I can’t. The Lost & Found means a lot to me, but it means even more to the kids sitting around me. It’s their hopes, their dreams, their future. I have to keep trying, pretending things are OK, because the alternative just doesn’t bear thinking about.
‘I love my makeover,’ Happi tells me, determined to get me smiling. ‘I couldn’t believe it when I looked in the mirror. You even made Dylan look half human!’
‘Oi!’ Dylan objects. ‘I’m naturally good-looking, I’ll have you know! Although … it’s Halloween at the weekend, isn’t it? Sasha could give us all scary makeovers.’
‘I like the idea of that,’ Lexie says. ‘We could have a Halloween band practice or go trick or treating!’
‘Or a Halloween party at the old railway carriage?’ Bex suggests. ‘Reckon we’ll have earned some chill time!’
‘Yeah, Sasha can make us look super scary,’ Jake adds. ‘Face paint and fake blood … and this time I get to be transformed too!’
I grin. My friends have found a way to pull me back into the group, put me at the centre of things, and I am grateful.
There are no raised voices in the kitchen now. Marley bounds into the room, grinning, to tell us that he’s sorted Matt out, that there won’t be any more trouble. He must have done a quick change too, because he’s back in his jeans and jumper, although the eyeliner and glitter remains.
‘Matt’s OK, really,’ he insists. ‘He’s just a perfectionist. It’s probably hard for him as an outsider – he doesn’t understand how close we all are.’
I don’t think I understood, either, but I do now. I also know that Matt has done a job on Marley, spun a line and grabbed himself a second chance. I guess the promise of publicity is hard for Marley to resist.
‘Anyway, Sash, he won’t give you any more trouble – I guarantee it,’ Marley says. ‘I’ve told him to back off, do something else for the afternoon. He’s going for a walk to sort his head out. And he’s going to apologize. I told him that was non-negotiable.’
I smile weakly. I can imagine how thrilled Matt must be about that.
‘So,’ Marley continues. ‘We’re recording in the studio this afternoon, and it needs to be perfect, so let’s put this out of our heads and focus on the music. That’s what we’re here for, yeah?’
‘Definitely,’ we all chorus.
‘Thanks, Marley,’ I tack on to the end of this. ‘For sticking up for me.’
He grins. ‘No worries. And if we work hard this afternoon, we deserve a break. How about we go swimming straight after recording? Relax a bit? And then we’ll be all set to meet the film crew dudes at dinner.’
‘Now you’re talking,’ Lee says. ‘We can get the Jacuzzi working …’
‘And try out the sauna and the steam room!’ Dylan adds.
‘And actually have some fun,’ Lexie agrees. ‘We’ve earned it!’
Marley grins. ‘Cool. Now, remember we need these clothes for the video shoot, and Fitz wanted everything hung up again. Push off and get changed, and grab your swimming stuff for later, so we can head over straight from the studio. Quick! I don’t care if you leave the make-up on, but the costumes have to be on that rail, pristine. See you in the studio in ten, ready to knock the socks off Ked and Camille! Scram!’
We work all afternoon on the first of the two new songs, ‘Mask’, but when it comes to knocking the socks off Ked and Camille, I’m not quite managing it. Our mentors seem happy with the trumpet solo, the violin melodies, the drum and bass. They love Sami’s haunting flute and George’s cello melody, even the harmonies that Lexie and Happi have created. They just don’t like my vocals.
I’m in a glass-walled sound booth with a huge, flat mic in front of my face and headphones on my ears so I can hear the basic soundtrack as I sing. It feels weird and awkward and unnatural.
‘We can make as many recordings as it takes,’ Camille says. ‘The vocals need to be strong, pure, spot on. They’ll carry the track.’
No pressure then.
‘Try again,’ Ked tells me. ‘From the top!’
I focus. I think of all the vocal coaching I’ve had from Camille, her breathing techniques, her tips on projection and pacing and power. I give it everything I’ve got.
‘Again,’ Ked says.
I try again and again and again, and in the end Ked wanders off to talk to Marley, a frown creasing his face.
‘Let loose,’ Camille tells me. ‘I want to see the energy, the passion you gave us yesterday. Get into the song, into the heart of it. Don’t worry about being perfect – just give me the passion!’
