The Time of Your Life (8 page)

Holly: Finding the Off-switch

Meanwhile Holly was
thinking about
getting out of bed.
She was planning to meet Ethan at the sports centre for
fifty lengths of the pool before breakfast.
Just five more
minutes,
she told herself.

She'd vaguely heard Gemma getting up to go for a
bath earlier and then coming back giggling about
someone leaving the taps running and flooding the
place . . .

Holly stretched luxuriously. Her new room was
almost identical to the one she used to share with
Bianca, except the colour scheme was soft mauve and
lilac instead of yellow and orange and the atmosphere
was completely different. Gemma was trying to get
dressed quietly so she didn't disturb her. Bianca
would have been stamping around, blasting her
hairdryer and accusing Holly of stealing her make-up
by now.
Poor Lettie,
Holly thought. She'd seemed
delighted to share a room with Bianca – they'd
been friends since they'd played with their My Little
Ponies in reception class together – but even so, you
kind of lost the will to live after a few weeks of
Bianca . . .

One more minute.
Holly was looking forward to
seeing Ethan at the pool. And to going with him
to the big bonfire party in Kingsgrove Park on
Saturday. She was gradually getting used to the idea
that Ethan was her
boyfriend.
In fact, bizarrely, Bianca
and Mayu had done her a favour there: ever since
they'd spotted her and Ethan together at Café Roma
and broadcast the news to the entire school, their
relationship had become common knowledge; now
they were so totally last week's story, no one was very
interested any more – like Posh and Becks.

CRASH! WAIL! SLAM!

Holly's snooze was interrupted by a disturbance
outside her room. It sounded like a herd of mutant
wildebeest stampeding along the corridor.
Not that she
knew what mutant wildebeest sounded like, but . . .

Then she recognized Belle's voice:
'Cat! What's
happened?'

Alarmed, Holly vaulted out of bed, long-jumped
across the corridor and skidded through the door into
Cat and Belle's room.

Her friends were sitting on Cat's bed. Belle had her
arm around Cat, who was crying.

'What's happened?' Holly asked anxiously, sinking
down on the bed next to them.

'I think the bath tub running over was the last straw,'
Belle said gently.

'That . . . and Lady Macbeth and Mr Sharpe . . .' Cat
sobbed. 'And Henry the Eighth and Mrs Salmon and
killer whales and Latin dance and Mum and
Oliver!
and
Hamlet
and . . .'

'I know,' Holly murmured, rubbing Cat's back. 'It's
too much.'

'. . . I just can't find the
off-switch!'
Cat wailed.

Holly wasn't entirely sure what Cat was talking
about but she got the general idea. 'Maybe you can't do
it all. Perhaps there's something you can give up—'

'I can't give anything up! That would be like . . .
like . . .
giving up!'

'Well, you could talk to one of the teachers,' Belle
suggested. 'Someone you trust, like Mr Grampian.
Maybe they can help—'

'And let them think I can't take the pace?
No way!'
Cat protested.

'But everyone needs a little help sometimes—'
Holly said.

'Like who?' Cat snapped. 'You two don't have any
trouble. You never turn up late or get detention. Even
Bianca manages to keep it together, for goodness' sake
– she does loads as well,
and
she has time left over for
playing tricks on people and running after Jack. And
what about Ethan?' she added, on a roll now. 'He's
playing Banquo, he's captain of the football team, a
champion swimmer
and
he has time to be the perfect
boyfriend. He's probably writing a one-man stage show
of the Bible and developing a cure for cancer in his
spare time . . .'

If only Cat knew,
Holly thought,
what Ethan told me
when we were sharing our special pizza in Café Roma. How
he'd almost lost the plot last year when he took too much on.
How Mr Fortune had helped . . .

And that's when she had another Great Idea. Maybe
it wasn't in the same league as last night's Ice-Cream
Initiative, but it could just work . . .

'Stay!'
she commanded, holding up her hands and
backing slowly towards the door, as if training a pair
of puppies. 'I'll be back in a minute!'

She turned and ran in the direction of the
sports centre.

Cat: Time Management for Dummies

After Holly had gone, Cat lay back on her bed. Her
problems hadn't gone away but she was too worn out
to worry about them any more.

