by Maggi Gibson
Zing takes us to a small marquee tent near the stalls. It’s been specially set up as the wardrobe room for the photo shoot. Some of the festival-goers watch as we climb down from the jeep. A ripple of excitement runs through the crowd when they see Phoenix, and some people take photos. Then Zing bundles us into the tent and introduces us to Anna from Tween Qween Magazine.
‘She looks absolutely perfect!’ Anna gushes as she circles me, looking me up and down like I’m a prize racehorse. Then she ushers me over to a rail of clothes.
‘Look, I’ll wait outside,’ Phoenix says. ‘This is your gig, Sassy. Think of me as a prop… a piece of scenery.’
‘Isn’t he gorgeous?’ Anna gasps in an exaggerated whisper before he’s even outside the tent.
And I have to admit to myself that, in fact, he is. I finger Twig’s friendship bracelet thoughtfully. Somehow touching it makes him feel more real, helps me resist my attraction to Phoenix.
‘Oh no, no, NO!’ Anna gasps, taking my hand and frowning at the raggedy friendship bracelet. ‘That will have to go!’
I’m about to explain that I can’t take it off, even for the photo shoot, because the threads have tightened themselves into an impossible knot, when suddenly, as if from nowhere, Anna produces a tiny pair of scissors and snips it in two!
‘Ou-ou-ouw!’ I squeal, outraged.
‘Omigod!’ Zing exclaims. ‘You’re not cut, are you, Sassy? Is she bleeding?’
I stare down at my naked wrist. Twig’s friendship bracelet lies on the floor, its perfect circle broken.
‘N… no,’ I stammer. Anna picks the broken bracelet up. I take it from her silently. Cos I know if I say anything I’ll say everything and we can forget all about the photo shoot, and then Y-Gen will probably think I’m unstable and tell me not to bother doing the warm-up for Phoenix tonight, and I’ll be letting Cordelia and Taslima and Pip and Mum and Dad – and Twig, and most especially Twig – down. So I keep all my rage bottled as I hold Anna’s gaze.
‘You had no right to do that,’ I say, my voice an angry whisper.
Anna shrugs. ‘We’ll get you another,’ she mutters, taking some money from a cash box on the table behind her. ‘Kara!’ she shouts and a girl not much older than me comes running over. ‘Go to one of the stalls. Get one of those friendship bracelet things.’
‘No, don’t bother!’ I blurt. ‘There’s no point. It’s a friendship bracelet. You can’t just replace it with a new one.’
Kara stops in her tracks and looks to Anna. Anna raises her eyebrows at Zing, then claps her hands in a businesslike way. ‘Chop-chop, everyone. We have a photo shoot to do here. Let’s get moving!’
‘You OK, Sassy?’ Zing asks quietly as Anna strides off, barking orders. ‘Anna can be a bit… impetuous… at times. But she’s really good at what she does.’
‘I’m fine,’ I say coldly. Right at that moment I just want to get the photo shoot over and done with. I want to get back to the trailer and play guitar for a while. Playing guitar always helps when I feel hurt. My music is like this warm place I can crawl into, like a big soft duvet of sound. Once I’m inside nothing can get at me. Nothing can hurt me. It’s just me and the music.
Zing apologizes so much for Anna, I have to tell her to stop.
‘It’s OK,’ I insist. ‘It wasn’t your fault.’ I make a mental note, though, to tell Cordelia what Anna did. And if she wants to take a little revenge by sending some bad karma22 Anna’s way, I won’t stop her.
Then I’m swept up in the photo shoot. The clothes are really cool. There’s a woman called Zandra in charge of them and each outfit is lined up in the order it’s needed for the shoot. The photographer, Arthur, who’s really fun, has made up a kind of storyboard that Phoenix and I have to follow.
The first shots are in the woods. I’m wearing a super little vest-top in a funky shade of green, with coordinated long shorts and groovy sandals.
‘I don’t know how you feel about this,’ Arthur says, ‘but I’d love a shot of you up a tree. Maybe we could get a ladder from somewhere to help you up?’ He turns to Kara. ‘Kara! Ladder? Try the roadies, darling!’
And I’m saying, ‘No! No!’
‘What? You don’t want to do the tree, sweetheart?’ Arthur asks, crestfallen.
I don’t answer. Instead I start climbing and in seconds I’ve swung myself on to a branch, my legs dangling over, exactly the way Arthur has storyboarded it.