But today I can’t get past the twist of failure in my gut, the panic that builds with every breath. I can’t find the magic no matter how hard I try.
‘OK,’ Camille declares at last. ‘Enough. Have an early night, Sasha, and we’ll try again in the morning.’
I try not to let my shame show.
‘Good work, people,’ Ked says. ‘We have some brilliant stuff, and we have all day tomorrow to add the final touches and get “Watch Me Disappear” down. You’ve all worked really hard!’
His eyes slide over me, as if he can’t quite include me in this praise, and my heart aches.
‘Swimming pool, everyone!’ Marley reminds us. ‘Got your costumes? Let’s go!’
I trail after the others, Jake falling into step beside me.
‘OK?’ he checks, and I tell him I’m struggling, that Ked and Camille weren’t happy with my vocals today.
‘How come?’ he asks. ‘It sounded good to me.’
‘Good isn’t enough,’ I explain. ‘Whatever it is they’re looking for, I don’t think I can deliver it.’
‘You’re too hard on yourself,’ Jake says. ‘C’mon, let’s have some downtime. Got your swim stuff?’
‘I left it on my bed,’ I realize. ‘I’m not sure, though – what if it’s not a good idea? What if I zone out in the water? That could be dangerous …’
‘You’ll be with me,’ Jake says, taking my hand. ‘And afterwards we’re making apple crumble for the gang, right? It’ll be fun!’
He fixes me with his lopsided grin, and just for a moment it feels like this is all that matters … holding hands with a cute boy, having a laugh with friends, living in the moment. But it’s hard to live in the moment when you keep losing chunks of it. My life is like one of those thousand-piece jigsaw puzzles you find at the back of a cupboard, one with so many pieces missing there’s no way of making sense of it. The kind of jigsaw puzzle that’s good only for the bin.
I push the thought away.
‘I’ll fetch my stuff,’ I promise Jake. ‘You go on … I’ll be five minutes.’
I run into the house through the side door and across the kitchen, head upstairs. In the bedroom, I pause to brush my hair, grab shampoo and conditioner, check my eyeliner hasn’t smudged. I take a look at Mary Shelley the tortoise, basking under her heat lamp, and give her a sliver of red pepper and a dandelion leaf from the resealable box on the windowsill, then I gather up my swimming things and head downstairs.
292 likes
SashaSometimes New look!
#Lost&Found #TeenBand #SixtiesStyle #GlitterGirl
_Brownie_ Wow, looks cool!
Kezsez07 Luv this!
OllieK Gorgeous!
SaraLou Amazing!
littlejen Too cute!
MillfordGirl1 Where’s the hat from? I want one!
PetraB Adorable!
MattBFotos #SorryNotSorry
23
Something Missing
I don’t mean to eavesdrop … that’s the last thing on my mind. It’s just that I hear voices in the kitchen as I start to push the door open and cut through, and the voices belong to Ked and Camille. They’re talking about me.
I stop short, my heart racing. I want to step away, block my ears, rewind, but I’m rooted to the spot. I can’t help myself. I hear it all.
‘… definitely an issue,’ Camille says. ‘Now that I’ve noticed it, I can see her bla
nking out four or five times a day. More, maybe. She’s in denial, of course. She really didn’t want me to tell you, but I’m worried about her, Ked. I don’t think she’s well.’
‘We should have got her to the doctor’s the other evening,’ Ked says. ‘What d’you think it is? Stress? Panic attacks? Some kind of seizure?’
‘She says it’s exhaustion,’ Camille answers. ‘She’s not sleeping, she’s anxious, she’s driving herself really hard … she’s a great kid, I like her a lot, but the fact is she can’t front a band if she’s ill. It’s a worry.’
‘Agreed,’ he says. ‘But I think we both know that the blanking out is only part of the problem. She has a great voice, she works hard, she’s a really pretty girl … but the truth is, there’s something missing.’
I put a hand against the door, try to steady my breathing. The world blurs and falls away, comes back, vanishes again.
‘… the timing couldn’t be worse, but I suppose it’s better to know now rather than later …’
‘Looks like we might have some tough decisions to make.’
