Rock That Frock!

by Coleen McLoughlin

  She’d said it! I almost gasped out loud.

  Jasmine actually laughed. “Thanks, but no way,” she said, shouldering her guitar. “I can’t play with a bunch of juniors. See you.”

  “Shame,” Mel sighed as Jasmine moved past us. “Ben wondered if maybe…”

  Jasmine spun around as Mel left the sentence hanging in midair. “Wondered what?” she demanded.

  “Forget it,” Mel said breezily. “We’ll do without a guitar. Ben’s drumming should cover it. Practice room three would probably be kind of a squeeze on Monday and Friday dinnertime for a five-piece band anyway.”

  “You got Ben to play for you?” Jasmine asked, looking astonished.

  “Like I said, forget it,” Mel said. “It was too much of us to ask. See you.” And we walked away, leaving Jasmine frowning after us.

  “HeLLO, nutcase!” I hissed at Mel as soon as we were out of Jasmine’s earshot. “Ben isn’t in the band! And anyway, why would we want Jasmine?”

  “Er, radar to Col. Jasmine just happens to be the best guitarist this side of the Mersey, and anyway, in answer to your question, Jasmine doesn’t know that Ben isn’t actually in our band,” Mel pointed out.

  “But she’ll find out,” Lucy wailed.

  “Jasmine and Ben aren’t speaking, remember?” Mel said, smiling wickedly. “So all Lucy has to do is get to Ben over the weekend and tell him Jasmine’s playing in the band. You saw for yourselves: she’s still crazy about him. And everyone can see that he feels the same way, even though he dumped her. They’ll each do it for sure if they think the other one’s up for it.”

  I gaped at her. “That’s the maddest plan I ever heard!” I said. “But I like it.”

  “Me too,” Lucy said, starting to laugh.

  “I know,” Mel grinned. “And see how I made sure Jasmine knew we’d be rehearsing in practice room three on Monday and Friday dinnertimes?” She clicked her fingers. “Sit back and watch the magic, girls.”

  It was dead clever. Dangerous, loop-the-loop – but clever. The only problem was: did I really want to see Ben and Jasmine get back together for the sake of our band? My last faint hopes of a romance with Ben Hanratty would all whoosh up in sad little flames if Jasmine joined. But would it be worth it if we won the trophy?

  “Hope you’ve got clean knickers on today, Coleen,” Summer said to me as she and her mates pushed past us in the corridor outside the hall. “The ones we all saw on Saturday were gross.” Giggling, she wafted her hand across her nose and wiggled off.

  Well, that pretty much made the decision for me. I tucked away my little Ben Hanratty dream and started focusing on the contest. Bounce Back would bounce back – with a drummer, guitarist and then some. We had to win this, or die trying!

  Six

  It was one o’clock on Monday afternoon, and we were sat in practice room three, watching the door like hawks.

  “Ben definitely bought it?” Mel checked with Lucy for about the millionth time.

  “Totally,” Lucy grinned. “He blew me off at first like we thought he would. And then when I mentioned Jasmine, he went all quiet for a minute before bombing me with loads of questions about her.”

  “Don’t tell me,” I said with a sigh. “He asked what she’d said about him, right?”

  “Yeah,” Lucy giggled. “So I laid it on a bit thick, saying that she really wanted to see him.”

  “So,” said Mel briskly, “now all we have to do is wait for them to turn up.”

  We watched the door for another five minutes. Then ten. Then…

  “Hi,” Ben said, glancing around the room. He was obviously looking for Jasmine. “Am I late?”

  “Hi!” I squeaked, jumping to my feet. Stay cool, Coleen…

  “So,” Ben said, settling down at the drums and clattering his fingers against the cymbals. “Is Jasmine coming then, or what?”

  “She said she might be a bit late,” Mel improvised desperately. The clock was creeping towards quarter past, and there was still no sign of Jasmine Harris.

