Ellie has done an amazing job with Richard’s suit! Seriously, she is a sewing genius. Last week it looked like the kind of baggy suit a teenage boy would be given to wear at a wedding – which indeed it was. And now it looks like something from a cool 1960s film. As soon as we’d finished our practices, we went back to the art space and Ellie handed it over.
‘If it’s not quite right, I can do some more alterations,’ she said. Richard went off to the loo to try it on and when he came back we all gasped, even Sam who admits he doesn’t really care much about clothes.
‘I don’t know how you did it,’ said Richard, gazing at his reflection in the glass door (there aren’t any actual mirrors in the art space). ‘You’re a miracle worker.’
‘You’re a fashion genius!’ said Alice.
‘Oh, it wasn’t that hard,’ said Ellie, going a bit red. ‘I mean, I didn’t make it from scratch.’
And that wasn’t the only good thing that happened today. Not only did our practice go very well (though just to be on the safe side we’ve decided to have one last one before the gig, so we’re going to Alice’s house after school on Friday, where we can run through the whole set list a few more times), but things were really good with me and Sam. After we’d all been wowed by Richard’s new suit, Sam came over to me and said, ‘Can I get your opinion on something?’
‘Um, sure,’ I said. ‘What is it?’
‘It’s the comic I’m working on,’ he said, as I followed him across the room to the drawing boards. ‘I want an unbiased eye I can trust. Ellie and Lucy don’t count – not that I can’t trust them, but we’ve all been working on stuff in the same place for so long that they’re a bit too familiar with what I’m doing. Especially Lucy. So basically, I’d love it if you could have a look over this and tell me what you think.’
He picked up his portfolio, which was propped up against the desk, and took out some sheets of paper.
‘Here you go,’ he said nervously. ‘Be honest. But, um, not too honest if you totally hate it.’
I put the sheets of paper on the drawing board and started to read. The story was great – it was a funny, slightly spooky story about a band who sell their souls to the devil to become rich and famous, and then one of them decides to get their souls back.
But what really blew me away was the fact that the pictures were amazing – they were really comic-ish, but they’re not, like, cute like Japanese comics. The people look like real people. They were a bit like the ones he showed me by Jaime Hernandez, but they still looked totally original, and there were these amazing, vivid splashes of colour. I’d never seen anything like it. And the pictures went so well with the story.
‘Wow, Sam, that’s amazing!’ I said, forgetting to sound distant. ‘I love it!’
‘Seriously?’ said Sam, looking very relieved. ‘Do you think the funny stuff works? I was worried it wasn’t quite the right tone …’
‘No, I think it works really well,’ I said, and I meant it. ‘You could do even more funny stuff with that character Folly. She’s great. You could make her even more into the whole selling-her-soul thing. Mike too.’
‘Yeah,’ said Sam. ‘That’s a really good idea. But you think it’s generally going in the right direction? And the story makes sense?’
‘It makes total sense,’ I assured him.
‘Cool,’ said Sam, looking happy. ‘Thanks a million, Bex.’
‘No worries,’ I said, but I felt happy. I do like knowing that he trusts my comics judgement. That has to be a good thing, doesn’t it? I just hope I wasn’t too gushing. I want to be friendly, yet not too scarily friendly.
We went back to the others and talked about the gig next week. Richard is particularly looking forward to it now he knows he has such an excellent suit to wear.
‘I hate to say it, because he did my head in sometimes,’ he said. ‘But Shane Driscoll was right when he said that the perfect stage outfit can make a difference.’
‘Please don’t start wearing leather trousers,’ said Alice in a worried voice.
Shane was very fond of what he called his ‘leather trews’. But there is no danger of Richard adopting the Invited look.
Right, I’d better go and do my homework now so my parents have no excuse to give out to me when I go to Cass’s tomorrow. I really don’t think they appreciate how hardworking I am.
