by Lollie Barr
‘Belle, I think about Mum a lot, okay?’ Zeb looked really upset, and Belle felt terrible – she knew deep down that he must miss their mum as much as she did.
‘I’m sorry, I know you do,’ said Belle, crying again. ‘I just miss her so much. Everyone’s got a mum but me. All of my friends moan about how their mothers are trying to control their lives. And now Dad’s got Reanne. Idon’t have anyone …’
‘You’ve always got me,’ said Zeb.
‘Why don’t you move back home then?’ said Belle, who suspected that Zeb probably never gave her a thought when he wasn’t at home. ‘You’re never here. Even in school holidays you go away with your friends’ families rather than come home.’
‘Come on, Belle, that’s really unfair,’ said Zeb. ‘I try and come home when I can. I send you emails, text. Don’t give me a hard time. I just want to finish school with my mates. And if you got offered to go skiing, then you’d go too … Look, I don’t want to get all heavy right now, just know I care about what happens to you, okay?’
Belle nodded, biting her lip, wishing they could have talked more, but it was obvious there were some things that Zeb wasn’t facing. It appeared he was like his dad – Zeb didn’t like talking and needed firm proof before believing her. That meant an extra day of happiness for her dad before breaking his heart by telling him that the woman he’d fallen in love with was a lying, conniving cheat.
‘Come on now, Belly,’ said Zeb. ‘Let’s get these lights sorted out, eh?
They spent the evening rigging up the lights in the office, and taking test shots of each other, laughing, sharing memories of when they were kids, like the time two seagulls mugged Belle from behind and nicked her croissant while they were on holiday, or when Zeb made her eat poisonous berries from the garden when he was four and she was three, and she had to go to hospital to get her stomach pumped. It was actually terrifying at the time, but very funny from this safe distance.
Zeb asked her all about the magazine and the girls who were working on it, before casually asking about that ‘dark-haired chick in the black jumper’.
‘Oh, you mean Mand. She’s a bit feisty, but once you get to know her she’s really funny and cool.’ Belle looked at her brother closely. ‘Why, do you like her or something?’
Zeb just smiled that rather enigmatic smile of his and raised his eyebrows, and suddenly looked thirteen again. She shot him a bittersweet smile, knowing that if she didn’t tell her father about Reanne, then by this time next week Zeb would be back at boarding school, the Mag Hag project would be over, her dad and Reanne would be on honeymoon, and she’d be alone once more, with just the Biggins for company, in a very large, very grand and very empty house.
After school on Wednesday, the girls went to Belle’s house for the shoot. Mand’s mum jumped at the chance to come along to do Maggie’s hair, as she’d always wanted to have a peek around the Askew mansion. She left the salon early and picked the girls up from school in her little hatchback, then sped off up the hill to the house. Zeb had spent the day turning the office into a studio, and even carried a huge mirror from one of the downstairs guest bedrooms, so there was a proper hair and make-up area.
‘I’d like to cut your hair, so we can see your face,’ said Mel, pushing Maggie’s fringe to the side and holding it, whilst staring intently at Maggie in the mirror. ‘You’ve got a lovely face under all that hair. Are you game for a new style? I reckon something really short, jagged and funky would look great on you. What do you think?’
Maggie looked tentative. ‘I don’t know …’ She’d hidden beneath that fringe for years and wasn’t sure she was ready to show her real face to the world. But the girls urged her with numerous ‘Go for its’, and eventually she relented and agreed to the big chop.
‘A change is as good as a holiday,’ piped up Wanda. ‘Anyway, it’s only hair, it’ll always grow back.’
‘I’ll take the holiday then, if it’s on offer,’ said Maggie with a forced bravado, as Mel chipped and chopped at her hair, which fell in big brown clumps onto the wooden floor, giving her the cutest pixie cut. It made her look younger but somehow more sophisticated at the same time. All of the girls ‘oohed’ and ‘ahhed’ at Maggie’s new do and told her how fantastic she looked.
‘Wow, from library girl to cover girl in a term!’ said Mand, feeling secretly proud that her mum could still cut a trendy style even if she was thirty-eight. ‘Who would have believed it?’