  We all sat there like lemons for another couple of minutes. Lucy kept smiling at Ben like a loon, desperate to keep him in the room for a little bit longer. Panicky thoughts ran through my head. Where was Jasmine? What if she wasn’t coming? She never said for certain that she’d do it. What if she hadn’t remembered which practice room or what time? What if…

  Jasmine stood in the doorway, her guitar slung over her shoulder. Her hair gleamed like she’d polished it, and she’d lashed on a load of mascara. I braced myself for the ecstatic reunion of the star-crossed lovers. But as Ben started off his seat like a rabbit, Jasmine glared him down.

  “You never said he’d be coming,” she said coldly, tossing her head in Ben’s direction as she put down her guitar and smoothed back her glossy ponytail. Like it needed smoothing – not!

  Ben looked shocked as we all gaped at this outright lie. Wasn’t she here because Ben was?

  “Let’s not worry about that,” Mel said, recovering first. “Great to see everyone. Now, as your band manager…”

  Jasmine snorted and flipped open her guitar case. It looked like she was determined to make this difficult. I shot a sneaky glance at Ben to see how he was taking it. He was gazing over the cymbals at Jasmine like a whipped puppy.

  “As your band manager,” Mel struggled on bravely, “I’d like to explain how we’re going to do this. We’ll rehearse twice a week for the next three weeks, Mondays and Fridays. We need to learn the song as soon as we can, yeah?” She looked at me. “Coleen? Sing it so Ben and Jasmine can hear it, will you? You too, Lucy.”

  I felt a blush stealing over my cheeks as Ben and Jasmine both looked at me. Well, Jasmine looked at me while Ben looked at Jasmine. I took a deep breath and sang through both verses of the song, with Lucy helping me out on the high notes. It sounded pretty weak without any backing music. When we’d finished, we looked hopefully at Ben and Jasmine for feedback.

  “And you think we’re gonna win the Battle with that?” Jasmine said.

  “Obviously it needs a bit of work,” Mel said. “That’s where you come in.”

  “I liked it,” Ben said.

  Boing, boing, boing went my heart. My crush liked my song!

  “Like you’re any judge,” Jasmine flared. You could tell she’d been dying to have a go at Ben ever since she’d set foot in the practice room. “You judge music like you judge people, do you? You listen and say: yeah, great – but you hear something totally different when someone explains the truth to you and you decide not to believe it?”

  Uh-oh. Something told me that Jasmine wasn’t talking about the song any more.

  “I said I was sorry,” Ben began.

  “And you think that’s enough, do you?” Jasmine stormed. Tears were brimming in her eyes now. “I don’t believe you sometimes, Ben Hanratty. This was a stupid idea. I’m sorry I ever came.” And she marched out of the practice room with Ben hotfooting after her.

  “So,” I said, as the sounds of Ben and Jasmine arguing their way down the corridor faded away. “That went well.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Lucy, looking confused. “Jasmine had done her hair and everything. It was so obvious she did it for Ben’s sake. And then she chewed Ben to pieces!”

  “Love is complicated,” I said wisely.

  “They’ll be fine by Friday,” said Mel.

  Oh yeah? Somehow, I wasn’t so sure.

  On Friday morning, I almost fainted when Ben stopped us as we got off the bus.

  “Sorry about Monday,” he said, scratching his head. “I did really like the song, you know. It’s that tune you’ve been humming for weeks, isn’t it, Lu?”

  Lucy nodded.

  “I worked out a beat that would fit really well,” Ben continued. “Are we practising today?”

  “You still want to do it?” I said in surprise. “What about Jasmine?”

  Ben shrugged. “Whatever,” he said. “I said I’d be in your band, so that’s it. I’m in your
band. If you still want me, that is?”

  I had a feeling I was staring at Ben like a misty-eyed weirdo.

  “Great,” Ben was saying as Mel told him the practice room was still booked. “See you later then.”

  “Your brother is a dreamboat,” I sighed at Lucy as we watched Ben walk off through the gates with his head down and his hands in his pockets.

  “A dreamboat with a nifty sense of rhythm,” Mel said gleefully. “So what if Jasmine doesn’t show up today? The song’s still gonna sound great!”

  You know how I said love was complicated? I don’t know the half of it. Because who should join us as we were heading down the corridor towards practice room three but Jasmine Harris. Her mouth was so tightly pressed together her lips had practically disappeared, but she was here. Maybe our plans for a five-piece band would work out after all!