Well, we have made a stage backdrop, though, as I thought, it wasn’t as easy as Cass kept claiming it would be. For one, we had to weigh down the sheet on the McDermotts’ big dining-room table (extended to make it as big as possible) with piles of books in order to make the sheet flat, and that took ages because we kept knocking off the books and accidentally shifting the sheet around. And, once we’d finally got it flat, it was quite difficult for Cass to draw the Hey Dollface logo so that it’d be large enough for people in the audience to see. And THEN we had to figure out where all the rainbow stripey bits should go. It took ages.
But, in fairness to Cass, we did get it done in the end. And it was quite fun once we figured out how to do it properly without making a giant mess. In fact, after a while we got into it and it was almost soothing, just leaning over the table painting away. Alice said she and Richard are thinking about doing some music together.
‘Just music that wouldn’t be right for either the Wicked Ways or Hey Dollface,’ she said. ‘It wouldn’t be taking away anything from either band.’
‘Liz and I keep talking about that too,’ said Cass. ‘A sort of dancy, keyboardy thing. Probably instrumental. We really need to get round to it. Though as I’ve told you before, it wouldn’t take up any Hey Dollface time. This band is my priority.’
‘I’m the only person who doesn’t have a musical collaborator,’ I said, feeling rather sorry for myself.
‘But you’ve got your writing stuff,’ said Alice. ‘It’s better to do that solo. I mean, most great authors don’t have a writing partner, but lots of musical people do. Some creative things are probably better when they’re done by one person.’
‘True,’ I said.
‘And you never know,’ said Cass. ‘If you felt like it, you could always do something with Sam. I mean, you could do a comic, or something.’
I have actually thought about that. I think it would be really good, and not just because of liking Sam as a person. I love his pictures too.
‘I haven’t been going on about Sam too much recently, have I?’ I said. I couldn’t help thinking of the days earlier this year when I went on and on about Paperboy all the time and ignored my friends’ problems.
‘God, not at all,’ said Cass, surprised. ‘Don’t be silly.’
Alice looked guilty.
‘You’re not still thinking about what I said back in February, are you?’ she said. ‘Oh no, I feel terrible! It was just that you’d got all wrapped up in Paperboy. You know I didn’t mean that you should never talk about yourself again!’
‘Fat chance of that happening,’ said Cass, but she was laughing so I just poked her with a paintbrush.
‘Nah, you were right, I said. ‘I was ignoring everyone else. But I suppose it has made me a bit paranoid.’
‘Well, don’t be,’ said Alice. ‘We’re your friends. You can talk about whatever you like to us.’
It was a nice afternoon, until I got home where my parents were in full nagging mode. ‘I can’t remember the last time you did any housework,’ said Mum, sending me off to the bathroom with a bottle of Cif and a scrubbing sponge. Clearly she has forgotten all about making me change the sheets of every bed in the house last week. And Dad said I could help him chop vegetables for dinner once I’d finished cleaning the bath. One minute they want me to spend all my time studying, the next they want me to be their household slave. They won’t be happy until I have absolutely no free time at all!
Today, after Irish, I ended up walking back to our classroom for lunch with Ellie, and we were passing the library when she said, ‘So, what’s the story with you and Sam?’
/> I could feel my face growing hot, but I tried to sound as normal as possible when I said, ‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, you’ve been having lots of friendly chats recently!’ she said. ‘And … I dunno, I just thought something was up. There’s definitely chemistry between you.’
For a second I thought of saying something. After all, she is my friend, and she has got pretty friendly with Sam and Lucy, and she might know something about what he thinks about me. But then, the fact that she’s close to them might mean she’ll end up telling them that I like him. And as far as I’m concerned, the fewer people who know about that, the better. So I just said, ‘Oh no, there’s nothing going on. He’s just really sound.’
‘Yeah,’ said Ellie, who didn’t look like she suspected anything. ‘He’s lovely. So’s Lucy. And Senan. In fact, the whole art gang are great. I’m so glad the summer-camp people set up this Saturday thing.’
