The Real Rebecca

by Anna Carey

  For a moment I wished we weren’t committed to our new name. But we are.

  ‘We’re called … Hey Dollface,’ I said. ‘But we haven’t been a band for very long. We’re just starting out, really.’

  ‘Cool,’ said Paperboy with a grin. ‘I like the name. It sounds like something out of a trashy fifties’ movie.’ I have never seen any trashy fifties’ movies, so I hope this is a good thing. It sounds pretty cool anyway. And Paperboy wasn’t finished.

  ‘Hey, have you heard about the Battle of the Bands thing in the Knitting Factory?’ he said. ‘It’s for undereighteens, so it’s on a Saturday afternoon. It’s in about three weeks, I think. My friend Johnny is entering his band.’

  ‘Wow!’ I said. ‘That sounds brilliant.’ And it did. Although I can’t imagine that we will be good enough to enter a battle in three weeks, unless we want to totally humiliate ourselves. And frankly, I’ve had more than enough humiliation for a lifetime recently. I can’t take any more.

  ‘Yeah, you should enter,’ said Paperboy. ‘You can look it up online. I went last year and it was good fun. It’s an easy way to play a first gig. And you don’t have to worry about whether the audience likes you or not, because they’re all just worried about their own sets. Although that may not be ideal either. Am I talking too much?’

  ‘No,’ I said.

  He was smiling. He has such a nice smile. One side of his mouth seems to go up a bit more than the other. I could look at him all day. God, I hope I wasn’t staring too madly at him. ‘Anyway, I’d better go and harass some more of your neighbours for money. It’s just something I like to do on a Friday evening.’ He raised his hand in farewell. ‘Let me know if you enter the Knitting Factory yoke.’

  ‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘Um, thanks!’ And he sort of waved and went off and I waved a drumstick at him as he went down the drive. I hope he knew I was waving goodbye and not, like, threatening him with a drumstick beating or something. Then I closed the door, ran upstairs, ran into my room and shrieked at the top of my voice in pure, pure joy. I jumped up and down and then fell on the bed smiling from ear to ear. I’m still smiling now. I know I’m being stupid and it doesn’t mean anything really but Paperboy doesn’t have a girlfriend after all AND I had a proper conversation with him AND he thought it was cool that I’m in a band AND he said, ‘Let me know’ if we enter the competition which means he wants to talk to me again (or at least he isn’t totally terrified of the thought). And nothing might come of this and I might never talk to him again but right now I am very, very happy.

  LATER

  I can’t believe I talked to him for that long. It was like a dream. ‘Let me know if you enter the Knitting Factory yoke.’ Squeeeeeeee!!!

  SATURDAY

  Band practice today! Cass’s mum gave me and her a lift to Alice’s house. I didn’t say anything about Paperboy or the Battle of the Bands on the way because (a) I couldn’t talk properly about Paperboy in front of Cass’s mum and (b) I wanted to make a grand announcement to my bandmates and you can’t make a grand announcement twice. So I waited until we were in the practice room and told them all.

  Cass said, ‘Oh my God, I’m so jealous! You bitch!’ But I don’t think she meant it. Unless she is a very good actor. She seemed genuinely quite pleased for me. If she does really like him she is being very noble.

  Alice looked delighted and played a very loud power chord in my honour. And then she revealed that she has actually written a song. Well, some chords that make a song. It doesn’t have an actual tune or words or anything. But it has a riff and she played it and it was actually pretty good. Very choppy and poppy and sharp. I started drumming along and Cass played a squelchy, funky sort of bass line and it didn’t sound bad at all.

  ‘You know,’ I said, ‘if we tighten that up and make up a tune and everything, we really could enter this Battle of the Bands.’

  ‘Are you serious about that?’ said Cass.

  ‘Of course I am!’ I said. ‘Why do you think I mentioned it earlier?’

  ‘Well,’ said Cass. ‘I thought it was just part of the Paperboy conversation. I mean, I didn’t think you actually wanted to enter it. I thought you were just pleased he thought we should do it.’

  ‘Of course I want to enter it!’ I said. ‘Don’t you?’

  ‘I think I want to enter it,’ said Alice.

  ‘Well, I don’t,’ said Cass. ‘It’s in three weeks! We’re not good enough!’

