Centre Stage: A Novel Read online

  PUFFIN

  linda chapman

  Contents

  About the Author

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Centre Stage

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Linda Chapman lives in Leicestershire with her family and two Bernese mountain dogs. She used to be a stage manager in the theatre. When she is not writing she spends her time horse riding, putting on plays and teaching drama.

  Books by Linda Chapman

  BRIGHT LIGHTS

  CENTRE STAGE

  MY SECRET UNICORN SERIES

  PUFFIN BOOKS

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  Penguin Group (USA), Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA

  Penguin Books Australia Ltd, 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia

  Penguin Books Canada Ltd, 10 Alcorn Avenue, Toronto, Ontario, Canada M4V 3B2

  Penguin Books India (P) Ltd, 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi – 110 017, India

  Penguin Group (NZ), cnr Airborne and Rosedale Roads, Albany, Auckland 1310, New Zealand

  Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty) Ltd, 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank 2196, South Africa

  Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  www.penguin.com

  First published 2004

  7

  Copyright © Linda Chapman, 2004

  All rights reserved

  The moral right of the author has been asserted

  Except in the United States of America, this book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser

  British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

  ISBN: 978-0-14-192735-0

  To Mrs Carol Davies, my English and Drama teacher, who fostered my love of writing and the theatre when I was at school; and to Keith Loveday, who put up with me spending hours in his office and theatre when I should have been at university lectures, who taught me how to stage manage, build sets, make props and who, most importantly, made me realize that it is always possible to be what you want to be. Thank you!

  PUFFIN BOOKS

  CENTRE STAGE

  Chapter One

  Never stand on a toilet seat in high-heeled shoes — at least not if you’ve got an older sister who might bang on the bathroom door at any moment and make you jump. With just five minutes to go before I had to set off for my very first day at Charles Hope comprehensive I was trying to check what I looked like. This meant balancing on the toilet seat to look in the mirror over the bathroom sink.

  Of course I could have used the full-length mirror in Mum and Dad’s room but Dad was getting dressed for work and the idea of seeing him in his underpants was way too embarrassing!

  So did I look OK? Bending my knees I checked my top half. White shirt with the top button undone. Navy and maroon school tie pulled slightly down just like Jessica had shown me. Sometimes older sisters can be very useful.

  Straightening up I looked at my legs. Navy bootleg trousers, long enough to almost cover my new shoes with their wedge heel. You’ve no idea how hard I had to beg to get Mum to buy me these shoes. She kept saying I didn’t need heels when I was only eleven. But I really do. I’m so small that without heels I look about eight. Luckily, Jess had backed me up and Mum had eventually given in. I looked at my reflection. Yes, I thought, feeling pleased. I look fine.

  Just then there was a loud banging at the door. ‘Sophie. Hurry up!’ Jess shouted.

  I jumped right up in the air and immediately lost my balance.

  ‘Whoaaaa!’ I cried as my new heels slipped on the shiny wooden surface. Arms and legs flailing, I crashed to the floor, almost head-butting the bath in the process. Luckily I missed it by about a millimetre. I might not have started secondary school yet but I had a feeling that going in for your first day with a huge red bump on your forehead would not have been considered cool.

  ‘Sophie! What are you doing in there?’ Jessica said, her voice half alarmed, half irritated.

  ‘Nothing,’ I gasped, as I picked myself up off the floor and hastily brushed bits of fluff and dust off my trousers.

  ‘Well, hurry up,’ she said through the door. ‘I need to brush my teeth and we have to leave in five minutes.’

  I hurried to the sink and grabbed Dad’s hairbrush that was on the shelf. I dragged it quickly through my dark brown shoulder-length hair. I should have known better. There’s something about the hairbrush that Dad uses. My hair just doesn’t like it. Immediately flyaway strands floated upwards as if they were magnetically attracted to the ceiling. I tried to smooth it down with my hands but it stood up all the more.

  ‘Sophie!’ Jess exclaimed.

  ‘In a minute,’ I said frantically. Great, now I was going to go to school looking like a scarecrow. I turned the tap on and splashed some water over my hair. Some of the strands flattened down but others still floated upwards. I groaned. Now I looked like a scarecrow who had been left out in the rain for too long. Why me? Why today?

  ‘I’ll get Mum,’ Jessica threatened through the door.

  ‘All right, all right,’ I exclaimed, opening the door.

  ‘You took your time,’ Jessica said sarkily. She did a double take. ‘What have you done to your hair?’

  ‘Nothing,’ I muttered quickly. It wasn’t fair. Jess looked as perfect as always with her black glossy waves caught back in a loose ponytail, a few tendrils framing her oval face, her blue eyes rimmed by smoky-grey eyeliner.

  A grin pulled at the corners of her mouth. ‘You’ve been using Dad’s hairbrush.’

  I gave up any pretence. ‘What am I going to do, Jess?’ I wailed.

