Accidental Superstar

by Marianne Levy

  Now, I knew every road and every stop and was even starting to recognize the non-school bus regulars; the veiny man who kept remembering to hate me, the woman with weirdly massive boobs to the point where it was possible she had some kind of syndrome, and the young guy who looked like he’d once been a full scale emo and was having to scale it back now he had a job but couldn’t quite let go of the eyeliner.

  And I wasn’t interested in them, much, either. I wasn’t really interested in anything except when I could escape back to London with my guitar.

  Adrian had said it was all moving too fast. If this was too fast then normal speed might actually have killed me.

  We got to school a tiny bit earlier than usual so the corridors were still pretty packed with the pre-assembly crowd, a bunch of year sevens here, a clump of year eights there, a slew of year thirteens blocking the way like a mountain range. I kept my eyes down, knowing they’d be watching, and blocked my ears with headphones. A load of people singing Just Me was the last thing I needed.

  ‘Katie Cox,’ said the Head, who had chosen that particular moment to walk past.

  ‘Yes!’

  Knowing there would probably be more press stuff on the menu, I’d got into the bathroom before Mands could hog it and sorted out my face.

  There’d been an exfoliating scrub, then a ten-minute mask. Then more exfoliating scrub, partly because there was still a bit left in the bottle, and partly because the mask seemed to have embedded itself into my pores and my cleanser hadn’t been able to shift it. All this had made my skin a bit red, which meant I’d had to use plenty of Amanda’s moisturizer, and this had given my cheeks a bit of a sheen, so I’d whacked on plenty of pressed powder to finish with. And I have to say, I didn’t look actively worse than when I’d started, so, you know, result.

  ‘Would you like me to talk to the papers again? Say a bit more about the music programme?’ I said. ‘Because I can, I don’t think I quite covered everything the other day but I reckon I could do it way better this time. I can work it in with my guitar playing and song writing and stuff, make it feel really organic, you know.’

  ‘Katie,’ said the Head. ‘No earphones in school.’

  ‘Oh.’ I took them out. ‘Sorry.’

  And no one was singing Just Me, or at least, I’m sure they were, but not at that particular moment.

  Phew!

  So I managed to get through all that, just about, but there was still the form room to navigate. Which was definitely going to be tricky and embarrassing. Especially when I saw everyone was huddled around Savannah’s phone and smiling and pointing.

  ‘I know,’ I said. ‘Another hundred thousand hits. That’s the entire population of Harltree all over again. On top of all the people who are already watching. Eeek.’

  ‘Oh, hey, Katie,’ said Paige.

  Lacey did a sort of mini-wave.

  ‘Dreamy, yes?’ said Savannah.

  ‘I’ve never seen anything more delicious,’ said Sofie.

  All right, maybe there was a chance that they weren’t watching me.

  ‘I want to lick the screen,’ said Savannah.

  More than a chance.

  ‘Something more exciting than my song?’ I said, jokingly. ‘This had better be good!’

  ‘It is good,’ said Sofie. ‘It’s Savannah’s birthday cake.’

  ‘Not the actual cake,’ said Savannah. ‘This one doesn’t have a waterfall. But they’re going to add that when they make it. Dad made them promise before he paid the deposit.’

  I shuffled in between Lacey and Paige to see the screen. ‘I was just wondering if you guys fancied another trip to Cindy’s because I’m still considering that dress and, hang on, that thing is a cake?’

  ‘Five tiers,’ said Savannah.

  ‘It has lights!’

  ‘I know,’ said Savannah.

  ‘How can a cake have lights?’

  ‘It plugs in.’ She gave the screen a little kiss, as though it was a picture of her latest boyfriend.

  Come to think of it, a cake boyfriend would be brilliant. You wouldn’t have to worry about what it tasted of when you kissed and if you ever split up you could eat it.

  Was that too weird to be a song?

  ‘I might write a song about that,’ I said.

  ‘So it’s five flavours, obvs,’ said Savannah. ‘The bottom layer is red velvet.’

  ‘Would you be OK with it being a song?’ I said.

  ‘Sure, babes. Then rose and pistachio.’

  ‘I mean, a lot of people might hear it.’

