Anyway, I was distracted from drum dreams when I got to school by Vanessa’s dramatic new haircut. She is filming the ad tomorrow and she got it cut into a fringe just for the shoot! Apparently, the directors felt a fringe was ‘an integral part of the character’. She says she could have worn a wig, but she wanted to go all the way.
‘A true actress always fully commits to her role,’ she declared.
I am almost impressed by this. I don’t know if I’d have dared get my hair cut in a new way just for a part in an ad, not after the traumatic hair disaster I’ve had this year. Vanessa really is taking the job very seriously. And I hate to admit it, but the fringe does suit her. Unlike my own fringe, which went all fluffy and ridiculous as soon as it got wet (it really is growing out at last, thank God). Vanessa’s fringe is quite sleek and well behaved.
Not that I said any of this to her, of course. I’m not going to encourage her egomania. Anyway, Karen and Caroline were gushing enough for all of us.
‘You’re so brave, Vanessa,’ said Karen, as if Vanessa had agreed to go into a war zone or a burning building or something. ‘I don’t know if I could do something so dramatic, even if it was for such a serious role.’
‘And it looks amazing too,’ said Caroline.
I noticed Alison wasn’t taking part in this fawning fest, though. In fact, she wasn’t even sitting with Karen, Vanessa and Caroline. She was on the other side of the room talking to Emma about computer coding instead. The two of them both want to do some sort of coding course for secondary-school students that’s starting at the teacher-training college down the road from our school. Emma says it will take her one step closer to her dream of creating computers that can think for themselves. Of course, that’s not what the people who are running the course say it will do, but Emma is pretty convinced she’s going to make a breakthrough soon.
Anyway, it was good to see Alison breaking away from her usual gang. If only Caroline would do the same. But she seems happy enough telling Vanessa how wonderful she is. I don’t know how she does it. It’s not like Vanessa is particularly nice to her (or anyone). Maybe Vanessa actually pays her to be her sidekick? It’s the only thing that makes sense.
Met Jane today. She knows all about Vanessa’s ad because of her mum being friends with Vanessa’s mother. That’s how they ended up going to the same drama and dance class last year. Anyway, Vanessa’s mother is very enthusiastic about the ad and she told Mrs Park it was a pity Jane didn’t have Vanessa’s drive and ambition! Which just shows the apple doesn’t fall far from the obnoxious tree.
‘I wish you had auditioned for that ad instead of Vanessa,’ I said. ‘You’re just as good at acting and singing as she is. And you have the advantage of not being a crazed egomaniac, so you’d be much nicer to work with. If I’d talked to both you and Vanessa for two minutes and I had to decide which of you would get a job, I would definitely choose you.’
‘It’s very nice of you to say so,’ said Jane. ‘But actually, I don’t think I’d want to be in an ad anyway. I mean, imagine if it turned out to be for something you really didn’t like? If it was for food, first of all you’d probably have to eat lots of it, which would be horrible. And then the ad would be on telly and everyone would associate you with whatever it was for, for years and years. It’s more trouble than it’s worth.’
‘I suppose,’ I said. ‘This is for Bluebird Bakery biscuits, though, remember? And they genuinely are nice.’
‘There’s only so many biscuits you can eat without getting sick,’ said Jane wisely. ‘I bet Vanessa will be sick of them by the time they’ve finished making this ad. Just imagine, she might never be able to eat a biscuit again. Anyway, I’d much prefer to work on my own acting things. I think I’d like to start my own theatre company.’
‘What, right now?’ I said, surprised. I know Jane is very talented, but starting a whole theatre company does seem like a lot of work for someone who’s still at school, especially during Junior Cert year.
‘No!’ said Jane. ‘In the future. Eventually. If I don’t find something else I like doing more first. But it would be really cool to put plays together with a bunch of other people.’ She looked at me. ‘You could write something for us.’
‘You’re sounding a bit like John Kowalski,’ I said, and she looked so appalled I burst out laughing. ‘I was joking! It’s just he had a big plan for becoming a famous writer-actor person. And he was always telling me to write stuff. But he only wanted me to write stuff he thought was cool.’
