, you’re right. I do need to believe in myself a bit more.”
“Yeah. You do.”
“So, let’s go.”
“What? Where?”
I stand, pick up my tray and grin at her. “To the talent show auditions.”
The first few rows of the auditorium are filled by the time we get there and there’s a teacher standing on the stage, outlining the process. Beth and I slide into two seats at the back until she’s done.
“As many of you already know, there will be six final acts who will go through to the talent show next Friday. The judging panel is myself, the headmaster and Mr Jones.”
My nemesis! I grimace. This isn’t a great start.
“We are going to call you up on the stage one by one, in no particular order,” she continues. “Please announce your name and your talent before you begin. So, let’s have a look at my list. . .” She checks the sign-up sheet on her clipboard. “Ali Carlton, you’re up.”
“You need to go now,” Beth encourages as the teacher walks down the steps to take her seat in the front row. “You have to persuade her to let you audition.”
“Got it.”
We get up and race down the aisle to the three judges, who look startled to see us.
“Mrs Jennings, Ruby would like to audition too,” Beth announces before I can, which is very handy because now I know the name of the teacher.
“Who?”
“Me. Ruby.” I give her a winning smile. “I would like to audition please.”
“Oh!” She slides her glasses up her nose and examines the clipboard. “I don’t seem to have your name down on the sign-up list.”
“No, that’s because at first I was too nervous to sign up. But here I am, ready to go. I will be singing and also dancing. At the same time.”
I sound like such a loser. Ruby must have started to rub off on me.
Mr Jones shifts in his seat, already irritated by my mere presence. The headmaster looks as though he doesn’t really care that much, and considering he’s already checking his owl watch, I’m guessing that he’s hoping this is all over speedily.
Beth reaches into her bag and pulls out a camera. “And if you let Ruby go on, I can stick around to take photos of the auditions for the school paper. Great publicity, right?”
That grabs the headmaster’s attention and he looks up.
“What a good idea,” he tells Mrs Jennings. “We should promote our support of the arts.”
“You’re really supposed to sign up,” Mrs Jennings says. “We have a lot of people to get through.”
“Is this some kind of JOKE?” a shrill voice asks from the stage. We spin round to see Ali looming over us, her hands on her hips. “She didn’t sign up, so she’s not allowed to audition. Rules are rules.”
“Scared of a little competition, Alice?” I ask.
Her eyes bulge out of her head. “My name is ALI! And I’m not in the least bit scared of someone like you.”
“There you go then.” I shrug. “So no one objects to me auditioning.”
“I suppose it’s always nice to see new faces in the theatre,” Mrs Jennings muses. “I didn’t realize you were interested in singing or dancing, Ruby.”
“I’ve kept it secret for maximum audition impact. Everyone loves an underdog, right?”
Seriously, what am I even saying?
But it seems to work, because Mrs Jennings smiles at me before writing Ruby’s name down on her list.
“All right, then,” she says, gesturing for us to take a seat. “You can prepare to audition.”
“YES!” Beth says and holds up her hand expectantly.
It takes me a second to realize what she’s doing and I stare at her hand. Then it hits me. She’s waiting for me to high-five her! Feeling a rush of excitement, I eagerly comply. All my backing dancers and crew high-five each other after shows, but no one ever high-fives me.
Who knew such a small gesture would make me feel so giddy?
I need to be careful. I really am turning into a loser.
“This is NOT FAIR!” Ali whines as Beth and I take our seats. “Everyone else bothered to sign up.”
“Get on with your audition, Ali,” Mrs Jennings says in a tired voice, causing Ali to look mortified.
“What are you going to sing?” Beth whispers to me. “I’ll download the backing music on my phone now and we can plug it into the PA system.”
“Naomi Starr, ‘Shining Bright’,” I reply without hesitation, feeling the familiar tingle of nerves and excitement in my hands that I get before I sing.
You’d think I’d be used to performing by now but, no matter how big or small the audience, I always get hit by a wave of fear before going on stage. It’s never gone away.
“A very relevant song choice,” Beth says, scrolling through her phone. “Time for everyone to see how you shine.”
I turn to stare at her. “W-what did you just say?”
She laughs at my expression. “I know it sounds cheesy, but I mean it. Haven’t you always felt a bit like you’ve been on the sidelines?”
The lights dim and Ali starts her performance. I’m distracted by what Beth has said, because she’s right. I know she was talking about Ruby, but somehow her words also resonate with me.