  ‘Put some more water on it and use the blow dryer,’ she advised. ‘Here.’ She dragged me over to the sink and within seconds had dampened Dad’s brush and swept it through my hair. ‘There.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I said gratefully.

  ‘No problem,’ she said pushing me out of the bathroom. ‘It’s not like I want to be seen at school with a little sister who looks like she’s just stuck her hand in an electric socket. Now dry it — quick!’

  I ran to my room. For an older sister, Jessica is very cool. Well, most of the time. We hardly ever argue. Not like my best friend, Harriet, and her older sister, Emily. They argue all the time.

  I began to dry my hair. I don’t usually bother loads about what I wear or how I look. But today was different. Today, my very first day at secondary school, I wanted to look right.

  My heart skipped a beat as I thought about what was ahead of me. What if the teachers were horrible? What if I couldn’t do the work? What if I got lost? The induction day we’d all been on last term suddenly seemed a very long time ago. I glanced at the framed photo on my desk. So much had happened since last term. The film for a start.
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  The photo showed me and my friend from filming, Issy, standing with our arms round each other on the set of A Little Princess. Being in a film had been the best thing that had ever happened to me. I’d started off by auditioning for a small part but had ended up getting the main part of Sara. It had been brilliant. I’d spent all summer filming. The film was going to be shown in cinemas next year — I couldn’t wait to see it.

  I looked at Issy’s smiling face. She goes to a theatre school in London and she’s done loads of films and TV shows. In a few weeks’ time, she would be starting acting in a new TV show. Since the film we’d kept in touch by e-mail and I knew she was really looking forward to her new job.

  I felt a flicker of jealousy but it quickly faded. After all, it wasn’t like there was nothing happening in my life. In just two days’ time I was going to an audition for the part of Lucy, in a huge Christmas show of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. If I got the part I’d get to act in a proper theatre every night for two months. I shut my eyes. I’ve got to get the part, I thought, imagining myself standing on a vast stage. I’ve just got to.

  ‘Sophie,’ Mum called from downstairs, interrupting my daydream. ‘Time to go!’

  I turned off the dryer and shook my head. Yes, that looked better. Instead of sticking up, my hair was now hanging straight to my shoulders. Jumping to my feet, I quickly tied my school jersey round my waist and took a deep breath. OK, I thought. Here goes.

  ‘Sophie!’ Ally squealed as I hurried up to the bus stop with Jessica five minutes later. ‘I thought you were never coming! Harriet’s not here yet either.’

  Ally and Harriet are my two best friends. I’ve known Harriet since we started at playgroup together when we were three, and Ally became our best friend three years ago when her family moved into our village. Ally and Harriet are really different — Harriet’s quiet and Ally’s definitely not — but we all get on brilliantly.

  Leaving me and Ally, Jessica sloped off to talk to her friends.

  ‘I am so glad to see you,’ Ally said. ‘I thought I was going to be the only one getting the bus.’ Considering we were surrounded by about fifteen people all wearing the same maroon-and-navy uniform, it seemed a bit of an odd thing to say. But I knew what she meant. Getting the bus to school with no friends to sit with on the first day would be a total freak-out experience.

  ‘Do I look OK?’ Ally asked, her big brown eyes looking at me anxiously.

  I checked out what she was wearing. Navy bootleg trousers — the same as mine — tie done in the same way, jersey round her waist, blonde hair curling round her heart-shaped face. ‘You look fine,’ I told her.

  Ally sighed out in relief. She doesn’t have an older sister to tell her what to wear. And although her five-year-old twin brothers are cute, if she listened to them she’d be coming to school wearing clothes with Bob the Builder on.

  ‘So, where’s Harriet?’ I said.

  Before she could answer, we both heard a sharp voice. ‘Don’t you dare come anywhere near me at school, Harriet.’

  Ally and I turned. Harriet and her older sister, Emily, were walking towards the bus stop. They look quite similar. They’re both tall with freckles and blondey-brown hair. The only difference is that Emily’s hair is cut into a bob and Harriet’s is long and she always wears it in a ponytail. However, although they look the same, they are very different and they are always arguing.

  ‘Like I’d want to hang around with you,’ Harriet replied, frowning at Emily. Suddenly she saw us and her face lit up. ‘Hi!’ she said, hurrying over.

  ‘Hi,’ I replied. My heart sank as I looked at her uniform. Harriet is absolutely not into clothes. I’d tried to tell her what to wear so that she would fit in but it was obvious she hadn’t been listening. She had tied her tie neatly, she was wearing her school jumper instead of having it around her waist and, worst of all, her trousers were only slightly flared and they finished higher than her ankle, showing off about ten centimetres of sock above her flat, sensible shoes. Definitely not a good look.

  I wasn’t the only one to have noticed. ‘What are you wearing, Harriet?’ Ally exclaimed.

  Harriet looked confused. ‘What? It’s my school uniform.’