  ‘Oh come on,’ I said. ‘I looked up the details online last night and you only need to play two songs. So we could do this one and a cover.’

  There was silence as Cass thought this over.

  ‘Just think, Cass,’ I said. ‘All of us rocking out on stage … everyone cheering us on …’

  ‘Everyone laughing at us, more like,’ said Cass.

  ‘Cheering!’ I said.

  ‘What,’ said Alice suddenly, ‘is the point of us being in a band if we only ever play in here? I mean, why are we doing it?’

  ‘The love of music,’ said Cass loftily.

  ‘If it was just the love of music, we could just do it on our own, not in a band. We need to play in front of other people! We need an audience.’

  ‘Just imagine what nice boys would be there and how impressed they’d be,’ I said. ‘Not that that’s the most important thing, of course. But still!’

  ‘Huh,’ said Cass.

  ‘Just think about it,’ said Alice, the skilful diplomat. ‘Let’s practise a bit more first.’

  So we kept going with the song. Alice started singing a tune over the chords and we all offered suggestions. Then we all started singing it together, like one of those sixties’ girl groups. It’s quite hard to hear each other over the noise of the instruments – we can’t use the microphones because we don’t have enough amplifiers – but we turned the volume down on the guitar and keyboard and I tried to drum quietly. Alice and I worked out a sort of harmony so we sounded like a little choir. Of course, we didn’t have any lyrics, we just sang ‘bap-bap-bap’ instead. After a while it actually, seriously, started coming together. It sounded like actual music. I couldn’t believe it.

  ‘Wow, Alice,’ I said. ‘You’ve actually written a song.’

  ‘We’ve written a song,’ said Alice. ‘You two came up with your own drumming and keyboard bits and we all made the tune. And we’re all singing. I just put the chords together.’

  We looked at each other in amazement. We wrote a song! A brand new song, that didn’t exist before this afternoon! It was an excellent feeling. We played it from beginning to end with only a few wonky mistakes and at the end of it Cass said, ‘Okay, okay, let’s do it.’

  ‘Seriously?’ squeaked Alice.

  ‘Yeah, go on. Let’s make a fool of ourselves in front of everyone we know. You know half our class will turn up just to laugh at us, don’t you?’

  They probably will, but I don’t care. We’re entering the competition!

  MONDAY

  I had a brainwave and took home little bits of my drums so I can practise at home. I took the snare drum, which is the small rattly drum, and the bass drum pedal (I am making it hit the side of the sofa instead of a drum. Good old sofa, what would my musical career be without it? It’s practically a drum kit now. Although Mum and Dad aren’t too happy about this. Mum said I’ll destroy the sofa bashing away like that but I told her I don’t actually hit it that hard. I am a skilled artiste, after all). So anyway, I’m sure I’ll be able to manage the whole pedal business by the time of the competition. Which, I might add, we have officially entered. I did it last night. I just had to fill in a form online saying how many of us there were, and what instruments we played, and how many singers we had. We told Ellie and Emma about it and made them promise not to tell everyone else.

  ‘You’ve got to let us come, though,’ said Ellie. ‘I mean, surely you want someone cheering you on?’

  It’s true, we do. But only if we’re good. Which we may not be. But we don’t want to admi
t that. Oh, being in a band is complicated.

  ‘Well, yes, we do,’ said Cass. ‘But it might all be very boring for you. I mean, there are going to be loads of bands playing and I’m pretty sure most of them will be crap.’

  ‘Oh, that’s okay,’ said Emma. ‘It’ll be fun anyway.’

  ‘Well, um, thanks,’ said Alice. And that was that. I suppose it doesn’t really matter if Ellie and Emma see us making fools out of ourselves. As long as they don’t tell anyone.

  To my amazement, Rachel says she wants to come too.

  ‘It’ll be hilarious,’ she said. ‘The three of you up on the stage. I hope they’ll have room for the sofa, seeing as that seems to be your instrument of choice. Admit it, you don’t play the drums out in Alice’s garage at all. You’re just in her sitting room bashing the couch.’

  ‘Ha ha,’ I said. ‘I’m not having you there laughing at us.’

  Rachel sighed. ‘I’m only joking,’ she said. ‘Well, sort of. I do think you’re probably better at playing the sofa than the drums. But I actually do want to go and cheer you on. I’m not a total bitch, you know.’