I stumble away from the door and retrace my steps to the bedroom. Tears snake down my cheeks as I pull my little wheelie case from the bottom of the wardrobe and stuff in my things. My tread is soft and silent as I creep back down the stairs and along the hallway. I pass the kitchen where Ked and Camille are still discussing my uselessness and head to the front door, closing it softly behind me.
The light is starting to fade as I look out across the grounds of Fox Hollow Hall, scanning the woodland, the lawn, the distant studio. My friends are at the far end of the house, splashing around in Ked’s pool, having fun. They don’t know yet that I won’t be joining them, or that I’ve smashed their dreams of stardom to pieces.
I wonder if any of them will still be speaking to me come Monday, or if they’ll be angry that I kept my failings secret. Jake told me to be honest, to come clean about the zone-out moments and my doubts about the band, but I was too scared – now it’s all caught up with me in the worst possible way.
Tonight OK Film are coming to discuss a video that will never be made, and tomorrow the studio is booked to record a single that will never be released. Lola Rockett will be coming to dinner tomorrow night to discuss a promising teen band that is about to go down in history as the best new band that never was … and it’s all my fault.
As I walk down the steps and stride across the grass away from the house, raindrops begin to fall – fat, heavy raindrops that build to a downpour. Great. I drag my suitcase behind me, leaving a dark trail across the damp lawn.
‘The gate’s the other way,’ a cynical voice calls. ‘You make a habit of getting things wrong, don’t you? Or maybe you’re trying to sneak off without being seen. Don’t tell me – running away again?’
Matt is sheltering under a tree watching me. One eyebrow quirks upward as he notices my tear-stained face, and his lip curls, caught between amusement and disdain.
‘What’s up?’ he asks. ‘Have they finally noticed that you’re no good and chucked you out?’
‘Something like that,’ I say. ‘Happy now, Matt? Is this a good enough scoop for you?’
‘You’re way too sensitive for a life in showbiz,’ he tells me. ‘And by the way, your mascara’s all over your face. Not so perfect now, huh? Still, nice shot for my portfolio. Never know when it might come in handy!’
He takes the zoom lens from his pocket and attaches it smoothly, raising the camera before I have time to turn away. He fires off a volley of shots that feel as humiliating as a slap.
‘I could have helped you,’ he calls after me. ‘I still could – give your side of the story. We could expose the pressure Ked has put on the band to perform, how he’s bullied and pushed you to the brink, how he treats those who don’t make the grade – the ruthless side of Britain’s best-loved pop legend …’
Matt’s twisting things, inventing his own storyline. I’m upset with Ked and Camille right now, but no way would I lie about them to fit Matt’s version of events. Ked’s a tough taskmaster, but he has only ever been good to us, tried to help us. I’ve let Ked and Camille down every bit as much as I’ve let down the Lost & Found.
I can hear Matt’s laugh and the click of the camera behind me as I drag my wheelie suitcase into the trees.
It’s clear straight away that this is not a good idea. The wheels clog with fallen leaves, splatter me with mud and catch on tree roots, and the woods are dark and dank.
At last I reach the perimeter wall and throw the battered suitcase over into the lane. I scramble over the wall in its wake, ripping my scarf on a thorn bush and grazing my hand as I tear it free. I take a deep breath and gather my thoughts. Which way is the village? I can’t remember, but I know it’s quite a walk. I turn left and hope for the best, dragging the suitcase behind me.
Why are there no street lights in the countryside? The lane has no pavement; a couple of times I stumble into a ditch that runs along the grass verge. The adrenaline rush of escape has dulled, and feelings of anxiety and hopelessness seep in. I should have planned this better. I should have waited till morning, worked out a plan, called home. I should have thought first and then acted, but it’s too late now. I can’t go back.
And then I hear it, the muffled sound of someone walking in the lane behind me. I move faster, fear burning my throat like acid, but the footsteps keep coming. It’s almost dark now, but not so dark I can’t see the figure looming towards me.
I swipe the torch app on my phone and aim it into the darkness, heart racing. The beam lights up a familiar face.
‘Jake!’ I squeak, all the tension leaking out of me. ‘What are you doing? I thought you were an axe murderer or something!’