Even though I’m a pop star and I get everything I want at the drop of a hat, I’ve always felt like I’m missing out on something. Every time I walk off that stage and I pass a dancer or a musician high-fiving another member of the crew on the way to my dressing room, where I sit alone, I feel like I’m on the sidelines, waiting for someone to tell me what to do or say next.
I sink do
wn in my seat, blinking back tears. I wish Mum was here.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
(AS NAOMI)
Standing alone backstage, I watch the dancers link arms in a huddle, ready for Martin to give them their pre-show pep talk. I consider wandering over and asking to join in, because I could really use some words of support and encouragement right now, but I know Naomi never does that and I have to be in character. I tear my eyes away from them.
“Naomi, have you got everything you need?” Riley appears at my side with a headset on. “You’re on in about twenty minutes.”
It’s the live final of a new TV talent show and I’m about to perform as the music act. Earlier I peered out from the wings; the audience is huge and there are cameras everywhere. I try to steady my breathing, shaking out my hands as the nerves tingle through my fingers, reminding myself that I’ve done this a few times this week. I am simply playing a part. It’s a dream that will soon be over, so I have to give it all I’ve got.
I am Naomi Starr. I’m a famous pop star. I’m doing what I love. I’m singing and—
“Did they mention to you about the competition winners?” Riley suddenly asks, noticing a crew member leading a large group of people towards us.
He waves awkwardly and Riley mouths “one minute” at him.
“Everyone who was supposed to see you at the London concert you missed was entered into a competition for tickets to the live final today,” she explains, turning back to me. “They’ve got a meet and greet with you now quickly and then they’ll go take their seats ready for your performance. Sorry, I thought someone had filled you in.”
“I have to meet them now?” I bite my lip. “I’m too nervous to really talk to anyone.”
“It will only be quick,” she assures me. “Just say hello, thank them for coming and take some pictures.”
I reluctantly follow her over. The man in charge of the group steps aside and excitedly announces to the group, “Here she is, Naomi Starr!”
There’s a lot of squealing and gasping, and they all hold up their phones. I stop suddenly, my breath catching in my throat. Riley gives me a strange look.
“Are you OK?” she whispers.
I’m not OK. I’m not at all OK. Because standing at the front of the group, jumping up and down with excitement is Ali Carlton.
“I . . . I need a moment,” I tell Riley, darting away before she can stop me.
I hear her say, “She’ll be back in just one minute, a slight wardrobe malfunction, I think,” as I rush through the doors that lead towards my dressing room. I shut myself in there, grabbing today’s designer handbag and fumbling around for Naomi’s phone.
She picks up on the second ring.
“Hello?”
“Naomi, we have an emergency.”
“Hang on, I just need to . . . OI, ROMAN! I saw that. You snuck that money under the board! Some banker you are, you’re cheating! I saw you!! Someone put Roman’s dog piece in prison!”
“NAOMI! Walk away from the Monopoly board!” I demand. “I need to talk to you!!”
“I will be back in a bit,” I hear her announce, “and I swear, if anyone takes any of my properties, I am going to be VERY angry. Callie, you have my back, right? Sorry . . . Mum or whatever. Keep an eye on your thieving sons!” I hear a door slam. “Hey, Ruby, sorry about that. Honestly, your brothers have no respect for rules. It’s maddening.”
“I’m aware. Naomi, we have a serious problem,” I say, ignoring the ache I get hearing about my brothers.
I usually hate playing board games with my family. Naomi’s right, the boys cheat and I come last. Mum tends to get distracted halfway through, and Dad enjoys having the family together so much that he’s not really concentrating on the game, he’s just cheering us all on no matter what happens. Whenever someone suggests a family board game, I try to get out of it in the hope of being alone in my room to practise my dancing, but they force me to take part. It always descends into a heated argument and someone storming out of the room.
I have no idea why I miss it, but I do.
“What’s wrong?” Naomi asks. “Aren’t you about to perform live? I tried to get someone to put it on TV, but they won’t let me. Your brothers are NOT very nice about me or my music. I’d like to see them write a catchy tune when—”
“Naomi, I need you to focus,” I interrupt. “I’m about to do a meet and greet with some competition winners. Ali Carlton is one of them!”
“Who?”
“Ali Carlton! From school!”
“No way.”
“YES!”
“Ugh. She is the worst.”
“I KNOW! What do I do?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, what do I do? I can’t speak to her! I can’t go out and do the show knowing she’s in the audience!”
“Why not?”
“Because . . . she’s Ali Carlton!” I say in exasperation.
“So?”