  Hmmm. Maybe she isn’t. She did arrange for me to get the drums in the first place, after all.

  ‘Huh,’ I said. ‘Okay, I suppose you can come. If you behave yourself.’

  Rachel rolled her eyes. ‘God, talk about ungrateful. I’m not sure I want to go now.’

  ‘Alright, alright,’ I said. ‘I do want you to come. Thanks.’

  ‘That’s more like it,’ said Rachel smugly, and ran out of the room before I could throw a drumstick at her (I did anyway, but it just hit the door frame. She is very good at dodging missiles. So am I, come to that. We’ve spent a lot of the last fourteen years throwing things at each other).

  WEDNESDAY

  Extra band practice today! My mum was going to see some friend who lives in Malahide so she gave me, Cass and Alice a lift out to Alice’s house (with the bits of drums I took home the other day) after school and then collected me and Cass afterwards. Alice is in a very good mood because something quite cool happened on our way to school today. We were walking down Calderwood Road and then Alice said, ‘We should use this opportunity to have a band practice.’

  ‘How?’ I said. ‘Do you have a guitar and a drum kit in your school bag?’

  Alice sighed. ‘No, I mean we should practise singing the song. It’s not like there’s anyone else around. We need to come up with lyrics, anyway.’

  ‘Oh, all right,’ I said, and we started singing. Not very loudly, I might add. It was quite fun, singing as we marched along, and then I noticed a familiar figure cycling along quite near us. It was Alice’s dream boy on a bike. And he was looking right at us in a friendly way.

  ‘Hey,’ he said cheerfully, ‘you’re not bad. You should start a band!’

  He looked like he was about to cycle off, and then Alice, sensible, shy Alice, looked straight at him and said, ‘We already have. I’m the guitarist.’

  Bike Boy looked genuinely impressed. He was cycling very, very slowly. ‘Seriously?’

  We both nodded. ‘And she plays drums,’ said Alice.

  ‘Wow,’ said Bike Boy. ‘Well, good luck. With the band, I mean.’

  And he cycled off. Alice and I just stared at each other with our mouths open until he’d made it to the end of the road and turned the corner and then we both shrieked. But not too loudly.

  ‘Alice, I think being in a band is good for you,’ I said. ‘I bet you wouldn’t have dared speak to Bike Boy a few weeks ago.’

  ‘I think you’re right,’ said Alice. And her good mood lasted for the rest of the day, even when Miss Kelly started waffling on about peak oil and how she hoped we all liked cycling because by the time we were forty only billionaires would be able to use cars.

  The practice went quite well too. We have written some very basic lyrics for our song. We weren’t really sure what to write about, because song lyrics should be about significant romantic life experiences, and, to be honest, none of us have actually had any yet. All we’ve had is ‘fancying boys we don’t really know properly’, and as Cass said thoughtfully, ‘I don’t think you can really write a song about that without sounding like a stalker.’

  So we kept going with the ‘bap-bap-bap’s’ until Alice said, ‘Why don’t we write about the fuss about your mum’s book, Bex?’

  ‘What?’ I said. ‘We can’t write about that. It’d sound insane.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Cass. She started singing to the tune of our nameless song.

  ‘My mother wrote a book

  It was bad

  And my teacher

  Has gone mad …’

  ‘I didn’t mean literally about your mum’s book,’ said Alice. ‘I mean, we could write about someone wanting to show the world what she was really like. Which is what you want to do now everyone thinks Ruthie O’Reilly is you.’

  ‘Hmmm, that is a good idea,’ said Cass.

  ‘Everyone doesn’t really think Ruthie O’Reilly is me,’ I said. ‘Do they?’

  ‘Here, listen to this,’ said Alice. She started playing the chords of the song. Then she started to sing.

  ‘They think they know me

  The real me

  Just how wrong can

  People be?’

  ‘Wow, that’s not totally terrible,’ said Cass.

  ‘It’s really not,’ I said. I sat down behind my drum kit. ‘Let’s try it all together.’

  And we did. And it sounded kind of good. We came up with some more lyrics (Alice wrote them all down so we wouldn’t forget anything) and I think it works. Every so often Alice will mess up a chord or I’ll drop a drumstick, but we managed to play both songs from beginning to end lots of times without any HUGE mistakes.

