by Anna Carey
‘What about the art show?’ I said. ‘You were sort of in the spotlight then.’
‘Ah, that was just my comics,’ said Sam. ‘It’s different if it’s me. Having a big light shone in my eyes is my idea of hell. Hey, speaking of hell … did you finish that Sandman book?’
‘Oh, yeah!’ I said. ‘It was brilliant! Though it was a bit scary. Actually very scary. But in a good way.’ Then something struck me. ‘Oh. I forgot all about giving it back to you. It’s still at home.’
‘Ah, don’t worry about it,’ said Sam. ‘Sure, we’ll all see each other over the holidays. Right?’
‘Yeah, people are talking about going into town during the week, to the café at the Knitting Factory,’ said Lucy as we reached the top of the queue. ‘Maybe Wednesday?’
‘Cool,’ said Sam. He had got his coat now and was ready to go. ‘Right, I’d better run, my lift is outside. See you then, Bex?’
‘Oh yeah, definitely,’ I said. And off he went.
And then Lucy said she’d started a Facebook group so we could all stay in touch – us and the Wicked Ways and Exquisite Corpse and Puce and Small Paula and the art kids and the drama gang. Basically all the nice people we’ve met at the camp. Which is great, so I suppose I’ll see everyone on Wednesday. I hope Sam comes, otherwise I’ll feel like a thief for keeping his book. And I can find out what’s the story with him and Gemma. She’s cool, so I hope she doesn’t mess him around. He’s so nice. Even though I don’t fancy him.
Anyway! I have no time to think about him right now, because the showbiz magic never stops around here. Well, sort of. It is, of course, the first performance of Oliver! tonight. Mum and Dad seem a bit nervous, and who can blame them? I can’t say I’m looking forward to seeing them humiliate (a) themselves and (b) me in front of the world (well, as much of the world as can fit into a primary-school hall, which is where the show is being produced). Cass and Alice are coming along for moral support, but I don’t mind them seeing the show. They’ve seen my parents being embarrassing so many times, one more won’t make any difference. And they’re staying over afterwards – my parents don’t often agree to big sleepovers, but they’ve been so distracted by their impending showbiz debut this week they’d have agreed to anything. I should really have taken more advantage of this and asked them for some more favours.
Anyway, they’re not due until after six, so after the excitement and drama of the last few days, I will spend the day relaxing. I just saw Mrs Mulligan drive away with that stupid kid Sorcha in the back seat, so at least I know I won’t be tormented by my enemy. After all, I need to build my strength before the performance − I have a feeling being in the audience as my parents prance about will be more stressful than actually performing on stage yesterday. I think I will go and have a nice lemonade to steady my nerves.
MY MIND HAS BEEN BLOWN.
And my world has been turned upside down. And it’s all because of my parents and Oliver!. My parents were both so worked up about the show yesterday that they kept coming up with stupid chores for me to do (so much for my plans to spend the day relaxing and building up my strength). And for Rachel, of course, but she escaped to Jenny’s house for a while in the afternoon. Anyway, at about six o’clock, after they had made some pizzas for a post-show treat (with my help, yet again I was forced to chop vegetables) and put them in the fridge, they went off to the school theatre to get ready for the show. So I could finally sit down.
But not for long, because soon Cass and Alice arrived to dump their bags.
‘I’m quite looking forward to this,’ said Cass. ‘I like Oliver!.’
‘Me too,’ said Alice. And then they started singing ‘Consider Yourself’ very loudly until Rachel came in to see what all the noise was.
‘Oh, it’s you two,’ she said. ‘Are you coming to see our parents make a show of themselves?’
‘It wouldn’t be the first time,’ I said.
‘True,’ said Rachel.
Anyway, we all headed down to the theatre together. I have to admit that I was quite intrigued myself. I mean, my parents have been going on about their musical skills for months, but, apart from their singing around the house, I’d never actually witnessed them in action. By the time we’d settled into our seats, though, I was feeling more nervous than excited. I mean, embarrassing as it all was for me, it would be worse for them if they made a total show of themselves. When the curtain went across, I caught Rachel’s eye, and she made the sort of face that showed she was worrying about exactly the same thing. But we couldn’t worry for long because, as Dad was playing the Beadle who runs the workhouse, he was in the very first scene.
‘Oh God, here we go,’ whispered Rachel, as little orphan Oliver (who wasn’t very little at all, he must have been about fifteen, and he didn’t look like he’d ever been starving in his life) walked up to the Beadle and asked if he could have some more food.
‘More!’ bellowed Dad, and I cringed. He did some more bellowing at Oliver before launching into the big song.
But then something happened. Dad was singing, and he was … good. Like, seriously, really good. He stopped looking like an ordinary history lecturer from Drumcondra who was going a bit bald and started looking like an evil old Victorian Beadle, a Victorian Beadle with a very good deep singing voice. As he marched around the stage singing about all the terrible things he was going to do to Oliver, I almost forgot it was Dad.
‘Woah, he’s brilliant!’ Cass whispered, but I barely heard her because, to my horror, the music had changed, and Dad was starting to dance.
