by Maggi Gibson
‘That’s because,’ Taslima explains as we head for the bus stop, ‘the average person has a three-second attention span. Already, Sassy, you are old news.’
We’re going straight from school to the shops so Taslima can spend the dosh her great-gran sent last week from Pakistan. ‘I want some new clothes and stuff,’ she’d said yesterday in biology. ‘And I’d love to treat you both to a giant milkshake!’
The thought of that milkshake has kept me going through a double of maths, an excruciating period of English and an eternity of history.
At the bus stop there’s already a long straggling queue. Just as we tag on at the end, Megan spots us and comes rushing over. She starts chatting to Taslima and Cordelia, and I let them get on with it.
On the other side of the road Magnus and Beano Bartlett are fooling about, whacking each other with their jackets, hooting loudly, obviously trying to get our attention. And I’m wondering whether I should rummage in my bag for the note I wrote in English and run across and shove it into Magnus’s hand… when who comes whizzing along on his BMX, but Twig!
‘Hi, Sass!’ he says breathlessly as he jumps off and lands beside me.
There’s something about Twig. When I see him it’s like the sun has come out on a cloudy day.
‘I thought we could maybe go to your place?’ Twig half says, half asks. ‘I’ve brought my dad’s camcorder.’ He turns so I can see the ruckie on his back.
‘Whoa, stepbro!’ Megan butts in. ‘Your dad will kill you if he finds out! You’d better take it home right away!’
Pointedly, Twig ignores her. ‘I thought I could make another video of you singing. Put it online for your fans.’
Magnus has stopped fooling around and I know he’s watching, trying to hear what we’re saying. And I so want to go with Twig and not turn him down, especially as it would be such a sickener for Magnus, but it’s not right to run out on your girl-buds just cos a chico turns up, is it?
All these thoughts are whizzing through my brain like an express train through an empty station, when Cordelia exclaims, ‘You should go with Twig, Sass! Make another video. You’ve gotta use things like that if you’re gonna get anywhere. I’ll make sure Tas finds something absolutely sprodulious!’6
‘Cordelia’s right, Sassy. You should go with Twig,’ Taslima smiles. ‘That is, if you want to. I don’t mind. Honest. We can have that giant milkshake another time.’
I look from Cordelia to Taslima. They have to be the best bezzie buds ever. Then I notice Magnus glowering at Twig, and I know it’s not nice of me to want to hurt him – but his ego could do with a bit of deflating. And what I’m about to do is a lot more eloquent than the big long ranting note I wrote in English.
‘OK, Twig. That would be great,’ I say, then I hug the two best bezzies ever, wave a friendly bye-ee to Megan, and wander off down the road with Twig.
On the way home I tell Twig all about the horrendous bit in the paper.
‘I know. I saw it earlier,’ Twig says, balancing on the pedals of the BMX as he waits for me to catch up. ‘But maybe it’s good it happened. You know now not to trust journalists and photographers –’
‘Aren’t you about to photograph me?’ I interrupt mischievously.
‘That’s different,’ Twig grins. ‘I’m on your side, remember?’
And when he says that I get this warm feeling. I like having Twig on my side. And I trust him totally. I know he’ll film me the way I would want.
I’ve still got that warm feeling and we’re chatting away about nothing and everything, when we turn into our road and my jaw drops open in horror. Parked in the driveway of my house there’s this great huge black four-wheel drive monstrosity – you know the kind that contributes MASSIVELY to global warming.
‘So whose is that?’ Twig asks as Brewster comes bumbling towards us, blindly sniffing the air.
‘Digby said some bigwig politician was coming to visit Dad. To discuss green issues, would you believe?’
‘Sheesh!’ Twig snorts as he heaves his BMX over the hedge and drops it on to the front lawn. ‘No wonder the world’s in such a mess.’
‘Personally,’ I say, squeezing past the huge machine that’s all but blocking the path to the front door, ‘I can’t stand people who drive those things. They should be found guilty of Crimes against the Planet and be made to do, like a zillion hours Community Service –’
‘I’d send them to Boot Camp,’ Twig grins. ‘BOOT CAMP FOR ECO BADDIES. Hard-labour planting trees to offset all the carbon dioxide their silly Hummers are pumping out into the atmosphere.’
