The Mag Hags

by Lollie Barr

  ‘Cool,’ said Maggie. ‘Would I know them?’

  ‘Probably not, honey, a bit before your time.’ Mel sprayed a swoosh of hairspray around Maggie’s fringe. ‘They were called “Slinky Joe’s Roadshow”. They had a hit in the eighties called “Rolling with the Punches”.’

  ‘Wow, I know that song: “Rolling with the punches, getting drunk with the drunkards”, or something like that. You sometimes hear it on the radio,’ said Maggie. ‘That’s Mand’s Dad? That’s so cool.’

  ‘She hasn’t seen him for three years though, not since he left me for his back-up singer Sheryl. But of course his karma got him back when she left him for Maurice Wessell of Maurice Wessell and his Flying Tassles fame,’ said Mel, as if that explained everything. ‘Anyway, she was –’

  ‘Mum!’ said Mand with an accusatory tone, coming up behind Mel. ‘Are you talking about Dad? I told you! Can’t you just shut up and do the hair!’

  ‘Don’t you speak to me like that, Mand. I’m warning you …’ Thankfully, before things got too heated Mel was interrupted by Belle asking all the girls to take their positions on the steps.

  At first the girls looked as stiff as ironing boards, too embarrassed to be able to relax.

  ‘I’ll give you one tip,’ yelled Mel from the sidelines. ‘If you feel embarrassed now, you’ll look embarrassed on film. Just relax and have fun. You are allowed to, you know.’

  As the photo session went on, the girls got really into it, pouting and preening, laughing and smiling. Belle took lots of individual shots, and then in smaller groups, leading up to the big group shot, which she set up with the camera on the tripod, and then Mel took a whole bunch of photos of the group with Belle, so she wouldn’t be left out. Just as the light was beginning to disappear and the final shots were being taken, the girls noticed they had an audience: it was the Us Crew, standing with their arms folded across their chests.

  ‘Ohmigod!’ yelled Kylie Mannigan, laughing and pointing. ‘Cat, what the hell are you doing? You look, like, so lame!’

  ‘So this is why you never hang out with us any more,’ said Sophia Poppolopodus. ‘So you can play dress-ups with your pathetic Them mates. And what’s with that ridiculous make-up? You look like a toddler who’s got into Mummy’s make-up box. It’s so, like, lame!’

  ‘You’re like, so, like, so, like so –’ said Maxine Cue on cue. ‘Lame!’

  ‘If you girls want to know what lame is, it’s standing around criticising people for doing something different,’ said Mel, striding over to the girls. ‘Now, I know your mother, and your mother, and your mother, so you better get out of here before I make up some lame story that I saw you smoking in town, and you’ll be, like, grounded for life. So lame off!’

  The Us Crew skanked off, looking like toddlers who had been told off. Just before they were out of hearing range Kylie Mannigan turned around and yelled out, ‘By the way, Cat, you’re no longer an Us. We’ve decided you’ve been voted out,’ she called, her voice shrill with power. ‘You know the rules – you play with Them, you become a Them to Us.’

  ‘Oh, piss off, you stupid stuck-up bitches,’ said Mand, giving the Us Crew the most erect finger she could manage, straining every one of the muscles in her middle finger to make it as straight as possible. Cat sat on the steps, her make-up sliding down her face in rivulets of mascara.

  ‘My life is over,’ she said, putting her head in her hands. ‘My life is, like, so well and truly over.’

  Although there was something satisfying in seeing a bully knocked down a peg or two, Mand couldn’t believe that her life would ever come to a point where she felt sorry for Cat Dean. She had spent many hours hoping that karmic retribution was indeed true and that one day she’d be there to see Cat get hers. But now it had happened it wasn’t as great as she had imagined. Cat had been kicked out of her own gang – if Mand’s mates did that to her, she’d be gutted. So, on Sunday night, Mand did what would have been unthinkable four weeks ago, and took out her mobile and called her up.

  ‘Hey, Cat,’ she said. ‘It’s Mand.’

  ‘Mand?’ Cat sounded all snuffly, like she had been crying. ‘What are you calling me for? To gloat?’

  ‘I know it must be hard now that you don’t have any friends’, said Mand, her words coming out the wrong way.

  ‘If you want to have a dig,’ said Cat, ‘I’m really not in the mood.’

