Worse Than Boys(53)

Manipulative. The word repeated itself over and over in my head. That was Erin. Manipulating me, manipulating us all. She’d made a fool of my mum, and I had let her. She’d made a fool of Heather that night at the wedding, and I had laughed too. Why had I never realised that before?

My mobile rang at midnight. It was Lauren. ‘I can’t sleep, Hannah. I’m dead nervous. What am I doing this for? They’ll all laugh at me.’

‘Because you want to,’ I told her. ‘And because you’re good. It’ll be a laugh. And I’ll be there with you.’

After I’d spoken to her I snuggled down under the duvet. I was filled with a warm feeling of friendship for Lauren. Who would ever have thought that? I’d once thought she was hard and tough and common. And here she was, phoning me because she was nervous about an audition for a school musical. Had she phoned any of the others? I hoped she hadn’t. I wanted to be Lauren’s friend. Anyway, I didn’t think she had. It was me she’d turned to. I was nervous too. She just had to get that part. It would bug Rose so much if she did.

It had been a good night. One of those nights you imagine you’re going to remember for the rest of your life.

But where had Wizzie been? Was she annoyed because Lauren was going in for the school musical? Annoyed at me? Was she moving away from us towards one of those other gangs? The Black Widows?

It was as I was drifting off to sleep that I realised there was something else. Something kept repeating itself in my head. Something that I was sure was significant. Something about Wizzie.

Everyone’s got secrets, Wizzie had said that first night we went to the Mall … and I wondered, what was Wizzie’s secret?





Chapter Forty-Seven


The auditions were to take place after school. No one knew that Lauren was going in for the part of Sandy. No one would ever expect one of us to even consider such a thing. It had to be a complete surprise to everyone. I had decided that we were going to make an entrance. My mum had sorted out Lauren’s wardrobe for the audition and Lauren’s mum had fixed the clothes so they were just right for her. After school we headed for the girls’ toilets to change. Lauren and I went into one of the cubicles while the others waited outside.

Wizzie stood guard at the door, to stop anyone else from coming in.

‘Better use the toilets on the bottom floor,’ she told a couple of girls who tried to get in. ‘Sonya’s got a bad case of diarrhoea in here.’

Sonya almost screeched. ‘What did you tell them that for? Why me?’

Wizzie only shrugged. ‘Had to tell them something, didn’t I? Nobody’ll want into this lavvy now.’

In the cubicle, I brushed and brushed at Lauren’s hair, just the way Mum had shown me. I pulled it back into a ponytail and held it with a ribbon. I had brought wipes and by the time I’d finished, Lauren’s face was shining, and so was her hair. Lauren was really pretty, I thought, and once she put on the soft pink skirt and the blouse my mum had supplied her with I was really amazed at the change in her. She stepped out of the cubicle like a model at a fashion show.

‘Tara!’

It wasn’t just me who gasped. Grace almost swallowed her chewing gum. Sonya shrieked. Wizzie drew in her breath.

‘What do you think?’ Lauren said. She saw all their astonished faces. ‘Do you think I look daft?’

Sonya suddenly burst out laughing. ‘You were born to wear a ponytail.’

‘You look just like her in the film,’ Grace said.

I laughed. ‘She means Olivia Newton Mearns.’

Grace giggled. We all did. The only one who wasn’t laughing was Wizzie. She was leaning on the wall, watching Lauren sullenly.

‘What’s wrong with your face?’ I asked her.

‘She definitely looks like one of the Lip Gloss Girls now.’

I could see what she meant. Lauren did. The fierceness had come from that wild hair of hers, and her crazy clothes. This was a different Lauren. She looked sweet and innocent. She had the fresh face of a cherub, scrubbed and rosy cheeked.

‘Weird what a change of hair can do, or clothes,’ Sonya said.

‘Or a good wash,’ I added, and Lauren gave me a push that sent me flying.

‘I’m sure I can remember having a bath once,’ she said.

Wizzie might not have liked it, but she was a mate. She linked her arm in Lauren’s and we marched along the corridor together towards the auditorium, striding it out, with Lauren in the middle of us.

‘I hope you know we haven’t a hope,’ Wizzie said. ‘Everybody hates us.’ Then she grinned. ‘Who says we’ll trash the place if she doesn’t get the part?’