How to Get Famous Read online

  But this is my future, my destiny . . . and I can't let them sabotage it.

  5.35 p.m.

  Dad is home at last. Mum must have mentioned to him about Cloud Nine calling because he exclaimed, 'What? Has the whole world gone mad?' This doesn't sound very promising so I'm piling down the stairs now.

  6.15 p.m.

  The verdict is in.

  I strolled into the kitchen trying to appear carefree and nonchalant. 'Great news about Cloud Nine wanting me, isn't it?' I said, grinning at my old pilchard of a dad. And fair play to him – he did try and smile back at me. But his face really isn't designed for such alien activities. And he just looked even more alarming than usual.

  Then he said, 'You utter a few lines of nonsense on a news broadcast and now a talent show wants you to repeat the whole thing.' He raised his eyebrows questioningly. 'Why do you think that is?'

  Talk about daft questions.

  I replied as patiently as I could. 'Because, oh disbelieving Dad, Cloud Nine knows star quality when they come across it. And what I said yesterday, just for your information, wasn't nonsense – it was rap.'

  'Same thing,' muttered Dad. Then he went on, 'You don't think there's something suspicious about this programme suddenly contacting you like this?'

  'Suspicious . . . ? I've been asked to go on a talent show, not take part in a bank raid.' I got angry then. And I burst out, 'You can't believe any show would want me to appear on it without there being something suspicious . . .'

  'That's not what your father said,' murmured Mum.

  'Yes it is. I am quoting the very word he used – suspicious.'

  'All right, sorry,' said Dad unexpectedly, then he twisted his face about and asked, 'Why exactly do you wish to appear on this talent show?'

  'Why . . . ?' Then I burst out, 'Because my dream is to have people come up and say: "Can I shake your hand, and thank you for cheering me up so much." In fact, I can't think of anything better happening to me than that – well, unless they asked me for my autograph as well. So TV is where my future lies and the sooner I get started on there – the better.'

  Dad looked at me and frowned.

  'Yes, all right, Dad, you can frown all you like . . . but some people do make a living out of entertaining people on TV and I'm going to be one of them. Because something inside me tells me that this is my destiny. And now Cloud Nine has singled me out for the greatest chance of my whole life. Don't mess it up for me . . . please.'

  There was a silence for a moment, and then Dad lifted his head like an old, old tortoise and said quietly, 'I'm living, Tobey, in a world I don't understand any more. It's changed too fast for me – and mainly for the worse; while television seems nothing more than a parade of lunatics . . . none of whom have got anything to say except "Look at me", and—'

  But Mum suddenly interrupted. 'Television didn't matter very much to us when we were growing up. But times change and I suppose we have to try and change with it.'

  'Why do we have to?' retorted Dad at once. Mum didn't answer; she just smiled at Dad as if she felt a bit sorry for him.

  He turned away and shook his head in a tired sort of way before declaring, 'I'm going to hand over the decision-making on this one to your mother, Tobey. And she obviously thinks you should be given the chance to attend this very strange programme.' He was suddenly looking right at her: 'Don't you?' And Mum nodded, but very slowly. Dad walked out then, obviously thinking Mum had gone over to the dark side.

  I shrieked, 'Hey, Mum, you're a legend, and I promise when I'm rich and famous I shan't forget you! In fact, you can start making up your wish-list this very second. But shouldn't you be ringing someone at Cloud Nine – like this very instant?'

  And she has now made that call. So it's all arranged. I've got the rap poem to go through in a minute – I want to learn it off by heart again.

  But right now, I'm just sitting here thinking how totally incredible tonight has been. Overnight my life seems to have turned into this great, giddy adventure where anything can happen.

  I can't wait for tomorrow.

  Chapter Fourteen

  FRIDAY APRIL 23RD

  4.25 p.m.

  At last life is catching up with my dreams.

  A few minutes ago a white stretch limo (well practically, it was a big, black, gleaming taxi if you want to be boringly accurate) sailed majestically down my road and stopped bang outside my humble abode.