‘Wow!’ Arthur exclaims, looking at me through the camera. ‘Brilliant! You’re a star, Sassy Wilde!’
‘It’s her natural habitat,’ Zing smiles.
Then Phoenix climbs up beside me and Kara passes us our guitars. Arthur tells us to play a bit together, so I let Phoenix lead and I try to follow his chords. More than once I get it wrong and Phoenix’s eyes meet mine and he laughs and I laugh too, and I can’t believe how lovely he is.
‘Brilliant! Fantastic! Awesome!’ Arthur coos as his camera clicks and whirrs.
We do some other shots too. Among the stalls. First I wear a little navy-blue skirt dotted with coloured stars, and a long-sleeved Tee with a dolphin leaping across its front.
Then I’m changed into a gorgeous creamy lace blouse and a flouncy short coffee-coloured skirt, with flat thong sandals that lace up to the knee. Kara puts a string of delicate shell beads round my neck and winds another shell necklace round and round each of my wrists. It feels all feminine. Not at all like me. When I emerge from the tent, Phoenix makes a low bow.
‘I feel sort of under-dressed in my jeans, Princess Sassy.’
‘Why thank you, Prince Charming!’ I say and curtsey. ‘I think you look just perfect.’
‘So do you,’ Phoenix says, holding my gaze. The colour rushes to my cheeks. There’s a flash as a bystander takes a photo.
‘Told you I was your fairy godmother, didn’t I?’ Chantelle chortles as she appears to set my corkscrew curls in place.
Arthur wants us to mess about in front of a stall with all these crazy hats. Anna shoos all the other festival-goers back, so it’s just me and Phoenix in the shot.
‘Phoenix, I want you to put one of the hats on Sassy,’ Arthur shouts. But the first three Phoenix chooses won’t go on properly cos of all my curls, then Phoenix jokes it must be my head that’s too big and what will it be like if I ever get a hit, and we’re both laughing when Arthur shouts, ‘Hold it! That’s it! That’s the one!’
We freeze. Phoenix is placing a mad rainbow-coloured hat on my head, gazing straight into my eyes and I’m gazing into his, and normally I would have looked away, you know, but Arthur’s shouting, ‘Hold! Hold! Hold!’ and the camera’s going click click click and time stops, and my heartbeat starts to race, and it’s like suddenly I’m underwater. I’m drowning.
‘Grrrreat!’ Arthur shouts. ‘Got it!’ At last I tear my eyes away from Phoenix, and with a plunk like a cork being pulled from a bottle, I plop back into the sounds and colours of the real world.
By the time we get back to the performance trailers I’m pretty tired. Ben’s there waiting. I yawn and go through to the toilet to freshen up.
I close the door, but in the small space of the trailer I can still hear Ben and Zing chatting.
‘How did the photo shoot go?’ Ben asks.
‘Great!’ Zing replies enthusiastically. ‘You were absolutely right. Sassy’s a natural in front of the cameras. And we got a bonus, there’s a real chemistry between her and Phoenix –’
I look at myself in the mirror. It’s true. There is something between me and Phoenix. I feel it every time I’m near him. And I know he does too. And I don’t know what to do about it.
I sit down on the toilet lid and take Twig’s broken friendship bracelet from my pocket and run it through my fingers. It’s frayed and faded and tatty. But that doesn’t make it any less special.
I close my eyes and lean against the wall for a moment. What’s wrong with me? How can I feel like this about both Twig and Phoenix? Not that long ago I didn’t particularl
y like any boys. Not that way. Oh yeah, there was Magnus… But then I met Twig…
For a moment I think of asking Zing if I can use her mobile. Twig seems so far away. It’s only a couple of days since I saw him, but already it’s really hard to remember what he looks like. If I could talk to him he would feel real again, and I could explain what happened to the friendship bracelet. But there’s no point. Twig doesn’t have a mobile. I could try his landline, but the chances are he won’t be at home. He’s much more likely to be out up a tree somewhere…
Just then there’s a tap at the bathroom door.
‘Sassy!’ Zing calls softly. ‘Are you OK in there?’
‘Yeah! Just coming!’ I call. ‘Everything’s fine!’
But I’m not sure it is.