Wanda set up a rack of clothes that she and Cat pored over, discussing the merits of every piece, as Zeb and Belle worked on the test shots, with Mand acting as the model in Maggie’s place, which was mortifyingly embarrassing because she had to act all nonchalant in front of Zeb, whose mere presence seemed to make her lose the power of speech. Zeb was trying to act all cool but he did say that Mand looked ‘kind of nice’ in the photos, which Mand took to mean he didn’t think she was a total loser.
After an hour of hairstyling with Mel, and then make-up with Wanda, Maggie was set for wardrobe. Wanda tried out several outfits before all the girls agreed that the stripy jumper was the best option after all. The shoot got underway, with Zeb acting as Belle’s assistant, testing the light with the light meter as she snapped away. Cat and Mand coached an initially shy Maggie into striking a few poses, while Wanda and Mel were running in and out of each shot, fussing with Maggie’s hair and make-up.
‘Put some more attitude into it, Maggie,’ called out Belle from the top of a stepladder. ‘Put your right hand on your hip, now turn your left shoulder forward. That’s it. Now pout!’
‘Yeah, go for it!’ called out Cat. ‘Pucker those lips like you’re about to kiss a boy at the formal!’
‘Not much chance of that,’ sighed Maggie. ‘I feel ridiculous.’
‘Remember what Mel said – feel ridiculous, you’ll look ridiculous,’ said Belle. ‘Now, for this shot, I want you to wink.’
Maggie remembered how her dad had taught her to wink when she was seven years old. They still winked at each other now. It was their little thing they did. Maggie did a series of winks, with a cute smile as Belle snapped away.
‘That’s it! You’re a natural! The camera is loving you!’ said Belle which made Maggie relax and feel that being the centre of attention wasn’t so bad after all.
After about forty-five minutes, Belle had finished taking the shots and was downloading them onto her father’s computer, which she had commandeered to finish the project. After the Kylie Mannigan Berry Berry shake debacle, Belle had been diligently backing up all The Mag Hag files each evening.
All the girls crowded around the screen as pictures of the newly sheared Maggie popped up. ‘Wow, you’re really photogenic,’ said Mel.
‘Talk about an extreme makeover,’ said Cat. ‘She’s practically unrecognisable!’
‘Which is how I like it,’ said Maggie.
The photos had a real quality to them. Maggie positively glowed, although Cat was right, even her own mother would have been hard-pressed to recognise it was her. Belle was particularly taken with a close-up shot, which she said she wanted to have a play with in Photoshop.
‘Now you need to take a team photo,’ said Zeb, ‘I’ll take the shot for you.’ The girls stood against the backdrop, with the most beautiful smiles, laughing, arms wrapped around each other like they were the absolute best of friends.
It was ten pm by the time the shoot ended and everybody was so exhausted they felt as though they had run an assault course in over-sized Wellington boots. Mel had trouble getting Mand to leave, as she and Zeb made shy overtures to each other until Zeb finally asked Mand, if she wanted to ‘hang out’ sometime. Mand said she’d love to but it would have to be after Friday when the magazine project was finished.
By Thursday lunchtime, the girls had achieved the feat of redesigning and sharpening copy, but there were still pages that needed to be designed and proof read, so they decided to have a sleep-over at Belle’s and work all night, if that’s what it took
to get the magazine finished on time.
Pierson arrived directly on the final bell, and from the moment the girls got into the office, it was heads down, bums up; well more like bums down, heads up, because they were sitting down, but the effect was the same.
The final job was coming up with shout lines for the cover to entice readers to look inside the magazine. All of the girls sat around reading the stories until they came up with: ‘Like you, only better. Meet the real Tyler Grey’; ‘Oh Boy – A modern girl’s guide to the male species’ – for Maggie’s Jones sisters feature, ‘How to make friends with your body (it’s the only one you’ve got)’ and ‘Your planet needs you!’ for Mand’s stories.
Belle got to work on the cover, manipulating the close-up of Maggie, so it was just her face and the top of Wanda’s stripy jumper. She played with colour, making Maggie’s face very white and her eyes, hair and eyebrows black. Then she added splashes of fluoro pink across the page, and added the shout lines in fuchsia.