“She’ll see right through it! She’ll see that I’m a fake! She’ll laugh at me.”
“Ruby, what are you talking about? All she can see in front of her is me. You just have to keep doing what you’re doing.”
“You don’t get it,” I say, running a hand through my perfectly styled hair. “She’s the most popular girl in school. Look, you can’t understand because you’re perfect and cool, but I’m not. I’m a loser! A nobody! And people like Ali Carlton—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, firstly, take a deep breath, please,” she instructs sternly. “Secondly, I have been walking around as you for almost a week and I can tell you that you are not a nobody.”
“Naomi, I appreciate you being nice, but. . .”
“I’m not being nice, Ruby. I’m telling you how it is. You and Alice Carlton—”
“Ali.”
“Whatever. You and Ali Carlton are both very talented. You’re different in a LOT of ways, but do you know what the main difference between you is? She’s not afraid to put herself out there and go for what she wants. Over the last few days, you have proven to yourself just what you can do. You’ve sung and you’ve danced in front of thousands of people.”
I rest my forehead on the dressing room table, pressing the phone against my ear. “This somehow seems more terrifying.”
“You can’t let someone like Ali Carlton make you feel like you don’t belong up there on that stage. Take it from someone who has been in the business a while – you do.”
I smile, hardly daring to believe what I’m hearing. “Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me yet. I’ve made a few changes to your life that I’m not sure you’ll be thrilled about once we swap back.”
“Like what?”
“Nothing you can’t handle. You may have a detention or two. But at least I haven’t dyed your hair pink, which by the way I still haven’t forgiven you for.”
“Did Beth see?” I ask eagerly. “What does she think?”
“She thinks it looks stupid.”
“No, she doesn’t.” I laugh. “I was missing her, that’s all. Don’t worry, it’s not permanent.”
“If it was, you’d be in BIG trouble.” She pauses. “Ruby, how’s my mum? Is she OK?”
“Yeah, she’s great. She’s probably not too happy with me running away from the competition winners, though.”
She chuckles. “That sounds about right.”
“How about my family? And Beth?”
“Your family are nuts. Same goes for Beth.”
“Sounds about right.”
There’s a moment of silence before she speaks. “Well, I had better get back to the board game. I think I just heard a smash from the sitting room.”
“That will be Roman or Reggie knocking over the board in protest. They’re not very good losers. I had better get to this meet and greet before the concert starts.”
“Good luck, Ruby,” she says. “Go show them who you are.”
We hang up and, taking a deep breath, I put my phone away and
swing open the door, heading back to the wings where the competition winners are patiently waiting. Riley’s expression brightens as I approach with a big smile on my face.
“Thank goodness, you’re back,” she whispers, before addressing the group. “Here she is! Outfit sorted. Naomi, these are your competition winners and they’re very excited to meet you.”
“Hi, everyone,” I say, waving to them as they all scream and applaud me. “Thanks so much for coming and I really hope you enjoy the show.”
“Oh my god, oh my god!” Ali squeals, pushing her way to the front of the group. “PLEASE can we have photos? Can we please?”
The rest of the group looks at me hopefully, all clutching their phones. One of them is so overwhelmed to meet Naomi Starr, he is silently crying.
“Of course.”
I smile graciously as they form a jostled queue and Ali passes her phone to Riley, coming to stand next to me.
“You are my favourite pop star in the world – I am your biggest fan,” she gushes, flicking her hair back and posing with her hand on her hip.
“Thanks so much, Ali.”
She screams, slapping a hand over her mouth. “YOU KNOW MY NAME! AHHHHHHHHHH!”
I wince, her scream deafening me temporarily.
“Ah, yeah, my assistant told me your names,” I say hurriedly. “Anyway, let’s get this photo.”
Riley takes the picture and hands back her phone, but before she moves away for the next person to have their photo, she has something more to say.
“Naomi, can I ask you a question?”
“Sure, but we have a few people to get through, so—”
“Do you ever get nervous? Before you go up on stage, I mean?”
I blink at her. “Uh . . . why do you ask?”
“Because I get really nervous. I don’t perform in front of huge audiences like you do or anything,” she says hurriedly, embarrassed. “But I’m in this small talent show at my school, and every year, I freak out. My singing teacher told me that even pop stars do though, and I was wondering if that was true.”
I’ve never seen Ali like this before. She seems smaller somehow, and the way she’s looking at me is so earnest and nervous, like she’s allowing herself to be vulnerable. It’s the first time I’ve ever felt like we have something in common.
