Reach for the Stars

by Cindy Jefferies

  To begin with, Chloe’s mom and dad tried chatting with Danny. Please stop, Chloe urged them in silence. You’re really embarrassing me. She hunched down in her seat and tried not to listen, but it was impossible. They kept going on about Chloe wanting to be a pop singer ever since she was tiny. But Chloe had the distinct impression that Danny wasn’t into pop music.

  “I like Nirvana,” he said, when Mom asked him who his favorite pop singer was. “They were a rock band.”

  “Didn’t one of them die, years ago?” Chloe’s dad asked.

  “Yes,” said Danny.

  They gave up after that. Soon they were on the highway, and everyone got quiet. Ben fell asleep and Chloe concentrated on stopping herself from being sick with nerves. She sneaked a few glances at Danny. He was twitching and tapping in a really irritating manner. Maybe he was practicing his drumming. It was making her feel even more nervous. She glared at him and he stopped for a few minutes, but was soon at it again.

  Chloe took the bottle of nail polish out of her pocket and twisted the top open and closed several times. She tipped it one way and then the other, watching the gloopy pink liquid coat the inside of the glass. The polish glittered with tiny silver sparkles. She was going to be a star. She was going to sparkle. She was. If she could only stop feeling so sick and scared.

  Rockley Park was in the middle of nowhere. They had to stop and look at the map twice before they found it. But eventually, they were driving through the gates and Chloe got her first glimpse of the school. It was at the end of a long, gravel drive, and looked like one of those big houses owned by the National Trust. It was all tall windows and vast gardens. A man on a tractor was mowing the autumn grass, spraying it up into the air, where it fell behind him like rain. There were lots of cars parked outside. They all looked new and shiny, not like their old heap, which had a cracked bumper because Chloe’s dad had backed up into a post a few weeks ago.

  They parked and got out. Danny and Chloe glanced at each other and away again. They didn’t know each other well enough to share the excitement of the moment.

  “Come on, then.” Chloe’s dad was taking control. He led the way over the crunchy yellow gravel and in through the open door. The huge hall echoed with the voices and footsteps of the people milling about. There were signs with arrows pointing in every direction. MUSIC TECHNOLOGY this way, DANCE STUDIO that way. PRACTICE ROOMS, DINING ROOM, AUDITORIUM. Dad went to the front desk to ask where they had to go. He found out that Danny was going to have his audition first, while Chloe had to go upstairs for her interview. “I’ll go with you, Danny, if you like,” offered Chloe’s dad.

  “There’s no need,” the lady at the desk told him. “You won’t be allowed in anyway. You and your wife and little boy might as well wait until the children have finished. There are magazines and drinks in the lobby. You’ll be quite comfortable. Now.” She looked at Danny. “You wait here for a moment. And you go upstairs, young lady, first door on the right. Give your name to the woman at the desk. Afterward come back down here to me and I’ll tell you where to go for your audition.”

  It was all happening too fast. Chloe wasn’t ready. But Mom and Dad had already given her a good-luck hug and were going into the lobby with Ben. It was no use panicking; she was on her own now. Chloe set off across the vast hall toward the stairs. Her sneakers squeaked horribly. Which door had the lady said? Chloe looked back at the desk, but she was busy with someone else. Only Danny saw her.

  “Good luck!” he called, his voice echoing.

  “You too.” Her voice was much too quiet for him to have heard. She started up the red-carpeted stairs. She felt as if she were going to an execution, not toward her life’s ambition.

  There were voices above her. Some people were coming downstairs. Thank goodness; she could ask for directions now. But when Chloe saw who it was, she knew she couldn’t speak to them! Bouncing down the stairs, their long dark hair streaming behind them, were the most famous twins in the country! Chloe couldn’t believe it. They had been in her magazine last month, modeling clothes for winter. They were unmistakable, with their gorgeous coffee-colored skin and dark eyes. They were as beautiful in real life as they were in Chloe’s magazine. Pop ’n’ Lolly, seriously rich and famous models, coming down the same stairs Chloe was going up. They might be her age, but Chloe couldn’t ask them anything!

