Dancing Queen (Zodiac Girls) Read online

  Zodiac Girls –

  Dancing Queen

  Cathy Hopkins

  Copyright © 2009, Cathy Hopkins

  ISBN number: 9781908426871

  CONTENTS

  Chapter One: Hairtastic

  Chapter Two: Star Pupil

  Chapter Three: Unexpected!

  Chapter Four: Spook Night

  Chapter Five: Casualty

  Chapter Six: Drama Queens

  Chapter Seven: Op Day One

  Chapter Eight: Op Day Two

  Chapter Nine: Mr Mars

  Chapter Ten: Selene

  Chapter Eleven: Entertainment

  Chapter Twelve: My Bee–ootiful Sisters

  Chapter Thirteen: Going Home

  Chapter Fourteen: Back to Business

  Chapter Fifteen: It’s Showtime, Folks

  Chapter Sixteen: Moneymaking Ventures

  Chapter Seventeen: School Assembly

  Chapter Eighteen: Making It Happen?

  Chapter Nineteen: Skye

  Chapter Twenty: Auditions

  Chapter Twenty-One: Preparation

  Chapter Twenty-Two: Showtime

  Epilogue

  Chapter One

  Hairtastic

  ‘You’re not really going to do it, are you?’ asked Lois, after Mum had finally left for the supermarket and Lois and I were alone in the house. I nodded as we watched Mum through the window in the hall. She struggled with her umbrella against the October rain, closed the gate, got into the car and drove off.

  I punched the air. ‘Let’s move,’ I said. ‘We’ve only three hours before the auditions.’

  Lois gave me a salute then we raced along to the bathroom where I locked the door just in case Mum came back for any reason.

  I handed Lois the rubber gloves and the bleach that I’d been hiding in a carrier bag in my rucksack for the last few days. ‘Here. Hold these while I wet my hair. And don’t worry. I phoned Mum’s hairdresser and she gave me very clear instructions. All I have to do is bleach my colour out, which might take a couple of applications, then put on a toner and bingo: white hair.’

  ‘But, Marsha, your lovely red hair,’ she objected. ‘What if it goes green or something?’

  I laughed. ‘I’ll deal with it. Everyone’s always saying that we ought to go green these days.’

  ‘That’s not what I meant, dingbat brain. And where’s your dad? What if he turns up?’

  ‘Chill, Lois. He plays rugby every Saturday morning, and both my sisters are out with mates. It will be fine. Trust me. I’m not going green – I’m going white.’

  Through the mirror to my left, I saw Lois glance at me anxiously. We made a curious pair. Lois with her long straight blonde hair and me with my shoulder-length red curls that try as I might always looked unruly. I looked like an urchin with a cheeky face standing next to a princess with dreamy eyes. ‘Red hair is not right for the part and I have to get that part.’

  Lois sighed and sat on the edge of the bath. She knew better than to argue with me when I wanted something and I wanted the part of the Ice Queen in the school show badly.

  ‘Why is it so important to bleach your hair?’ she asked.

  ‘Don’t you know anything?’ I asked. ‘If an actor is serious about a role, they have to live and breathe the part, tap into their secret self, dredge up old experiences to make it real. It’s called method acting.’

  ‘When did you experience being an Ice Queen?’

  ‘Hmm. I suppose I haven’t, but . . . I can imagine what it would be like to be an Ice Queen; I guess that’s the next best thing.’

  ‘And bleaching your hair white is method acting?’

  ‘Methodish. It’s like some actors put on weight or take it off for a part. I’m trying to become my character so that it will be more than acting. She will be an extension of myself. Like a part of me.’

  Lois rolled her eyes. ‘But you won’t have to act. All you have to do is dance.’ She laughed and added, ‘And lure Oliver Blake . . .’

  ‘Swoon, swoon,’ I said. One of us always said that when anyone mentioned Oliver’s name. He’s the school babe and is totally hunky.

  ‘. . . into your arms,’ Lois continued. ‘That’s really why you want the role, isn’t it?’

  ‘Only partly,’ I said. I did have a crush on Oliver but then so did the whole school and I knew he would think a girl in Year Seven way too young for him. ‘It’s also a way of being in the play and having an excuse to hang around with the drama group and, yeah, you’re right, Oliver, swoon . . .’