‘Let’s just do a quick check on what you’re performing tonight,’ Zing says when I at last sit down at the little table on the deck. ‘Then you should have a rest.’ She checks a pile of papers on her lap. ‘Chantelle will do your hair and make-up again at half six. You’re on stage at half seven.’
Ben looks at me, concerned. ‘You’re not your usual smiling self, Sassy,’ he says. ‘Doing the photo shoot’s not tired you out too much, has it?’
‘No way,’ I answer, forcing thoughts of Twig and Phoenix from my mind. ‘It was great. Kept me from getting nervous about tonight.’
‘That’s my girl!’ Ben pours three tall glasses of chilled Hi-Vi. ‘Being a music star isn’t just about getting up on stage and singing a few songs. It’s a pretty gruelling lifestyle at times. You need stamina.’ He raises his glass and chinks it with mine. ‘And so far, Sassy, you’re doing great.’
‘OK, star girl,’ Zing says brightly. ‘Tell us what you’re planning to play for your set tonight.’
‘I want to start with “Why Must My Dad Try to Ruin My Life”,’ I say.
‘Mmmm…’ says Ben. ‘It’s upbeat. Punchy. Should wake them up a bit. Get their attention. I’m cool with that.’
‘Then I thought I might do a love song, something slower, like “Pinch Me, I Must Be Dreaming”.’
‘Sounds good,’ Zing says.
‘I want to finish with something a bit different.’ I pause. I know they’re not going to like what I’m going to say next, so I say it quickly. ‘“Sweatshop Kid”.’
Ben and Zing exchange a look.
‘Yeah… the first two sound great,’ Zing says slowly. ‘But I’m not on for finishing with “Sweat-shop Kid”. What do you think, Ben?’
Ben shakes his head. ‘It’s not you at your best, kiddo. It’s a bit too…’ He waves his hands in the air, as if trying to grasp something invisible.
‘Too hard-hitting?’ I suggest.
‘That’s it!’ Zing nods her head enthusiastically. ‘You’re a bright girl. I knew you’d understand. Right now we have to get everyone to love you. We don’t want people to think about –’
‘About what they’re doing to the world!’ I exclaim. ‘But I do. Don’t you see? That’s why I sing. What we do in one part of the world affects people and animals and birds and everything all over the world! I WANT people to think about that!’
Zing stands up, clearly annoyed. She walks to the edge of the deck and stands with her back to us, staring out to sea. Ben sighs heavily.
‘We understand that, Sassy,’ Ben says in a quiet voice. ‘Of course we do. And “Sweatshop Kid” is a great song. Very you. Perfect to put on your first album.’ He looks me straight in the eye and his smile fades. ‘If we decide to sign you, that is.’
I take a sharp breath in. ‘Don’t try to blackmail me!’ I say angrily. ‘Cos it won’t work.’
‘Look,’ says Zing firmly, turning round to face us, ‘we’re not trying to blackmail you. Your business is writing songs and singing them. Ours is making stars. We know what we’re doing. If you want to make it, Sassy, you’ll have to work with us. In the short term you might need to make a compromise. But once you’ve made your name you can sing what you like.’ She pauses. ‘Do you understand?’
I sigh heavily. ‘I suppose so,’ I say.
‘Good,’ says Ben. ‘How you feel about the world is important to you. And it’s important to us too. It makes you special. But if you want to do a song with a strong message to finish, then how about “When the Little Birds Stopped Singing”? The crowd would love that!’
I think about it for a moment. I don’t want to compromise, but I don’t want to blow my chances with Y-Gen Music either. And I do like Ben and Zing. It was a great break them seeing my Internet clip. If I mess up with them, who knows, I might never get the chance with anyone else.
‘You did “When the Little Birds Stopped Singing” brilliantly in the studio,’ Zing says. ‘In fact, we were talking about releasing that as your first single.’
My heart skips a beat. My first single!
‘OK,’ I say. ‘I’ll finish up with “When the Little Birds Stopped Singing”.’
‘Yay!’ Zing puts up a hand to high-five me. ‘Good choice, Sassy. That’s a great set.’
‘I agree,’ Ben smiles, obviously relieved. ‘Now, off you go for a rest. We want you to hit that stage tonight on full power.’
‘No worries,’ I smile. ‘Tonight means everything to me. I’m going to blow them away!’
‘That’s my girl!’ Zing gives me a hug. ‘We’ll make a superstar of you yet, Sassy Wilde!’
And I so hope she’s right!