Belle was plying her with cups of herbal tea and
trying to Google 'nervous breakdown' on her laptop
when she thought Cat wasn't looking.

Cat closed her eyes and escaped into a daydream.
She was the tragic heroine in a Victorian novel, suffering
in a sanatorium with one of those illnesses they used
to have –
consumption
or
nervous vapours
or something.
She coughed delicately into a lace handkerchief –
she
would never see her true love again . . .

Her eyes fluttered open and she saw . . . Ethan
Reed.

'Oh, er, Ethan . . .' she mumbled, struggling to sit up.
'Sorry, I was miles away.'

Holly was hovering at Ethan's elbow. 'Ethan's got
something to tell you, Cat!' she said carefully.

Now that she was officially a crazed, raving
psycho-maniac, Cat noticed, everyone was tiptoeing
around as if she might jump out of the window
with her knickers on her head if they said the wrong
thing.

But what could Ethan possibly have to tell her?
He'd proposed to Holly and they wanted her to be their
bridesmaid?

Cat was intrigued enough to drag herself out of
her tragic-deathbed scenario and listen. 'I'm all ears,'
she said.

'Thing is,' Ethan mumbled, clearing his throat, 'I had
exactly
the same problem as you last year.'

'You left the bath taps running and flooded the
bathroom with Honeysuckle and Avocado Heaven?'

Cat knew that making a joke when people were
being serious was a bad habit, but she couldn't help it.
She'd gone past
miserable
now and was veering towards
borderline hysterical.

'Not
that
part.' Ethan laughed and sat down on
a beanbag. 'Taking too much on and getting
overwhelmed. Er, nobody else knows this – apart
from Felix obviously – but he found me one
morning, running round the football pitch in my
swimming trunks, reciting lines from
Othello,
"Reputation, reputation, reputation! Oh, I have lost
my reputation!"

'What happened?' Cat asked, wide-eyed, picturing
the scene.

'Well, first I punched Felix on the nose—'

'Wow!' Cat giggled. She could see why Holly
thought Ethan was so great. Not because he punched
Felix on the nose – she liked Felix – but he was funny
and sympathetic and . . . she had to admit, this really
was
helping.

'What did you do next? I don't suppose you just lay
around on your bed, dying?' she asked forlornly.

'I went to see Mr Fortune and told him the whole
story – except the bit about punching Felix, of course.
He was really helpful, and let me drop some classes –
and after that, everything was much better.'

'So,' Holly piped up, 'we thought maybe
you
could
do the same.'

'Yeah, thanks, Holly!' Cat laughed. 'Maybe I can.'

Holly and Belle smiled at each other.

'Thanks, Ethan,' Cat said. Knowing that even
someone as cool and popular as Ethan had buckled
under the pressure made her feel a whole lot better.
'And Holly . . .' she went on.

'Yeah?'

'You didn't actually run all the way to the sports
centre in your pyjamas, did you?'

Holly looked down. 'Oh yeah, I suppose I did.'

'You want to watch that, girl!' Cat said with a grin.
'People will think you're going crazy!'

Rather nervously, Cat spoke to Mrs Butterworth, who
made an appointment for her to see Mr Fortune
about a 'personal matter'. So, at lunch time, she found
herself knocking on the heavy oak door of the
principal's office. She couldn't help remembering
the last time she'd been here – with Holly and Belle –
all frantic with worry that Nobody's Angels would
be disqualified from the talent competition. Mr
Fortune had made everything come out right that
time. She prayed he could work his Principal
Magic again.

'Ah, Catrin!' Mr Fortune crinkled his forget-me-not
blue eyes and rubbed his neat-but-rugged white
stubble as she entered the book-lined room. 'You don't
mind if Leslie – er, Mr Grampian joins our little chat,
do you?'

Cat didn't mind at all. Mr Grampian, with his long
white ponytail, hawk-like nose and shabby corduroy
suit, was her favourite teacher and had always stuck up
for her in the past.

'Now, what seems to be the problem?' Mr Fortune
asked, placing his hands on the desk and lacing
his fingers.

