Charm School

by Anne Fine

  A lighting test! Bonny was horrified. She’d hardly worked out where anything was and how it worked, and now she was practically being examined in it! She’d be caught out at once. Firstly she’d look like an idiot. And then she’d almost certainly be frogmarched down to her mother in deep disgrace. Or, worse, sent back to the big room to fail at something even more difficult – being charming.

  As casually as possible, she said to Araminta, ‘I don’t suppose you happen to remember what sort of lights and things worked best for you last time …?’

  ‘I wasn’t a snowflake last time,’ Araminta said. ‘I was a cowgirl.’ Then, sensing that under Bonny’s careless shrug there was real disappointment, she added kindly, ‘But Suki did sing a little Winter Frost Song the time before that. And if I remember rightly, Maura fixed things so that—’

  She broke off and clapped her hand over her mouth, staring at Bonny. ‘Oh, no! Maura! I knew there was something I was supposed to tell Mrs Opalene!’

  Bonny’s heart sank. ‘Oh, no!’ she wailed in turn. ‘I bet you were supposed to tell Mrs Opalene that Maura can’t come today to do the lighting and the sound.’ She was about to add, ‘And I’ll be on my own here, all day,’ but it sounded so terrifying, she couldn’t even bear to say it.

  ‘Oh, dear!’ But was this Araminta looking guilty at forgetting a message even a toddler could have remembered without much trouble? No. She was halfway to giggling. ‘Oh, I’m such a noodlebrain! It was the very last thing she said to me when I was helping her last time.’

  Poor, desperate Bonny felt a glimmer of hope. ‘Helping her?’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ Araminta waved at the boxes stacked across the floor. ‘I always enjoyed helping Maura. I’m tidy by nature, you see. So I quite enjoy putting things away.’

  Bonny could almost have hugged this cheerful, sparkling girl who might yet save her bacon. ‘So do you know where everything is kept?’

  ‘Most of it.’

  ‘Show me!’ challenged Bonny. ‘Let’s just pretend there’s someone standing in the right place for a lighting test and show me how you would set things up.’

  ‘I have a better idea,’ said Araminta. ‘Let’s ask Pearl. She’ll be happy to be our stand-in. Pearl loves getting out of Mrs Opalene’s Handy Hints. She says they’re—’ She stopped and giggled. ‘No, I mustn’t say it.’

  ‘Mustn’t say what?’

  ‘What Pearl says about Handy Hints.’

  ‘And what does Pearl say?’

  Araminta spread her hands in merry wonder. ‘She says she thinks some of them are a tiny bit boring.’

  Bonny made a sour face. Her disappointment was intense. Anywhere else in the world, she would have longed to make friends with someone as sunny and exotic, someone so wonderfully irrepressible, as Araminta. And the two of them had been on the very edge of doing something really different and exciting – getting through the whole day without Mrs Opalene even guessing that Bonny wasn’t the real Miss Sparky (or even a Miss Sparky at all). But now Araminta had reminded her that it was hopeless. Hopeless! What was the point of even dreaming of doing exciting things or making new friends in this stupid, stupid Charm School?

  ‘Yes, Pearl’s quite wrong,’ she said. ‘They’re not a tiny bit boring at all. They’re enormously boring, and quite ridiculous.’

  ‘No, they’re not!’ Araminta sounded quite hurt and stung. ‘Why, Serena’s sister followed Mrs Opalene’s handy hint about never sitting in front of the television without first dipping your hands in vegetable oil and wrapping them in clingfilm. And she got a job holding plates up to the sunlight in a washing-up advertisement.’

  ‘Is that why you’re here?’ Bonny couldn’t help teasing. ‘So you can get to hold plates up to sunlight too?’

  But Araminta missed the tone of sarcasm in her voice. She was too busy lifting her pretty little hands and shuddering. ‘Don’t be silly! I’ve got ugly great paws like giant soup plates!’ It sounded so familiar. For just a moment, Bonny couldn’t think why. And then she remembered Miss Cute Candy slapping at her perfectly normal legs, and calling them car park pillars.

  Araminta tucked her hands away behind her back, out of sight, and said winsomely, ‘But it would be nice to be some sort of model …’

  Bonny gazed out through the glass. ‘I expect they all think that.’