  And then cherry vanilla swirl.’

  ‘Because,’ I said loudly, ‘of how I’m going to record a single! I have a record deal and I am going to record a single. Me!’

  Well, that shut her up, and with two tiers still to go.

  ‘For real?’ said Sofie, and finally it seemed like I’d pulled her attention away from Savannah’s catering arrangements.

  ‘Totes,’ I said, which is the first time I’ve ever used that word and also, I suspect, the last. ‘I went into Covent Garden and I met with the head of Top Music, they do Crystal Skye and Karamel and stuff.’

  Savannah perked up.

  ‘Can you get us free Karamel tickets? A backstage pass would be the most perfect birthday present.’

  ‘I bet I can,’ I said.

  Savannah smiled the first genuine smile I’d ever seen from her. I know it was genuine because her forehead scrunched up and she looked a bit gummy. Savannah never looks gummy.

  ‘Babes, if you can do that, then I will . . . I will . . .’ She searched around for the most grateful, the most amazing, the most generous thing she could think of. ‘I will invite you to my party.’

  ‘I thought I was already invited to your party?’

  ‘Oh.’ Savannah was clearly considering uninviting me so that she could reinvite me on the condition that I got her some Karamel tickets.

  ‘I’ll definitely get them for you,’ I said. ‘I don’t know if it’ll be in time for your birthday, though.’

  ‘Well,’ said Savannah, looking the tiniest bit deflated, ‘late is better than never. Let me know when you have dates, yes?’

  ‘I will,’ I said. ‘Savannah, the very second I get Karamel tickets I will hand them straight over. I promise.’ This wasn’t quite as generous as it sounded because I would rather lobotomize myself than listen to Karamel for even a minute. At least it was a promise I could definitely keep.

  ‘Thanks, babes.’

  ‘So I probably shouldn’t talk any more about how the meeting went or anything,’ I said. ‘But I suppose, just to finish off –’

  ‘You’ve genuinely got a record deal?’ said Sofie.

  ‘Yes. With the people who do Crystal Skye and Karamel. Yes I have.’

  ‘Even though she hates Crystal Skye and Karamel,’ said Lacey.

  ‘She hates Karamel?’ said Savannah. Then, to me, ‘You hate Karamel??’

  ‘I hate boybands,’ I said. ‘And Karamel are a massive great big boyband, so yes. I hate them.’

  ‘I still don’t get why you’d record a single with a record label when you can’t stand any of their music!’ said Lacey.

  I thought of that huge glass building and the posters and the incredibly expensive biscuits. I thought of Tony’s eager expression. I thought of that beautiful receptionist with the perfect make-up, and Covent Garden, and how, even with a million hits, my friends clearly still considered me slightly less exciting than a cake.

  ‘You wouldn’t understand,’ I said. ‘It’s an industry thing, isn’t it?’

  ‘If you say so,’ said Lacey.

  ‘Anyway. The point being, we’re recording the single this weekend!’ Lacey looked away. ‘And after that, who knows? I suppose we’ll make a video and then perhaps there’ll be an album. My album!’

  The door bounced open and there was McAllister, looking mightily annoyed, which is just her normal expression, but still. ‘Pray what are we all discussing so intensely, wh
en we should be on our way to assembly?’

  ‘Katie’s got a record deal,’ said Sofie.

  ‘That is very exciting,’ said McAllister, her eyebrows moving fractionally higher in a way that I’d never seen before, which I suppose meant she was genuinely excited. ‘Now, assembly. Lacey, cheer up for goodness sake. And Savannah, those earrings are coming off right now or I will take them home and give them to my niece.’

