Authors: Anna Wilson
When I saw her at the bus stop and asked her what was up, she kept putting her finger to her lips and shushing me, looking around nervously. Fergus saw us huddled together and waved over the top of the other kids’ heads. He came to join us. ‘So what’s the big deal?’ he said.
‘Nothing!’ said Jazz irritably.
‘OK,’ he said, rolling his eyes at me. ‘No need to get . . .’
‘
Stressy!’
we said together, laughing and jabbing Jazz in the ribs.
Jazz scowled. ‘I’ll tell you in a minute,’ she said. ‘Just shut up till we’re on the bus, can’t you?’
We filed on and found some seats in a row. Fergus leaned towards us, his fringe falling across his face, and said, ‘Come on then, Jazz. Spill the beans.’
‘Shhhh!’ she said noisily. ‘Someone might hear you!’ She looked around wildly as though we were being spied on.
‘Er, I don’t think so,’ I said pointedly, nodding my head in the direction of the fight that had already broken out at the back between a crowd of Year 8 boys. Anyone else was either getting involved or firmly plugging earphones in so that they didn’t have to hear the racket.
Jazz slumped back into her seat and slid down to make herself as small as possible. ‘OK,’ she said quietly,’but you’ll have to lean in so I can whisper – I don’t want Charlie and Kezia to hear this.’
Wasn’t I the lucky one, being told something that the Gruesome Twosome weren’t supposed to know!
‘Go on,’ I said, hunkering down. Fergus craned his neck further so he could hear too.
‘It’s this totally wicked thing – it’s just awesome, you won’t believe it!’ she whispered, her voice ending in a squeak. ‘I was Googling stuff about cats – you know, what they like to eat, where they like to sleep, what treats they like, what to do to settle a cat in a new—’
‘Yeah, yeah,’ I cut in impatiently, ‘I know the stuff you mean. And?’
‘Well, it’s, like, so amazingly cool, you have no idea – there is this programme, right, called
Cat’s Eye
, in the States, yeah? And what they do is they get these cats and they put them in a special kind of hotel for cats. They give them mega-comfy beds and bowls of treats and they put them in lovely collars and let them have funky cat toys and that, and then they film them! It’s like
Big Brother
, but for
cats!
Immense or what?’
She looked at me, her mouth and eyes wide open as if she’d just told me the most earth-shattering piece of information I was ever likely to hear in my entire life. Fergus caught my eye and curled his lip in a she’s-really-lost-it-this-time kind of way.
‘Well?’ Jazz said, her voice rising. So much for keeping it all hush-hush. ‘Aren’t you going to say anything?’
‘I, er, like, wow?’ I said, my forehead creasing in puzzlement.
‘What are you going on about, Jazz?’ asked Fergus.
‘So, I reckon this is the most fabulous idea for a TV show
ever
, and I think we should make our own version. Don’t you see? It would be the
best
sequel to
Pets with Talent. We
could film it at my house! I reckon Danni Minnow would love it. You remember how much she adored Jaffa? Well, she’s going to fall head over heels when she sees my gorgeous little fluffy-wuffy Mr Cupid. And you have absolutely
got
to see the clips I found on the Net. Once you’ve seen them, I know you’ll agree with my plan.’
‘Which is?’ I asked nervously, a plummeting sick feeling swilling around in my stomach.
‘Which is that I’m going to show the clips to Fiona and ask her if she thinks it’s got legs,’ said Jazz, putting on her know-it-all voice.
‘What?’ I exclaimed. ‘What’s
legs
got to do with it? Are you saying some of the cats on this programme don’t have legs? That’s just gross! That’s like a freak show or something!’
Fergus spluttered with laughter. ‘You numpty, Bertie!’
‘Yeah,
duuuuuuh!’
said Jazz, wobbling her head at me as if to say, ‘You really are the thickest brick in the wall.’
‘It’s an
expression,’
she said. ‘Like, “Let’s see if this plan has legs” means “Let’s see if it’ll work”.’
I flushed. ‘Right,’ I mumbled. ‘I knew that.’
‘Course you did,’ said Fergus, winking at me and setting me off into a full-scale blush of the hottest deepest red ever.
‘Mmm,’ said Jazz, narrowing her eyes at me.
I had to admit I had loved the whole
Pets with Talent
thing, and it would be kind of cool to do another show with animals . . . but something in the extreme nature of Jazz’s enthusiasm was making me feel uneasy. Plus I wasn’t exactly bowled over by the idea of working with Fiona again. I mean, she’d been great about catching Jaffa’s tormentor and everything, but that was just one evening in my own home. The idea of getting involved in a whole new TV show from scratch was something completely different. I thought maybe we should change the subject slightly, so I said carelessly, ‘Anyway, what does your mum think of Bob?’
