When Saturday comes I slip out of the house and everyone thinks I’m off to meet Dixie and Uggs. I skulk along the road to the bus stop and then have to duck back and lurk because all of Oakdale seems to be getting the bus to town. Dermot is there with some of his mates and he’s got his guitar and then it hits me – he’s trying out for the show. It never occurred to me that another Quinn would be interested in that. I have been ultra wrapped up in myself. But right now I don’t feel any sympathy for him, more annoyance that I didn’t spot this plan earlier so that I could prepare for my brother being in the audition queue too.
I decide to get the later bus, which means I have twenty minutes to kill – the longest twenty of my life. It’s hard to waste time when you have nothing to do. I walk around the streets trying to look like I’m going somewhere and getting more and more wound up. This audition is a really BAD plan, I decide, but I have to go through with it now because Uggs and Dixie know: oh, the irony of that! I pass a house with toys in a top window – there’s Woody and Buzz from Toy Story and some dolls and bears, and I wish I was still at the age when I could play with those. I’d be happier, that’s for sure.
I start to worry that I’ve picked the wrong clothes to wear. I couldn’t choose anything that looked too dressed up because the household would have pounced on that and asked why and also I don’t want to look like I made too much effort, so I’m in a white T-shirt, a long floaty skirt and a cropped denim jacket. It’s nice, without screaming, I’M HERE TO GET FAMOUS – PICK ME! (I hope). I also have a teensy bit of make-up on – concealer on my spotty chin and a swipe of mascara, as well as some lip gloss.
I somehow manage to flitter away the twenty minutes and sneak back to the bus stop. I wait for all the other passengers to get on the bus and then I sneak on last and sit at the back downstairs. I have brought a book to hide behind but trying to read in a moving vehicle just makes me want to throw up, which does nothing for my shredded nerves. I think I’m safe from meeting anyone I know when I get off in town, but who’s ahead of me on the street but Maya and Delia Thomas. I play all cool.
‘Yeah, I’m just getting some more wool for the things I’m knitting for Christmas presents,’ I say.
‘We’re going to the Teen Factor X auditions,’ Maya says.
Without thinking, I squawk, ‘WHY?’
‘Delia’s got a stand-up routine she’s going to do.’
‘WHAT?’*
‘Yes, it’s really funny.’
That is so hard to believe as to be laughable. Delia Thomas is an odd, quiet geekette, surely? Jeepers, you think you know someone, and then …
‘I’ll walk around with you,’ I say. ‘I’d love a look at what’s going on.’
The queue is the longest snaking line of people I have ever seen in my life, and that includes the queue for Santa in the shopping centre when I was a kid. It’s going to take hours for Delia to get to the top of it but she doesn’t seem too bothered about that.
‘We’ll take it in turns to go get drinks and ice creams,’ she says with a shrug.
If I sneak away and join a bit later, I will be even further back and it’ll take even longer for me to get seen. My resolve is wavering, and it wasn’t all that strong to begin with. I hear some lads laughing and, when I look ahead to where the sound is coming from, I see my brother’s familiar head above the crowd. Right then he turns around and spots me, and I have no choice but to acknowledge him. He looks surprised but beckons me over.
‘I’ll be back in a minute,’ I say to Delia and Maya and then wander over, feeling slightly dazed.
‘Hey there, lil Jenser,’ Dermot says and ruffles my hair (ARGH, it took me ages to get it looking tousled but not frizzy and he’s probably ruined that now).
‘What are you doing here?’ I ask.
‘Obvious, really, sis, trying out for the Big Time.’
He’s with a proper gang of lads (i.e. more than three) and they all have guitars.
‘You know the guys,’ he says. ‘There are ten of us and we’re called … guess …’
‘Ten Guitars?’ I chance.
‘Bingo!’
‘If we all play the same thing at the same time, it’ll be awesome.’
Stevie Lee is right in front of me and I could swoon. I get a bit dizzy instead.
‘Hey, lil dudette,’ he says.
I wish they’d let go of the ‘little’ thing. OK, I might not be as tall as other girls of my age or older,† but don’t rub it in.
‘Are you trying out?’ Dermot asks.
I snort and try to look dismissive. ‘No way, I just wanted a look.’
‘You should, you know, you have a good voice,’ he says.
He hasn’t been this nice to me in yonks and I get a lump in my throat. I’m a bit hot and bothered that SLB has heard this, though, as I’d prefer to keep my supposed talent under wraps until such time as I know if it’s any good at all.
And then I hear a yippedy bark that I recognize‡ and I know, without even looking round, that Gypsy is in town and right behind me.
‘Wehay!’ Dermot is giving a high five to someone I can’t yet see.
I turn around and there are Gypsy, Uggs and Dixie. Dermot was high-fiving Uggs and not the mutt, thank goodness.
‘We thought you’d need support,’ Dixie says. Before I splutter anything totally and utterly and untakebackably embarrassing, she adds, ‘Gypsy’s idea.’
I quickly check that none of the Ten Guitars have heard that, or my cover is blown, but they’re so engrossed with being deadly cool that they haven’t, so I can breathe a sigh of relief on that slim level.
In other news, my life has just gone down the can.