‘Well, I’d want you to write whatever you like,’ said Jane.
‘Alright, then,’ I said. ‘I’ll have a think about it.’
‘Well, you’ve got plenty of time,’ said Jane. ‘I don’t think I’ll have a theatre company for at least, I dunno, five years.’
I actually would like to try writing a play. I mean, if John could do it, I bet I could too. And I bet mine would be more entertaining than his. After all, he didn’t believe writing should have jokes in it.
Anyway, later I mentioned to Jane that I’d seen Lucy, Sam and Gemma. She was in the same group as Gemma, Vanessa and Karen at the summer camp and I was pretty sure they’d have stayed in touch.
‘Is there anything going on between them?’ I said. ‘Sam and Gemma, I mean. Not Lucy.’
‘I’m actually not sure,’ said Jane. ‘I know Gemma fancied him during the summer camp …’
‘Did she really?’ I said. ‘I had no idea.’
‘Yeah,’ said Jane. ‘She was actually a bit jealous of you, because you and Sam got on so well! She said she wished she had as much to talk to him about as you did.’
‘Oh!’ I said. I felt a bit funny. ‘Well, I hope she knew there was no reason to be jealous.’
‘Well, I told her that at the time,’ said Jane. ‘I knew you didn’t fancy him.’ She paused. ‘You didn’t, did you?’
‘God, no!’ I said. ‘Of course not! So what happened between them? After the disco?’
‘Not much, I think,’ said Jane. ‘So far. She was away with her family for a few weeks – that’s why she wasn’t at that meet-up we had after the camp, remember?’
‘Oh yeah,’ I said. That was the only time I’ve seen Sam since the camp ended.
‘Anyway, I haven’t seen Gemma myself since school started,’ Jane went on. ‘So I don’t really know what the story is. But I was going to message her to tell her about Vanessa’s ad so maybe I could ask a subtle question …’
‘Well, if they’re actually going out I’m sure she’ll tell you anyway,’ I said. And then Jane realised it was time for both of us to go home for dinner and we didn’t talk about Gemma and Sam again.
I don’t really know why I’m thinking about it now. I mean, I asked myself in the summer whether I liked Sam in that way and I decided I didn’t. Maybe I’m just becoming bitter and I don’t want to hear about anyone finding love? That’s a bit sad and depressing.
I can’t believe my parents have the nerve to give out to me whenever I play my tiny little snare drum very, very quietly. I was woken up today at half seven by the sound of my dad singing about the rain in Spain falling mainly in the plain at top volume. He’s never quiet in the mornings at the best of times, but this was particularly bad. I put my fingers in my ears and tried to ignore the noise and go back to sleep, but it didn’t work. Rachel stayed in Jenny’s last night, so she wasn’t going to do anything about it. It was up to me. Eventually, I staggered out of my room and asked him very politely and sensibly to be a tiny bit quieter.
‘What are you doing?’ I cried. ‘Why are you up so early?’
Dad looked surprised.
‘It’s nearly eight o’clock!’ he said.
‘It’s half seven!’ I said. ‘On a Sunday!’
‘Sorry, love,’ said Dad, looking a bit guilty, as well he might. ‘I just want to try and give Henry Higgins a bit more … oomph before we have the next rehearsal. You know. A bit more razzle dazzle.’
‘I don’t think anyo
ne needs that much oomph,’ I said grumpily. ‘Or razzle dazzle. Especially at this time of the morning.’
There was no chance of me getting back to sleep again so I just stayed up, even though I really wanted a lie-in. On the plus side, Dad was very apologetic about waking me up, and even made us both a delicious fry-up breakfast. While we were eating it, he said he wants to make Henry Higgins a ‘less restrained’ character. I have a feeling this means he’s going to insist on putting in some dance moves. I hope the director doesn’t mind.
So Vanessa’s ad shoot went brilliantly. At least, that’s what she said. Constantly. All day.
‘They’d never met a beginner who was such a professional before,’ she said.