  Cake Boyfriend

  Pat-a-cake

  Pat-a-cake

  Baker’s man

  Bake me a boy as fast as you can

  Give him fudge for hair

  And frosted blue eyes

  And finish him off with

  Vanilla sponge thighs

  My cakey boyfriend

  Oooh my cakey boyfriend

  My bakey cakey boyfriend

  Oooh my cakey boyfriend

  And when we kiss

  It’ll be so fun

  I’ll nibble his earlobes

  And bite his tongue

  My cakey boyfriend

  Oooh my cakey boyfriend

  My bakey cakey boyfriend

  Oooh my cakey boyfriend

  He’ll have a sweet boy heart

  But if we ever disagree

  Gonna cut him into slices

  And have him for my tea

  My cakey boyfriend

  Oooh my cakey boyfriend

  My bakey cakey boyfriend

  Oooh my cakey boyfriend

  And when he’s gone

  It won’t much matter

  You can bake me another

  From the leftover batter

  My cakey boyfriend

  My cakey cakey boyfriend

  Oooh my cakey boyfriend

  My bakey cakey boyfriend.

  [Repeat to fade]

  It seemed like Saturday would never come round, but then luckily it did, or I might just have exploded through an excess of nervous energy. Even things that normally made time go quite fast, like watching TV and sleeping, felt plodding and gloopy, as though the world knew I wanted to hurry up and had decided to go into slow motion.

  As I say, though, Saturday did eventually put in an appearance. It began, as all Saturdays did, around the kitchen table, with Mum picking up mouse droppings from the floor and saying, ‘I’m going straight from the hospital to karaoke, if that’s all right?’

  We all said it was.

  ‘Anyone doing anything fun today?’

  ‘Well,’ said Amanda. ‘I am going to run the shop. Adrian’s shop. I will be running it.’

  ‘Good for you, my love,’ said Mum. ‘So you’re not working today, Ade?’

  ‘Thought I’d take Katie out for the day,’ said Adrian. ‘Get to know each other a bit. Yeah. Mmm.’ He was such a bad liar. I had to take over.

  ‘We decided we’d do a bit of bonding,’ I said. ‘Go for a drive, maybe get some lunch or something.’

  Mum looked from me to him and then back again. Of course she didn’t believe us. We were so blatantly lying. I braced myself . . .

  ‘Finally!’ said Mum. ‘Two of my favourite people in the world have started getting on.’

  ‘Er,’ I said. ‘Kind of.’

  ‘What are you going to do?’ Mum said. ‘Tell me. I want to be able to picture you together.’

  ‘Just go into town,’ I said.

  ‘Town!’ said Mum.

  ‘. . . Eat a pizza?’

  ‘Pizza!’ She went to her wallet and fished out a twenty. ‘Spend it all.’

  ‘It’s really not that big a deal,’ I said.

  ‘It is,’ said Mum. ‘If I could’ve had one wish in the world it would have been for the two of you to be friends. Now, I’m going to have a shower. If anyone touches the hot-water tap I will personally come and drown them.’

  She went, humming the chorus of Natural Woman and, after a moment, Adrian followed.

  ‘If they are getting in there together . . .’ I began, my hand heading towards the kitchen sink. Manda’s nails came digging into my arm.

  ‘You have to stop this.’

  ‘The shower? I know!’

  ‘The lies to Mum.’

  ‘I told Tony yes,’ I said.

  ‘So tell him you’ve changed your mind. Or tell her. Tell her right now and see what she says.’

  ‘You know what she’ll say. She’ll say no. And . . . ’ I was surprised to find I was on the verge of weeping into my Pop-Tart, ‘I want to see what happens. It’s exciting. It’s the most exciting thing that’ll ever happen to me and if I pull out now, that’s it. Over. Finished. Just the whole rest of my life with nothing to look forward to. Just like everyone else.’

  ‘That is an extremely unhealthy way of looking at it,’ said Amanda. ‘Honestly, Katie, you can’t pretend your life is already over. You’ve not even left school.’

  ‘FINE.’ And now I wasn’t sad any more, just angry. ‘I want to do this because it will be COOL. All right? I want to sound amazing and look amazing and for people to buy my album and listen to my songs and think, “These are brilliant.” Because I am a selfish, horrible person. And maybe you think I ought to be content with getting the bus to school every day and having my bra strap pinged and egg mashed into my hair and listening to Savannah’s party plans. But honestly, I think I might be happier at least having a go at something else.’

  Mands put down her mug and left. But I knew she wouldn’t tell Mum. So I suppose I ought to have felt good about our little chat.

  Somehow, I didn’t.