In the hallway I shout, ‘I’m home!’ like I always do, and chuck my ruckie in the general direction of the coat stand. Through the glass door to the kitchen we see a man and a woman sitting at the pine table. Mum’s serving them coffee and home-made muffins, and I’m about to slip upstairs with Twig when Mum waves frantically through the glass.
Twig and me exchange a glance. ‘Looks like I’ve got to go in and do the perfect daughter act for Dad’s visitors,’ I mutter.
‘See you in a minute,’ says Twig. ‘I’ll set up the camcorder.’ And he disappears up to my room.
As I open the kitchen door, Mum leaps to her feet and beams at me. ‘This,’ she exclaims excitedly, ‘is Sassy!’
The man and woman stare, like I’m some kind of freak. I keep my scowl firmly in place. I don’t care if they are Very Important People. As Major Polluters of the Planet they are not getting a smile out of me! Unfortunately they don’t seem to register my disapproval. Which infuriates me further.
‘Can I go now, Mum?’ I ask sulkily.
‘Sassy!’ the man says in a friendly voice. I sigh heavily and roll my eyes heavenwards. ‘Your mum was just telling us how passionate you are about all things environmental. That’s great. She says you want to save the planet.’
I really don’t know how to explain what happens next. One minute I’m thinking how desperate I am to get back to Twig, the next I’m ranting like I’ve got no control over my tongue. ‘And I take it you’re the owner of that dirty great gas guzzler blocking the drive,’ I hear myself saying. ‘Don’t you know that driving a HUMMER in town causes like three times as much pollution as an ordinary car?’
The words come rolling out, the way sometimes the loo roll starts spinning and before you know it there’s miles and miles of it on the floor…
‘I mean, what chance does the planet have if people like you can’t even choose green vehicles?’
‘Sassy!’ Mum splutters through a mouthful of muffin, spraying crumbs everywhere.
The cool-looking woman frowns as she delicately picks some of Mum’s stray muffin from her low-cut top. She looks incredibly tanned, as if she flies off every weekend to somewhere hot and sunny. And I’m about to tell her about the ghastly polluting effects of short-haul flights when she says something I don’t understand at all.
‘So it does what it says on the tin.’
By this point I’m standing in a little puddle of my own sweat, wondering if it’s deep enough yet to drown myself. Thousands of thoughts are rushing through my brain at once. The biggest being: Oh no. Dad’s going to kill me. The next biggest: Why do I always have to say what I’m thinking?
I’m so upset that I’ve probably ruined my dad’s brand-new political career I don’t realize right away that both the man and woman are smiling.
‘She’s everything we hoped for,’ the man says to Mum.
Then the woman stands up and holds her hand out for me to shake. ‘Zing. Zing Williams. I’m very pleased to meet you, Sassy.’
‘And I’m Ben,’ the man says. ‘Talent spotter for Y-Gen Music. We saw the piece in yesterday’s paper, checked out your video clip on the Internet –’
‘Did I just hear right?’ I blurt. ‘You’re from Y-Gen Music? The recording company?’
As Ben and Zing nod in unison, I sink into a chair that Mum pushes under my bottom. I can’t believe it. I have dreamed about this moment for so
long. I pinch myself cos I think I must be dreaming. And it hurts! Which means this is real. And I’m the happiest girl in the whole entire world!
‘It’s not just about being able to sing,’ Zing explains, while Mum brews more coffee. ‘After all, there are plenty of girls your age can sing.’
‘Sassy writes all her own songs too,’ Pip pipes up. Pip came bouncing into the kitchen as soon as she got home from school. She’s almost as excited as me.
‘That’s a huge plus. That’s what makes you so distinctive, Sassy. It means you’ve got your own style,’ says Ben.
‘And,’ says Zing, ‘it’s great you’re so passionate about the environment. Lots of kids out there feel just like you, like their world’s being messed up, but they don’t have a way of expressing it.’
‘Or making their voices heard. That’s what we’d like to help you do, Sassy. Make your voice heard.’
‘But we need to get you into a recording studio. Put you through your paces. See if you’ve got what it takes.’
I’m reeling. It’s as if someone’s stuck me in the washing machine and set it on fast spin.
‘So you want me to go to a recording studio?’ I croak.
