Stagefright (19 page)

“I haven’t worked out my costume yet,” Roula said.

“But we don’t want the rest of the school to see it.”

“No one will come to the performance if they see how bad it is.”

“And we definitely don’t want Slinky seeing any of it. It’s not going to be anything like he thinks it’s going to be.”

Peter was right. The play had changed radically from the principal’s original idea.

“It’ll have to be after school,” Mr MacDonald said. “How about next Thursday?”

Taleb came and sat next to Velvet. He’d never sat next to her in food technology before. There were rumours that they were dating, but in school they didn’t hang out like other couples did. Velvet could feel everyone looking at them. Taleb didn’t smile or say anything to her, but she was glad he had decided to make their relationship public.

They were making pancakes. Miss Guerin spent the first half of the double period talking about starch grains, incorporating air and the function of an egg in batter. She always made food technology sound like a science lesson.

While Miss Guerin was writing the recipe on the whiteboard, Velvet tried to start up a conversation with Taleb.

“How’s the queens’ song coming along?”

“Good.”

They weighed their flour and sifted it. Taleb was even less talkative than usual. Velvet had a horrible feeling he was about to drop her. They whisked milk and an egg.

“Make a well in the centre of your flour, girls.” Miss Guerin had never quite got used to having boys in her classes. “Then pour in the milk and egg mixture and add the flour little by little.”

Taleb was still using his whisk.

“You’re suppose to be using the wooden spoon,” Velvet told him. “Let me do it.”

“Flip the batter to the side of the bowl with your wooden spoons,” Miss Guerin said, “so that it makes a plopping sound.”

It would have been easier with an electric mixer, but Miss Guerin never used appliances.

Taleb finally got up the courage to say what was on his mind. “You know the dress rehearsal we’re having tonight?”

“Yeah.”

“I can’t hear enough plopping!” Miss Guerin shouted.

“I can’t make it.”

“Plop, plop, plop! That’s what I should be hearing.”

“What?” The batter spilled over the edge of the bowl and up Velvet’s sleeve.

“Toxic Shock’s got a gig.”

Velvet couldn’t believe her ears. She opened her mouth to speak, but she was so stunned nothing came out.

“Another band pulled out at the last minute. It’s a big opportunity.”

Velvet still didn’t say anything.

“You can do the rehearsal without me.”

She finally found her voice. “You’re the musical director. We can’t possibly do it without you.”

The only reason Taleb had come and sat next to her was so that he could tell her without her yelling at him. The class was watching them, enthralled as Velvet stood with her hands on her hips, dripping batter all over the floor.

“Miss Pye, Mr Haddad, could you please concentrate on your work!”

“And what if you get a gig on the day of the performance?” Velvet poured batter into a frying pan. “What happens then?”

“We won’t get a gig at 1.30 in the afternoon.”

“I’m speaking hypothetically.”

“This is the first gig we’ve had since July.”

“I don’t want anyone trying to toss their pancakes,” Miss Guerin shouted.

Naturally, everyone in the class immediately attempted to toss their pancakes. Everybody but Velvet and Taleb. At least they could argue without everybody watching them now.

“I thought this play was important to you.”

“It is.”

“But Toxic Shock is more important.”

“No … yes … I can do both.”

Velvet was furious. “If you don’t come to the dress rehearsal tonight, it’s over between us.”

Taleb didn’t say anything.

There was an ear-piercing sound. It was the smoke alarm. Their pancake was burning.

Taleb wafted the smoke away with his textbook. The shrill sound of the smoke alarm stopped, and was replaced with the bell for the end of period three. Velvet picked up her things and walked out, leaving Taleb to clean up the mess.

Roula stood in the doorway of T6 with her bag over her shoulder, looking miserable. She hadn’t been at school that morning.

“I can’t be in the play.”

At first everyone thought it was just another one of her stories.

“Sure, Roula,” Peter said without looking up from his zombie-slaying. “Why is that? You’ve snapped your vocal chords? You’ve got a previous engagement with Prince Harry. What?”

“Seriously. I’m not allowed.”

Hailie was painting her nails bright red. “Who says?”

“My parents.”

Roula was close to tears and they gradually realised that she was telling the truth.

“What did you do wrong?” Jesus asked.

“I didn’t do anything. They found out about Drago.”

“I didn’t think my reputation was that well known.”

“It’s because you’re Croatian. My family hates Croats.”

“Why?” Velvet didn’t understand ethnic stuff.

“Something that happened ages ago.”

“That’s dumb.”

“I’ve got a note.” Roula sniffed. “I have to go to the library on Thursday afternoons till the end of the year. Next year I’ve got to go to the Greek Orthodox school.”