  I let my mum get inside first. Then I opened the door and said cheerily, 'Yonder to TV land please,' to my personal chauffeur (for the next hour he was, anyhow).

  I jumped into the taxi, then immediately shot out again. I pretended I'd forgotten something and tore back into my house. I hung about for a few moments. Then once again I had the special joy of briskly walking down the drive and opening the door to my chauffeur-driven limo, waving to a gaping neighbour down the road and saying, as I got in: 'All photos from my left side please.'

  I waved to quite a few other people as we purred smoothly along. Then Mum hissed, 'Tobey, stop drawing attention to yourself.'

  This made me laugh a lot, as I'm off to a TV studio where I'm going to be seen by millions. 'Come on, Mum,' I said, 'you've got to get into the fame vibe.'

  Instead she asked me if I'd memorized all the words to my rap story (as she calls it) yet. I said I thought I had. But actually, as Georgia pointed out to me just a few minutes ago when she was ringing me to wish me luck, no one knows what the real words are, so it won't matter if I change them a tiny bit.

  That reassured me, because between you and me I am highly nervous. In fact, right now I feel as if I've got the gripes. But once I'm in front of the cameras I'm sure my natural star quality will take over. Meanwhile I'm going to ignore my mum and do a bit more waving.

  5.08 p.m.

  At the studio Mum and I were given a pass (I'll definitely keep mine as a souvenir of such a momentous night) and then were whisked down this long and surprisingly dark corridor. People scurried past us looking tense and important, but I don't think any of them were famous.

  Then we were shown into my dressing room. What a disappointment that was – a small, glum room with a brown carpet and a musty smell. Two other people were in there too: a large, sweaty man in a blue tracksuit bawling into a phone about how his son must have another sound check immediately. And his son, David, who I remember from the show I watched. He told me gravely that he couldn't talk much right now as he was busy visualizing his magic tricks.

  Mum stood in the doorway watching all this carry-on with wide-eyed amazement. 'Welcome to show business,' I said to her.

  5.35 p.m.

  Just seen the studio where I'm going to be performing – and like my dressing room, it was much smaller than I'd expected. They did a sound check with me, while I recited what I was going to say. No one reacted much to it – they just timed me and then Stew Davis, the host, appeared. He is famous for his great enthusiasm and . . . well, that's about all really.

  'Hey there,' he said, shaking my hand as if I were his long-lost brother. 'How's it going down? I've heard great things about you.'

  This sounded good. 'Oh, who from?' I asked.

  'Lots of people,' he said vaguely. 'Listen, we're going to show a clip from your appearance on the news first, big you up a bit.'

  'Cool, cool,' I murmured.

  'I'll have a quick chat with you and then you go into your rap song.'

  'Well, it's not actually a song,' I said, 'more a poem, really.'

  'Even better: now, until then, just take it easy, all right?' Before I could reply I was being ushered off to make-up.

  The girl who worked on me was lovely, dead friendly. I said, 'I want you to make me look handsome, so we might be here some time.'

  Do you know what she replied? – and this is no lie. 'Oh, I don't think you'll need much make-up at all.' She just put some sweet-smelling cream on my face and told me that everyone who appears on television has some make-up on.

  'Even newsreaders?
' I said.

  'Especially newsreaders,' she replied.

  After she'd finished, Mum, who was hovering nearby, said, 'Now, that wasn't too bad, was it?' That's exactly what she says after I've been to the dentist.

  5.50 p.m.

  David and I are waiting to be summoned by Cloud Nine. We're both sitting in front of huge mirrors surrounded by light bulbs. David's back is slowly being rubbed by his dad. Mum is hovering behind my chair and smiling tensely. Feel as if I'm about to go into the boxing ring for the fight of my life. And I just want to get out onto that stage now. It's this waiting about I really hate.

  Hang on, I can hear someone outside. I think this could be the call for Cloud Nine.

  It is.

  6.45 p.m.

  What an experience.

  I was the third contestant and I stood in the wings watching the first two contestants. First of all, David. I remembered his magic tricks as being incredibly clever and they were again tonight. And the three judges were all impressed, even Merv. He's the mean one, who looks like a bullfrog with a perm. But he said, 'David, you're what this competition is all about. You've really blossomed.'