  At the top of the stairs a long hallway stretched away in front of her. She was wondering what to do when a voice came from the open doorway beside her.

  “Name?”

  “Oh!” Chloe went in gratefully. “Chloe Tompkins.”

  The woman ran her finger down a list, found Chloe’s name, and checked it off.

  “You’re a singer, aren’t you?” she said. “Sit down over there. They’ll call you through when they’re ready.”

  Chloe sat nervously between a girl of her age dressed all in black and a much older boy, whose knee was poking out of his jeans. She’d never been called a singer before. It made her feel as if she really might be one some day!

  The girl in black turned to her. Chloe smiled, although the girl didn’t look very friendly.

  “What are you doing for your audition piece?” the girl asked in a very posh voice.

  Chloe told her shyly. “What about you?” she asked.

  But the girl curled her lip in disdain. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” she replied nastily. “You should never tell people in advance.”

  Chloe was totally crushed. She reached into her pocket and clutched the bottle of nail polish. Had she ruined her chances already?

  9. The Interview

  “It doesn’t matter who knows about your song.” It was the boy with the holey jeans. Chloe looked at him gratefully. “I’m playing ‘Freebird’ on guitar,” he added quietly. “Pay no attention to her.”

  “Chloe Tompkins? Can you come through, please?” A woman was standing at the open door. Chloe got up in a rush. She didn’t see the girl’s long legs, stretched out in front of her.

  “Careful!” the girl yelled loudly as Chloe tripped over them. “You’ll snag my tights!” She drew her legs back under her and glared at Chloe as if she were a worm.

  “Never mind,” the woman said as she guided Chloe by the arm into the interview room. “Don’t let that unsettle you.” But Chloe was very unsettled indeed.

  There were three people sitting behind a long table. They looked quite friendly, but Chloe was simply petrified. For a long moment she stared at them, frozen to the spot. Then she realized one of them had been speaking.

  “Sit down,” the woman in the middle said again. Chloe sat.

  “I am Mrs. Sharkey, the principal of Rockley Park School,” the woman continued. “This is Mrs. O’Flannery, our medical officer. She oversees the girls’ health care.”

  Mrs. O’Flannery was really young, much younger than Mrs. Sharkey, even younger than Chloe’s mom. She was wearing a dark blue uniform that made her look a bit like a nurse. She smiled, but before Chloe had even thought about smiling back, Mrs. Sharkey was speaking again.

  “This is Mr. Penardos, head of dance,” she said. Chloe panicked.

  “But I’m not doing dance!” she protested in a rush. “I’m doing pop singing! You must have me confused with someone else.” For an awful moment she wondered if she’d been sent someone else’s audition letter. Perhaps she shouldn’t be here at all!

  “Don’t worry,” Mr. Penardos said. “Mr. Player, he has your tape an’ will see you later for your audition. This is jus’ to talk.” He was amused, but she could see he wasn’t laughing at her. He was being friendly.

  “You’ve just started at Beacon Comprehensive School,” Mrs. Sharkey said. Chloe nodded. “What performance experience have you had up to now?” she asked.

  “Well. . .” Chloe tried desperately to think of anything she had done. “I was Mary in the last Nativity play in elementary school, but there wasn’t any singing in that.”

  “No carols or anything?”

&n
bsp; Chloe blushed. “There were carols, but I didn’t sing them.” Her confession came out in a rush. “Mrs. Pendle, our teacher, always said I was showing off because my voice didn’t blend in. In the end I just opened and closed my mouth as if I was singing so I wouldn’t get yelled at.” Mrs. Sharkey and Mrs. O’Flannery exchanged glances.

  “Any out of school activities? Church choir? Anything like that?” Chloe shook her head miserably. She hadn’t meant to tell about Mrs. Pendle. What on Earth had made her do that?

  “So, do you sing in secret?” asked Mr. Penardos. He wasn’t teasing her. He sounded sympathetic.

  “Well,” admitted Chloe. “I suppose it is a sort of secret.” Mr. Penardos made a note on the pad in front of him and smiled encouragingly.

  “Go on,” he said.

