The sun was blazing down as I jogged to the bus stop the following Monday morning. I knew how the sun was feeling, because I was feeling it too. My favourite lesson first thing, and I’d actually enjoyed doing my homework for once! I was feeling pretty confident about my fashion theme, and not even Dave Sheekey making pig faces at me by pressing his nose up against the approaching bus window was going to put me off my stride.
“Good work, Dave,” I said as I climbed on board. “Keep it up and your nose might stay there. Believe me, it would be an improvement.”
Dave slid away from the window with a scowl on his face. I felt the world go all slow-mo as Ben slung his arm over the back of his seat and grinned at me as I went past. My excellent morning immediately went stratospheric.
“Drunk your happy juice today?” Mel teased as I sat down with a huge smile plastered all over my face. “You really ought to cut down, Col. Smiling that hard can’t be good for your facial muscles.”
“Did you do your theme?” Lucy asked anxiously. She was looking at a crumpled piece of paper on her lap. “I did mine on rainbows, but it’s not very good.”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” I tried to reassure her. I could imagine floaty outfits in all the colours of the rainbow swishing down the catwalk.
“I got my inspiration from our catwalk show,” said Mel. She waved her piece of paper at me. “Ta-da! New Eighties! What about you, Coleen?”
“Wait and see,” I said primly.
“Col!” Lucy wailed. “Tell us!”
But no matter how hard my mates pressed me about my theme, I just smiled and tapped my nose at them. They were practically ready to kill me by the time we got to Miss O’Neill’s classroom. And when Miss O’Neill looked around at us all and said, “So, who wants to be the first to argue their theme for our fashion show?” Mel actually pushed me out of my seat.
“Trust Coleen to barge to the front,” Summer said in a loud voice.
“Trust Summer to have a voice like a foghorn,” I snapped straight back.
Summer glared as Mel and Lucy giggled. Everyone else just looked expectantly at me. And I found that all of a sudden, my mouth had gone dry. What was my theme? I hadn’t even got round to taking my homework out of my bag, and I was stood there in front of everyone like a lemon. Everything drained out of my brain and escaped through my ears like slippery spaghetti.
“Take your time,” Miss O’Neill said kindly, seeing that I’d frozen to the spot.
Time! Everything came back into my head just in – well, just in time. And with a rush of relief, I realised that I didn’t even need my notes. I’d practised it in front of my bedroom mirror so many times that I could’ve recited it in my sleep. And so – trying not to think too hard about the horrible combination of high-waisted brown trousers and yellow frilly blouse that Miss O’Neill was wearing today – I began to speak.
It was an amazing feeling, talking to a class full of people when you know they’re all listening really hard. Well, Summer and her mates Hannah and Shona were whispering, and all the lads were looking bored, but you don’t expect much of boys when it comes to fashion, do you? It helped when a sunbeam shot across the classroom floor in a brilliant stripe of yellow just when I was talking about my ideas for dawn and morning. I could see Mel’s eyes misting over and just knew that she was imagining a fabulous sunrise outfit. And, unlike my dad, Miss O’Neill nodded like crazy when I got to my moths idea for dusk.
“And last of all,” I finished excitedly, “the blues, blacks and silvers of the midnight sky will sweep down the catwalk, before a tinge of red signals that the new morning is approaching.”
Mel and Lucy started clapping. Even Summer clapped – if slow clapping counts.
“Great ideas, Coleen,” said Miss O’Neill warmly as I floated back to my seat. “Let’s see if anyone out there can match that. Who’s next?”
I couldn’t believe some of the rubbish the boys came up with. They had everyone dressed as space explorers / aliens / football players. Mel’s eighties idea went down really well until some of the lads started singing old Kylie tracks that drowned out what she was trying to say. To Lucy’s horror, three other girls did a rainbow theme – though Lucy’s was way the best. And last of all, it was Summer’s turn.
“I would like to propose Beach Time: the perfect theme for our fashion show,” Summer announced, tossing her blonde hair back over her shoulders.
Beach time? I gawped. That was like – sand and donkeys. Wasn’t it?
“Clothes as wild as crashing waves. Crisp linen in gorgeous ice-cream colours. The coolest surf gear for the lads,” Summer continued.
The lads stopped whacking each other around the heads with their books and cheered.
“She’s going for the lads’ votes!” I whispered to the others in dismay.
“Hot bikinis,” Summer continued with a smirk, “and cool guys in shades.”
There was more whooping from the boys. Mel made sick faces at me.
“Flaming bonfire colours and glamorous beach parties,” Summer said. “The sound of the sea in the background, and songs that make you think of summer.” She gave a stomach-turning little curtsey. “That’s it.”
