Lisa Clark - Time to Shine

“But Eva,” he pleads. He’s persistent; I’ll give him that. “I don’t think I want to.” Oh, and brave. Definitely brave.

“Jake,” Eva says, changing tack, cocking her head to one side and fluttering her far-too-much-mascara-ed eyelashes right at him, “I’m not altogether sure that matters. What does matter however, is that you love me, and if you loved me, you’d do it.”

Oh, that’s a really low blow. It’s not altogether surprising though - mean girls like Eva can apply emotional blackmail as easily as Pink Lady Angel applies lip-gloss.

Jake lets out a sigh and throws his arms above his head in submission.

“Fine, whatever,” he says, looking deflated and defeated. “Seriously, do whatever you want Eva, you normally do!”

Eva smiles a sickly-sweet smile of satisfaction, plants a lipstick-y kiss on his cheek and takes his comment as a green light to write his name under ‘Richie auditionees’.

In my Jake-filled dream scenes that really ought to be coming to a screen near you soon, this would be the moment where Jake, in all his square-jawed glory, would say, “Enough is enough, Eva - we’re through!” in a suitably American-o daytime soap type way, at which point his eyes would lock with mine, our surroundings would become soft focus, and Jake would finally realise that the girl he should be with - that’s me btw - is right here in all her pink-tinted fabulousness.

What really happens is nowhere near as entertaining.

Jake catches Sadie and I trying to pretend we’re not eavesdropping, when quite clearly we are, and shrugs his shoulders in a ‘what can you do?’ motion just as a jock-boy in knee-high socks and football boots gives him a boy chum greeting. The kind that involves lots of grunting and back-slapping, which personally, looks nowhere near as fun as squidgy, girly hugs.

Although he might not want the role of Richie in Time to Shine , Jake really is pretty much perfect for it. Just like Jake, Richie is a jock-boy and just like Jake, he plays in a band too. Except, unlike Jake, Richie finds himself falling for the super-kooky Lilly who isn’t part of the so-called cool clique - she’s not part of anyone’s clique she walks her own path, making pink kitten heel-shaped footprints as she goes. He’s never met anyone like her before, and he’s totally mesmerised by her whimsical and slightly off the wall ways.

Oh Jake, I could totally be your Lilly.

Sadie shakes her head in disbelief. “Did that just happen?” she whispers.

“Uh-huh.” I confirm. “Poor Jake, huh?”

“Er…no, Lo, not poor Jake at all,” Sadie says, pulling me to one side out of Eva’s earshot. “It’s because people like Jake let her get away with her insecure, bad-girl behaviour that she keeps on doing it. If Jake’s not big enough to stand up to her then fine, but there’s no way I’m going to let her stop you from auditioning, okay?!”

“Okay!” I agree, hugging Sadie tight.

Eva may have pretty hair, get good grades and date the bee-you-tiful Jake Farrell, but I’ve got one thing that she hasn’t got. I’ve got an amazing, sparkly-gorgeous Sadie, and if you ask me that makes me by far the luckiest girl in Girlsville. Fact.

“Lola, can you come in here for a minute, please?”

For a second I fail to recognise the nice, not-at-all-shouty tone of my ma-parental, but as I’m in our house, passing our living room, I think it’s safe to assume that it’s definitely her, it’s just that the new-and-improved ma-parental is still taking a lot of getting used to.

It’s not that I don’t like this version, because I absolutely, positively do, but I sometimes worry that the holler-back ma-parental, whose voice would echo through the entire neighbourhood, might come back and make an appearance one day, and well…I’d hate for that to happen.

I poke my head around the door to see the ma-parental, sitting on the living room floor, crossed legged, in a mess of silver wrapping paper and sellotape, being circled by Cat.

“What do you think?” she asks, holding up a length of black beads with a small black Buddha hanging from it.

“Well, it’s not really you, Mum, is it?” I say, which is a totally fair comment to make, because it really isn’t. In fact, up to about six months ago, I’d have bet my favourite pink polka-dot prom dress on her not knowing what a Buddha even is.

FYI: If I’m honest, six months ago, I didn’t know what a Buddha was either, I thought it was just a really cool statue of a super-smiley guy with a round belly that you rub for good luck. But Bella has actually been to countries like India and Thailand - I know, how awesome is that? - And because I’m a sucker for learning - not maths though (ick) - I insisted Bella gave me an Eastern philosophy 101. Deep, huh? Bella really does know ever such a lot about a lot of things; she just doesn’t want to know about me right now, and that makes me sad.

“It’s not for me, Lola!” the ma-parental giggles. Giggling is yet another new addition to her ever-growing repertoire of ways to express joy and happiness, something that has deffo been lacking from her world. “It’s for Lawrence,” she says, smiling.

Lawrence?

Woah - back up. When did we start calling yoga-dad Lawrence ? I know it’s his name and all, but, the ma-parental and I have always referred to him as ‘Bella’s yoga-dad’ - that’s just how it’s been. We’ve NEVER called him Lawrence, not once. I know that, just like Bella and I have become friends, so have the ma-parental and yoga-dad, but hearing her call him his actual name, Lawrence , well, that implies that they might be getting close or something.

“Is it his birthday?” I ask.

“No, I just wanted to get him a little something to say, I…” The ma-parental pauses and slips into a trance-like state. And it’s then that I see it. The face. She’s making the same face that goddess-girls in old black and white movies make when they’re in L.O.V.E. This is weird. This is all kinds of crazy-weird. And not in a good way. “Oh, I don’t know,” she says, shaking her head free of any dream-like thoughts, “I just wanted to get him a present to say…thank you, I suppose.”

“Oh,” I say, not knowing entirely what to say. I don’t want to ask her outright, because, y’know, we’re still working on the whole mother/daughter thing and while there’s definite progress, I don’t think we’re at a place for me to ask if she’s dating my gal-pal’s dad.

Also, I’m not sure I really want to know the answer, especially if that answer is yes.

“Well, I think he’ll really like it, mum” I say, because while I don’t know yoga-dad all that well, thanks to my Eastern philosophy 101, I do know that both he and Bella are big fans of all things Buddha.

The Mothership smiles with satisfaction and like a mirror, I find myself reflecting a smile right back at her because despite the icky feeling I’m feeling in my tummy, I’ve not seen the Mothership this happy in a long time, and I like it.

“I’m just heading over to Sadie’s,” I tell her as I hold down the paper ready for sellotaping. “She’s just texted me to say that her and Ooh-la-la Charlie are planning one of Sadie’s famous soirées, and they want me to help!”

“Is Bella going with you?” Ma-parental asks, sticking the sellotape over my fingers. Turns out we’re not altogether too good at wrapping.

“Er…I don’t think so,” I tell her. “She’s not really talking to me at the moment.”

“Really? Why?” Mum asks, peeling the back off a self-stick silver bow.

This is a definite first in my movie, Livin’ La Vida Lola.