  “Me and my friend, we love singing,” confided Chloe. “We practice in my room all the time. But we have to be quiet because of my baby brother. We dance as well,” she added, “but Mom bought me a desk for my homework, and now there isn’t really enough room. Oh! And I forgot. I’m in the chorus of Bugsy Malone, but we haven’t actually performed it yet. We’re still rehearsing. It’s going to be our Christmas production.”

  “Is there anything you’d like to ask us?” said Mrs. Sharkey, scribbling away on her pad.

  Chloe had been prepared for this because Mr. Watkins had told her to have a few questions of her own. He’d said that she would impress them if she asked something instead of sitting there like a lump. But she’d forgotten all the things she had been going to ask. In a moment, her chance would have gone and they would think she was completely hopeless.

  “Will. . .”

  “Yes?”

  “Will. . .I fit in?” she blurted out. “I mean, will all the people here be rich and different from me? I mean. . . When I come here, will it be all right, being on a scholarship and everything?”

  Mrs. Sharkey drilled her steely eyes right into Chloe’s.

  “At this school, the only things that matter are talent and dedication,” she said. She sounded really angry. “You can’t buy either of them,” she went on, “however wealthy you are. And it’s a matter of if you come here to study, not when, young lady. Thank you for coming, and good luck with your audition. You can send Tara Fitzgerald in now.”

  Chloe was on the other side of the door almost before she realized she’d gotten up. She’d forgotten to say thank you, or good-bye, or anything. All she knew was that she’d messed up her interview dreadfully. They would think she was useless and conceited, too.

  The boy had gone, but the girl, Tara, was still there. She got up to go in for her interview but shrank away from Chloe.

  “Ugh! Don’t come near me.” She was staring at the pocket of Chloe’s dark jacket.

  “What?” Chloe looked down, and there, all over one of the pockets, was a bright pink stain. For a moment she couldn’t imagine what it could be. She touched the color gingerly, and her hand came away all sticky. Oh no! Jess’s nail polish!

  Chloe had been twisting the top of the bottle all morning. She must have loosened it so much that the polish had leaked out! Whatever was she going to do? And what would her mom say? This was Chloe’s one and only jacket!

  She had to clean herself up before her audition. But was there time? Today was turning into a terrible mess.

  10. Disaster

  For a moment Chloe felt really angry at Jess for giving her such a stupid present. Then she felt ashamed of herself. Of course it wasn’t Jess’s fault. There was only one person to blame, and that was herself.

  “Here!” The woman at the desk was holding out a bunch of tissues. “You’d better go to the restroom and clean yourself up.”

  Chloe grabbed the tissues gratefully and held them to the sticky mess. Forgetting to ask for directions, she dodged out of the room and headed down the empty hallway. Where, oh where, was the bathroom? She had to get there soon or she would leave a trail of vivid pink glittery drops all over the floor.

  At last, someone appeared around the corner. He was a big man, quite old, with graying dreadlocks, his scruffy sneakers making no sound on the carpet. Chloe always hated asking anyone where the bathroom was. She felt she would die of embarrassment. But she had no choice. She simply had to do something with her jacket.

  “Excuse me,” she said. “Can you tell me where the ladies’ room is?” She had the sort of lump in her throat you get when you’re trying not to cry, so she didn’t speak very clearly.

  “Sure,” he said in a relaxed voice once she’d asked him again. “Straight ahead, down the stairs, through the swinging door to your right, and it’s the red door on your left.” He didn’t seem to notice her distress or the problem with her jacket.

  Chloe shot along the hallway and down the stairs. She pushed through the red door into the ladies’ room and took a deep breath. She almost felt as if she were drowning.

  The tissues were sticking to her jacket, and her hands were sticky, too. Chloe didn’t know what to do. A couple of older girls were fixing their hair at the mirror, and they moved so she could get to the sink.

  “Oh no! What’s happened to you?” one of them asked.

  “What’s that on your jacket?”

  Chloe would rather have been by herself. She was still having trouble with the lump in her throat, but she couldn’t be rude.

  “Nail polish,” she mumbled, pulling at the mess of tissues to throw them away.