“I hate to say it,” Mel muttered as Summer minced back to her seat with a smirk on her face, “but that’s a good idea.”
“She is sooo annoying!” I said indignantly. I had thought my idea was a winner, but a tiny worm of doubt was starting to chew away my confidence.
“Time for our discussion,” said Miss O’Neill, cutting through my thoughts. “I think the first thing we should do is take a vote.” She consulted her list. “Who liked Coleen’s idea of time?”
There was a decent show of hands. Mel and Lucy loyally stuck both their hands in the air in an attempt to boost numbers. I was pleased that a couple of the cool lads – who usually sat at the back of the class and didn’t join in – put their hands up, while Summer and her mates made a great show of sitting firmly on theirs. Predictable, huh?
It was a relief when the space explorers, aliens and footballers sank without a trace. Mel’s eighties idea did OK, and so did all the rainbows. Then came the bit I was dreading.
“And last of all,” said Miss O’Neill. “What did everyone think of Summer’s beach theme?”
My heart plummeted as loads of hands flew up. Lucy and Mel looked sympathetically at me.
“Summer’s not allowed to vote for herself, Miss!” I shouted, peering over at Summer’s table where she was sneakily waving both hands in the air behind Shona.
“Thank you, Coleen,” said Miss O’Neill drily. “I had noticed.”
“Sneak,” Summer hissed at me, narrowing her eyes so much that she looked like a Siamese cat.
“Cheat,” I hissed back.
Summer and I were so busy shooting evils at each other that we almost missed Miss O’Neill’s verdict.
“It looks like we have joint winners,” Miss O’Neill was saying. “Coleen and Summer both achieved eight votes each – even accounting for a bit of double-handed voting.”
Mel and Lucy blushed. So did Hannah and Shona.
“There’s no way I’m working with her, Miss,” Summer snarled, looking at me.
Miss O’Neill looked irritated for the first time. “Enough, Summer,” she said sharply. “We’re all going to work together here. Can I suggest a compromise?”
I don’t mean to be nasty, but Miss O’Neill and fashionable ideas go together like chocolate and gravy. I could feel my gorgeous time theme slipping away.
“What kind of compromise, Miss?” I said dully.
“Mixing your two ideas, so we have a day and a night at the beach,” Miss O’Neill said, to my total and utter surprise. “Cool sea-spray mornings, boiling beach afternoons, bonfire colours for early evening and a show of glamorous beach-party outfits to take us through to midnight. The set designers can create seascapes for both day and night, and the band can sing – I don’t know – some songs by the Beach Boys?”
Half the class groaned at the Beach Boys bit, and Summer rolled her eyes at the fact that she’d be sharing the limelight with me. Me? I was sat there like a stunned kipper. Miss O’Neill’s suggestion was brilliant.
“All those in favour?” Miss O’Neill glanced around the room.
Nearly everyone stuck their hands in the air. Miss O’Neill scribbled something briskly on her clipboard. “Good,” she said. “So that’s decided, then. Next step – writing to the town boutiques to ask if they would donate suitable outfits to be auctioned for charity at the end of the show. Can everyone make a list, please, of the shops you want to invite to take part.”
A burst of excited chatter broke out across the room. Even the lads stopped larking about and looked enthusiastic, imagining themselves dressed up like surfer dudes.
“That’s perfect!” Lucy said, clutching my arm. “There are loads of fantastic beach songs we can do!”
“I want a sunrise-coloured outfit,” Mel decided. “There’s a brilliant orange and yellow kaftan dress in the window of that shop by Woollies. We should write to them for definite.”
“I know exactly what I want,” I announced. “There’s this gorgeous midnight-blue top that I saw in the window of Forever Summer at the weekend. It just needs a bit of magic to make it perfect!”
As you’ve probably guessed, Forever Summer is Summer’s dad’s boutique. Summer boasts that her dad named it after her. If he’d really done that, he would’ve named it Spoilt Princess.
The others made faces at the mention of Forever Summer.
“Assuming Summer’s dad donates that top to the show – and remember, Coleen, his stuff is really expensive. I can’t see Summer letting you wear it without putting up a fight,” Mel said after a moment. “Can you?”
For pretty much the first time that day, my megawatt mood dimmed right down. “OK,” I said, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling that was suddenly swamping me. “Assuming Mr Collins donates it, Miss O’Neill will decide who wears it. Not Summer Collins.”
I glanced across at Summer. She was staring right at me. With a nasty swoop in my stomach, I had a feeling that she’d just heard every word.