She didn’t even shut up during class, even after Frau O’Hara gave out to her in German (in German class and also in the German language. Though Vanessa didn’t seem to understand any of it, so Frau O’Hara had to say it all again in English). Anyway, apparently Vanessa’s song (which she recorded separately to the filming) sounds amazing and we will all love it. She keeps telling us this. Maybe she thinks that if she says it often enough she can brainwash us. It will not work on me. Anyway, we’ll get to hear it in all its glory in just a few weeks. I am not exactly counting the seconds.
But now to more important matters than Vanessa’s ad. I finally gave in and told Alice and Cass about my drum fears. I think it was because I had another dream about my drums last night. I was trying to study and there was a terrible ominous booming and I looked up and saw Miss Kelly was playing my bass drum in my bedroom! She kept staring at me while banging the drum. It was surprisingly sinister.
I told Cass and Alice about Drummer Sam’s impending return at lunch today. The weather was really lovely and the three of us were sitting out in the playing fields. Cass and Alice were talking about whether we should paint a Hey Dollface logo on the front of the drum kit and the more they talked about it, the worse I felt and FINALLY they noticed that I hadn’t said anything in a while and (as Alice said later) looked like I was going to get sick.
‘Are you all right, Bex?’ asked Alice.
‘Sorry, what?’ I said.
‘Are you actually listening to us?’ asked Cass. ‘We were talking about the very important issue of drum logos.’
‘Sorry,’ I said again. And then I sighed. I knew I couldn’t keep it to myself anymore. ‘I’m just worried about something. Something drum-related.’
‘What?’ said Alice.
‘Are you okay?’ said Cass.
I took another deep breath.
‘Okay,’ I said. ‘There is a chance – a tiny chance. Or actually maybe a big chance. I don’t actually know. Anyway, there is a chance I might lose my drums. I mean, I might have to give them back to the friend of Tom’s who lent them to me.’
At first, Cass and Alice were quite upset, but once I’d reminded them of the full situation, Alice said what I’d been afraid she would say.
‘But why don’t you just ask Rachel to ask Tom to ask Drummer Sam?’ she said. ‘At least you’d know.’
I explained about the whole ‘let sleeping dogs lie’ thing, but, as I had feared, Alice and Cass weren’t impressed.
‘You really should just ask her,’ said Alice. ‘I do understand why you haven’t, but you have to do it at some stage. I mean, if you don’t have drums, we’ll have to sort something else out for the band.’
‘Yeah,’ said Cass. ‘And the sooner we know, the sooner we can sort something out.’
‘I know, I know,’ I said, and I do. Of course they are right. If my drums (okay, Drummer Sam’s drums) are going to be taken away from me, I need to come up with a contingency plan, but there is a part of me that just doesn’t want to deal with it at all. Which is pathetic, I know, but I can’t help it. Anyway, I have decided that I will ask Rachel about it on Saturday. Which gives me four whole days to pysche myself up.
Maybe it is a sign of my advanced age, or maybe it’s because I’m trying to distract myself from the thought of (possibly) losing my drums, but I keep thinking how long it’s been since big things happened. I just realised that today it’s five months exactly since I kissed someone. And by someone, of course, I mean John Kowalski. I know he turned out to be a terrible person, but he was a very good kisser. In fact, if I’m being perfectly honest, he was a better kisser than Paperboy. I would never have admitted that at the time, but it’s true.
Anyway, it feels like a lot longer than five months. I really do know, in my heart of hearts, that I’ll kiss someone else some day, but right now I feel quite sad. I don’t really know why. I just found myself listening to music that reminded me of back in March and April, when we were doing the musical and me and John got together, and it’s got me feeling weirdly nostalgic for the whole thing. Just thinking of the way he called me ‘Rafferty’ still makes me feel a bit funny. But I must make myself remember how he used to go on about himself all the time, and how he tried to make me write serious things when I wanted to write funny things, and how he let all of us down about the musical. Being a (very) good kisser doesn’t make up for that.
My parents have just come home from their musical rehearsal.
‘How did it go?’ I asked. I was thinking of Dad’s attempts to ‘oomph’ up Henry Higgins.