Cat explained the too-much-stuff-too-little-time
issue as calmly as she could. 'I don't want to give
anything up,' she concluded,
'but I just can't go on like
this . .
.' The actress in her couldn't help cringing at
how melodramatic that sounded, like something out of
an
EastEnders
Christmas Special, but the two men were
nodding understandingly.

'And what do you consider your top priority at the
Garrick?' Mr Fortune asked.

'Acting,' Cat replied instantly. 'I want to be a classical
actress. That's why
Macbeth
is so important to me.'

'I'm deeply gratified to hear you say that, Catrin,'
Mr Grampian stated, smiling kindly. 'In all my
years' teaching the dramatic arts, you are indubitably
one of the most talented young actresses I have
encountered . . .'

Cat stared at Mr Grampian, hardly able to believe
her ears. She could barely resist the urge to jump across
the desk and hug him.
Most talented young actress (one of)!

'Well, now, let's see what we can do to lighten your
workload . . .' Mr Fortune said, examining a copy of
Cat's timetable. 'I think we could drop the advanced
Latin dance, and one core singing lesson a week – just
until
Macbeth
is done and dusted.'

OK, so it wasn't the complete cancellation of all
science and maths lessons for the rest of eternity that
Cat had been secretly hoping for, but you couldn't have
everything. 'Thank you!' she said happily.

Cat skipped out of the office. Now she understood
what people meant when they said a weight had been
lifted off their shoulders. She realized that she'd been
walking around like the Hunchback of Notre Dame
for the last few days. Now she was strutting along like
a model on a catwalk.

Back at her room, she found Nathan with Belle
and Holly. They all hugged her, and smiled with relief
when she told them what she'd arranged with
Mr Fortune.

'Er, I brought you this from the library,' Nathan said.
'Thought it might be useful.'

Cat glanced at the book he was handing her:
Time
Management for Dummies.
'Who are you calling a
dummy?' she said, batting him with it.

'And we've tidied your things for you,' Belle said.

Cat noticed that her side of the room looked like an
illustration from a 1950s
Guide to Good Housekeeping.
'Thanks,' she said.

'Oh, and we had a word with Miss Candlemas,'
Holly told her. 'She's OK about the bath thing . . .'

'Thanks,' she said.

At which point the housemistress put her head
round the door. 'Let me know if you're getting
down in the dumps again, dear. Don't let things get on
top of you . . .'

'Thanks,' she said, yet again.

Cat had never said so many thank-yous to so many
people in one day! She was full of energy and on top
of the world again. And she now had a couple of free
hours to work on her Lady Macbeth lines and catch up
on her homework instead of going to the Latin dance
class. The play was only a few weeks away and there
was still a lot of work ahead, but she had everything
back under control again.

As long as I don't go to any more yoga classes,
she thought.

Holly: Stokissimo

The following Thursday afternoon Holly was in her
favourite class – advanced ballet with Miss Morgan.
Holly could see Cat's point: Miss Morgan could be
really fierce at times – shrunken by old age, wearing a
black leotard with her sparse white hair under a black
band, she hopped around like a hyperactive magpie.
And when she banged her stick on the floor, everyone
jumped to attention.

But today Miss Morgan was in an unusually good
mood. She complimented Holly, Gemma and Lettie on
their demi-pointe exercises at the barre.
'Bellissima!'
she
shouted, clapping her hands. 'Now we are ready to
commence
pointe
work!'

Holly was so excited she could hardly breathe. She
remembered her first lesson at Miss Toft's dance school
when she was four years old, watching the older girls
dancing
en pointe –
and dreaming that one day it would
be her turn. Now that day was finally here! She slid her
feet into the new pale-pink
pointe
shoes and criss-crossed the smooth satin ribbons round her ankles.
How she loved those shoes!

The girls waddled awkwardly over to the barre, their
shoes all thwacking on the wooden floor.

'Pointe
work is not just about toes,' Miss Morgan
began. 'Not just about feet.
Every
muscle must work.
Every cell of the body. Pull up from the core. The
abdomen.
Lo stomaco!'

Holly pulled up. All that early morning swimming
had paid off: her core muscles were super-strong.

'Feet in parallel. Rise up – slowly!' Miss Morgan
instructed, marching along the line of girls.