  ‘Swoon,’ we chorused.

  ‘. . . without having to kill myself or learn loads of lines. You know how I get bored so easily.’ (Or have no staying power, as my mum would say.)

  ‘Unlike some of us,’ said Lois, who was going up for a speaking part and had spent the best part of last week memorizing huge chunks of the play. ‘I don’t get it. You’ve never been that bothered about being in a show before.’

  ‘Yeah, but that was before I realized that I want to be in the entertainment business.’

  Lois rolled her eyes to the ceiling again. ‘I thought you wanted to be an Olympic gymnast.’

  ‘That was last week.’

  ‘No. Last week you wanted to be a champion tennis player.’

  ‘No. That was the week before. A girl can change her mind, can’t she? In fact, ours is the age for dipping in and trying different things – our teachers say that all the time. And this week I am utterly convinced that I want to be on the stage.’

  There was another reason that I wanted the part, though. Word had been going around school that Oliver’s parents would be attending: Mr and Mrs Blake. But I was most interested in Mr Blake. Everyone at our school knew who he was. Michael Blake, agent to the stars. He was Mr Show Business and could make or break a person’s career. Hearing that he was going to be there is what swung wanting to be in the show for me. It could be the stepping stone to a whole new life. A life of glamour and fame. Oliver was already a celebrity. He had been an extra in three Christmas blockbusters and he even had a line to say in the last one. As soon as I heard that, I knew I had to go for it. I was born to be famous. Everyone says so, not just me.

  I followed Katie’s instructions to the letter and the last part was to apply the toner then wait.

  ‘Fifteen minutes,’ I said. ‘A quick blow dry then we can go.’

  ‘OK, then let’s look at our horoscopes while we wait,’ Lois suggested. ‘Maybe it will tell us if we’re going to get parts in the play. I found a really good website last night. Open your computer and I’ll show you.’

  Lois was always trying out New Age-type things like astrology and fortune telling. She says it’s because she’s an Aquarian and they are into stuff like that. I’m not convinced by it, but it can be fun to read my horoscope, especially if it says something good.

  ‘Good idea,’ I said. ‘Let’s see vot ze stars haf to say.’

  We went into my room where I switched on my laptop and made way for Lois to sit at my desk by the window. I stretched and yawned before flopping on to my bed and kicking one of the turquoise cushions to the floor. ‘God, I wish we could move sometimes. This house is so small!’

  ‘No, it’s not,’ said Lois. ‘Your mum and dad have made it really cosy here and I love your room since you painted it pale blue.’ I knew she was only being polite. She lived in an enormous Georgian house with high ceilings and large square rooms – her family even had two bathrooms, one with a bath and one with a shower, and they had a kitchen area at the back that opened into a conservatory. I loved going there; it felt so light and spacious. With five of us living here, our house felt like we were all squashed in. We only had one bathroom which
drove me mad when there was a queue (which there usually was in the morning). I wished Mum and Dad would move, but they seem happy with pokey rooms and what they call a galley kitchen at the back downstairs. Personally I am made for bigger, better things and one day the world will realize this.

  Lois typed in the web address.

  ‘Who first?’ she asked.

  ‘Me me me,’ I said. ‘I can’t wait to find out what it says.’

  A page showing a starry night sky came into view and then a form asking for time of birth, date of birth and place.

  ‘Born here,’ I said. ‘Second of April, seven fifteen in the morning. I remember because Mum always moans that I kept her awake all night.’

  Lois typed in my name and my details and seconds later the laptop began to shake like a mobile on vibrate setting. The screen began to glow and then looked as if it had burst into flames with red, orange and yellow flickers of fire dancing in front of our eyes.

  ‘Wow!’ I exclaimed.

  ‘Ohmigod, sorry,’ said Lois, who didn’t look impressed. She looked worried. ‘I . . . I must have pressed something wrong.’

  Suddenly, out of the fire, a golden banner appeared with a message saying, ‘Congratulations, Marsha! You are this month’s Zodiac Girl!’

  ‘Oh!’ said Lois. ‘What’s this all about?’

  ‘Meeee. Yahey. I’m a Zodiac Girl.’ I leaped up and did a karate-type kick into the air. ‘Hazah.’