  Next contestant was Celia. I heard her mum hiss, 'Remember, the second you're out there tonight, you've got to smile at the judges and radiate.'

  Celia went out and sang 'Dancing Queen' by Abba, and she certainly radiated some amazing volume, I thought. Two of the judges also thought so, saying she 'owned' that song. But Merv said, 'Celia was good but not great,' and as the other judges started arguing with him he snapped, 'When Celia sang some of the top notes she almost dislodged one of my fillings. So I repeat, Celia, you were good but definitely not great.'

  'That man knows nothing,' hissed Celia's mum beside me, her eyes nearly popping out with fury as the judges gave their scores with the audience cheering or booing in the background. I hadn't listened to David's scores and I didn't listen now either – I was too nervous to hear anything right then.

  Then it was my turn. Mum whispered, 'Good luck, love' and I didn't tell her it's bad luck to wish someone in show business 'good luck'. And in those last seconds just before I went on – well, there was terror in my heart and everywhere else in my body.

  But as soon as I was led forward my fears instantly melted away. In fact, I was so excited I nearly jumped onto that stage. And Stew said, 'We promised you a great surprise tonight. And here it is: an extra contestant. Here's why we think Tobey deserves his chance to join the competition at such a late stage.'

  Then up on the screen came that clip of me being interviewed on the local news. They showed the bit where I was nattering away about stopping the robbery. A great roar of appreciation from the audience after that . . . and from Stew: 'Let me shake you by the hand, dude. You're a brave guy.'

  Quick as a flash I replied, 'Oh, brave is one of my middle names – the other is "great big coward".'

  Stew nearly fell over from laughing at this. 'It's an honour to have you on the show, Tobey. Now we hear you performed a rap piece when you auditioned to be in a local production of that classic story, The Secret Garden. Sadly you didn't get the part but you have earned your chance to be this week's surprise contestant on Cloud Nine . . . so, over to you, Tobey.'

  The audience clapped and then there was a deathly hush. I could hear myself breathing. I had everyone's attention. And this two minutes meant everything:

  'Yo, pray listen to Colin . . . '

  And then I was away. No worry at all about remembering my lines, the words just flowed out of me. And the audience, well they were with me from the start. Some of them were killing themselves laughing. And that was a joyous sound to my ears.

  They were having such a fabulous time that many of them were even laughing over my last lines which were highly serious.

  But I know exactly what it's like when you're really laughing – it's very hard to suddenly turn all solemn again.

  When I'd finished, this great wave of applause just erupted over me.

  Stew had to raise his hand for the audience to stop. Then he said, 'Well, the audience clearly loved it, but what do our judges think? Right, Merv, we'll start with you.'

  Merv threw himself back against his chair, while I smiled hopefully at him. 'So here we have Tobey, hero and rap star . . . well, hero anyway.' He closed his eyes for a moment and then snapped, 'Tobey, your piece inspired by The Secret Garden should have stayed secret. You know, sometimes at night when you're halfasleep and you hear a cat throwing up outside your house – that's exactly what your rap piece sounded like to me.'

  Some of the audience started to boo him. But I somehow kept a smile plastered on my face.

  'My advice to you, Tobey – and you seem like a nice guy,' he went on, 'is to forget show business and get yourself another dream.'

  More boos from the audience until Stew put a hand round my shoulder. 'Very strong words from Merv there. Anything you want to say in reply?'

  I thought for a second and then launched into my impression of a cat being sick. Now as you know, I'm pretty good at doing animal impressions. And I gave this one the full works. I began with the retching sounds and movements a cat makes and then built up to the final explosion. Then I cried, 'Merv, that's a cat throwing up. And if you think I sounded like that then you're still half-asleep.'

  The audience whooped and cheered and so did Stew. 'Now that was a truly great moment of television,' he said.

  'I agree,' called out Merv. 'In fact, the impression was much better than his bit of so-called rap.'

  'All right, Merv, we've heard enough from you,' said Stew.