Jake puts his hands in the air, as if to demonstrate that he has no axe concealed about his person. ‘I was waiting for you and you didn’t come, so I went to see what was up,’ he explains. ‘I bumped into Matt, who made some barbed comment about you running away again. You weren’t in the grounds, so I thought I’d just take a walk down to the village in case that loser really did say something stupid to make you bolt …’
‘It wasn’t Matt,’ I say. ‘I mean, he is a loser, and he was shooting his mouth off, but that’s not why –’
‘What then?’ Jake demands. ‘What happened? You seemed fine, then … gone! And this time you mean it, by the look of you.’
He nods towards the muddy suitcase, still trailing a length of bramble.
‘I do mean it,’ I say, tears sliding down my cheeks. ‘This whole week has been one big mistake from start to finish – I should never have come. I’ve messed things up for everybody and I feel awful. I’m going home. I don’t belong here.’
Jake shakes his head sadly. ‘Look, Sasha,’ he says. ‘Are you totally sure you want to leave? Whatever’s upset you, there’ll be a solution.’
‘Trust me,’ I tell him. ‘There isn’t!’
‘We could speak to Ked …’
‘No, Jake. I just want to go home,’ I say in a small voice.
‘Sure?’
‘Sure.’
Fifteen minutes later we’re huddled inside a ramshackle bus shelter, soaked and shivering and holding hands. ‘You don’t have to come with me,’ I say. ‘I don’t want to get you into trouble. You were enjoying all the tech stuff, and you won’t get to do all those cool lighting effects for the video if you do a disappearing act …’
‘There’ll be other chances,’ he says. ‘I can’t let you go on your own.’
‘You can. I’ll get the next bus to … wherever the nearest town is, and find the railway station, and get a train home. Honestly, Jake, I can do it!’
‘I know you can,’ he says. ‘But I’m coming anyway. Fox Hollow Hall won’t be as much fun without you, and I’m not sure there’ll even be a video if you’ve gone missing. They’ll go nuts once they realize!’
A tidal wave of guilt hits me. There will be no video, no recording, no slot on primetime TV on Lola R
ockett’s music show for the Lost & Found now … not without a lead singer. I have brought disaster on my friends.
‘I’m not going back,’ I say. ‘Don’t try and guilt-trip me. I feel bad enough already!’
‘No worries,’ Jake says with a shrug. ‘I’d quite like to hang around and watch the storm break, but on balance we’re probably best out of it. They’ll get over it. Things will get patched up somehow. And this’ll be an adventure!’
We peer into the darkness, ever hopeful. Maybe the next bus isn’t for hours? Maybe buses don’t even run this late in the back of beyond? If something doesn’t turn up soon, people will notice we’ve gone and send out a search party, and that’s the very last thing I want.
‘I’ve never run away from anything before,’ I say sadly.
Jake laughs. ‘Don’t worry, I’m pretty much an expert, remember? I took off for a week last year … caused a whole lot of trouble for my mum and Sheddie, though I didn’t think of that at the time. Looking back, I can see it was a mistake, but at the time I was determined. Nobody in the world could have talked me out of it, which is why I’m not trying to talk you out of it either.’
‘Good!’
‘But I have to tell you, some things you can’t outrun no matter how hard you try … you know that, right? You have to face stuff sometime …’
‘I know,’ I say.
Two bright headlights sweep round the corner, and a wheezing coach rattles towards us, slows and stops.
Jake bounds up the steps and grins at the driver. ‘Two tickets to Barnstaple, please,’ he says confidently.
And then we’re off.
You OK, Sash? You didn’t come swimming, and Matt made some snarky comment about you running off, but Lexie reckons you’ve just gone for a moonlit walk with Jake and got stranded in the rain! Do we send out a search party? Don’t forget the film crew people are coming after tea! Romy x
24
Runaways
The bus to Barnstaple bumps and rumbles its way through the dark, and while Jake gazes out of the window into the gloom, I switch my phone to selfie mode and check my make-up. My eyes are red and gritty with crying, and mascara has run in rivulets down my cheeks. I dab at the damage with a tissue, but there’s not much I can do.
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