  ‘Not all of them.’ Araminta pointed round the circle. ‘Serena’s here because she wants to be an actress, and she thinks looking nice and being charming will help her. And Lulu’s here because her mother always wanted to be a catwalk star, but then she missed her big chance by getting married and having babies. So she thought Lulu might like to have a go instead. And Sarajane’s here because she’s friends with Lulu and they go shopping after. And Cristalle’s here because her dad is a top banker and he thinks that a charming, well-dressed secretary who does her hair nicely can get higher up in her job.’

  ‘Maybe if she spent less time on her hair and more on her studies, she could get to be a top banker too. Then she could tell him what to wear,’ Bonny said crossly.

  But Araminta wasn’t listening.

  ‘And Esmeralda comes because her sister used to come. And Suki just comes to show off. And—’

  ‘Show off? Show off what?’

  ‘Anything. Everything. Whatever’s new, Suki always somehow has it. And Mrs Opalene talks about it during the fashion tips. I expect she’s doing that now, because that’s Suki, pointing to her necklace thing, and I’ve never seen that before.’

  Araminta turned up the sound on the speakers, so they could both listen.

  ‘You see, dears,’ Mrs Opalene was saying. ‘As I keep telling everyone, it’s so important to make sure you keep up to date. Take Suki’s new pearl choker. Another girl might have been happy to dig any old double strand of pearls out of her jewellery case. But, Suki, dear, tell the others what you read in last week’s issue of Model Miss.’

  Araminta and Bonny watched Suki toss back her glistening mane of hair, and blush becomingly.

  ‘It said that pearl chokers with only two strands are,’ she shook her head in horror, ‘ “Totally Yesterday”.’

  There was a little buzz around the circle.

  ‘Really? I didn’t know.’

  ‘I heard that, too.’

  ‘Oh, how upsetting! I’ve only just saved up and bought one!’

  ‘It’s horrid, isn’t it?’ Cooki was sympathising with the shocked Serena. ‘But Suki’s right. I read it too, in this month’s House of Style. It said that two-strand chokers are “from Tiredsville” now, and the only thing to wear is three-strand chokers.’

  Mrs Opalene clapped her hands to try to put a stop to the gossiping. ‘So, go on, Suki. Tell everyone exactly what you did to find a three-strand choker for your dance on Saturday.’

  Suki shrugged modestly. ‘I went to forty different shops.’

  ‘Forty?’

  ‘Oh, Suki! That’s amazing!’

  The girls had taken to chattering again.

  ‘Twenty-two is the most I’ve ever been to, looking for something special.’

  ‘Sarajane and I went round thirty once, looking for the exact right plum suede boots. But we were together, and it took us a whole week.’

  ‘But Suki did it all in one day. She must have been shattered afterwards.’

  ‘Talk about Shop Till You Drop!’

  Suki tilted her head and smiled modestly. ‘Yes, I was tired. In fact, I was so tired, I fell asleep before the dancing even started.’

  ‘Never mind. At least you looked right.’

  ‘Oh, yes. I looked right. I checked before I left home, and I looked exactly like all the girls in this week’s Model Miss.’

  ‘There!’ said Mrs Opalene. ‘What an example for us all! Not ten shops. Not twenty. Not even thirty. Suki went to forty shops to get exactly what she wanted. And what do we call that, girls?’

  Bonny could think of one answer. But a quick sideways glance at Araminta’s seraphically devoted face wa
rned her to keep it to herself. Besides, everyone in the circle beyond the glass had started chanting.

  ‘That’s dedication, Mrs Opalene.’

  ‘That’s right, dears. Dedication. And how important that is. We cannot hope to reach the heights of fashion without dedication. They’re not called “the heights” by accident. Oh, no. We are like mountain climbers, and, to reach our goal, we need a combination of vision, and planning, and hard, hard work.’

  She spread her arms.

  ‘What do our friends across the Channel say?’

  Everyone chanted again.

  ‘Il faut souffrir pour être belle.’

  Bonny nudged Araminta. ‘What’s that?’

  ‘French,’ Araminta said. ‘It means: “You have to suffer to be beautiful.” It’s our Charm School motto.’ She laid her hand on Bonny’s arm. ‘Well,’ she said. ‘You tell me, now you’ve heard all that, can you really understand how Pearl can find it even a tiny bit boring?’

  ‘No,’ Bonny admitted honestly. ‘I wasn’t bored. I thought Suki’s shopping story was fascinating.’

  (As fascinating as any other amazing tale, she added privately to herself. Like people putting their heads in lions’ jaws, or walking on tightropes over deepest canyons.)