‘Pretty well,’ said Dad cheerfully. ‘I think we’re really getting somewhere already! The director seems very open to my ideas.’
‘Wow, that’s great,’ I said.
I noticed Mum had rather a strange expression on her face. ‘How about you, Mother dear?’ I asked, like the good daughter I am.
‘Toiling away in the chorus,’ she said, but she seemed pretty cheerful about it.
‘Did you oomph up your role as a flower seller?’ I said.
‘What?’ said Mum.
‘Dad said he was going to oomph up Henry Higgins!’ I said.
‘Ah,’ said Mum. ‘Well, he certainly did that.’
She says she didn’t need to do much to her flower-selling role as it already involves quite a lot of prancing around and strolling sassily.
‘It’s got lots of oomph already,’ she said.
Anyway, they both seem pretty happy about the show, which is good. At least it meant they forgot to ask me pointless, boring questions about how much studying I’d done (the answer is of course none, because my exams are not for nearly nine months, but I did do all my homework nice and early).
We have booked our studio time in the Knitting Factory! The registration site went live today and Veronica sent us all links. They won’t start having workshops for a month or so, but the studios are going to be available the week after next, and Hey Dollface will be rocking out there on Saturday week for two hours. I can’t wait. It’ll be like being back in the summer camp again, except slightly colder because it’s the end of September, not July. They are also going to open up those art studios in the Knitting Factory complex, so maybe Sam and Lucy, and Ellie from school, and people will come along too.
It still doesn’t take away my drum worries, though. I really will have to ask Rachel on Saturday, I can’t take this stress for much longer.
I have drums! I mean, I can keep the drums! Oh, I feel so relieved. It’s like a big drum-shaped weight has been taken off my shoulders. We had just sat down to dinner (sausage casserole, one of my favourites) and Rachel said, ‘Oh yeah, Bex, I meant to tell you. I heard from Tom’s friend Sam today.’
My stomach sank to the floor. I couldn’t say anything.
‘You remember Sam, right?’ said Rachel. ‘The original owner of your drums?’
‘Yeah, of course I do,’ I said. ‘How is he? Does he, um, like America?’
I think I sounded completely normal, but really I was just thinking, ‘This is it. He wants his drums back.’
‘He’s grand,’ said Rachel. ‘He loves it there. But he’s not coming back. I mean, I presume he will eventually. But his mum’s been offered a permanent job and it looks like they’re all staying in New York. He’s t
alking about going to college in America too and everything. He wants to go to Yale.’
‘Oh,’ I said. I took a deep breath. ‘So does he want me to send his drums over there? I don’t really know how we’d do that. I mean, it would cost a fortune.’
‘What?’ said Rachel. ‘No, of course he doesn’t! He told me to tell you that you could keep them for as long as you liked. And … didn’t he lend you some other musical things as well?’
‘An amp,’ I said. ‘And some mikes.’
‘Well, you can keep all of it,’ said Rachel. ‘He says he’s producing most of his music on his laptop now, anyway.’
I couldn’t believe it. I still can’t.
‘Wow,’ I said. ‘That’s brilliant. Tell him thanks very much from me!’
‘Oh dear, does that mean we have to put up with you banging away on that small drum forever?’ said Mum, but she didn’t look too annoyed really.
‘Yes,’ I said happily.
‘Maybe I should tell him to demand them back after all,’ said Rachel.
As soon as dinner was finished, I rang Alice and told her the news. This was such important news it had to be told in person rather than in text or IM.
‘The band is saved!’ I cried.
‘Well, it wasn’t really in danger,’ said Alice sensibly. ‘We could have used the drums in the Knitting Factory. But it’s very cool.’
‘I feel so relieved,’ I said. There was a pause on the other end of the phone, and I have a feeling Alice was thinking that I could have avoided the last week of stress if I’d just asked Rachel to get in touch with Sam in the first place. But she didn’t say anything about it, because she really is a good and noble friend who never says ‘I told you so’. I am not sure I would have been able to resist if that were me. In fact, I feel quite embarrassed by the whole thing myself.