  ‘But your trousers. They’re awf—’

  ‘They’re a bit short,’ I butted in quickly. Ally can be very blunt at times — too blunt.

  Harriet looked down at her trousers in surprise. ‘No, they’re not.’ She looked at ours and grinned. ‘Just because you two are fashion victims, doesn’t mean I have to be too.’

  ‘We’re not fashion victims,’ Ally said.

  ‘No,’ I said. It wasn’t like we were wearing anything ridiculous; we just wanted to fit in and look like everyone else. I looked at Harriet in confusion. ‘I thought I told you what to wear.’

  She shrugged. ‘You did but I couldn’t be bothered looking around for exactly the right sort of trousers and the right sort of shoes. What does it matter anyway?’

  Ally and I exchanged looks. What did it matter? I’m sorry but what planet was Harriet on?

  ‘At least loosen your tie,’ Ally pleaded.

  ‘OK,’ Harriet sighed. ‘If it makes you happy.’ She loosened her tie slightly and quickly changed the subject. ‘So, are you nervous?’

  We nodded.

  ‘Me too,’ she confessed. ‘I couldn’t sleep last night. I just know I’m going to get lost.’

  ‘At least we’re all in the same form,’ Ally put in.

  ‘Yeah,’ I agreed. We’d been really worried we were going to be split up into different forms at Charles Hope but, on the induction day, we had found out that we were all in form 7GD. It was a major relief. Starting secondary school was going to be scary enough; being in a different form from Ally and Harriet would have been dreadful.

  ‘I wish Justine Wilcox wasn’t with us though,’ Harriet sighed.

  Justine Wilcox had been in the same class as us at primary school. We had never got on with her and her friends. All they ever wanted to talk about were boys and clothes.

  ‘Yeah,’ Ally agreed. She giggled. ‘Do you remember the way she used to hold hands with Kevin in the playground? I mean, how sad was that?’

  ‘She was OK over the summer,’ I reminded them. Justine had been an extra in the film and so we had seen quite a bit of each other. On the film set she had been much friendlier than she had ever been at school. ‘Maybe she’ll be fine this year,’ I said optimistically.

  ‘Yeah and pigs might fly,’ Ally snorted. ‘Justine Wilcox could never be fine.’

  ‘I suppose she might have changed,’ Harriet said, trying to be fair as usual.

  Just then the bus arrived. We hurried to get seats near the back, not too far from Jess. Tom, my fifteen-year-old brother, sat at the back but he ignored me. He nearly always does when he’s with his mates. As I sat down, I noticed quite a few of the people nudging each other and looking at me.

  I felt a bit uncomfortable. I knew it was probably because I’d been in the film. There had been articles in several newspapers, including the local newspaper, about how I’d got the part.

  A girl with cropped bleached hair who looked like she was about Year Nine came over to me. ‘Are you Sophie Tennison?’

  ‘Yes,’ I replied.

  ‘My friend says you’re some sort of film star. Are you?’

  I wasn’t sure what to say. If I said yes, that would make me seem like some huge bighead, but I couldn’t really say no, either. The whole bus seemed to have stopped talking to listen to me. ‘Well, I had the main part in a film,’ I said, feeling my cheeks start to go red. Usually I don’t mind being the centre of attention but this was weird.

  ‘So you must, like, be really rich, then?’ the girl asked. She looked quite tough.

  ‘No,’ I said, feeling more uncomfortable than ever.

  Jessica stood up. ‘She earned some money for the film but most of it’s been put in a bank account and she can’t use it till she’s eighteen,’ she said sharpl
y.

  The blonde girl frowned at her. ‘Who are you?’ she challenged.

  ‘Her sister,’ Jessica said, eyeing her steadily.

  For a moment they both stared at each other. Then, to my relief, the blonde girl seemed to give up on questioning me. With a shrug, she went back to her seat and sat down.

  I looked gratefully at Jess. She smiled quickly and then sat back down again with her friend, Nicole.

  The conversation on the bus started up again. For a moment neither Ally nor Harriet said anything but then they both spoke at once.

  ‘So, where’s Tom today?’ Harriet asked.

  ‘What did you do at the weekend?’ Ally said.

  I smiled at them both. I knew they were trying to stop me feeling embarrassed. I was very glad they — and Jess — were there.

  ‘I am so going to get lost!’ Harriet fretted as we headed through the throng of people down a maze of corridors to our formroom. ‘I just know I’m going to get lost.’

  ‘Me too,’ Ally moaned.

  ‘Jessica told me she once missed a whole Maths lesson because she couldn’t find the classroom she was supposed to be in,’ I told them.

  The noise in the corridor was deafening as everyone all around us discussed their summer holidays. There seemed to be so many people and they all seemed so tall. Bags bumped against me and people pushed past.

  ‘Here we are,’ Ally announced as we stopped outside a classroom with a nameplate saying 7GD on the door. GD were the initials of our form tutor, Mr Davey.