So am I, and not just because of the Sam thing. Or even because of our practice space, though that is the biggest part of it. But I also love having this place where loads of us who are into music and art and stuff can just … hang out.
And I know it doesn’t really mean anything, but someone else noticing how well me and Sam get on makes me very happy. It makes me feel like I’m not totally delusional for liking him so much. And I really, really do. Like him, I mean.
On a very different note, Karen’s audition apparently went very well. In fact, she’s been called back for another audition this weekend. First Vanessa, now her! What is it with my class? It’s like St Dominic’s is turning into one of those schools on telly shows where everyone’s, like, a film star or a pop singer or something. Anyway, Karen was so pleased with how it went she couldn’t resist having a few jibes at me, Cass and Alice. It was like old times.
‘So another classmate beats you to the spotlight,’ she said patronisingly. ‘Never mind, I’m sure that band of yours will do something some day.’
‘Yeah, probably,’ said Cass. ‘So did they actually offer you that ad job or not?’
Karen tossed her hair in a move she’s clearly learned from Vanessa.
‘I’m down to the last four,’ she said snootily.
‘So they haven’t offered it to you,’ said Cass. ‘Oh well. Good luck and all that.’
Vanessa, unsurprisingly, seems to have mixed feelings about her protegée’s success (well, possible success). It’s like Karen copying her wasn’t so bad when it just gave her an opportunity to be bossy and patronising, but now something might actually come of it she is even less enthusiastic. And it probably doesn’t help that Kookie mania seems to be dying down. In fact, there’s definitely more of a buzz about the Dogtown ad. I heard the song from the ad on the radio twice today and I didn’t hear Vanessa’s song once.
I had a very nice conversation with Rachel this evening when Mum and Dad were out at rehearsal. We had just watched this week’s very exciting episode of Laurel Canyon (which made me think Rachel is right about Jack Rosenthal actually being responsible for his friend’s murder, but only by accident) and Rachel seemed so cheerful and relaxed that, without thinking, I said, ‘Rach, you … seem a bit better this week. About everything.’
‘Oh,’ said Rachel. ‘Well … I dunno. I suppose I am.’
‘Really?’ I said.
‘Well, not totally better, obviously,’ she said. ‘I mean, I’m still sadder about it than anything in my entire life. But I suppose I’ve reached the stage where I’m not actually thinking about it every second. Like, I can forget about it and do normal stuff. For a while, anyway.’ And then she looked at me and said, ‘You know, I do appreciate you trying to cheer me up. I did notice what you were doing. Even if I didn’t show it much.’
‘That’s okay,’ I said, feeling a bit embarrassed.
And then Mum and Dad came in, singing as usual, so our moment of sisterly bonding was over. But I’m very glad all my hard labour was appreciated. And I really am glad she’s feeling a bit more normal – some of the time, anyway. I just wish I didn’t have the Tom and Jenny stuff in the back of my mind. I manage not to think about it most of the time I’m with Rachel, but whenever I remember I feel guilty and sick.
On a more positive note, I was definitely right about there being more buzz about that Dogtown ad. They keep playing the song on the radio. Even Dad was humming the chorus when he was making the toast this morning. It really is very catchy. And it has definitely taken attention away from Vanessa. There haven’t been half as many first years coming in to stare at her or get her autograph over the last few days. In fact, now I come to think of it, I haven’t seen half as many Kookie badges this week either. There was a stage when it seemed like half the school were wearing the stupid things. But I did hear two girls humming the Dogtown ad music in the loo this afternoon. Does this mean change is on the way?
Dad has been working very hard on his overture dance all week. He has been practising between lectures in the college gym.
‘In front of the students?’ I said. I can’t imagine it would help you learn about early modern Europe if you’d seen your lecturer dancing around in a tracksuit half an hour earlier.
‘Well, there’s a sort of studio where classes are held,’ said Dad, not looking at all embarrassed. ‘So it’s not like I’m in the middle of the gym or in front of the climbing wall. But yeah, I suppose some students walk by. I think they like it.’