Holly pushed up and felt her toes cram against the
blocks. She resisted the temptation to wiggle them
back, absorbed the pain, tensed her muscles and held
the position. Miss Morgan looked her up and down,
nodded slowly and then, with her stick, gently pushed
her shoulders forward. Holly felt as if she were about to
topple forward flat on the floor, but she stood firm.
'Bellissima,
Holly!' Miss Morgan shouted. 'And down!
And up!'

Holly glowed with pleasure. She was actually
en
pointe
at last – and it was
bellissima!

When Miss Morgan finally told them to relax, Holly
was exhausted. She glanced at the clock and couldn't
believe they'd only been working for ten minutes –
rising onto full
pointe
in parallel, then turned out in
first position, and finally
relevés.
Some of the girls
had struggled to complete the exercises, but Holly had
done so well she was even able to let go of the barre
for short, exhilarating moments.

Her toes felt as if they'd been stamped on by an
elephant; her calf muscles were in agony – but she had
never felt happier. She'd taken another huge step
towards her dream of being a true dancer!

The girls were sitting on the benches, removing
their shoes and comparing notes on the state of their
toes, when Miss Morgan announced that she had a big
surprise for them. She opened the door to admit Mr
Korsakoff and his class of male dancers, in their white
T-shirts and black leggings. They had been working in
the next-door studio.

'Next term,' Miss Morgan announced, 'the Dance
Department will be staging a small but
magnifico
ballet
recital –
Nutcracker Sweeties.'

Holly turned and exchanged excited grins with
Gemma and Lettie – and Zak, who was now sprawling
on the bench next to them. She couldn't wait! Mum
had taken her to see
Nutcracker Sweeties –
a jazzy,
razzmatazz version of
The Nutcracker Suite –
for her
birthday several years ago, and it was amazing! But
it was Zak who spoke for all of them:
'Whoa!'
he
shouted.
'Miss Morgan, dude! Stoked to the max!'

Oops,
Holly thought.
You don't call Miss Morgan
'dude'.

But to her surprise, Miss Morgan laughed. 'Stoked
indeed, young man.
Stokissimo!'
she replied, cackling at
her own joke; the first joke Holly had ever heard
her make.

The boys guffawed, but the girls all stared openmouthed
in amazement.

'Don't know what you girls are talking about,' Zak
whispered. 'Fierce? Miss M's a total
pussycat!'

'Try telling that to my toes,' Gemma groaned.
'They're killing me!'

After a quick change, Holly rushed off for band
practice. She found Belle and Cat already setting up
with Mason and Ben. 'I got the keys from Mrs
Butterworth,' Belle explained. 'We're not wasting time
waiting for Felix to show up!'

Cat laughed. 'Belle's been reading my copy of
Time
Management for Dummies.'

'Sounds like Belle probably
wrote
it!' Ben quipped.

Belle looked worried for a moment, then grinned
when she realized he was only teasing.

Holly smiled as she adjusted the microphone. It
was great to see Cat back to her old self, laughing her
infectious, bubbly laugh. Her meeting with Mr
Fortune last week had been a real turning point. She
was full of life again.

'Ah, here comes Felix,' Ben said as they heard the
tap, tap, tap
of his crutches in the corridor.

Mason struck up a drum roll. 'At last,' he cried,
with a crash of the bell cymbal as Felix appeared.
'The man we've all been waiting . . . and
waiting . . . for!'

'OK,' he said. 'Sorry I'm late. Let's work through the
list Carly gave me. We have to start with this really slow,
schmaltzy song where the bride and groom get up and
lead the dance – do you know
Eternal Flame
by The
Bangles?'

'Of course,' Belle replied. 'I love that song!'

'I was hoping you'd say that' – Felix grinned at her
– 'because we'd like you to sing lead vocals. There's
no way I'd get those high notes . . .' And he launched
into a warble, missing the notes by several light-years to
prove the point.

'Sure, OK!' Belle replied, grimacing and putting her
hands over her ears.

She said it as if it were no big deal, but Holly could
tell from the sparkle in her lavender eyes that she was
deliriously happy to be asked.

Stokissimo,
in fact!