‘CUPID!’ Jazz shouted. ‘His name is Cupid. I will not have anyone call my lickle baby that awful big-bruiser name.’
‘Yeah, Cupid. Sorry, I forgot,’ I fibbed.
Fergus was really enjoying himself now, having a good old laugh at the pair of us.
Jazz didn’t notice though. She was off on one about that revolting nightmare of a beast. ‘Mum
lurrrrrves
him, of course! He is such a gorgeous lickle fluffball – so cuddly-wuddly and he purrs all the time. It makes me so cross to think of anyone abandoning him. No wonder my poor baby got all frightened and started doing naughty things like breaking into your place. He must have been so worried, being left all on his lonesome, and his tummy-wummy must have been so rumbly—’
‘Er, Jazz,’ I cut in, ‘no offence and all that, but you sound a bit mental when you use that “babykins” voice.’
Jazz leaned forward to glare at me briefly and then slumped back again, cooing, ‘Ahh, well, I just can’t help it. Anyway, now he’s got me as his mummy, everything will be OK.’
I gave her a you’re-doing-it-again look and she rolled her eyes. ‘OK! OK! But listen, about my idea for the TV show. What do you think, Fergus? Do you reckon your mum will go for it?’
Fergus looked very uncomfortable. ‘I don’t know, Jazz. I mean, last time was a bit of a one-off. I don’t think—’
Jazz’s face set into a sullen pout. She crossed her arms tightly and sat back heavily again, staring at the seat in front of her.
‘Oh, Jazz, don’t be like that,’ Fergus pleaded. ‘Look, I’m sorry. What do I know? All I’m saying is, don’t get your hopes up too high.’
‘Hey, it does sound like a cool idea,’ I said to Jazz, trying to make her feel better.
But all I got in response was a ‘Humpf!’ as she plugged herself into her iPod.
I caught Fergus’s eye, but he just shrugged.
Jazz didn’t say another word to us the whole way to school.
Later that day at school I got the first sign of the real reasons for Jazz’s madder-than-a-mongoose behaviour. It was while I was in the loos. There had been no one in there to start with, but pretty soon after I went into a cubicle I heard the sound of the door opening followed by two voices I recognized only too well by now.
‘She’s soooo lame,’ cackled Kezia.
‘Yeah, all that rubbish about her new liddle puddytat,’ sneered Charlie. ‘I bet he doesn’t exist either. What a loser.’
‘Too right he doesn’t exist!’ screeched Kezia. ‘It’s all in her freaky imagination, just like all that stuff about “Oh, I’m
such
good friends with Danni Minnow, she sends me emails
all
the time. In fact, I’m going to call her up about this idea I’ve had for a show we could do together, and it’s going to have my gorgeous liddle puddytat in it. He’s going to be a staaaar”,’ she said in a sing-song voice that I realized with a shiver was supposed to be an imitation of my best mate.
‘Yeah, it’s totally sad,’ spat Charlie. ‘I mean, did you see that rubbish show
Pets with Talent?
Sooo
borrrrring.
And little Jazzie-meena wasn’t even supposed to be in it – she was just jumping around in the background, desperate to get her face on camera. It was her mate Bernie, or whatever her name is, who won the contest with that cute— I mean, er, that kitten thing.’
‘Jazz hasn’t even got within twenty metres of Danni Minnow, has she?’ said Kezia, her voice so laced with spite I wondered she didn’t choke on her own poison.
‘It was soooo hilarious faking those auditions on Friday!’ Charlie chuckled.
‘Yeah!’ Kezia hooted. ‘What
was
that outfit? Looked like she’d got it from a jumble sale.’
‘From a recycling bin, more like. That silver belt thing she was wearing – was it s’posed to be a skirt, d’you reckon? And those bits of string and stuff in her hair. Man! She looked like a scarecrow!’
‘I know!’ Kezia was obviously enjoying this. ‘And I nearly
died
when she gave us all that heartfelt “This is totally my dream come true, I’ve always wanted to perform in a talent show” rubbish. Anyone would think she was actually on
Who’s Got Talent?
instead of auditioning for a school production!’
‘Which doesn’t even exist!’ Charlie added with a snort.