By five on Friday morning, the magazine was finally finished, and so were the girls, who had crashed like Formula 1 drivers in a pile-up on the opening grid. Mand was asleep in a chair, her head flopped backwards, her mouth wide open with wells of spit forming in the crevices; thank god Zeb was nowhere to be seen. Cat and Wanda were curled up in little balls of teenageness at opposite ends on the big cream couch; while Maggie was face down on her desk, drooling over a picture of herself on the front cover. Belle had woken up half an hour earlier from her position on the floor, but had decided against getting up and going to her own supremely comfortable queen-sized bed in a show of solidarity with her uncomfortable friends.
At 6.30 am the door opened and Adrian and Reanne, dressed bizarrely in matching jogging outfits, peeked in at the sleeping girls.
‘Oh my goodness,’ said Reanne, smiling at the girls. ‘Look at them, they’re so adorable. There’s something to be said for youthful enthusiasm.’
‘They’ve put everything into this assignment,’ said Adrian. ‘I’ve read some of the stuff, it’s pretty good too. It’s a sure bet that they’ll win.’
‘Honey, don’t build up Corabelle’s hopes,’ said Reanne. ‘You know how subjective these things are.’
‘I’m not,’ said Adrian tersely. ‘I happen to think they’ve got a pretty good chance.’
‘But you don’t know what the other kids –’
‘Reanne, do you know you can be so negative when it comes to anything to do with my daughter.’
‘It’s pretty hard for me too, you know I’m always trying to be nice to Belle but she hates me with a passion. She said she would rather stick pins in her eyes than be my bridesmaid. Do you know how hurtful that was, Poo?’
‘I know, baby, she’ll come around once she gets to know you,’ said Adrian, before changing the subject like he was flicking channels on the remote control. ‘Shall we go jogging, then wake the girls up for school?’
‘Sure, Poo,’ said Reanne sadly as Adrian closed the door on the sleeping girls.
On Friday morning, in the period just after recess, Bone Marrow was standing at the front of class, most of whom looked as though they had had as much sleep as the girls. Unlike that fateful day when universes collided and groups of students were bundled together at the beginning of term, a strange hush had fallen over the classroom. Ten long weeks had elapsed since Ms Marrow had given out the magazine assignment, in which time every group had had their fair share of dramas.
There had been tears, tantrums, punch-ups (the explosion of testosterone between Lindsay Stott and Jai Jones had been ignited over a discussion on the origins of punk rock – whether it was UK in 1977 or three years before in New York); friendships were made, friendships were broken, but for all the drama, all of Year 10 now had a deeper understanding of each other, even if it just confirmed why they had had barely a thing to do with one another for the past four years. Whatever their personal differences, the truth was practically every student had slogged their guts out on this project and was desperate to be on the winning team.
Ms Marrow asked for a representative from each group to come forward and hand in their work. Belle took The Mag Hag project up when their group was called and placed it on Ms Marrow’s desk, which was heaving beneath the weight of magazines contained in folders, on brightly coloured cardboard, printed on A4 like a fanzine, as well as all the files burned onto CD.
Ms Marrow explained to the class that the judges would be announcing the competition winner in two weeks’ time, on the day of the school formal. But the excitement was dampened when Ms Marrow told the class to settle down and get on with their lesson on Samuel Beckett’s play, Waiting for Godot, which, after the excitement of creating their own magazine, seemed as boring as sitting on a park bench waiting for somebody who never arrived. It was a great relief when the bell rang for lunch and the students filed out of the classroom and gathered in groups in the hallway.
Although they weren’t expecting it, there was a general feeling of anticlimax now that the project was finally over. A lot of students had discovered a passion for schoolwork that they never thought possible.
‘Well,’ said Maggie as the girls milled around in the hallway. ‘We can all get back to our normal lives again.’
‘Is it back to the library for you then?’ said Cat, laughing.
‘It certainly isn’t back to the top of the steps for you, is it, love?’ said Mand with a cheeky grin. ‘Looks like you’ll be joining Maggie in the library.’
‘Well actually, Maxine texted me saying that Mannigan has been totally doing their heads in and asked if we could meet at Hoolio’s today after school to discuss how we can get rid of her,’ said Cat.