  ‘We actually sound like a real band,’ said Cass. ‘At least, a real band who can only play very, very short concerts because we only have two songs.’

  ‘That’s all we need to be able to play for the Battle of the Bands,’ I said.

  By the end of the practice we were all in such a good mood, including me, that I forgot how much I hate my mother at the moment and talked quite cheerfully to her in the car on the way home. After we dropped off Cass, she said, ‘So, am I forgiven?’

  Then, of course, I remembered all the terrible things that have happened at school recently.

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘I’ll never forgive you. That book has ruined my life!’

  And I didn’t say anything for the rest of the journey. Mum looked a bit sad and I felt slightly guilty, but then I remembered Karen Rodgers sneering at me and reading out bits of the book and said nothing. I am not very good at being aloof and stand-offish, though. When we got home we all watched a funny programme on telly and although I was determined to sit very straight at the end of the couch and not join in everyone’s foolish laughter, I sort of forgot after a few minutes. Well, it really was funny. And being aloof isn’t much fun.

  I still haven’t forgiven Mum, of course.

  FRIDAY

  Or as I like to think of it now, Paperboy Day. Although it wasn’t, because I didn’t get to see him. I can’t believe it. I was in need of some cheering up as school was extremely boring. When Mrs Harrington isn’t harassing me and acting like a lunatic, she is still a terrible teacher. When I think of the way Ms Ardagh used to make English classes so fun, I want to cry. It used to be my favourite class, and now I dread it. Luckily Mrs Harrington didn’t single me out for any more public humiliation today. She just droned on about Great Expectations for what seemed like about six years. And every other class was just as dull, although German managed to be boring AND weird. I ended up having to sit next to Vanessa Finn again and she kept writing me notes about her ridiculous party like we were best pals. Apparently she is having a dress made for her out of solid gold or something. I don’t know, my brain started to switch off after the first sentence. I can’t believe her parents are spending so much money on this craziness. Hasn’t she heard that we’re all
meant to be tightening our belts, whatever that means? I’m pretty sure we’re not meant to be splashing out on gold dresses and tanks.

  So yes, today was not a good day. And then I missed Paperboy! Mum said it was okay for me to practise my bits of drum in the house as long as I did it up in my room rather than in the sitting room with my beloved sofa. So when I came home from school I thought, correctly, that a bit of drumming would make me feel better. I decided to put on some music to drum along to and I was enjoying myself very much when the door opened and Rachel came in, all dressed up like a dog’s dinner because she was going out with Tom.

  ‘What do you want?’ I said. ‘I’m practising my drums!’

  ‘Yes, I know,’ said Rachel. ‘I can hear you all over the house. I thought I’d let you know that that Paperboy of yours is looking very well this evening.’

  I nearly dropped my drumsticks.

  ‘When did you see him?’ I cried.

  ‘Just now,’ said Rachel smugly. ‘He just called for the paper money.’

  ‘But … but it’s only half-five!’ I said. ‘And I didn’t hear the door bell.’

  ‘Well, that’s because you were making all that noise,’ said Rachel. ‘You can probably hear that racket half way down the street.’

  I scowled. ‘You sound like Mum, ‘I said. ‘And I can’t believe I missed him.’ I have given up pretending I don’t fancy him to Rachel, because my pretending just seemed to amuse her. ‘He’s the only boy I like and I only get to see him once a week.’

  Rachel sighed. ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘Would it make you feel any better if I told you that he asked after you?’

  This time I really did drop my drumsticks. ‘Really?’ I squeaked.

  ‘Yes!’ said Rachel. ‘Well, sort of. I answered the door and he looked sort of surprised. He’s probably so used to you racing out to the door and panting at him every week, he doesn’t realise anyone else lives here. Anyway, he said he was here for the paper money, and I said, “Oh, you’re a bit earlier than usual, I’ll have to go and get it,” and he said something about a change of schedule and I went off to get the cash from Mum. And when I came back he pointed upstairs and said, “Um, is that your sister playing the drums?” And I said, “I’m afraid I don’t have a sister, but we are looking after a poor idiot orphan, and every Friday night we let her hit some saucepans with a wooden spoon.”’