‘Yep,’ Ben says, tipping half the sugar bowl into his coffee. ‘Just so happens we’ve got some studio time free, which is quite rare really. So if you can make it, and if it’s fine with your mum,’ he says, flashing Mum a perfect white-toothed smile, ‘we’d like you to come straight to the studio after school this Friday. You can have a full session, let us see what you have to offer, then we’ll bring you safely home by ten.’
‘Of course,’ I say, my heart beating faster than the speed of light. ‘Yeah. Fine. I mean, that all sounds great!’
Mum takes a deep breath. ‘I’m not sure, honey. You’re only thirteen…’
‘You’re welcome to come too, Mrs Wilde,’ Ben smiles.
I look at Mum with big pleading eyes and I can see her soften, and I know she’s about to say yes when suddenly Pip lets out a wail. ‘But you can’t, Mum. It’s my play on Friday after school!’
Mum slaps her forehead. ‘Course it is, cookie,’ she says.
‘I’ve got the lead in Sleeping Beauty,’ Pip explains to Ben and Zing, fluttering her lashes in mock modesty. ‘I’m a very good actress.’
‘Oh, I don’t know what to do for the best,’ Mum says, running her fingers through her hair so it all sticks up on end and makes her look completely mad. ‘Maybe Dad and Digby could go to your play, Pip, and I could go with Sassy.’
Pip’s face crumbles. ‘But I want you to be there, Mummy,’ she says in a tiny hurt voice. (Pip wasn’t kidding when she said she was a very good actress. This is an Oscar-winning performance.)
‘I’ll be absolutely fine without you, Mum,’ I blurt. ‘Really. I don’t have a problem going on my own. It’s not like I’m a kid.’
‘We’ll take good care of her, Mrs Wilde,’ Zing smiles.
‘Ple-e-ease, Mum.’ I plead. ‘You know I’m not going to do anything silly.’
Mum looks from me to Pip and she knows she’s beaten.
‘OK, Sassy. But I’ll need to run it by your father. I know he’ll want to check out the company, make sure everything’s as it should be. And he won’t be home till later.’
‘Look, we’ll leave our card,’ Zing says, standing up and straightening her jacket. She hands Mum a small black business card with a jazzy purple design and silver lettering.
‘Phone once you’ve spoken to your husband, Mrs Wilde.’ Ben stands up and takes out his car keys. ‘And if Sassy’s father’s on board, we’ll send a car to pick her up after school on Friday.’
At the door Ben turns and fixes me with piercing blue eyes. ‘We love what we’ve heard of your music, Sassy. We’ve been looking for a teen girl who can really sing for some time, you know, a kind of female Phoenix Macleod. Who knows, you might be the one!’
A female Phoenix Macleod! Wow! Phoenix Macleod has to be one of the coolest singer song-writers around. He even picked up a Brit Award last year, and he’s not much older than me.
I stand in the doorway and wave as the big Hummer roars into life and disappears up the road.
And at last my world, which has been spinning crazily since I walked into the kitchen, starts to steady.
And that’s when I remember Twig!
I rush up to my room two steps at a time. I can’t wait to tell him my news!
But the room’s empty. The window’s open, the curtains fluttering in the breeze. I lean out and shout down to the garden.
There’s no answer.
I thunder downstairs again, leap over Brewster who’s running in slow arthritic circles in the hallway, and dash out the front door. Twig’s BMX is gone.
I dart into the garage, leap on my bike and pedal like fury down the road. Poor Twig! He must have thought I’d forgotten all about him. (Which I had. Ooops!) But when he hears why, he’s bound to be as delighted as I am.
Five minutes later I let my bike fall on Twig’s lawn and rush up to his front door. I’m so excited that when I press the buzzer I forget to release it.
At last the door opens. ‘OK! OK! What’s the emergency?’
But it’s not Twig. It’s Megan.
‘Sassy!’ she says, her face a picture of confusion. ‘Have you finished the video then?’
‘It’s a long story,’ I gasp. ‘I need to speak to Twig. Is he here?’
‘But he’s at yours,’ she frowns. And I’m about to launch into an explanation of how he was but he’s not any more, when a grinning face appears over her shoulder.
‘Hi, Sass! What’s up?’
