“Shhh, Miss Sades!” I say, putting my finger to my lip, before attempting to explain. Again. “Y’know, the scene where Richie and Lilly, y’know, get, um…smoochy-smoochy.”
“Ahhhhhhh!” she says, and I have to put my finger to her lips in an attempt at volume control. For someone so super-cool, Sadie really isn’t grasping my need for the hush-hush. “But I don’t get it, Lo-Lo. Why would a smoochy scene stop you from auditioning?”
Seriously, whoever has taken my super-cool, super-hip Pink Lady, Sadie and replaced her with an equally as cute, but nowhere-near-as-bright version, could you bring her back now please?
“Because, Sadie,” I begin, trying desperately hard not to turn a shade of mortification-red at having to actually say what I’m about to say out loud. “I am NOT having my first ever smooch-a-rama live on stage in Parkfield Comp. That is absolutely, catergorically not going to happen. In this lifetime, or any other for that matter. So there.”
“Ohhhh, well, since you put it like that, Lo…” Sadie says, taking an in-breath of air, and blowing it out as she shakes her pretty curls at me and pauses for thought. Literally. Putting her aquamarine painted nails to her chin and rolling her eyes skyward.
“Okay,” she says, breaking from her position of thought to one of real-life actual action - this involves a mini pirouette in the corridor - don’t worry, Sadie does this a lot, she’s adorable. “Lo-Lo,” she whispers as she points to the audition poster, “you can’t let the teeny problem of being smooch-deficient stop you from rocking it up starlet style - you just can’t. In fact, I won’t let you. Surely they won’t make you actually kiss anyone Lo - this is a school production after all!”
I purse my lips and move them from side to side in contemplation. Sadie’s got a point. This is Parkfield Comp, not Hollywood. There’s no way in this world that Mr Pike, our head teacher, would allow a public display of smooch just because the storyline in a movie that he would never, ever have seen demands it.
He is not a fan of the smooch.
Just recently, he made Andrea Child, a girl in Year 11 who wears vixen-red lipstick and lashings of black mascara, write a five hundred word essay about how much bacteria is passed through kissing because he caught her partaking in the act of smooch with a boy-type when she should have been in Maths class. If that wasn’t bad enough, he made her read it out in assembly. In front of EVERYONE. Cringe x 100000.
I let out a huge sigh of relief. If the role isn’t going to involve smoochy-smooch time, then I think I just might consider auditioning. If ever there was a lead role I wanted to play, besides being the star-girl in my daily performance of Livin’ La Vida Lola that is, it’s Lilly. She isn’t like Sandy in Grease - a good girl who thinks she has to turn bad just to get a boyfriend - she’s feisty and fabulous, just like me. She also gets to wear cute 1950s ensembles - think ankle socks and a twin-set - and is wooed by the dee-lish jock-boy, Richie Taylor. Sigh.
Now, if my first smoochy-smooch is going to be with Richie Taylor, then maybe, just maybe, I’ll consider my first lockage of lips to take place in public. You would too, he’s dee-blimmin’-licious. I also know all the words to all the songs. In fact, all the Pink Ladies do. Even Bella. Although she’ll never admit it. Not ever.
I look at Sadie, wriggle my pout from side to side in an ‘I’m thinking, okay?’ motion and slowly break out a killer-watt grin.
“Okay, okay - I give in! Sign me up!” I say, twisting the sparkly plastic button on my cardigan back and forth.
Ohmystars - what on earth have I let myself in for?
“Woohoo!” She lets out a trademark Sadie squeal - high-pitched and squeaky - and writes ‘Lola Love’ in pink ink under the heading ‘Lilly Auditionees - sign up here’. I then hold up my hand reluctantly, because I know what’s coming next. It’s the now mandatory, Pink Lady celebration method, for just about anything: a high five.
There is a total vision of rock-girl fabulousness standing at the school gate. Sadie and I run towards her, and her much-practised snarly pout melts into a smile. Miss Bella is looking every inch the rock chick that she absolutely, positively is. Her platinum blonde hair is in a bubbly beehive and is tied with a red, oversized bow. She has thick black eyeliner around her eyes and she’s wearing a ripped pair of red tights, denim shorts and a baggy tee cinched at the waist with a borrowed-from-me red belt.
Bella rocks. This is total and utter factuality.
Seriously, she is just so good at throwing together an outfit that simply shouldn’t work and making it look like designer high-end couture or something. If you ask Bella about how she actually does it, she’ll simply say ‘it’s all about the ‘tude, sweet thing!’ and well, Bella should know: she’s the official queen of ‘tude.
“Walk tall and know that you rock, Lola - and I swear, you’ll be able to wear absolutely anything!” she told me once when I was debating whether a pink trilby hat was maybe a little too much for my already rather pink ensemble. I placed the trilby on my head, gave my reflection a wink of approval and Bella was right, I worked it. I deffo got some sideways glances, but hey, you wouldn’t wear a pink trilby hat if you didn’t want to get noticed, right?
“Guess what, Bella?” Sadie says, linking arms with us both and encouraging us to skip down the hill towards the sea.
“What?” says Bella, breaking into a full knee-lifting skip, not before checking around to make sure that no-one she knows might actually see her first.
“Lola’s auditioning for the school production of Time to Shine!” Sadie squeals with excitement.
“Really? What’s Time to Shine, exactly?” Bella asks inquisitively. Her over-enthusiastic skip has now become more of a soft-shoe shuffle as we reach the amusement arcades. From this point, it’s now only seventy four more skips to Sadie’s house. I know this because last week we managed to skip the entire way home without stopping - forget aerobics, skipping is a far more fabu way to get fit.
“Bella!” Sadie and I both sigh, before tutting loudly and shaking our heads in Bella’s general direction. I told you she’d deny all knowledge of ever having seen Time to Shine, didn’t I? Despite the fact that I’ve sat next to her while she’s watched it at least three times in my room. I know it’s cheesy, but unless you’re dairy intolerant, cheese really is rather fabulous, don’t you think? Well, Bella obviously doesn’t, although I don’t entirely know why, because I think she’s super-cool no matter what movies she watches.
“Seriously,” Sadie sighs, giving her a tap on the arm, “you don’t have to pretend with us, y’know!”
“Sadie, I don’t have a crazy clue what you’re talking about…” Bella says, shooting Sadie a don’t-mess-with-me-on-this-one look.
I have literally run out of ways in which to tell you that Bella is just one of those people that doesn’t have to work at being cool, she just is. So why she must insist on defending her perma-cool-factor at all times, I just don’t know. She’s funny like that.
In fact she’s funny in a lot of ways because when Sadie goes on to explain about my audition, her shuffle turns to a stone kick and an almost foot-stomp.
“Bella, if you’re going keep up your ‘’pretend I’ve never seen it, even though I’ve seen it at least three times’ story, then fine, it doesn’t matter.” Sadie tells Bella. “What does matter is that Lola’s going to audition - cool huh?!”
“Well,” I interrupt, “I’m still not sure whether I’m actually going to go through with it yet,” I say, giving Bella the perfect opportunity to turn big sister, like she normally