*

Two days later, Holly woke up early. She peeped out of
the window. A cruel wind was stripping away the last
few leaves clinging to the branches of the plane trees in
Kingsgrove Square. The sky was saucepan-lid grey. It
would be the perfect Saturday morning to climb back
under the duvet, but she'd promised she'd watch Ethan
lead the Garrick All-Stars out onto the football pitch in
a crucial Cup match against their arch-rivals, the
Westminster Wolves.

As she pulled on her thermal vest and a pair of
dance tights under her jeans, Holly had yet another
Great Idea. Jack Thorne was playing in the match –
she had told Ethan about Pirate Boy being a
top
scorer
and Ethan had given him a trial: he'd been so
impressed he'd selected Jack for the team straight
away. If Belle came along to watch the match, it
would be a chance for her to meet Jack without
Bianca buzzing around like a wasp at a picnic. Holly
knew that Bianca liked to have a lie-in on Saturday
mornings.

Holly knocked on Belle's door. Belle was awake, of
course: she'd already been out for her morning run.
She loved Holly's idea, and pulled on a thick cream
cashmere poncho.

'Have fun!' Cat mumbled from under her duvet.

*

Holly and Belle stood with the other home spectators
and Felix hobbled over to join them. They all cheered
as Ethan led the Garrick All-Stars out in their red
and white strip and the referee blew his whistle.
The Westminster team were big and strong – several of
their players looked like stand-ins for the Incredible
Hulk – but the Garrick team were faster and more
creative.

It was bitterly cold and Holly's feet were feeling
frozen by the time they entered the last few minutes,
with the score at one–nil to Westminster. When Ethan
headed a long ball in past the keeper to equalize, the
crowd roared. Holly thought her heart would burst
with pride. But a moment later, the Garrick supporters
were cheering again as Jack took the ball and sprinted
the length of the pitch, weaving his way round three
defenders.
Wow!
Holly thought.
Pirate Boy should be a
dancer. That was like Billy Elliot meets Gene Kelly in
Singin' in the Rain. He lined up for the shot – and
scored, just seconds before the referee blew the
full-time whistle.

Jack punched the air and back-flipped into a
celebration dance with the rest of the team. Then he
and Ethan ran over to where Holly, Belle and Felix
were standing for a round of high-fives. 'Respect!'
Felix grimaced. 'Looks like I might be out of a job!'

Ethan laughed. 'Hey, don't worry, we'll keep your
place on the team!'

Still caught up in the victory, Jack scooped Belle up
by the elbows and swung her round in a triumphant
whirl. 'Thanks for coming to watch. Hey, I love this
cape-thingy,' he said as he returned her to her feet.
'It's toasty-warm! I'm freezing. It's not like playing
in Singapore – there's less risk of frostbite there for
one thing!'

'It's a poncho,' Belle told him, blushing furiously.

'It must be our
lucky
cape-thingy!' Ethan said. 'We've
never beaten Westminster before!'

'Come on. Let's go to the common room for hot
chocolate,' Felix suggested. 'Can't have players keeling
over with hypothermia!'

Holly sipped her hot chocolate and chatted with Belle,
drowsy and contented in the warmth of the common
room, as the boys regaled each other with blow-by-blow
accounts of the match, each re-telling more
heroic than the last. Eventually the group started to
break up as everyone wandered off to get on with the
rest of their day.

'See you at the bonfire party tonight!' Ethan called
to Holly as he left.

'See you there, Belle?' Jack asked as he followed him
towards the door.

'Sure!' Belle smiled, her face glowing with pure,
undiluted rapture.

Which was certainly
not
the expression on
Bianca's
face as she entered the common room at that precise
moment. She glanced from Jack to Belle and back to
Jack again.
Yep, that look could definitely give you frostbite!
Holly thought.

'Ooh, bless,' Bianca sneered. 'The footballers and
their WAGs. How
sweet!'
Her smile was as brittle
and dangerous as a crack in the ice on a frozen lake.

'Since the wives and girlfriends are usually
glamorous models or pop stars,' Jack said, winking at
the girls, 'I'd take that as a compliment!'

'Oh, we will,' Holly said, although she was quite sure
it hadn't been intended as one, 'won't we, Belle?'

But Belle just smiled a dreamy over-the-hills-and-far-away
smile.