Back at home, I really lost my temper with Wild Thing.

“You spoil everything!” I raged at her. “Everything!”

“But Kate,” said Wild Thing, very slowly and patiently, as if I were the one that was being unreasonable, “it’s MY song.”

“It is not your song!” I snapped. “Dad did not write that song for you. And just because you think he did, it gives you no right to embarrass me in front of the whole school!”

“I don’t think she meant—” began Dad.

“I’ve had enough!” I shouted. “I can’t even set foot in school without everyone saying ‘You’re Josephine’s sister, isn’t she dreadful, can’t you do anything about her?’ The only good thing that’s happened to me this term was being in the band! And now she’s spoiled that, too!” A great tidal wave of tears came rushing up into my eyes and nose. I raced out of the room and into the bathroom and locked the door. I didn’t come out until I’d scrubbed away the tears.

Of course, they tried to talk me round. Gran and Dad got Wild Thing to make me a card to apologize. It had “Sorry!” and “Lurv you!” and “Plees forgiv me!” scrawled all over it in golden glitter pen, and red love hearts glued on, and a picture of Wild Thing weeping enormous teardrops into a giant hanky. But I wasn’t about to forgive her. No way! Not ever.

At bedtime, she crept into my room, wearing her blue dressing gown and an angelic expression. She put a pink flower on my pillow.

I just turned my head away.

The next day, Wild Thing gave me a gigantic chocolate teddy bear that she’d bought from the fancy deli on the corner. I guess it was Dad’s idea, but she did use all the money in her piggy bank. I was going to turn it down … really, I was. But it seemed a shame to waste it. So I munched a tiny bit of the bear’s left paw. Mmmm! It was the creamiest, sweetest chocolate I had ever tasted! Maybe I could forgive Wild Thing after all…

That’s when Zach and Bonnie came round.

“Have you seen it?” gasped Bonnie. “Have you?”

“Have I seen what?” I asked, puzzled.

Zach went all dramatic. “Take me to your laptop!” he said.

Dad and I gathered round curiously as Zach opened the lid.

Zach typed in “Wild Thing” – and suddenly there, on the screen, was my sister. Screeching. Jumping. Strumming away on her horrible air guitar. And then, as Miss Deng tried to grab her, leaping right on top of poor Mr Bartle!

It seemed one of the parents at the assembly had videoed the whole thing. And then put it on YouTube. After that, as Zach said, it had gone “viral”.

I wasn’t sure what this meant at first, so Zach explained that millions of people had seen it. As if Wild Thing was a really nasty flu, and the whole world had caught it.

I was in the video too. You could just about make out my shocked face in the background as my sister went cavorting around the stage like something that had escaped from a zoo. But that didn’t make me feel any better.

“I can’t believe it,” I kept saying to Dad.

“Don’t worry,” said Dad. “I’ll get on to Mr Bartle. That parent had no business posting that video without permission. I’ll get it taken down.”

“A bit late,” I pointed out, “when the whole world has seen it!”

Wild Thing, of course, thought it was just great that she was on the internet. Whatever anybody else said, Wild Thing got the idea she had been really clever.

“And now the World-famous Wild Thing is having her breakfast,” she would say.

“The World-famous Wild Thing is watching TV.”

“The World-famous Wild Thing is eating her fish fingers with tomato ketchup and mayonnaise.”

It was enough to make you choke on a chip!

 

Mr Bartle did get the film taken down, but that wasn’t the end of it. About a week later, Dad got a phone call. I was doing my homework at the time, but I could hear part of Dad’s conversation in the background.

“Hey, Wes,” he said. “How’re you doing?”

“Oh yeah, you saw it… Yeah, it made a lot of people laugh… What’s that? Really?… Really?… Really?… Yeah, man, great to talk to you too.”

And Dad hung up.

I stopped reading and said, “What did Wes want?”

“Oh, not much,” said Dad. I thought he looked a bit peculiar.

“He must have wanted something. You sounded really surprised.”