  The girls were really kind. They did their best. But there wasn’t much anyone could have done without nail-polish remover, and no one had any of that. Water was no use at all. They helped her out of the jacket and held it while she reached gingerly into the pocket to put the top on properly. They made suggestions while she tried to clean her hands. Then the best they could do was to cover the stain with layers of paper towels and fold the jacket up with the stain inside so the rest of her clothes would stay clean. All this time the lump in Chloe’s throat was getting bigger and bigger. But she couldn’t afford to hang around. She had to get to her audition, even if she still had sticky hands. She was certain now she’d never be able to sing a note.

  Carrying the jacket carefully, she headed for the door. As she reached it, Tara pushed it open from the other side. She stared at Chloe for a moment.

  “Oh! It’s Clumsy Chloe,” she said. “Move out of the way, stupid!”

  Chloe sidled past her, feeling tears pricking her eyes. Was Tara this horrible to everyone? But there was no time to feel sorry for herself. She had to report back to the lady at the entrance hall for her audition. She headed down a hallway, through a swinging door, and down some stairs. This wasn’t right!

  A large group of practically grown-up dancers came toward her, all sweaty T-shirts and loose pants. They were talking loudly, and laughing at one another’s jokes. Chloe shrank against the wall of the narrow hallway to let them past. She couldn’t ask them the way. The lump in her throat was so big she couldn’t ask anyone anything.

  Once they’d gone, she sprinted along the hallway, looking desperately for a way out. A door to one side looked promising, but then she saw the red light above it, and a notice saying: NO ENTRY WHEN RED LIGHT IS ON.

  Chloe kept going, and eventually came to a short flight of stone steps. To her astonishment, at the top of the steps she found herself back in the entrance hall. Thankfully she went over to the desk.

  “Ah, Chloe Tompkins,” the woman said. “Mr. Player has been waiting for you. You’re late. Through there. It’s the door marked ‘Voice Coach’. Hurry up.”

  A couple of seconds later, Chloe was in the audition room, swallowing desperately to get rid of the huge lump in her throat.

  “This is Mrs. Jones, who will be your accompanist, and I am Jeremy Player, the voice coach.” Mr. Player didn’t look as if he were annoyed at having to wait. The woman at the piano smiled slightly at Chloe and then looked away.

  “Have you been running?” asked Mr. Player. Chloe nodded.

  “Well then,
take a moment before we start,” he said. “You can put your jacket on that chair.” Chloe laid the jacket gingerly on the velvet-covered chair and readjusted a paper towel that was threatening to fall out.

  “Ready?”

  Chloe wanted to say no. She wanted to explain about the lump, and the jacket, and the fear she felt seeping into her very bones, but she couldn’t. The lump wouldn’t let her speak at all, so she simply nodded. Mr. Player turned to the pianist and she began.

  Chloe tried. She really tried, but the notes ran away from her and she couldn’t catch up. She came in late, her breathing was awful, and all the time the lump in her throat was getting worse and worse. Mr. Player shook his head and looked at Chloe regretfully.

  “I have to verify that the voice sent in on the tape is really yours,” he said. “I’m sure it is, but you’re so nervous you’re not giving me your best. Would you like to try again?”

  So they tried again, but it was almost as bad. Then they went on to the scales. They were a little better, but nothing like as good as when she’d sung them for Mr. Watkins. Chloe knew she was letting herself down. She knew she would do much better if only the lump would melt. If only she hadn’t fiddled with Jess’s present and ruined her jacket. If only everything hadn’t gone wrong almost from the moment she had arrived.

  At last it was over.

  “Maybe you’re not cut out for this kind of thing,” Mr. Player said kindly. “Not everyone can perform solo, even if they have got great potential. Don’t let your parents force you into performing if you don’t want to. Join a choir instead. It’s much less scary than singing solo.”

  He waited while she fumbled to collect her jacket, and then held the door open for her. As she left, he patted her kindly on the shoulder.

  “Never mind, Chloe. Thank you for coming. Good-bye.”

  Chloe stumbled out and around the corner. Straight ahead of her a door stood wide open, with the autumn sun streaming in. She gave a choking sob, ran outside, and slumped, miserably, onto the ground.