‘Yeah! And when she pressed “play” on that kiddies’ CD player thing and that totally
lame
music started up . . . oh man! She was like the
worst
of those losers in the earliest
WGT
auditions – you know, like those guys who come on with a parrot that plays the piano with its beak or whatever. No, actually make that, like,
two million times
worse.’
‘And her face when we started laughing and told her it was all a set-up!’ Charlie screeched.
Kezia was giggling so hard now she was having trouble getting her words out. ‘Yeah!’ she squeaked. ‘Like, sooooo hilarious. I cannot believe she fell for the whole thing.’
‘She really thinks she is something, doesn’t she? As if!’ Charlie guffawed. ‘Hey, what’ll we do next?’
I was frozen to the loo seat! No wonder Jazz had acted weird when I asked her about the auditions. And no wonder she was a nightmare on Saturday . . . Poor, poor Jazz! How could those girls be so mean when my best mate worshipped the ground they walked on? She must have been so freaked; I knew she’d been nervous enough about auditioning as it was. And now Jazz was probably planning this cat show just to impress them. It made me sick how they were manipulating her.
But what could I do? I felt like an undercover agent – with my knickers round my ankles, admittedly . . . I held my breath and willed every fibre of my body to stay as still as possible until I heard them leave.
Kezia suddenly erupted into an even louder cackle. ‘Get this: I’ve just had the most
immense
idea. You know I nicked her phone the other day? Well, I made a note of her number. . .’
‘Yeah?’ said Charlie, hanging on every word of her horrible mate’s stinking little plan.
‘So let’s text her pretending we are Danni and ask her to call back! I can pretend to be Danni when she calls and say that I’ve spoken to Fergus’s mum about a great idea for a show and I want her to be in it. Imagine how worked up she’ll get about that! She’ll go round the whole school telling everyone, and then when she asks Fergus’s mum about it, she’ll look sooooo stupid!’
‘Kez, you are a legend,’ said Charlie. ‘That’ll shut the little squirt up. Even her best mate will drop her once she finds out it’s a load of rubbish. It’ll be, like, yeah, IN YOUR FACE, JASMEENA BROWN!’
The two girls shrieked with nasty high-pitched laughter and I heard a slapping sound which must have been them high-fiving each other. Then I heard the door bang and their laughter faded as they disappeared.
Once I was sure the coast was clear, I crept out of the cubicle. I washed my hands and stared at my reflection in the mirror. What on earth could I do in the face of such evil scheming? I was just little old Bertie Fletcher, a new girl in Year 7 with hair like a poodle and a brain full of mush. I was no match for these two. Plus it was bizarre how they knew exactly how to get to Jazz: now that she had come up with her
Cat’s Eye
idea, she would be sure to fall for Kezia calling her and pretending to be Danni. I’d never be able to convince her it was all another set-up. Not until that fact became all too obvious.
And by then it would be too late.
I
spent the rest of that day worrying about Jazz. When I saw her at lunch, gossiping and laughing happily, it made me want to cry. To think that her life was maybe moments away from being made total hell by those horrible older girls. I felt panicky when I tried to work out what to do. Even if I told Fergus, what difference would it make? What if he laughed and said I must have misheard? Or worse, what if he got cross with me and blamed me for spreading false rumours?
I had almost convinced myself not to do anything by the time I queued up for the bus at the end of the day. I walked past Kezia and Charlie as I looked for a free seat. They didn’t notice me; they were too busy whispering behind their hideous neon-pink-painted fingernails.
I finally found a seat and watched out of the window as Jazz came running to the bus stop in that all-arms-and-legs way she has, her bag slapping against her back. My heart lurched: my funny friend looked like a multicoloured flamingo. I tapped on the window and waved to her and she looked up and beamed, mouthing something I couldn’t make out through the glass. Then I saw her board the bus and start down the aisle towards me. On the way, someone (pretty obvious who . . .) stuck out a long leg and tripped her up. There was some stifled giggling as Jazz picked herself up and looked crossly round to see who the culprit had been.
‘Oh hi, Charlie!’ she said, switching from hot and bothered to playing it cool. ‘Did you see who tripped me?’ she added.
‘
Tripped
you?’ Charlie repeated, making a big show of sounding puzzled. ‘No one tripped you,
Jazz
. You fell. You should be careful, girl. You might
break
something.’
Kez tittered at her friend’s hilarious comment.
Jazz blushed, said, ‘Yeah. OK. See ya,’ and made her way to me. ‘Did
you
see someone trip me?’ she asked as she sat down. ‘I could have sworn someone did.’