“Oh. Well. Seems like Monkey Magic have been asked to play that song – you know – Wild Thing’s song – at a big awards ceremony on TV in a couple of weeks’ time.”

“Wow!” I said.

“And – you know the new song I wrote recently? Well, I finished it and sent it to Wes, and they all like it and … well, they’re going to record it and they’re going to play it at the awards ceremony too.”

“That’s amazing!” I said.

“And they’ve asked me to play guitar with them. At the awards ceremony.”

“Wow,” I said. “So you’ll be on TV?”

“I guess so.”

“Then … then you’re practically back in the band. You’re going to be a big, famous rock star after all!”

All kinds of ideas were rushing through my head. Like: Fantastic, Dad’s going to be famous! Maybe we’ll be rich! Maybe we’ll move to London! Maybe we’ll move to Hollywood! Maybe I’ll get to hang out by swimming pools after all! But another bit of me was feeling – well – a little bit scared, I guess. And I wasn’t even sure why.

It all came out in a garbled rush of questions. “Are you going on tour? How about their next album? Will you be on posters? Will everyone recognize you? Will they want your autograph? Will you need bodyguards?”

Dad said, “Enough questions! Calm down a moment. You’re making my head spin.”

I calmed down. But Dad looked at me so seriously that I began to feel nervous.

“What do you think would happen if I went away on tour? And left you two girls behind?”

“Well … Wild Thing and I would probably kill each other…”

“Exactly.”

“But don’t let that stop you!” I urged him. “We don’t mind! Even if we are – uh – dead.”

“Kate,” said Dad, “come here a moment.”

I went over and Dad put his arm round me. I leaned against him.

“Listen to me, Kate. I may play at this awards ceremony. I certainly plan to write more songs. But I am not going out tour, and I’m not going to rejoin Monkey Magic – not full time, anyway. I’m never going to be a Big Rock Star. So get that idea right out of your head. I’m going to stay right here and look after you two girls. Maybe if your mum was alive it would be different … but there’s only me, and I’m going to do the very best job I can!”

“Oh,” I said in a small voice. I couldn’t work out if I was disappointed or relieved. And – something was really bothering me. “But – but then is it our fault?” I blurted out. “I mean, if it’s just us that’s stopping you – looking after us, Wild Thing and me – then, well, aren’t you really disappointed?”

“No,” said Dad, hugging me. “I love music, and that’s why I do what I do – it’s not because I want to be a famous rock star. As long as I can play my guitar – and as long as we all have enough to get by – that’s good enough for me.”

“Then it’s good enough for me, too!” I said, giving him a huge hug back. It was true. At that moment, anyway, I didn’t give a monkey’s (no, not even a magic one) for all the luxury hotels, and swimming pools, and purple limos, and celebrity parties in the world. You could chuck them in a gigantic great bin for all I cared!

Dad had a big grin on his face. He couldn’t grin like that if he were feeling sad about giving up a life of fame and fortune.

“There’s only one thing I really want,” Dad told me. “To bring up you girls and see you grow into decent human beings.”

“Good luck with that,” I said. “’Cos you’ve got your work cut out for you with Wild Thing.”

Dad chuckled. “You can say that again. But I’m not giving up!”

So that was that.

I went to put my homework upstairs, and as I went I found I was whistling. Dad wasn’t unhappy. We weren’t stopping him from following his dream. We weren’t ruining his life. And we still had his TV appearance to look forward to. I mean, just wait until I told Zach that Dad was playing at the big awards ceremony!

When I got to the landing I stopped whistling. I tiptoed past Wild Thing’s door, the way I’ve done ever since she started her Bottom Biting Game. Just in case she comes out and bites me! But there was no danger.

She was screeching away inside, pretending to be a rock star, just as she’s done every single day since she saw herself on YouTube. She was making too much noise to hear me.

I may not have a famous dad, but I’ve certainly got an infamous sister! (Which means famous too – only in a bad way.)

Just my luck!