The mind reels. Though I suppose he really is a good dancer, so it’s not like he’s totally humiliating himself. Maybe the students are actually impressed. Rachel isn’t very impressed by the idea, though.
‘Unless something terrible happens at the exams, I’ll be going to that college next year,’ she said. ‘I don’t want everyone to know my dad is the lecturer who was gyrating all over the place.’
‘Well, you’re not going to do history, are you?’ I said. ‘So it’s not like you’ll be taught by him. And, besides, no one in your year will have seen him dancing around the gym because they’ll all be new, like you.’
‘These stories get passed down,’ said Rachel grimly. ‘People still talk about how Mrs O’Reilly drank half a bottle of champagne thinking it was a fizzy cordial on a school tour to Paris, and then sang “Suspicious Minds” on the bus.’
‘Do they really?’ I said in surprise. ‘I’ve never heard that story!’
‘Oh,’ said Rachel. ‘Well, they talked about it for years, anyway. I bet the history students won’t forget about Dad.’ But she looked a bit comforted at the idea that these tales don’t last all that long. I think as long as she doesn’t do history in Dad’s college it’ll be fine.
Oh, what an excellent day. When I was looking at my parents’ newspapers this morning there was an article about the Dogtown ad and what makes an ad campaign really take off, and it mentioned Vanessa’s Kookie ad, but not in a good way. ‘But the Bluebird Bakery campaign has already been forgotten in favour of the new parading pups,’ wrote the journalist. ‘Because that’s the thing about viral media – it moves as fast as, well, a virus. And what was popular one minute is gone the next, replaced by a new feverish cultural fad. While Bluebird Bakery’s Kookie campaign sparked a brief craze here in Ireland, the Dogtown ad has now been viewed by hundreds of thousands of people all over the world, making it the most talked-about Irish-made ad of all time.’
It’s become an internet sensation! Apparently people everywhere have been going on dog walks and filming themselves and their dogs grooving along the streets to the sound of the ad music. Some people have even done it with dog puppets!
I doubt anyone’s ever made a puppet of Vanessa. Unless it was a voodoo doll or something. And the article said there was footage online from Sydney and San Francisco. I don’t think Vanessa’s fanbase went further than Galway. And I haven’t heard the Kookie song once on the radio all week.
In fact, I really think her reign of media terror might actually be ending. There wasn’t a single first year sticking her head through the d
oor of our classroom today. I would like to shake the paws of each of the Dogtown dogs to say thank you.
‘Well, that’s how things go,’ said Mum, when I showed her the article this afternoon. ‘Things are popular one day and then the next, something new comes along and grabs everyone’s attention.’
Speaking of strange cultural fevers, Dad is currently off at rehearsal, showing his dance to Laura and the cast. I really, really hope it goes well. He’s put so much work into it. And from the steps he’s showed us (he can’t do the entire thing at home because there isn’t enough room for all his leaping, even if you move the furniture against the walls), it really is quite impressive. But I know there’s always a chance she’ll decide it’s not right. I will just cross my fingers and hope.
His dance was a hit! I’m so relieved. I was a bit worried all evening in case it went horribly wrong and Laura decided it wasn’t going to work. Rachel was worried too.
‘I know he’s been a bit ridiculous about all this,’ she said, ‘but he really loves being in that musical.’
When we heard the car pull up, we both looked at each other. Rachel crossed her fingers and so did I.
But as soon as the door opened, we knew things had gone well. Dad was singing ‘I’m Getting Married in the Morning’, and he positively danced into the room.
‘They loved it!’ he said, beaming from ear to ear.
‘They really did,’ said Mum, beaming too. ‘In fact, Joe came up and said he understood exactly why Dad had been so keen to let loose his dancing skills.’
‘And Laura said it was a perfect way to get the audience in the mood for the show,’ said Dad. And he did a little tap dance.