  But Araminta just looked thrilled that Bonny agreed with her. ‘Oh, I’m so glad! The moment I saw you, I thought, “Here’s someone I can tell things, and she’ll understand”. And I was right!’ Ecstatically, she swirled. The white shawl glittered, entrancing Bonny into silence as Araminta twirled towards the door.

  ‘I’ll go and borrow Pearl to be our stand-in while I show you what I know about the lights. I’ll tell Mrs Opalene that, since there’s no sign of Maura yet, we need a little bit of help, just for a while. She won’t be pleased. But she’s got a marshmallow heart, so we’ll get round her somehow.’

  Bonny watched, still enchanted, as Araminta tripped lightly up behind the one she called Pearl, and patted her arm gently. As Pearl twisted in her seat to listen, her dark curls caught the light. Then her eyes sparkled to match, and in an instant she was on her feet, begging Mrs Opalene, ‘Oh, please! You do say how nice it is always to try to be helpful! Do let me go and be the stand-in for them. Oh, please! Oh, please!’

  Mrs Opalene looked anxious. ‘But, Pearl, dear, we’re just getting to the hints on how to make a face pack out of oatmeal. Surely you wouldn’t want to miss that.’

  Pearl cast around desperately. ‘Suki could tell me all about it afterwards, Mrs Opalene. I could even copy out her notes. Or Cindy-Lou’s.’

  ‘Oh, very well, then,’ Mrs Opalene agreed reluctantly. ‘Just for a few moments, since Maura’s obviously held up in traffic or something and this new Miss Sparky’s having a bit of trouble finding her way around our lovely new equipment.’

  Already Pearl was scrambling up onto the stage. Mrs Opalene looked shocked. ‘Pearl, dear. Do go round and walk up the steps nicely,’ she added hastily, with a shudder. ‘I do think that would be a little more charming.’

  Blushing, Pearl scrambled back down, and tried to walk in hurried fairy footsteps. Suddenly Bonny noticed that no-one in the circle had eyes for anyone but Pearl. Some had little smiles on their faces, and some were merely looking a bit smug. But it was obvious what most of them were thinking. In Pearl’s great rush to get away from Handy Hints, she hadn’t been walking as if she were on the brink of dancing. And when she was pleading with Mrs Opalene, she hadn’t been talking as if she were about to burst into song. So that was two black marks for Pearl. She was a whole lot less likely to be crowned the Supreme Queen, and walk off with the glistering tiara.

  While Araminta was busy settling Pearl into the right position, Bonny looked round the circle of smiles and wondered if they could really be as gloating and creepy as she thought. For if these Charm School girls and Little Miss Pretties couldn’t help showing how pleased they were when someone forgot to act like a simpering princess for just two minutes, then what on earth would they be like the day someone in their class at school showed up with braces on her teeth, or a spot on her nose?

  It was a nasty thought.

  In hurried Araminta. ‘Quick!’ she said. ‘Before Mrs Opalene loses her patience and orders Pearl back in the circle. Watch this!’

  She took the swivel chair and spun to face Pearl through the glass wall. ‘Look at her standing there. Perfectly normal. Right?’

  ‘Right,’ Bonny agreed, moving closer.

  ‘Look,’ said Araminta. She flicked a switch, and pointed. Now Pearl was standing on the stage with only a black smudge for a face.

  ‘That’s backlight shining from behind,’ Araminta explained. ‘So all you see is that weird halo of light round her hair, and a glow through her ears.’

  ‘Creepy!’ admired Bonny. ‘Like when you shine a torch through your fingers.’

  Araminta switched from the backlight to a lamp tucked between the side drapes. ‘And now she’s sidelit. She has half a face.’

  ‘Like an eclipse.’

  ‘Interesting,’ said Araminta. ‘But not what we want.’ She flicked another switch. ‘And neither is this,’ she said sternly.

  Suddenly Pearl looked bony and ill.

  ‘How did you do that?’ said Bonny. ‘She looks terrible. She looks as if she just crawled out of her grave.’

  ‘That’s lighting her from underneath. It is about the cruellest thing that you can do, and if you try it on me, I shall break off your arm, and beat you to death with the soggy end.’

  ‘Charming!’

  ‘Oh, dear!’ Araminta clapped her hands over her mouth and looked shocked with herself.

  Bonny just grinned. ‘I still think it’s brilliant,’ she said. ‘Absolutely brilliant.’