  ‘No, I’m calling to say if you want to do that Tyler thing, you know, to take your mind off things. That way, you won’t have to face the Us Crew tomorrow.’

  ‘What, you mean wag school tomorrow?’ she said hesitantly. ‘Er, er, I don’t know …’

  ‘Look, just tell your mum that you’ve got to be at school early for a Mag Hag meeting or something, and then we’ll meet at the train station just before nine after all the commuters have left. Oh, and change out of your school uniform into something smart at Prospect Park loos. Are you game?’

  ‘Why not?’ replied Cat. ‘My life can’t get any more wrecked than it already is.’

  The next morning Cat and Mand met up at the station dressed in their smartest clothes. Cat wore a pencil skirt, white shirt and heels, while Mand wore an old-fashioned black-and-white pin-striped suit that she’d bought in a second-hand shop, so they blended in with the last trickle of commuters waiting for their trains to the city.

  They bought their tickets and ran down to the train platform just as an inner-city express pulled up at the station. Under an hour later they were in Town Central Station and in another world, one which hustled and bustled twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. A world Mand loved, where there were people she didn’t know, people her mother didn’t know, just people – everyone getting on with their own business, not everybody else’s.

  Mand wanted to live in the city as soon as she was old enough. Then she would get to hang out with Lottie and do stuff with her like meet up for coffee, mooch around the markets, and go to see bands. Like they did before Lottie left for uni. These days she couldn’t even be bothered to ring and say hello to her little sister.

  It was a fifteen-minute bus ride to Blazingdown, the inner city suburb where the studios and the university were located. Mand knew the way from the one weekend her sister had allowed her to spend the night at her hall of residence – the infamous night that Mand got chucked out for puking in a pub and being under-age, in front of all of Lottie’s cool mates.

  Lottie, already on her fifth beer, told her to walk home and didn’t even bother to come outside to check on her, even though Mand was bawling her eyes out. Luckily Lottie’s friends Jarrad and Saskia came out to make sure she was okay and then walked her home. It was the most humiliating night of her life, and there hadn’t been any invites since.

  Mand and Cat got off the bus, just near the sign that read: Channel 19: Programmed To Watch in bold, black letters. The studio spread out four blocks and there was a front entrance where two security guys in blue peaked caps and uniforms sat in a small hut controlling the boom gate into the car park, as though they were the heads of security for the United Nations.

  Cat and Mand watched as they spoke into walkietalkies and flirted with girls fetching coffees, wearing plastic passes and high-heeled shoes.

  ‘So what do we do now?’ said Cat, who suddenly wished she were at school, falling asleep in Mrs Byzantine’s science lesson.

  ‘We wait,’ said Mand, squatting down in front of the fence to the left of the security booth. ‘And see if Tyler turns up.’

  The girls spent the next hour trying to avoid the harsh sun that was burning down on them, and breathing in the fetid fumes belching out of the traffic that seemed to never move faster than a snail’s pace. By lunchtime they’d peeked into over a hundred cars and not seen one single famous person – unless you counted that annoying little weatherman, whose forced cheerfulness made you want to poke him with a sharp stick.

  ‘Well, we could ask security what time Tyler goes for lunch,’ suggested Cat, when it was
clear their strategy wasn’t working.

  The girls casually sauntered over to the booth.

  ‘Excuse me, sorry to bother you but do you know if Tyler Grey will be leaving the studio for lunch today?’ asked Cat.

  ‘That information is strictly classified,’ said the younger security officer.

  ‘Awww, come on,’ said Mand. ‘We’ve come all the way from Baywood. We’re trying to do a story for our magazine.’

  ‘Well, if that’s the case you need to speak to Lauren-Beth Simons in our media affairs office. I’m not able to give you any information about the whereabouts of stars unless you have a security pass,’ replied the man, waggling his own like it was a badge of honour.

  ‘Sorry, ladies,’ said the older security guard with the big belly, checking on a clipboard. ‘Federal Investigation is shooting on location today.’

  ‘Dave,’ said the younger guy, clearly annoyed at his colleague’s indiscretion. ‘You know that’s confidential information.’

  Just at that moment, a young red-haired woman showing a daring amount of cleavage pulled up in a red sports car. ‘Shane, honey, I forgot my pass, could you do the boom thing for me?’ she purred.