‘You’re not going, are you?’ said Wanda incredulously. ‘After they made your life hell?’
‘No way. I’m so over the US Crew but I thought it would be cool for all of us to go and celebrate at Hoolio’s,’ said Cat.
‘That’s a great idea,’ said Mand. ‘Toast ourselves with a Hoolio shake.’
‘Yeah, cool. What are you doing for lunch, Maggie?’ said Wanda. ‘Come and hang out with me.’
‘Can I come too?’ said Belle.
‘And don’t forget me,’ said Cat.
‘Oh my god,’ said Mand dramatically, putting her hand to her forehead. ‘Are we friends now or something? If that can happen, then perhaps there is a chance for world peace after all.’
Belle had been praying for a tornado, flood or some other biblically proportioned weather tragedy to descend upon Baywood and sweep away the marquee that had been set up in the garden, so it could stop her father making the worst mistake of his entire life. But as nature hadn’t played its part, it looked like it was up to Belle to do the dirty work.
It was time to play Zeb the MP3 file that Cat had downloaded from her phone and emailed to Belle, so she would have the cold, hard proof needed to expose Reanne.
Zeb was swimming laps in the pool. As he paused for breath in the shallow end, Belle called out to him to come up to the office when he had finished swimming.
Half an hour later Zeb came wandering into the office, which seemed very quiet and dull without all the magazine frenzy. ‘What’s up?’
‘Are you ready to hear what Reanne’s really like?’ said Belle, before hitting the start button on her computer, and the conversation between Sol and Reanne came blasting out of the speakers.
Zeb stood stock-still, clearly shocked. He couldn’t believe that (a) Belle’s friends had managed to get such damning evidence (b) Reanne was such a scheming cow and (c) one day their dad might be rich beyond ‘her’ wildest dreams, which made him secretly wonder whether he might be getting a fancy sports car for his seventeenth birthday, which was coming up in a matter of weeks.
‘I told you,’ said Belle. ‘See, she’s not so cool now, despite the blonde hair and big breasts.’
‘I stand corrected,’ said Zeb. ‘Why didn’t you play me this earlier? I honestly thought you were jealous. When you s
aid you had proof, I didn’t know you meant you’d stalked her.’
‘I didn’t stalk her!’ cried Belle. ‘Anyway, I kind of just hoped she’d back out and decide the money wasn’t worth it, so we wouldn’t have to tell Dad all this.’
‘But now we’ve got to break it to him the night before his wedding,’ said Zeb, not looking forward to seeing their dad in tears – he’d seen quite enough of them when their mum died. ‘That’s not a job I look forward to.’
‘Let’s do it in front of Reanne,’ said Belle, who secretly relished the opportunity of seeing Reanne squirm like an eel on the end of a fishing line. ‘We’re supposed to be meeting in the library for drinks in an hour before we go out for dinner. How about then? I’ll blue tooth you the file from my computer and we’ll plug your MP3 player into the speakers in the library. That way, Dad will have to listen.’
‘Yeah well, no time is a good time to break your father’s heart and destroy his future, but I guess we don’t have a choice really,’ replied Zeb, with a sinking sense of dread.
An hour later, Belle took a deep breath and walked into the library.
‘Corabelle!’ said her father, giving her a full beam smile.
Seeing him look so happy nearly made Belle change her mind; there was a small part of her that thought she should let her father stay oblivious, even if it did cost him half of his vast fortune and break his heart when Reanne eventually divorced him and took off with Sol Stevens.
‘Champagne, sweetie?’ asked her father, his arm wrapped around Reanne’s tiny waist. ‘After all, it is the specialist of special occasions.’
‘Sure, Dad,’ said Belle. ‘That would be great.’
‘Belle, you look gorgeous tonight,’ said Reanne checking out Belle’s outfit. ‘Where’s that dress from?’
‘It’s a Wanda Hong,’ said Belle, who had bought the pretty pink slip dress from Wanda at the photo shoot.
‘Never heard of her and you know I’ve got a passion for fashion,’ said Reanne, laughing the little girlie laugh that drove Belle to distraction. ‘Where’s your brother?’