  ‘But I’m not singing a monster song,’ Araminta reproved her. ‘I’m being a pretty snowflake, don’t forget.’ She looked a little wistful. ‘Though it would be fun …’

  Very fast, one by one, she flicked more switches. And by turns, one by one, Pearl went all grey and ghostly, then burst out again with rosy health, then turned so shadowy and sinister that she sent shivers down Bonny’s spine.

  ‘That is amazing!’ breathed Bonny when Pearl’s skin changed to pale green before her eyes, and Araminta somehow turned the boards under her feet into shimmering silver wave patterns. ‘Show me again!’

  ‘You’d better not do anything like this to me,’ warned Araminta. ‘What I want is this.’ She pressed down a whole row of switches. Suddenly Pearl looked as luminous as an angel, with her skin all milky and glowing.

  ‘Now she even looks like a pearl!’

  ‘Yes, but watch this.’ Araminta slid two of the controls up in their runnels till Pearl’s face was transfigured with a soft pink blush.

  ‘How did you do that?’ breathed Bonny, mesmerized.

  Araminta showed her again.

  ‘That’s what I want,’ she said. ‘But, don’t forget, around me I must have a swirling snowstorm.’ She dived into one of the boxes on the floor and drew out a plastic disc. ‘No, that’s not the right one,’ she said, holding it up to the light. ‘That’s rain spatters on a pond. Where are the snowflakes?’

  She rooted again, tugging out what she wanted. ‘Here it is!’ Bonny watched as she dropped it neatly into the slot in one of the lanterns, and flicked a switch to start it revolving.

  ‘Look!’

  Bonny swung round to the stage again. Poor Pearl was standing in a raging blizzard.

  ‘Whoops! Too fast!’ said Araminta, twisting a knob to settle the blizzard into a gentle swirl of fat white flakes. ‘There! That’s nice.’

  ‘It’s wonderful!’ said Bonny. ‘It’s astonishing! I think you’re the cleverest person I ever saw. You’ve got magic at a touch and the world at your fingertips.’

  Araminta’s eyes shone. ‘If you think I’m good, you should see Maura in action. Maura can conjure up thunderstorms and set off avalanches. She can make sheets of lava bubble out of the tops of volcanoes, and thin coil
s of smoke trail up from chimneypots. She can send tumbleweed bouncing across the prairie and tornadoes spinning through cornfields. She can turn a baking desert into a flood, and a flood back into a desert.’

  ‘All at the flick of a switch!’

  Araminta spun round on her toes. ‘Full moon. New moon.’

  ‘High tide. Low tide.’

  ‘Golden dawn. Blue dusk.’

  ‘Bright day. Black night.’

  ‘And then there’s the sound! She has everything. Roaring winds. Birdsong. Car crashes!’

  Hands locked together, they were both spinning now, faster and faster. When Bonny narrowed her eyes, all she could see was Araminta in a swirl of glittering white.

  ‘Brass bands. Heavenly choirs.’

  ‘Gunshots. Explosions.’

  ‘Children outside in the playground.’

  ‘Breaking glass.’

  ‘A baby whimpering.’

  ‘Crashing surf.’

  ‘A piano in a far-off room.’

  ‘Trains hurtling past.’

  ‘Church bells. Whistling kettles.’

  ‘Street riots. Sirens. Crackling fires.’

  Dizzy, they slowed to a halt, still holding hands. ‘You must be mad,’ said Bonny. ‘You must be absolutely crazy.’

  ‘Crazy?’ Araminta looked baffled, and very hurt.

  ‘Yes.’ Somehow, Bonny couldn’t help saying it. ‘Crazy.’ All of her earlier disappointment had swept back, and worse. All the long journey in the car alone with her mother she’d hoped so much that, in this strange new town, she’d find a friend – someone as sunny and sparkling and wonderful as Araminta. And now she’d found her. But, to keep her by her side, she’d have to spend at least half of her life drivelling on about things like five-strand bracelets and silver-pink nail polish, and whether flower earrings had somehow suddenly become ‘Totally Yesterday’ between last Wednesday and this Friday.

  And it was such an awful waste of time. Too high a price to pay. So she tried yet again to explain to Araminta. ‘Listen. It doesn’t make sense. Here you are, with the chance to do all these amazing things, and build whole worlds around you. You could sit in that swivel chair and flick switches to frighten people out of their wits, or lull them to sleep with soft music. You have the power to do anything.’ She spread her hands and stared at Araminta. ‘And what do you choose to do?’