“Can you talk to her parents, Mr Mac?” Velvet asked.

“I could try, but …”

“It’s not Dad, he doesn’t mind. It’s Mum and Uncle Dimitrios. Their father had a fight with a Croat when they were young.”

“Just one Croatian guy?”

“Papou was badly injured. He couldn’t work.”

Roula blew her nose and went to the library.

No one could concentrate that afternoon. Velvet sat on the opposite side of the room to Taleb. The keyboard stopped working and Mr MacDonald didn’t know how to fix it. Taleb left early.

The dress rehearsal after school was a disaster. No one could play in time without Taleb leading them. Drago was an hour-and-a-half late. Peter had to leave early. Velvet had to be understudy for Roula. They all forgot their lines. They didn’t even get halfway through.

“What sort of a day did you have, darling?”

Velvet’s mother had asked that same question every day after school since prep. This was the first time that Velvet had burst into tears. There were no words to describe such a day. The play that she’d worked so hard on all year was in ruins. She’d broken off with Taleb and she’d got a C for a humanities assignment. The play was the cause of all her misery. If it hadn’t been for the stupid play she wouldn’t have started to like being at Yarrabank, she wouldn’t have neglected her studies and she wouldn’t have even spoken to Taleb. Her first thought when she’d arrived at Yarrabank had been right. It was definitely the worst year of her life.

She sat down in front of her warmed-up dinner. The last thing she felt like was eating.

“There’s a letter for you, dear,” her father said.

An envelope was propped up on the mantelpiece. Velvet recognised the Endeavour High logo. Her parents hovered nearby.

“Why are you getting a letter from Endeavour High?”

Before she had time to answer, the doorbell rang. Velvet’s father opened the front door and a familiar voice said, “Is Velvet home?”

The next thing she knew, Taleb was standing in the kitchen, dressed in his black AC/DC T-shirt and jeans with a rip in one knee. His long hair was escaping untidily from a ponytail and he was still sweaty from the gig. Velvet’s parents stared at him. From their point of view Taleb must have looked like the boyfriend from hell.

“Mum, Dad, this is Taleb Haddad.”

Velvet’s parents muttered greetings. Taleb’s eyes darted to the front door, like some sort of trapped wildlife looking for escape.

“He’s the musical director of the school play I told you about.”

“Can we talk, Velvet?” Taleb said. “About the play?”

Velvet’s parents smiled politely, but she knew they were thinking their worst nightmare had come true. She led Taleb to her room and then wished she hadn’t. The pink frilly doona cover was embarrassing. Her walls were covered with posters from musicals. Too many of them advertised the work of Andrew Lloyd Webber.

Velvet and Taleb stood in silence for what seemed like hours. Velvet kicked some dirty underwear under the bed as she waited for an apology.

Taleb finally broke the silence. He didn’t apologise. “You’ve got no right to be angry with me.”

“What? I should be thrilled to bits that you deserted the play?”

“You’re making a big deal out of nothing.”

“You think the play’s nothing?”

“I missed one lousy rehearsal.”

“You missed the dress rehearsal!”

“I’ve spent more time than anybody on this. No one else spends hours at home thinking up songs.”

“What does it matter? When it comes to the crunch Toxic Shock is more important.”

“And what if your woodwind ensemble was performing or you had a piano exam that clashed with a play rehearsal? What would you have done?”

“I would have worked something out.”

“Yeah, well, we can’t all be smart like you.”

“I’m not doing the play any more,” Velvet said.

“You have to or you’ll get expelled.”

“I don’t care.” She was still holding the letter. “I’ve been accepted into Endeavour High.”

“Back with the snobs where you belong?”

That hurt.

“Better than being stuck with a bunch of losers.”

Taleb breathed in sharply, as if she’d jabbed him in the stomach. He turned on his heel and walked out. She heard the front door slam.

Her father poked his head around the door. “Everything all right, darling?”

“Everything’s fine.”

He was looking at the letter in Velvet’s hand.

“Not good news?”

“I’ve been accepted.”

“That’s wonderful. Congratulations.”

Velvet smiled unconvincingly. She didn’t have to go to Yarrabank. She could be among girls who strived to achieve academic excellence. There would be no boys. She waited for relief and happiness to wash over her. It didn’t.

Velvet didn’t go to school the next day. She watched her favourite musicals on DVD. In the past, when she was sick or unhappy, that had always made her feel better. This time, it made her feel worse. She was almost desperate enough to ring her ex-friends at St Theresa’s, but she didn’t want them to know how miserable she was.