  He left the booth with a ruthless efficiency, like he’d been summoned to fight an enemy invasion.

  ‘They’re shooting down at Wharf 13, girls,’ said his older colleague with a wink. ‘But whatever you do, don’t tell them I told you.’

  After taking two buses, the girls arrived at Wharf 13, which was to the west of the city down by the docks. It had recently been developed into townhouses, bars, restaurants and art galleries. Once it used to be the dodgy end of town. Now, you had to mortgage your house for a coffee. There were two huge trailer homes stationed in parkland by the water.

  ‘Ohmigod!’ said Cat, feeling faint. ‘That’s got to be Tyler’s trailer. I feel sick.’

  To the right was a technical truck with its side open, exposing all manner of cables and leads. In a canvas tent, they could see a make-up artist powdering an older man’s face. ‘That’s the old dude from the show,’ whispered Cat. ‘He plays Old Par. But where is Tyler?’

  ‘Let’s take a look around?’ said Mand, who had never watched Federal Investigation and couldn’t get too excited about some old dude in mascara. ‘Look, they’re filming over there.’

  The girls walked down to the water, where they could see two speedboats being filmed charging up the harbour. ‘I can see Tyler!’ said Cat, nearly hyperventilating.

  ‘Is he driving the boat?’ asked Mand, feeling impressed for a second. ‘That looks so dangerous.’

  ‘No, he’s over there,’ said Cat, pointing to a floating pontoon. ‘The guy who’s having his feet massaged. I’d recognise that black hair anywhere. Can you see him? Can you see him?’

  ‘Yes, how macho!’ said Mand, laughing.

  Cat and Mand spent the next half-hour watching Tyler on the pontoon, until Mand couldn’t keep her hunger pangs at bay. ‘I’m starving, let’s grab a sandwich before he comes back to shore.’

  The lunchtime throng sat in sunlit cafes along the pavement. Mand felt so grown-up cruising the boulevard. Then, out of the corner of her eye, on the opposite side of the road, she saw Ms Marrow and Mr McGary having lunch.

  ‘Shit!’ said Mand, her gut suddenly dropping. ‘Just keep walking and whatever you do, don’t look across the road.’

  Sometimes, when you’re explicitly told not to do something, you just can’t help yourself. Cat’s head turned and Bone looked up. It was as though time stopped and they were both drawn to each other’s eyes.

  ‘Bone! Shit!’ replied Cat, walking extra fast to keep up with Mand. ‘I think she saw me. She looked as freaked out as I felt. She had her hand on Fit Club’s arm! My god, Bone and Fit Club are an item!’

  ‘Why did you look?’ said Mand, half-running up the road. ‘I told you not to.’

  ‘It wasn’t me, it was my head,’ said Cat by way of an excuse. ‘I couldn’t stop it.’

  ‘Just keep walking, pretend you’re wearing Harry Potter’s invisibility cloak or something,’ said Mand through gritted teeth.

  When the girls got back to where the trailers were parked, the area was deserted, as everybody was down by the foreshore filming.

  ‘We can’t wait here or go back. If Bone Marrow comes along, we’ll be well and truly busted, and I could do without the public shaming at Monday morning assembly,’ said Mand. ‘McTavish and I have “issues”.’

  ‘I haven’t come this far not to get my Tyler interview,’ said Cat. ‘If we’re in trouble, we might as well make it worth it. If we hide in his trailer, we can tell him we were sent by the media office to do an interview. What was that chick’s name the security guard mentioned? Lauren-Beth something.’

  ‘That’s a brilliant idea!’ said Mand.

  ‘That way he won’t fob us off like some schoolgirls with a crush and just give us an autograph. Come on, let’s go.’ Cat scanned the area for security before she and Mand brazenly walked up to the unlocked trailer and slipped inside.

  It was easy to know which was Tyler’s trailer because it was the biggest and, even more telling, there was a star with his name on it. However, the trailer wasn’t as glamorous as Cat had hoped for (chandeliers and a spa bath at least); in fact, it reminded her of her grandparents’ mobile home in which they had spent the last three years (and half of her inheritance, according to Cat’s mum) tracking around the country.

  ‘Do you reckon we should hide in the bathroom?’ said Mand.