  'You certainly have,' said Grace, another of the judges, a woman with bright red hair and eyes that seemed to be forever brimming with tears. 'I want to applaud Tobey's courage last week and his courage coming here tonight too.'

  The audience roared their approval. 'And I love the way he came out on this stage tonight and said something right from his heart.' Then she turned to Merv. 'And how dare you tell him to get another dream. You go on believing, Tobey. And you know something else, you sizzled tonight with energy. In fact, you're my little sizzler.'

  I was very touched by her words. I just wish she'd said I was cool and brill too. Then came the third judge, Jackie: she's probably the most famous of the judges, as she's also a weathergirl on breakfast television. She said, 'Look, Tobey's enjoyed himself, so have the audience. I don't see the problem.'

  'Great,' cried Stew. 'And now we have those all-important scores. Dare I ask Merv first?'

  'Because I enjoyed his cat impression: two.' The audience murmured their disapproval.

  'Grace?' asked Stew. Her face shook with emotion. 'Keep on dreaming my little sizzler: four.'

  That's what Jackie gave me too: four.

  'But remember,' said Stew, 'the judges only give half the marks. The others come from you at home. So if you want to see brave Tobey rapping for you again' – he grinned – 'and maybe doing some more of his unique animal impressions, ring us at the end of the show.'

  I went off stage to be met by Mum. 'Those scores were out of five, weren't they?'

  'No, Mum,' I replied very sadly. 'Ten, I'm afraid.'

  7.15 p.m.

  All six of us contestants have just been filmed sitting on this big, snug sofa. We were supposed to be chatting spontaneously and wishing each other 'Good Luck' while we wait for the public votes to be counted, but as soon as the cameras stopped, the smiles instantly vanished. There was a real atmosphere of tension, far worse than the vibes you get when you're doing exams. On Cloud Nine, one contestant was voted off every week, and we all wanted the chance to come back again.

  So I said, 'I don't know why you're all looking so worried. I came bottom with the judges, in fact, I believe I got the lowest score of the entire series.'

  'That's right, you did,' said David, perking up considerably.

  I continued, 'And my mum definitely thinks I'm going to be out as she told me I can have steak and kidney pie tomorrow – my favourite mea
l in the whole world. And I'm usually only allowed to have that on my birthday or when I've been ill.'

  To cheer things up further I leaned right back, put my left arm up my armpit and belched twice. Everyone started grinning and relaxing after that. David even began telling me about his collection of magic hats at home while Celia laughed so much her squad of relatives came piling over, peering at her anxiously.

  'It's all right, I just belched,' I explained, 'and she's laughing about it.'

  This made her laugh all the more until one of the assistants from the TV company came trotting over and frowned disapprovingly at us all looking so merry. 'The Moment of Truth' – that's what they call the results part of the show – 'is about to start,' she announced.

  7.55 p.m.

  'The Moment of Truth' is over.

  All six of us stood on the stage, each a little way apart from the other. Then Stew bounded in front of us waving an envelope. 'The results are in. Good luck, everyone.'

  I saw my mum standing in the wings. She was right in the middle of the flock of parents and other hangers on. She looked a bit fed up. Poor old Mum thinks I'm about to be humiliated. But at least I've been on television tonight. And a week ago I'd never have dreamed this was possible. I keep reminding myself about that.

  Stew said, 'Now in no particular order, the first person through to the next round is' – an agonizingly long pause before . . . 'Celia.' Above her head this spotlight beamed down on her. Blinking furiously, she bowed, while tears flooded down her face. Then with a triumphant bow she skipped off. I joined in the deafening applause. She had an incredibly loud voice and deserved to go on.

  Three more people were safe and then there were just two people left . . . David and me. I said to myself, 'Look, face it, you're going home, it's all over for you, so don't embarrass yourself by falling to your knees and sobbing. Take your defeat in a carefree manner with a cool smile playing about your lips . . . '

  'And the last place in next week's show goes to . . .

  Of course this pause was the longest one of all, stretching right into infinity. I kept saying to myself, 'Come on now, get the cool smile ready . . .'