  When we got to the practice room, we could hear the sound of music drifting out.

  “Are you sure you booked it, Mel?” Lucy asked as we stopped at the closed door and looked at each other.

  “Definitely,” Mel insisted.

  “Great,” Jasmine sighed, looking anywhere but at Ben.

  I knocked on the door. The noise stopped for a second, and the curtain was whisked back from the window. Summer Collins smiled slyly at us through the glass.

  “I might have known!” I gasped, rattling at the door handle. It was locked from the inside.

  Mel hammered on the door as Summer waggled her fingers at us through the glass. “Hey, Summer!” she shouted. “This is our time!”

  “So,” Summer purred, “how are you gonna get us out?”

  Jasmine marched up to the door and pressed her nose against the glass. “Get out of our room, squirt!” she yelled.

  “What?” Summer said, raising her eyebrows innocently. In the background I could see Hannah and Shona both giggling like idiots. “Sorry, can’t hear you.” And she whisked the curtain closed again.

  “I could kill Summer sometimes,” Lucy muttered as we all slumped hopelessly outside the practice room.

  “Only sometimes?” Ben asked.

  Jasmine laughed. Then, remembering she was still mad at Ben, she stopped abruptly.

  “So you still think I’m funny?” Ben said at once.

  “Yeah,” Jasmine muttered, staring at the ground again. “Funny in the head.”

  “OK,” said Mel, taking charge. “There’ll be another practice room we can use. It may not have a drum kit, but we can improvise.”

  Every single practice room was taken. The clock was nudging towards half past one. It looked like we had just wasted a whole week of important rehearsal time, and there were only two weeks left until the contest!

  “This will have to do,” Mel said at last.

  “You’re joking,” Jasmine gasped.

  I stared at the place Mel had brought us. We were round the back of the kitchens. The stale smell of old cabbages wafted through the kitchen air vents, together with the all-together stinkier smell of the overflowing kitchen bins.

  “It’s not perfect,” Mel admitted, “but no one else is here, so at least it’s private.”

  “I’m not surprised no one’s here,” said Jasmine in disgust. “It stinks.”

  “What am I supposed to drum on?” Ben asked, twirling his drumsticks helplessly in the air.

  “Use your imagination,” Mel said. “There’s five perfectly good kitchen bins to work with.”

  I could feel the giggles brewing. We badly needed to practise, but drumming on the kitchen bins? I mean, seriously?

  “OK,” said Ben with a shrug. “Let’s give it a go. Listen to my beat, then go for it. One, two, one, two…”

  I couldn’t help it. My snorting giggles were about to get me, big time.

  “Hoohoohoo…” I started.

  “Stop that stupid honking, will you?” Jasmine told me irritably, trying to get the tune on her guitar.

  “She can’t,” Lucy explained, stopping in the middle of the song as I leaned against the kitchen wall and gasped for breath, my eyes streaming with tears. “We’ll just have to wait.”

  “Hoo,” I went. “Hoohoohoo…”

  “This is stupid!” Jasmine moved towards me – maybe to shake me or something, I don’t know. And then she stepped on an old banana skin and her feet flew up over her head. There was an awful squelch as she landed bum-first on an old tub of yoghurt, which squirted out like pink paint all over her. Her guitar landed with a flump in her lap.

  “Hahahahahoohoo!” I was completely doubled over now, as a wave of hysterics overcame me.

  Lucy and Mel rushed over to help Jasmine up while me and Ben howled away with laughter. OK, so giggles are pretty infectious – especially when they boom out of yours truly. But maybe Ben shouldn’t have laughed just then.

  “I hate you, Ben Hanratty!” Jasmine screamed, struggling to her feet in tears. “I quit, you hear? And it’s for good this time!” And she ran off around the corner before anyone could stop her.

  Seven

  “It’s all gone wrong!” I wailed at my family over tea that night. “We haven’t even rehearsed properly yet and there’s just two weeks left, and Jasmine, who wasn’t speaking to Ben much anyway, now totally won’t come within a hundred yards of him since she slipped on that banana skin and fell in the yoghurt, and Mel is furious with me for laughing – not to mention she’s wound up anyway about her mum missing that promotion – and Lucy’s really upset because her brother’s upset, and—”

  “Calm down, Coleen,” Dad protested, waving a forkful of cabbage at me. “We can’t hear a word. The band’s gone wrong?”

