Rock that Frock!

Rock that Frock!
Coleen McLoughlin

Introducing Coleen Style Queen – a fictional character inspired by the childhood of leading style icon, Coleen McLoughlin. This is a gorgeous series about boys, friendship, family and fashion.It's the summer holidays and the local youth club is having a battle of the bands competition. Coleen’s best friend Lucy is a fantastic singer so the girls start practising and are determined to win, but not if Summer has her way…As well as a great story this book includes top style and fashion tips, and advice on how to customise your clothes and make your own cool accessories. So there’s no excuse not to look super stylish!

Coleen Style Queen

With thanks to Lucy Courtenay

Table of Contents

Cover Page (#u773e1754-683a-5bc2-9e1b-01c1ed98b1b8)

Title Page (#uc8284e36-6075-5b60-a3d9-bf4508ba6aef)

Dedication (#u85071068-7673-523b-933d-58c4731fba00)

One (#u21d999ff-cf4b-5316-9e18-5f2828394722)

Two (#u6e7842b4-82d7-587d-9539-de72d2bad2b7)

Three (#u61113997-f13a-587f-a9b1-61544766c9bd)

Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Rockin Pocket Purse (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)

One (#ulink_561cd402-d29e-5982-b5d1-1ba962e75e6a)

OK, so a bit of advice here. Never go dancing in a strapless top. Especially if you’re at the gig of your absolute favourite band, Bubbly, whose songs make you want to go mental on the dance floor.

“You OK, Coleen?” my mate Mel yelled over the thumping music. She looked fab in a Bubbly T-shirt and a new pair of skinny jeans, with her huge cloud of hair catching the lights.

“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 abetter 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.