  I’m a star, I said to myself. I am an artist. I am going to record my single. Like Prince and Rihanna and Jessie J. I’m doing this. It is real. This is me, on my way to London. To sing.

  I kept this up in my head all the way there, and I was so hyped by the time I got to Tottenham Court Road, I could feel my fingers trailing fairy dust all over the ticket barriers.

  Adrian, on the other hand, seemed edgy, and every time he opened his mouth, a downer dropped out.

  ‘There’ll be a lot of people from the label there,’ he said. ‘I know you liked Tony and he seemed laid-back but take it from me, the studio’s very different from the office.’

  ‘Huh,’ I said, not really knowing what he meant, and not much wanting to think about it.

  ‘See, they’ll have their own ideas,’ said Adrian. ‘And sometimes that’s great! A collaboration!’

  ‘OK,’ I said, navigating my way past a woman with a suitcase who was completely blocking the way out.

  ‘Sometimes, though, it’s not so good. You don’t want them to over-commercialize your sound. I mean, a little smoothing out, that’s all well and good. But . . .’

  ‘But what?’

  ‘You’re you, Katie. And that’s not very Top Music.’

  ‘What are you trying to say?’

  ‘You’re special. Don’t let them make you into something you’re not.’

  ‘Which is . . . ?’

  ‘Slick. Auto-tuned. You know.’

  ‘Maybe I’m OK with that,’ I said. ‘Seriously, what is it with people thinking I don’t deserve the full treatment?’

  He stopped. ‘Is that what you think? That you don’t deserve it? The point is that you don’t need it. Katie, maybe you don’t know it, but there’s no one out there right now even half as good as you. You know why people keep clicking on the video? Because you’re Katie Cox! So enough with trying to be someone else, all right?’

  ‘Oh,’ I said, swinging my guitar straight into a surprisingly grumpy busker.

  After a few minutes apologizing, which didn’t work, and a fiver from Adrian, which did, we got far enough away for me to say:

  ‘Look, I get that you’re worried. But let’s just see how it goes, shall we?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘But –’ and I had to glance down at the pavement because it was difficult to say – ‘I appreciate that you care.’

  ‘Nice one, Katie,’ said Adrian, looking like he might be about to go for some kind of hug,
and then, thank the Lord, we reached a small doorway with a line of buzzers, one of which said SQ Studios and the conversation was over.

  Despite what Adrian had said, it was just Tony who was there to meet us, rising up out of a chair shaped like an egg to grab my hand and tell me how excited he was.

  The whole place was smaller than I’d thought it would be. Down at the end of a long flight of steps, there was this strange sealed-in world without windows, sort of shabby and worn, with things stacked up against other things and peeling-back carpets. And while I could mainly smell Tony’s aftershave, there was just the faintest tang of mould, like dark clouds lurking on the horizon at the end of a sunny afternoon.

  Just nerves, I told myself, noticing how dry my mouth had gone, and giving my throat a very subtle clear. And then another one, and another, until Adrian handed me a bottle of water.

  ‘Takes me back,’ he was saying, nostrils flaring as though he was sort of inhaling the scene. ‘Hey, Tone, maybe it’s my mind playing tricks, but, isn’t this where we recorded back in the day?’

  ‘It is,’ said Tony. ‘The very same studio. I thought it would be . . . poetic.’

  Which explained why everything was so dark and poky when I’d been expecting more of a Top Music reflective surfaces vibe.

  ‘What sort of stuff were you planning?’ I asked. ‘Because I don’t want fifteen backing singers or a string quartet or anything.’ I could see Adrian nodding.

  ‘Right now, it’s just you and your guitar,’ said Tony, motioning me down yet another set of stairs. ‘We can always put more on later.’

  ‘Or not,’ I said. ‘If it doesn’t need it.’

  ‘It’s entirely your call.’

  ‘That doesn’t sound like you, Tony,’ said Adrian, but I guess his words got lost in a load of doors opening and closing, because he didn’t get a reply.

  Then, we were in a room with a glass wall, where a man sat at a desk covered in knobs and dials and lights and sliding things.

  ‘How does it feel, Katie?’ Tony’s smile split his face in two. ‘How does it feel to be recording your first single?’