Starring Tracy Beaker Read online

  Tracy in the play and now

  she can't even say a

  simple line! What have I

  done? I must keep

  smiling, stay calm. I'm

  not going to panic. I'll

  just tell the kid she'll be

  fine tonight.

  For the first and only time in my life I was in 118

  total agreement with Justine Smug-Slug Littlewood. It looked like I was going to mess up royally.

  We didn't go home for our tea. All the children in the cast had a packed picnic on my wondrously polished hall floor. If I'd been my usual self I'd have been incensed. They were spilling sandwich crumbs and scattering crisps all over the place.

  One of the kids even poured a carton of sticky squash all over my floor! But I was in such a state I barely noticed. I couldn't even eat my picnic. My egg sandwich tasted of old damp flannel, my crisps stuck in my throat, my yoghurt smelled sour.

  'Eat up, Tracy. You're going to

  be burning up a lot of energy

  tonight,' said Peter. 'Here, do

  you want half my special

  banana sandwich? Hey, you

  can have all of it if you like.'

  'Thanks, Pete – but no

  thanks,' I said.

  I sat and brooded,

  snapping all my crisps

  into tiny golden splinters.

  I didn't know what to do.

  119

  I so so so wanted my mum to come and see me, but did I really want her to see me standing sweating on stage, mouth open, but no words whatsoever coming out?

  I shut my eyes tight. 'Please, if there really is a Spirit of Christmas Past, a Spirit of Christmas Present and a Spirit of Christmas Yet to Come, help me now, and then I'll out-do Tiny Tim with my "God bless you"s,' I said inside my head.

  I sensed someone standing beside me.

  I opened my eyes, hoping desperately that it might be Mum, with her

  lovely long golden curls, her big

  blue eyes, her glossy pink lips

  all ready to kiss me . . . but

  I was staring at this small

  scruffy woman with short

  sticking-up hair.

  'Oh, it's only you, Cam,' I said

  wearily.

  'Happy Christmas to you too, Tracy,' said Cam, laughing.

  'What are you doing here? The play's not for hours yet.'

  'I know. I've come to help your Miss Simpkins do your make-up.'

  120

  'But you don't know anything about it! You never wear make-up.'

  'I'm great at stage make-up, you wait and see.'

  She sat down cross-legged beside me. She was wearing her usual jeans and jersey – but they were her newest not-frayed-at-the-hems jeans and she was wearing her best jumper with the knitted cats.

  She thrust a big box of chocolates at me.

  'Here. Have a nibble, then pass them round to all your pals.'

  'Oh, Cam. Did you buy them specially for me?'

  'Well, not exactly' said Cam. 'They were going to be for my mum, when I went home for Christmas. Only I'm not actually going home as it turns out, so I thought we could have them now.'

  'Well, it's very kind of you but I'm not a bit hungry. I feel kind of sick. Maybe I'm going to throw up on stage. If I do I hope it's when Justine's doing her Marley's

  Ghost bit,' I said.

  I opened the box of

  chocolates all the same,

  simply out of curiosity. They

  were extra-special wonderful

  chocs, all sleek and shiny, some

  121

  wrapped in pink and silver and gold paper, others dotted with cherries and nuts and little crystallized roses.

  'Oh, yum,' I said automatically. My fingers reached out for the biggest cherry chocolate of their own accord. I gave it one little lick and then popped it in my mouth quick.

  I chewed, and the most beautiful cherry chocolate taste oozed all over my tongue and round my teeth.

  'Mmm!' I said. My hand reached out again.

  'I wouldn't have too many if you're feeling sick,' said Cam.

  'Do you know something weird? I'm starting to feel just a tiny bit better. Hey, these are seriously scrumptious chocolates. Do I really have to hand them round? I'll have just one more, OK?

  Your mum's really missing out big-time. Why aren't you going to see her at Christmas then?'

  'Oh. We had a row. We always have rows. I phoned her to ask if I could bring someone with me.'

  'Who? Not a boyfriend!'

  'I've told you, Tracy, I haven't got a boyfriend.

  This was someone else, but anyway, she didn't like that idea, and then she went on about this 122

  party she's giving, and saying stuff like will I please have my hair done and could I wear a decent skirt and proper heels.' Cam sighed. 'She's impossible.'

  'No, she's not. You'd look heaps better with your hair done all fancy and a nice tight skirt, and why on earth don't you wear heels? My mum always does.'

  I shouldn't have said the word mum. My tummy went tight all over again. I was on my fourth chocolate by this time. It didn't seem such a great idea.

  Cam held my hand. 'Your mum's obviously a glamorous girly mum. I'm more your casual woman. Though my mum would say there's casual and there's downright ragbag.'

  'Oh, Cam, do you think my mum will come to see me

  act Scrooge?'

  Cam gripped

  my hand tightly.

  'I'm sure she wants

  to come, badly.

  It's just . . . she

  could be tied up

  somewhere.'

  123

  'I'm going to let her down if she does come.'

  I crept closer to Cam. I hissed in her ear so none of the other kids could hear. 'I was totally rubbish at the rehearsal at lunch time. I couldn't remember a single word.'

  'That's great, Tracy,' said Cam brightly.

  'That's great?' I said. 'Oh thanks, Cam! I thought you were supposed to be my friend? It's great that Tracy Beaker is going to publicly humiliate herself in front of the whole school, all the parents, everyone from the Dumping Ground and her own mother?'

  'I am your friend and I'm talking sense.

  Everyone knows that it's bad luck to have a dress rehearsal that goes really well. The worse it is, the better the actual performance.'

  'You're kidding!'

  'No, no, it's common knowledge in the acting profession. I'm surprised your mum hasn't told you. So you'll be great tonight, Tracy, you'll see.'

  'But I can't remember a single line! What am I meant to do? Mime it all?'

  'Well, I'm sure you'd mime very expressively, but I don't think that will be necessary. The moment you get on stage I'm sure you'll be word perfect again. The lines are all in there, Tracy.'

  124

  She swung our clasped hands upwards and gently tapped my head. 'You just need to press the right button and they'll come bursting out as easily as anything, believe me.'

  I looked at her. I didn't believe her –

  but I was touched that she was trying so hard to convince me. I looked

  at Cam's best outfit. I looked

  at her earnest face and her

  funny scrubbing-brush haircut.

  I suddenly gave her a big hug

  right there in front of everyone.

  Some skinny little kid playing

  Ignorance in the play piped up,

  'Is that your mum, Tracy?'

  'She's not my real mum,' I said. 'But she's kind of like a mum to me.'

  Cam gave me a big hug back. 'That's the nicest thing you've ever said about me, Tracy,' she said.

  'It's all this Christmas Peace and Goodwill stuff. It's getting to me,' I said.

  I passed all the chocolates round. I even offered one to Justine, which was a waste of time.

  'You've probably gobbed all over them, Tracy Beaker,' she said.

  Mrs Darlow came trit