  Lois laughed, and I looked back at the screen where a second banner appeared saying, ‘As an Aries, your sign is ruled by the planet Mars.’ Music began to play, drums then trumpets rising in volume and getting so loud that Lois put her hands over her ears.

  ‘Turn it down,’ she said, and I leaned over her and attempted to turn the volume down, but it didn’t appear to work – the loud music continued.

  ‘Oh, pooey, never mind all the fancy schmancy stuff,’ I said. ‘What have I got in store for me this month?’

  A third banner appeared saying, ‘As a typical Aries, you are always in a hurry to move on to the next best thing . . .’

  Lois laughed. ‘That’s true,’ she said as I continued reading the screen.

  ‘Slow down or else Uranus, who features strongly in your chart at the beginning of this month, will steer you in an unexpected direction.’ I glanced down the screen. ‘Nothing about winning a major role in a play? Or . . . hold on, here’s another bit.’

  ‘As this month’s Zodiac Girl,’ it continued on the screen, ‘this could be the most special four weeks of your whole life. A turning point. Your guardian will contact you. Make of it what you will.’

  ‘Guardian? What guardian? What’s that about?’ I asked.

  Lois shrugged. ‘Don’t know.’

  ‘Oo, spooky,’ I said, and put on my Russian spy accent. ‘Make of eet vot you vill. This is a strange site, Lois.’

  ‘I know. It’s weird. It certainly didn’t do that when I looked before. Maybe it’s a promotion or something to bring in more users. Website designers are always looking for new tricks.’

  ‘Yeah, but hey. The most special four weeks of my life? A turning point? That has to mean the play, doesn’t it? I think it’s a really good forecast.’

  ‘But what about the Zodiac Girl thing?’ asked Lois.

  I shrugged. ‘Dunno. You’re the astrology expert.’

  ‘Not really. I bet it’s something like you were the thousandth person to punch in your details. If we’d done me first, it would be telling me that I’m a Zodiac Girl.’

  ‘That’s what I reckon,’ I said. ‘Do yours, do yours.’

  Lois punched in her details. Moments later, the page showed a horoscope but there were no banners or music. ‘This month looks to be a busy time and creative urges are strong now. Keep yourself focused and make time to recharge. Duh. How boring is that?’

  ‘Anything else?’ I asked. Then, ‘A time for change: go shopping or get a new pet,’ I read off the screen.

  Lois shrugged. ‘I was thinking of getting another goldfish, so I guess it’s accurate enough. But you are so lucky, Marsha. All the good things happen to you.’

  I smiled. ‘I know. I am lucky. And I feel in my bones that this is going to be an amazing time.’ I stood up as straight as I could and lifted my right arm up and pointed out of the window and up at the sky. ‘I AM ZODIAC GIRL. Hiii YAH!’ I did another karate-type kick. ‘Mess with me and you mess with the PLANETS!’ I chopped at the air around me. ‘Hoi. Hoi. HOI.’

  Lois glanced at her watch. ‘Oops. It’s time, Marsha.’

  ‘Ohmigod. I hope my hair’s turned out OK.’ We raced to the bathroom and I began to rinse off the toner. Halfway through the process there was a loud knocking on the door.

  ‘Oh no!’ said Lois. ‘We’ve been rumbled.’

  ‘Who is it?’ I asked in my best casual voice.

  ‘The big bad bogie,’ my sister Cissie called back. ‘Hurry up, you idiot. I need the loo and so does Eleanor. Get a move on. Sandy’s dad is waiting in the car for us outside.’

  ‘Can’t, I’m busy,’ I said.

  ‘You’ve got two seconds, Marsha,’ Eleanor called, ‘or your life won’t be worth living. What are you doing in there anyway?’

  ‘Nothing,’ said Lois.

  ‘So let us in,’ said Eleanor.

  ‘I’d better open the door,’ I said, ‘or else they might make trouble.’ I quickly pulled a towel over my head and unlocked the bathroom door. Cissie and Eleanor were standing there looking annoyed and suspicious. They always look at me like that – it’s part of the price I pay for being the youngest sister.

  ‘Yes. What were you doing in here, kid?’ asked Cissie as Eleanor shoved past her.

  ‘Um. Hair wash and then we’re doing makeovers and don’t call me kid,’ I said.