I blink. It’s my turn to be confused now. ‘I thought you and Tas were at the Mall?’ I say to Cordelia.
‘Change of plan,’ she laughs. ‘A while after you left the bus still hadn’t come, and Magnus and Beano were being really irritating, you know, showing off in that silly hyper way, being utterly puerile, and Megan said she had tons of stuff she didn’t wear any more that Taslima might like –’
‘– and I was only going to give it all to the charity shop anyway,’ Megan adds. ‘So I thought my bezzies should have first choice.’
Something twangs inside me when Megan calls Taslima and Cordelia her bezzies. Like when a guitar string breaks.
‘Come on in!’ Cordelia takes my hand and pulls me inside. ‘We’re all up in Megan’s room.’
‘Yeah, Sass!’ Megan says, suddenly all friendly – but is it just surface-friendly? Cos I’m not sure she’s really that pleased to see me. ‘You can look through the stuff too. There might be something you’d like!’
Just then Taslima appears on the stairs in a glittery baby-pink top and tight white jeans. ‘What do you think?’ she asks, twirling round a few times, her hands above her head.
‘You look so-o-o-o cool!’ Cordelia laughs. ‘Now THAT is STYLE!’
‘Come on up, Sassy, and see what else I’ve chosen!’ Tas says excitedly, and before I know it I’m halfway up the stairs. I’ve just gone into Megan’s room, which is completely carpeted in clothes, when Cordelia stops suddenly and places a hand on my forehead.
‘There’s something you’re not telling us, Sassy,’ she says, her green eyes narrowing. ‘So give! What is it?’
I had kinda wanted Twig to be the first to know, but I can’t wait forever to tell someone my good news, can I? So seconds later I’m telling them how we went back to my house and there were these people I thought were to do with Dad’s work, and how it turned out they were talent-spotters from Y-Gen Music.
‘Y-Gen Music!’ Cordelia exclaims. ‘Wow! They’re the best! Didn’t they discover Phoenix Macleod?’
‘Yeah! They saw the bit in the paper, and then they watched the video clip online and now they want me to go to their recording studio in Edinburgh on Friday afternoon!’
‘But that’s brilliant!’ Taslima throws her arms round me in a huge hug. ‘I am SO happy for you!’
‘This calls for a celebratio
n!’ Megan bounces twice on the bed, then leaps to the floor. ‘Let’s have a big fat sundae!’
And that’s what we’re doing when Twig finds us.
Sitting in the kitchen, pigging out, spluttering choccy ice cream at each other, sticking blobs of scooshy white cream on our noses.
Twig looks startled, like he’s just stumbled on a witches’ coven. And before I can swallow and say anything, Megan’s blurted out my news about the recording people.
Twig listens silently.
And I wait for him to go, Wow, that’s great, Sass, and high-five me and maybe even hug me, but all he does is stare at Megan as if she’s just told him something really boring, like the price of fish or something. Then he turns his back on us, opens the fridge and pours himself a glass of milk. Suddenly the room is totally silent, the atmosphere taut as a tambourine skin.
‘Look, Twig, I’m sorry about earlier,’ I say quietly.
‘So am I,’ Twig mutters.
Cordelia and Taslima and Megan sit frozen, spoons suspended in mid-air.
‘I came to look for you as soon as I could. I’m sorry. I was just so excited –’
‘– that you forgot I existed?’ Twig interrupts.
‘No!’ I gasp. ‘That’s not fair!’
Twig drains the last of the milk, puts his glass in the sink and noisily rinses it with cold water. Cordelia, Taslima and Megan slip out of the room.
‘Look, Twig, I really wanted you to make the video – I still do. I think it’s a great idea. I didn’t realize I was with the recording people so long. You should have come down to the kitchen to look for me. I just completely forgot –’
‘That’s the point, Sassy,’ he sighs. ‘Some flash-looking people turn up in a monstrous four-wheel drive and suddenly you forget everything – and everyone – else.’
‘That’s not true!’ I gasp.
‘How’s it not true?’ he says, spinning round to face me. ‘That’s exactly what happened. One minute you were saying you hate people who drive huge cars like that, who don’t give a damn about anyone but themselves. And next minute, just because they’re from a recording company, you think they’re great!’
