Coleen McLoughlin - Rock that Frock!

“I’m great!” I yelled back, dancing like crazy while hanging on to my top with both hands. I had a feeling I looked a bit weird.

All the old beardy-bloke portraits started wobbling on the Town Hall walls as Bubbly – the best band ever, by the way – revved up for the chorus of their massive hit, Wave Like You Mean It. The kids packing out the Town Hall floor started going even crazier, waving their arms madly in the air. I clutched my top with one hand and waved desperately with the other, wishing for the millionth time that I’d worn something a teensy bit more sensible.

“Get your arms up, Coleen!” my other mate Lucy laughed, her long hair flying all around her like a huge blond halo. As usual, she was plainly dressed in a neat little blouse and ironed jeans. “C’mon, go for it!”

“ Wave, wave, wave like you mean it ,” sang the band, along with the whole of the audience. “ If there’s a better way, I ain’t seen it; wave, wave, wave like you mean it, whoo! ”

The lead singer of Bubbly is called Deena. She looked totally wicked in her hot-pink skinny jeans, and I completely adored the cropped cardie she was wearing over a black top. Her hair was streaked all these different colours, and she was jumping around in high-heeled gold shoes like she was wearing trainers. You’ve got to admire that. The two girl guitar players, Lori and Jammie, were doing these leaps from side to side like a pair of funky kangaroos – Lori flicking her long, jet-black hair from side to side and Jammie’s bleach-blond quiff gelled straight up into the air.

“ If there’s a better way, better way, we ain’t seen it, whoo! ” Deena sang, pumping the air with her hands.

The song thundered on through Lori’s final guitar solo and a crash-crash-crash from the drummer, Belle, with her snaky blond plaits. This really was my last chance. Heaving my top up, I clenched the middle bit between my teeth and threw both my hands into the air, just as…

“Thank you!” Deena yelled as the song died away and the audience went bananas.

Typical.

“Hartley,” Deena went on, “you’re the best home town ever!”

I forgot about my top troubles at that and screamed, “Yay!” along with the rest of the hall. The whole of Hartley was dead proud of Bubbly. They had even gone to school at Hartley High – though that had been a bit before my time.

After two more encores, we all streamed out of the Town Hall, blinking a bit in the low-lying sunshine of the late afternoon. The music had been so loud that my ears were still ringing – plus my head was full of how I was going to recreate Bubbly’s look as soon as I got home. They were so cool, they were practically frozen!

“Wow,” Lucy giggled, pushing back her hair. “That rocked.”

“Wicked,” Mel agreed as she wiped her forehead.

“What?” I said to Mel, sticking a finger in one of my ringing ears.

“WICKED!” Mel roared at me.

“Trust Mel ‘the Mouth’ Palmer to be showing off on the Town Hall steps,” said a snidey voice behind us.

We turned round to see Summer Collins, Hartley High’s worst specimen, coming out of the gig. Her two best mates, Hannah Davies and Shona Mackinnon, were standing next to her. To say that Summer and her mates weren’t my favourite people in the world would be like saying chocolate-flavoured lip gloss was just OK: in other words, a massive understatement! Unfortunately they were all in our class so we had to live with them – like you have to live with a crop of zits when they pop up on the end of your nose.

Today, Summer and her pals were all wearing exactly the same pink hoodies and sparkle-encrusted trainers. They are so sad !

“Uh-oh,” I said, not missing a beat. “It’s the Three Clones.” I whipped my head around, pretending to look scared. “How many more of you are there? Are you taking over the world?”

Summer tossed her hair. “Come on, you two,” she said to Hannah and Shona. “We’ve got better things to do on a Saturday afternoon than talk to a bunch of losers.”

“So have we!” Mel called cheerily after Summer as she stalked away with her friends in tow. “Like finding the scientist who cloned you all and asking him really nicely to stop before he makes any more!”

“Anyone fancy coming with me for a drink?” Lucy said when I’d finally stopped laughing. “I’m meeting Frankie.”

The Frankie in question was Frankie Wilson. He had a brother in our class – Jimmy – and Lucy had just started seeing Frankie after a massive mix-up…but that’s another story!

“Can’t,” I said, catching my breath. “Stuff to do.”

“Don’t tell me you’re going to do your homework,” said Mel in horror.

“There’s tomorrow night for that,” I said, waving my hand to kill the homework ghost before it ruined my weekend. “No,” I continued, “I have fashion plans. ”

I’m famous for my fashion plans. It doesn’t take much to inspire me, and then I’m away on my Next Big Thing.

“Ooh,” said Lucy. “What are you planning?”

“Think Rock Chick,” I said, tapping my nose. “It’s my new inspiration. When you see me tomorrow, you won’t recognise me!”

We were going to the car-boot sale in Hartley’s central car park the next day. It’s world famous – at least, in Hartley. There are always bargains galore, and there’s nothing I like more than a bargain. We do it every month without fail, and it’s the best fun ever.

“What about you, Mel?” asked Lucy.

“I’ve got to get tea on for Mum,” said Mel. “Besides, I’m sure Frankie doesn’t want me tagging along.”

“He wouldn’t mind,” Lucy said. “But see you tomorrow then.”

“Sure. Ten o’clock, Hartley central car park,” Mel said, nodding. “See you there!”

“Hiya!” I shouted as I came through the door and tossed my bag on the hall chair. “Anyone home?”

“Em’s doing her homework upstairs,” came Mum’s voice from the kitchen. “How was the concert?”

“Fantastic,” I said happily. “I think I’m going to be in a rock band when I’m older.”

Dad appeared in the living-room door, holding a cup of tea. “So,” he said, grinning at me. “Actress, fashion designer, model and now rock star. That’s a lot of careers to fit in, Coleen.”

“They’re all the same thing these days,” I said, taking the stairs two at a time. “Hey, Mum?” I called, spinning around halfway up. “You know those old black high heels you’ve got in your wardrobe?”

“They aren’t that old,” Mum said, sounding a bit put out.

“D’you think I could spray them gold?” I asked hopefully, thinking of Deena’s shoes.

Dad burst out laughing at the sight of Mum’s startled face.

“I don’t get the point of high heels,” my little sister Em said, coming out of her room in one of her old tracksuits. “You can hardly walk in them, let alone kick a ball.”

At the grand old age of seven, my little sister is already football mad. I’ve tried to show her that there’s more to life than the offside rule, but she never listens.

“You wouldn’t understand, sports freak,” I said kindly. “You’re too young.”

“So are you, Coleen,” Mum said, having recovered from the shock. “My black heels are way too high. And besides, they’re staying black, and that’s that.”

I sighed. I’d known that would be Mum’s answer, but if you don’t ask you never get. I grabbed an old pair of trainers from my cupboard and trotted back downstairs with them. So they weren’t heels, but by the time I’d sprayed them gold, they were going to look wicked…

Amazingly, Sunday was bright and sunny. I had been planning to wear sunglasses anyway because rock stars generally do, but it was good to be able to put them on and not have Em teasing me like normal. My newly sprayed trainers gleamed on my feet, and I’d carefully put on my tightest jeans and best black tee with an old cardie I’d cropped right down with Mum’s kitchen scissors.