  ‘OK, kid,’ said Cissie. I wanted to punch her but resisted because I wanted her to go.

  ‘You have fab hair,’ said Lois, putting her hand up to touch Cissie’s long red locks, which she was wearing loose down her back. ‘You three are so lucky. I wish my hair was such a gorgeous colour.’ Good tactic, I thought as Lois gushed on about the Leibowitz red hair. All three of us girls have inherited it from Mum and Cissie was a sucker for flattery.

  Eleanor wasn’t long in the bathroom and flew straight down the stairs without even giving us a second glance then Cissie went in. Loud beeping from their mate Sandy’s dad’s car horn on the road outside prevented Cissie from hanging about too long either, so minutes later we were back in the bathroom.

  ‘Phew,’ I said. ‘That was close.’

  ‘I know,’ said Lois. She looked worried. ‘You’ve had the toner on about ten minutes longer than you should have.’

  ‘It will be OK,’ I said, and leant over the bath so I could rinse my hair. Once done, I towelled my hair and then looked in the mirror.

  ‘Wow!’ said Lois.

  ‘Superyummingdoopah!’ I gasped. My hair looked amazing. Katie’s advice had worked a treat and my hair was as white as snow. The texture felt a little brittle, probably because of the two applications of bleach, but overall it was a great result.

  ‘It makes your eyes look so blue, even bluer than before,’ said Lois. ‘And it makes your skin look really pale. Perfect for the Ice Queen.’

  I nodded then ran some gel through so my hair slicked right back off my face. As I did so, a few strands of hair came out. ‘Oops,’ I said as I put them in the bin. So I’d lost a few hair strands. The effect was perfect. It not only looked cool but also made me look like I was from another planet.

  Mum was going to kill me.

  Chapter Two

  Star Pupil

  ‘I’m at the back,’ I said to Lois, after we’d registered with the drama teacher, Mr Sanderson, at the gym where the auditions were being held. He had taken our names and directed us to different areas that were already filling up with eager wannabes. Dancers at the back of the hall, speaking parts up on the stage, scenery people and technicians to the left, cos
tumes to the right.

  ‘Laters,’ said Lois, and she took off in the direction of the stage.

  Mrs Pierson, our PE teacher, was waiting for us at the back and smiled when she saw me – I am one of her favourite pupils and PE is one of my best subjects. I sometimes wonder if PE is her best subject, though, because she doesn’t look as though she does much of it. She is a small stocky lady with an enormous chest and thick legs, and, if she moves too quickly, she gets out of breath. With her were six girls from Years Eight and Nine at our school. I gave them a wave and a couple of them smiled and waved back. Most of them looked nervous even though we’d had a run-through of the routine last week one night after school.

  ‘Whatever happened to your hair, dear?’ Mrs Pierson asked.

  ‘I did it for the part. It will wash out easy peasy,’ I lied.

  ‘That’s the attitude. I like to see that my girls have tried to get into role.’

  One of the girls from Year Eight smiled weakly at me. She looked like she was going to be sick.

  ‘I wish I’d thought of that,’ said another of the girls.

  ‘Now, let’s get started,’ said Mrs Pierson when it became clear that there weren’t going to be any more contenders. She turned to the CD player on the table behind her. ‘We’ll go alphabetically so that means Grace Anderson – you’re up first.’

  A small girl with long dark hair tied back in a plait got up and when Mrs Pierson switched on the CD player a piece of classical music began to play and Grace began to go through the routine. She fluffed a few steps and then lost her timing so Mrs Pierson switched the music off and let her begin again, but it was clear that she wasn’t going to get the part. She was way too clodhoppy. I quickly assessed who else was up for it and saw that all their names came before mine in the alphabet, which meant that I would be last to audition. Excellent, I thought, that means I can watch what the others do and it also gives me a chance to see the routine over and over so by the time it is my turn I should know it really well. To my side, I could see Carol Kennedy watching Grace and counting the steps under her breath. Carol would be my main competitor. She did ballet out of school, and everyone knew that she was a good dancer. I used to do ballet in junior school but got bored with it after a few years and let it go when I got to secondary school, and got into playing more competitive sport instead. However, when I began to learn the routine for the show, I was surprised at how easily the steps came back.