‘This wasn’t in the film!’ whispered Rachel, who sounded just as horrified as I was. But then I stopped feeling horrified because − and I can’t believe I’m writing this – it turns out Dad really can dance. I mean, he can’t dance on, like, a dance floor to pop music like a normal person. I have seen him at my cousin’s party, and he was awful. But that’s a different sort of dancing. This time he was dancing like, well, someone in a musical. He leaped. He twirled. He did some impressive tap dancing. He sort of glided across the stage. I wasn’t even embarrassed because it was so obvious that he could really move. Daisy was right. He was poetry in motion!
I was so stunned by the whole thing I barely noticed what was happening in the next few scenes, though I could see Mum singing with great enthusiasm in the chorus.
As soon as the curtains closed for the interval, Rachel and I turned to each other in amazement.
‘Did I just imagine that?’ said Rachel.
‘No, you didn’t,’ I said. ‘He was brilliant!’
‘He really was,’ said Alice. ‘I can’t believe it. No offence to your dad, of course.’
‘None taken,’ I said. ‘I can’t really believe it either.’ We were still in shock when the second half began. And then I got another surprise, because there was a scene where Nancy is singing in a pub, and Mum joined the actress playing Nancy and did a dance around the stage, and she was really good too! Not as impressive as Dad, but she was singing (very well) while waltzing around the stage, and, as I discovered when we were doing our own musical, it is surprisingly difficult to sing while you’re walking, let alone dancing. When it was all over, we found ourselves joining in a standing ovation. The whole cast came out to take their bows, and Dad got an extra big cheer, especially when the director revealed that he was the understudy.
‘Your parents should do this professionally,’ said Cass. ‘They’re amazing!’
‘Don’t give them ideas,’ said Rachel as our parents emerged, beaming, from backstage. But I could tell she was proud of them really. So was I.
‘What did you think of my dance, girls?’ said Dad, after we’d all told them how good the show was.
‘I don’t remember the Beadle doing that dance in the film!’ said Alice.
‘No, the directors added it in once they saw my moves,’ said Dad happily. And I couldn’t even mock him for referring to his ‘moves’ because those moves really were so good. ‘Come on,
let’s go home and have that pizza.’
And so we did, and it was a lot of fun. We all ended up singing ‘Pick a Pocket or Two’ around the kitchen table – even Rachel, who generally acts like she’s too grown up to do any messing. I suppose my family aren’t that bad sometimes.
Anyway, it’s the next day now, and Cass and Alice have gone home, and I am writing this in the back garden because it is lovely and sunny (for once). And even though I am all on my own because Cass is off with Liz and Alice is off with Richard, I am quite happy. It’s nice to just laze around on your own sometimes, and I’ll see them both on Monday at practice anyway. And, after what’s happened recently, I’m not so worried anymore about my lack of love life. Daisy was right, everything else in my life is actually pretty good at the moment. And I’m sure I’ll meet someone eventually. I mean, if my dad can turn out to be poetry in motion and Small Paula can turn out to be a noisy musical genius and Karen can turn into a heroine, then, really, anything can happen.
About the Author
Anna Carey is a freelance journalist from Drumcondra in Dublin who has written for the Irish Times, Irish Independent and many other publications. Anna joined her first band when she was fifteen and went on to sing and play with several bands over the next fifteen years. Her last band, El Diablo, released two albums and toured all over the country. Her first book, The Real Rebecca, was published in 2011, and, to her great surprise, it went on to win the Senior Children’s Book prize at the Irish Book Awards. To the delight of many readers, Rebecca returned in the critically acclaimed Rebecca’s Rules, which was shortlisted for the same prize in 2012 (she didn’t win this time, though).
Copyright
This eBook edition first published 2013 by The O’Brien Press Ltd,
12 Terenure Road East, Rathgar, Dublin 6, Ireland.
Tel: +353 1 4923333; Fax: +353 1 4922777
E-mail: [email protected]
Website: www.obrien.ie
First published 2013
eBook ISBN: 978–1–84717–621–9
Copyright for text © Anna Carey 2013
Copyright for typesetting, layout, design
The O’Brien Press Ltd.
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THE REAL REBECCA
My name is Rebecca Raff erty, and my mother has ruined my life. Again. I didn’t mind her writing boring books for grown-ups. But now she’s written one about an awful girl my age and everyone thinks it’s me! Including the boy who delivers our newspapers, aka Paperboy, aka the most gorgeous boy in the whole world. Oh, the shame!
And if that wasn’t awful enough, the biggest pain in my class wants to use my ‘fame’ to get herself on the reality show ‘My Big Birthday Bash’.
I’ve just got to show everyone the REAL Rebecca. But how?
REBECCA RULES
1. My boyfriend has moved to Canada. Canada!
2. I have annoyed my best friends Cass and Alice by going on about him all the time.
3. I am going to a crazy girl’s mad birthday party and I am not sure why.
Things have got to change. So I’ve made some new rules.
No moping.
No ignoring my friends’ problems.
Find something exciting for me, Cass and Alice
to do so our friendship gets back to normal.
Something fun. Something new ….
Something like joining the school musical.
