Shrinking Violet (3 page)

But then Mum had an even worse idea. Worse even than Dad’s!

“Maybe we could find some sort of club.”

I thought, No! Please! We’d already tried a club. An after-school club. I’d hated it! Lily had
immediately
made about twenty new friends and I’d just sat in the corner like a droopy pot plant waiting for Mum and Dad to come and pick us up.

“Maybe on her own,” said Mum, “without Lily …”

It is true that I tend to get a bit crushed by Lily. She is so loud, and so bouncy! She bursts through doors like she’s jet-propelled.

And then it is all shrieking and screeching and stinking swizzlesticks. (Her favourite expression for this term.) It is very difficult, when you are a shrinking kind of person, to have a twin that is so noisy. Everyone expects you to be the same.

Actually, it’s funny, but no one ever expects Lily to be like
me
. They all expect me to be like Lily. And I can’t be! I’ve tried. It just doesn’t work. Maybe if I was on my own, people wouldn’t think it so peculiar if I was a bit quiet. But I still didn’t want to join any clubs!

I never got to hear what Dad thought of Mum’s suggestion ’cos just as he started to say something there was this loud CRASH, followed by a series of thuds and bangs, like the house was collapsing. All it was, was Lily, coming out of her bedroom and hurtling down the stairs. She always hurtles down the stairs. Dad asked her the other day if wild elephants were after her.

“Mum!” She went shrieking past me, into the kitchen. “I’ve been trying to find something to wear on Saturday and I can’t! I haven’t got anything!
Mum, I need something new! I’ve got to have something new! ’Cos it’s
Riverside
, Mum. There might be actors! I’ve got to, Mum!”

She goes on like this all the time. Like, if she’s already been seen wearing something, she can’t possibly be seen in it again. To be seen in it again would be
death
. It’s what happens when you lead a mad social life.

Under cover of all the shrieking I slid into the kitchen and helped myself to a bowl of cereal, which is what I’d been going there for in the first place. I stood by the sink, munching it, while Mum and Lily got into one of their shouting matches about how many clothes a person of ten years old actually needs.

Lily yelled, “Enough so your friends don’t keep seeing you in the same old thing all the time!” To which Mum retorted, “What utter rubbish!” and told Lily that she was:

a) too obsessed with the way she looked

b) in danger of becoming shallow-minded and

c)
spoilt.

Lily screeched that Mum was mean as could be. “You don’t understand what you’re doing to me! You’re ruining my life!”

This is nothing new. Dad once counted up and said that on average Lily accused Mum of ruining
her life at least three times a week. Sometimes I feel like telling Lily that
she
is ruining
my
life. If she weren’t so shrieky, I might not be so shrinky. Though I suppose it is not really fair to blame Lily.

At least it got Mum off the subject of clubs. By the time she and Lily had finished yelling at each other, Mum was all hot and bothered. She said she was going to go and soak in the bath and calm herself with thoughts of grass and trees and flowers.

“And not of spoilt selfish brats!”

So that was all right. But I kept thinking about it, especially when Saturday came and Lily went swaggering off (in new jeans and a new top, which were in fact
mine
). I would have loved more than anything to visit the set of
Riverside!
But you can’t barge your way in where you’re not wanted. Sarah was Lily’s friend, not mine. I would only be a drag.

I spent most of that day helping Mum in Flora Green, but somehow it wasn’t as much fun as usual. I kept thinking of Lily, on the set of
Riverside.
She might even get to see Tony! (Tony is my A1 favourite character. I once wrote him a fan letter and he sent me a signed photo, which I have on my wall.)
Lily doesn’t have one because she never wrote to him. She doesn’t even specially like
Riverside.

When we got home that evening, Lily was already there. She’d just been dropped off by Sarah and her mum.

“Well? So how was it?” said Mum.

Lily said that it was “totally and utterly brilliant”.

“You know the Green, where Nick and Tina live? Where all the little houses are? They’re not real! I always thought they were real. But it’s just the front bits. Like you can open the gate and go up the path, but when you open the door there’s nothing on the other side! It’s absolutely amazing! And there’s all these girls going round with clipboards and stuff. They’re called PAs.” She looked at me. “I don’t expect you know what a PA is, do you?”

I shook my head.

“It’s a
production assistant
” said Lily, all self-important. “They help the producer. Like Sarah’s mum’s got one called Lisa. She looks like a model! She told me all what they do. It’s what I’m going to be when I grow up. I’ve decided … I’m going to be a PA!”

She strutted off round the room, holding her imaginary clipboard and an imaginary something else which she kept looking at, and frowning at, and clicking.

“This is a
stop watch
,” she said. “I’m timing things. It’s very important to know how long a scene will take. You have to know
exactly
, down to the last second. It’s for programme planning, and fitting in the commercials.”

She couldn’t stop talking about it. She went on and on, all through tea. Suddenly she was like this huge fan.

“And hey, guess what?” she said, jabbing me in the ribs. “I saw your boyfriend!”

My heart went CLUNK, right down to my shoes.

“You saw Tony?” I said.

I hated her. I hated her!

“Yes,” said Lily. “He was acting a scene with Mara Banks, and when he came off he
smiled
at me.”

I double hated her. I
triple
hated her. I would have liked to murder her!

Instead, I raced upstairs to my room and kissed my photo of Tony and burst into tears. Why did Lily always,
always
get to have all the fun? It wasn’t fair!
Why couldn’t I be the one who rushed around shrieking and being popular and have zillions of friends?

I once read somewhere that if you’re shy it just means you’re not interested in other people. You’re only interested in
you.
But that wasn’t true! I was interested in people. I just didn’t know how to talk to them.

I could talk in my head. I could say lots of things in my head! And I could say them in letters, as well. I used to write pages and pages to Greta, when she first went to America. Maybe – sudden brilliant idea! – maybe I could find a
pen pal!

This thought was so exciting that I immediately snatched up the latest copy of
Go Girl
, which is the magazine that I like best because it once had Tony as its centrefold. (I made a poster of him and it is on my wall with his photo.)

Hurriedly, I scrabbled through the pages till I came to the one where people advertise for pen pals. There were simply loads! I’d never bothered to look at it properly before. I’d never even thought of having a pen pal!

The first one I read, which was no. 364, said,

Hi to all you cool cats out there! I’m Cindy. I’m ten years old and I love to party. My fave bands are Boyzone, Steps and Five. Please write to me!

I didn’t think, probably, that Cindy would find me very interesting. Not if she loved to party. I quickly moved on to the next one.

Hi, my name is Danni and I am cool! My hobbies are singing, dancing and listening to music. I am 12 years old.

I gulped. Danni was cool! She wouldn’t want to be my pen pal.

The next one said,
Hi! My name is Pippa. I’m ten years old and I just love to meet people. My nickname is Giggler!

The next one said,
Hi
, I’m Shelby. I’m 11 years old and I love parties, dancing and having a good time.