  “So aren’t you playing in the Battle any more?” Em said, looking disappointed.

  “It’s just a little spat,” said Mum. “Bands have them all the time. It’ll blow over, love.”

  I shook my head. “Believe me, Mum, this one won’t,” I said hopelessly. “And it’s all my fault.”

  Dad was frowning, obviously going through my garbled story in his head. “Jasmine slipped on a banana skin?” he said at last.

  “Yes,” I sniffed.

  “And…” Dad was struggling not to laugh, “then fell in some yoghurt?”

  “Pink yoghurt,” I said. Like it mattered? “A bit even sploshed on her nose.”

  If you ever wondered where I get my famous giggles from, you want to see my dad. He gets so bad that he can’t speak. He ends up taking a run at the same sentence about ten times, like he’s trying to pole-vault over a wall but ends up smacking his nose against it each time instead.

  “She slipped…she slipped…slipped…” Dad choked. “She…she…she…”

  Mum had started laughing now. Em was already halfway off her chair laughing, because Dad’s giggles are the most infectious thing in the world. Our dog Rascal crept out of his basket and sat nervously by the back door as my whole family totally lost it.

  “It’s not funny,” I said, my lips twitching. “It’s…”

  And then I joined in.

  When we’d all got our breath back, me and Em cleared and washed the plates as Mum and Dad went next door to recover.

  “What do you think we should do, Em?” I said, drying the plates and stacking them in the cupboard. I was that desperate, I was turning to a seven-year-old footie freak for help.

  “Write a letter,” Em said, lining up the cutlery in the cutlery drawer. “No – write two letters. One from Ben to Jasmine, and one from Jasmine to Ben. You can be all sorry-sorry, lovey-lovey, I promise never to mention it again and all that. They’ll never know the other person didn’t write it, see?” She plonked the last fork in the drawer and flipped the tea towel over her shoulder. “It works in movies,” she concluded.

  I stared at her. Was this maybe the best idea I’d heard all day? “You’re a genius, Emma!” I said, fighting the urge to sweep my little sister off the ground and kiss her.

  “I know,” Em said. Then she did one of her big show-off burps, which kind of spoiled the mome
nt.

  On Monday over dinner I pulled the letters I’d done on my computer that weekend out of my bag and spread them across the table so Lucy and Mel could see them. Mel made out she was still angry with me, but she started thawing when she realised that I had a plan to save our band from extinction.

  “See?” I explained. “This one’s from Ben, saying how sorry he is for laughing at Jasmine, and how pretty she is even with yoghurt on her nose. And this one’s from Jasmine, saying sorry for running off.”

  Mel and Lucy studied the letters, giggling as they read the soppy stuff I’d added in.

  “You can forge Ben’s signature, can’t you?” I said to Lucy hopefully. “And I’ll just do a squiggle for Jasmine and hope Ben doesn’t know what her handwriting looks like.”

  “They’ll kill us if they find out…” said Lucy tentatively. “But I guess things can’t get much worse…” She pulled out her pen and signed Ben’s letter with a flourish, while I did the same with Jasmine’s. Then we put them both in envelopes.

  “We can put them in the Year Ten pigeonholes,” Mel said, completely into my plan now. “And then I guess we just hope for the best.”

  “We’ve been doing a lot of that lately,” Lucy sighed.

  It’s amazing how slowly time goes when you’re desperate for it to speed by. Every time we moved between classrooms, I was on alert for Ben and Jasmine. Had they got the letters yet? Had they read them? And most importantly – did they believe them? A small part of my brain did the usual stuff: writing down homework, shooting evils at Summer (who seemed to be smirking a whole lot more than normal), planning the band’s outfits for the Battle and practising our song. But the rest of my head was completely caught up in the Ben and Jasmine drama. The big question was: did we still have a band?

  “You wanna practise at mine now?” Mel asked as we headed out of school at the end of the day.