Rock that Frock!

“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.

“Now you just need the multicoloured hair,” Mel said as I gave her and Lucy a Bubbly-look twirl by the car-park entrance.

“Mum would never let me,” I explained regretfully.

Loads of people were around, all lured out by the sun. The whole of the Hartley central car park was buzzing, music was playing from various parts of the market and there was this festive feeling you usually only get on holiday.

There’s something about sunny days that makes me want to spend money – especially at car-boot sales, where the stalls all groan with cheap goodies. Before long, I was the proud owner of two studded leather wrist-straps, a handful of postcards, two CDs and a thin gold belt that wrapped twice around my middle. Then Lucy found a stall selling little china animals and spent ages deciding between getting a cat and a bear.

“Psst,” I said, suddenly grabbing Lucy. “Isn’t that Ben over there?”

Lucy’s big brother was walking down the next line of stalls along from us with his on-off girlfriend, Jasmine Harris. They are both in Year Ten, two years above us.

“Oooh, Ben,” Mel said in a silly-swoony voice. “I lurve you…”

“Yeah, yeah,” I said impatiently. It was true that I had a crush on Ben Hanratty, but it was hardly news. I’d liked him for what felt like half my life. No – I had a much more important question to ask Lucy.

“So are Ben and Jasmine back together then?”

“Looks like it,” Lucy said, shrugging. “Who knows with those two?”

To my horror, Ben and Jasmine were kissing now. I heaved a sigh. One day Ben Hanratty would notice me. But it wasn’t going to be today.

“What do you think of this?” Mel said, pouncing on something at the china-animal stall. She held up a little red, white and blue ceramic elephant with a raised trunk.

“For your mum?” Lucy asked, finally buying the cat. Mel’s mum collected elephants and had them all over their flat.

Mel nodded, looking delighted as she handed over twenty pence to the stallholder. “It’s exactly the same pattern as this huge one Mum’s got by the fireplace,” she said, and put the elephant carefully in her pocket.

Lucy’s mobile rang. “It’s Dad,” she said, looking at her screen. “I’ve got to go, guys – we’re going to my gran’s for Sunday dinner.”

As we waved goodbye, I caught sight of something that made me forget everything else in an instant.

“Look!” I gasped at Mel, pointing to a bright red poster that was fluttering on the side of a nearby car-park ticket machine.

BATTLE OF THE BANDS!

Are you aged between 12 and 16?

Think you’ve got what it takes to rock?

Make it happen!!

I snatched down the poster and studied it. “Qualifying rounds are in two weeks!” I read. “There’s four all across town, with the final taking place in the Town Hall a month after the qualifiers. Contestants must sing a cover version of a well-known song for the qualifying round,” I continued, squinting at the tiny print that ran along the bottom of the poster. “Original songs must be performed for the final.”

I looked across the top of the poster at Mel. “There’s a trophy!” I gasped. I’d never won a trophy in my whole life. “You know what I’m thinking?”

Mel goggled at me. “You want to enter Battle of the Bands?” she said. “But we haven’t got a band!”

“We can fix that,” I said, tucking the poster into my pocket. “Lucy’s got the voice, and you and me have got the attitude. What do you reckon?”

“What about a song?” Mel protested. But she was smiling, so I knew we were getting somewhere.

“We could cover Wave Like You Mean It for the qualifier,” I said, almost crazy with excitement at the thought of performing a Bubbly song in front of a cheering crowd. “We know it off by heart, don’t we? And as for the original song – I’ll write one tonight! I mean, how hard can it be?”