  ‘What, and jump out on the poor guy so he thinks we’re a couple of deranged stalkers?’ Cat sat down at the dining table. ‘We’ll just wait until he gets back.’

  The girls had spent two hours waiting and were almost ready to call it quits when they heard the sound of boots clomping up the steps to the mobile home. The door opened, but instead of the handsome Tyler Grey, it was the old dude who played his grandad. What was his name?

  ‘Hello girls,’ he said, looking at Mand and Cat quizzically. ‘Is there some reason you’re in my dressing room or should I call security and have you arrested for trespassing?’

  ‘It says Tyler Grey on the door,’ said Cat.

  ‘Well, it was his before that little punk kicked up a fuss about the fact that my trailer had a spa bath, then the producer made me swap trailers with him,’ said the old dude. ‘But that’s beside the point. What are you doing here anyway?’

  ‘We’re putting together a magazine at sch– ,’ said Mand before Cat stomped on her foot, cutting her off.

  ‘We’re here to interview Tyler.’ Cat took out her notepad officiously. ‘It was arranged by Lauren-Beth in the media office.’

  ‘You could always interview me,’ said the old dude. ‘I did win a big film award last year for The Sailor and The Sea? Perhaps you saw it?

  ‘No, sorry, it was probably brilliant, but without sounding disrespectful,’ said Mand, ‘young women our age want to read about Tyler, and it would really make our magazine, if my, erm, colleague here got five minutes of Tyler’s time. Please.’

  ‘I’m sure it would,’ said the old dude somewhat wearily. ‘Look, I’ll go and talk to him, I can’t promise anything though. Tyler is somewhat temperamental …’

  As the old dude left, Cat let out a huge sigh of relief. ‘Ohmigod! That was so scary. Imagine if we got busted for truanting and break-and-entering in one day? My mum would go ballistic. I’d be grounded to the next ice age!’

  ‘Which may be just around the corner,’ said Mand, thinking about a climate change documentary she’d seen.

  The door opened and in walked the old dude and a younger man, who was not Tyler Grey but was hot anyway. ‘This is Felix, Tyler’s personal assistant,’ said the old dude, pointing to the handsome dude dressed in bone trousers and a bone shirt. ‘Felix, these are the girls who’ve come to interview Tyler.’

  ‘I didn’t know about any interview,’ said Felix. ‘What magazine are you from?’

  �
�Hi, I’m Cat.’ Cat stood up and stuck out her hand. ‘Cat Dean. Celebrity editor of The Mag Hag. It’s a new magazine for teenage girls. Elvira Kaymer from WWW is involved, so it’s going to be absolutely huge. Sorry we haven’t got our cards printed yet.’

  ‘And who set it up?’ asked Felix.

  ‘Lauren-Beth from the media office,’ said Cat, lying through her teeth. ‘She said that Tyler would be available after shooting.’

  ‘Are you sure it was today?’ said Felix. ‘I don’t remember getting an email. Anyway, Tyler got motion sickness from all that shooting in the boat. So there’s no way he can talk to you today.’

  ‘Can we reschedule then?’ said Cat. ‘If I don’t get this story, my editor will kill me and I might even lose my job. She’s a total hard case.’

  ‘Look, I’ll give you my mobile number and you can come down to the studio when we’re shooting there,’ said Felix, handing over a card and smiling at Cat. ‘We’ll sort something out.’

  Mand and Cat thanked Felix and the old dude that played Old Par, and walked up the road to the bus stop, hoping that Bone Marrow and Fit Club would be back in Baywood by now. The last thing they wanted to do was bump into them on the train.

  ‘That was bloody brilliant,’ said Mand as they sat on the bus back to the station. ‘You were amazing. I love the line about Elvira being involved. I reckon you’re going to pull off this interview – that would make our magazine unbeatable.’

  The trip home was a mixture of exhilaration and dread – they had managed to organise a potential interview with TV’s hottest star, but they still had the worry of wondering whether Ms Marrow had actually spotted them and if they were going to get hauled in front of McTavish for truancy.

  Mand hoped the incongruous sight of two archenemies out together on a school day would be enough to make Ms Marrow question whether she actually saw what she thought she saw. Mand prayed that Bone wouldn’t check the roll tomorrow, because if she did there would be a lot of explaining to do, and this time Mand knew she wouldn’t be able to talk her way out of it.