I’m more tired after the photo shoot than I want Ben and Zing to know. So I’m really anxious to get into my little room in the trailer, close the door and lie down. But before I do, I wander over to the edge of the cliff and gaze down at the beach below. The golden sand is crowded. Some people are sunbathing, some running around after frisbees, others splashing in the sea, which looks the most gorgeous shade of blue. I scour the tiny figures, hoping to make out Taslima, Megan and Cordelia, but I guess I’m way too far away.
Suddenly I realize I’m not alone. Phoenix is standing at my shoulder.
‘It looks good down there, doesn’t it?’ he says.
I nod. We stand in silence for a moment. We can just hear the excited shouts and laughter of the bathers above the gentle roll of the waves.
‘Do you ever find yourself wishing you were… you know… like everyone else?’ I ask.
‘All the time,’ Phoenix laughs. Then his face goes serious. ‘Well, maybe not all the time. But some of the time, sure. Mostly I just get on with it. I’ve wanted to sing and perform for as long as I can remember.’
‘Me too,’ I smile. ‘Mum says I used to sing in my pram. When I was two or three I used to sing out in the garden. I would make poor old Brewster sit and listen while I danced around him waving my arms, belting out “You Put a Spell On Me”. And once I was singing so loud this grumpy old neighbour shouted out the window and told me to shut up!’
‘Yeah, I was a bit like that,’ Phoenix smiles. ‘But sometimes I wish I wasn’t the one up on the stage, that I could be in the audience with my mates, having a laugh.’
‘Do you still see them? Your mates, I mean. It kinda worries me that if I get a recording deal I’ll lose my friends…’ my voice trails off. This is the first time I’ve admitted to anyone that I do have doubts about going down the whole stardom route.
Phoenix’s face clouds. ‘I can only say what happened with me. It might be different for you. But I’m not one of the crowd any more. Not really. I mean, when I’m back home my mates try to count me in. But I’m always missing out on things. They have mad in-jokes and I don’t know what they’re on about. It kinda hurts. But you’ve just got to get on with it, haven’t you?’
‘I suppose so,’ I sigh. ‘It’s like I want it both ways. I want to be a normal everyday girl, doing things with my best buds… And I want to be up on that stage singing. I want to be a star.’
Phoenix is quiet for what feels like a long time. ‘People like us,’ he says at last, ‘I don’t know if we totally have the choice. It’s like you’ve been given thi
s one thing you’re really good at. It might be football, or acting or even something like maths –’
Immediately I think of Taslima with her calculator brain.
‘– and if you don’t use it,’ Phoenix continues, ‘if you don’t do something with it, you don’t try your best to see how far you can go, then you’re letting yourself down. And everyone else. My mates wanted me to go for it. They knew they couldn’t do it, but they really wanted me to.’
‘Yeah, I guess you’re right. Taslima and Cordelia have always been right behind me too. I mean, if I mess up tonight –’
‘You’re not going to mess up,’ Phoenix says. Gently, he takes my hands in his and looks straight into my eyes so my heart melts and slides right down to my feet. ‘You’re going to be great.’
As soon as I lie down on the trailer bed I fall into a deep and dreamless sleep. Zing wakes me with a fruit smoothie and a plate of sandwiches.
‘It’s just after six,’ she says quietly. ‘Chantelle’s here. So have a shower, come through when you’re ready and she’ll sort your hair and make-up. Oh, and can you give me what you’re wearing tonight and I’ll get it ironed? There’s a robe for you in the shower room. And a shower cap. Chantelle says not to wash your hair, she’ll just tidy the curls up a bit.’
‘I don’t think my stuff needs ironing,’ I say sleepily as I dig my clothes out of my ruckie. But I’m so wrong! Twig’s T-shirt is totally crumpled.
‘Just as well I asked!’ Zing smiles as she takes the stuff from me. ‘See you in five, then!’
I pile my hair into the shower cap and stumble into the shower. As the hot water streams over me I run back over the conversation with Phoenix. He’s right. If you’ve got a talent you’ve got to use it. Otherwise you’d spend your whole life wondering if you could have made it. If you could have made a difference.
I dry myself off with a big fluffy towel – fit for a star – and put on the new camisole and shorts undies I’ve been keeping especially for tonight. Then I wrap myself up in the cosy white robe and hurry through to let Chantelle work her magic on my face.
