Louise Rennison - Withering Tights

Um.

She said, “I am.”

I said, “I didn’t say you weren’t.”

Jo said, “No, but because I’m short you’re thinking, she can’t really be that strong. She might be quite strong for a short-arse, but she’s not ordinarily strong.”

What was she going on about? I said, “I hadn’t noticed that you were short, anyway.”

She said, “Well I am.”

I said, “I’m not saying you’re not, I am just saying that I hadn’t noticed, so if I hadn’t noticed that might mean that…”

She stood up and I said, “Jesus, Mary and Joseph, you are short, aren’t you? Are you sure you’re not crouching down?”

Jo said, “You see, you see! You do think I’m short.”

I said, “Well, you are. Compared to me, I mean. But then I’m too tall, really.”

She’d gone a bit red now and said, “Alright, but you just have a go at pushing me over, then we’ll see who’s short.”

Vaisey said, “I don’t think that…pushing and so on is…”

Jo said to me, “Go on.”

This was less Fame!!! And more ‘Fight!’

I said, “I don’t want to, I might hurt you.”

She said, “That is what you think, but you just wait. Honestly, you’ll get a surprise.”

I thought I would give her a bit of a shove to be polite. Unfortunately, I did it just as she was turning round to put her bag on her seat. I didn’t push her very hard, but she still careered sideways over two empty chairs and headfirst into a big girl’s lap. Who said, “Oy.”

When Jo got up her face was nearly as red as Vaisey’s hat. But she had pluck, I would give her that. She smoothed down her hair and said, “I wasn’t ready, try again.”

I said, “Look, can we just leave it that I think you are really strong and—”

She said, “You’re scared you’ll hurt yourself.”

I said, “Oh, alright.”

This time she tensed herself. I stepped back to get a proper run up and said to Vaisey, “Would you mind moving, Vaisey, so I can knock this person, who I have only just met, into the middle of next week!”

At which point I felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked round and up to see a tall thin woman in a cloak. She said, “Name?” And not in a nice interested way.

I said, “Tallulah Casey.”

And she got out a little notepad, and said out loud as she wrote…“Ta-llu-lah Caaaaasee-y.”

Then she shut the notepad with a snap and said, “Now let me tell you my name, it’s Doctor Lightowler.”

I kept my face straight and didn’t say really slowly, “Aaaaah Doooooctor Liiiiightowwwwler.”

The Doctor said, “We shall come to know each other very well, Ta-llu-lah Caaa-sey.”

And she didn’t seem to mean, getting to know each other in a friendy-wendy way.

As she went off, Jo said, “Well I thought that went well, didn’t you? I think she secretly likes you. But don’t worry, I will protect you from her.”

And she put her arm in mine. I think things were going quite well. In a friendy-wendy way.

A funny clock chimed somewhere and a door to the right of the stage opened. A woman in white suede cowboy boots and a fringed jacket walked slowly to the front of the stage and looked out intently.

We looked back at her.

She looked back at us.

Then finally, in a throaty posh voice she said, “Welcome, fellow artistes. You see how I have got your attention. I have made this stage my own. In a few short weeks, we will teach you the same skills. You too will fill the stage.”

I nudged Vaisey, but she seemed to be hypnotised by the stage-filling idea.

The woman went on, “I am Sidone Beaver. Not Sid-one Beaver, or Sid-ony Beaver but Sid-o-nee Beaver, principal of Dother Hall. Here to guide you to the theatre of dreams. Think of me less as a headmistress and more like…the keeper of the gateway…of your flight to…the stars.”

Jeepers creepers.

Sid-o-nee was still filling the stage.

“I know you sit before me, young, nervous. You think, how could I ever be like her? But I can still remember my own beginnings in this crazy, heartbreaking, cruel, wonderful, mad, mad world of art. The highs, the lows…let me not mince words, let me not blind you with dreams. There is no easy passage, no free lunch, this is a tough path…Your feet will bleed before you experience the golden slippers of applause!”

We looked at our feet.

Soon to be bleeding.

Sidone went on, “By the end of these few short weeks, some of you will be the ‘chosen’ and some of you will be the ‘unchosen’.”

When Sidone left the stage we were shown a film of students working at different projects at Dother Hall.

Ooh, look, here were students tap dancing, and some sword fighting in the woods. Students making a papier mâché sculpture.

Jo whispered, “Why are they making a big stool?”

Vaisey said, “It’s an elephant.”

Jolly students painting outdoors. What a hoot! There was one photo of students dressed in black jumpsuits with painted white faces, looking at a motorbike.

I said to Vaisey, “What are they supposed to be?”

She shrugged.

The caption said at the end: Students produce a mime version of Grease.

Of course.

But funnily enough, although there were one or two shots of male teachers – oh, and Bob banging at stuff with a wrench – there were no boys around.

Until right at the end.

At last.

There was Martin making his tiny instrument. I elbowed Vaisey. “Look, there’s Martin with his lute!”

There was a break afterwards. I felt quite dazed. ‘Chosen’ – ‘unchosen’ – ‘bleeding feet’ – ‘golden slippers of applause’?

We followed the signs to the café. Vaisey, me and Jo.

Jo said, “I’m really, really excited, aren’t you? I didn’t sleep a wink last night, well it wasn’t the excitement of course, it was because of the whole dorm thing.”

Vaisey nodded. “I’d quite like to see the dorm, actually. I wonder if…”

Jo said, “Oh, you weren’t here last night, were you?

Vaisey said, “No. I was supposed to be here, but my bed wasn’t quite ready, or something.”

Jo laughed grimly. “Be glad you weren’t in it, because that’s where the roof came in – over your bed. Bob nailed up an old blanket to keep the bats out and I think that is what caught fire. I’m not surprised, really, when Milly switched on her bedside lamp, it was giving off sparks. There was a dead pigeon in the loo. Maybe electrocuted.”

As we got our tea and biccies I said to the other girls, “I don’t want to go on about Martin and his lute, but, where is Martin and his lute? And where are Martin’s mates?”

We looked at Jo.

Jo said, “Ahh, you mean Martin and his mates. Well, Dother Hall used to be mixed, but there was some sort of incident involving a game called ‘twenty-five in a duvet cover’ and since then boys are banned.”

I said, “What a swizz. Still, at least there’s Woolfe Academy.”

We asked Jo if she knew anything about it.

She said, “No, but I would like to. At home, I’m at an all-girls school.”

After break we were taken on a tour of the theatre department by Bob. I think he has given his ponytail a quick trim.

He was wearing a T-shirt that said ‘Fat men are harder to kidnap’.

Bob said, “Sit down on the floor, Mr de Courcy will be with you in a minute. Don’t play around with the lights, dudes.”

As he went out, we saw that his T-shirt had ROCK on the back and that he was wearing very low-slung jeans with a belt that had all sorts of hammers and stuff hanging off it. And unfortunately, I think it is pulling his trousers down. I didn’t want to look but there was something pale peeping out under his T-shirt. I think it may be his bottom.