Leader of the Pack (Bryant Rockwell Book 3) Page 2

  It wasn’t physically possible for Jude to be Tallulah and perform the “Tomorrow” dance as Velma with David Oughton. Not without making serious changes. The dance had become a real high spot, but no one else knew the routine. It would be such a shame to cut it after putting so much effort into the choreography and everything.

  Her restless mind didn’t give up its worrying until the wee, small hours. Disturbed dreams invaded her sleep, full of gangsters, guns and dragons. And a very wicked witch who cut off her legs so she could never dance – or skate – again.

  A host of concerned faces met her at the door to the tutor room; they seemed to think she would know something.

  Becky got in first. “Hey, Jude. What’s wrong with Liv? We heard about an ambulance last night an’ everything.”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t know anything more. Kat and I are going to ring Liv’s mum at break.”

  But they didn’t need to; a messenger interrupted the English class saying Olivia Tranter’s dad had rung. She’d regained consciousness and was starving hungry, but wouldn’t be back to school for a while.

  “Can she have visitors?” Jude and Kat chorused.

  “Er … I don’t know. The message didn’t say.”

  “Thank you, you can go now.” The English teacher nodded at the year eight lad, who dashed off, with a relieved expression.

  Mr Johnston turned to the agitated class with a smile. “I’m sure we all want to wish Liv all the best, especially after her superb performance last night. Will anyone be visiting her?” He looked for a show of hands. “Jude and Kat, obviously. Terry. It won’t be tonight, because you’ll all be busy in the last Bugsy show, but if anyone wants to send her a message, please give it to one of those three. I’m sure they’ll take it along to her.”

  Luke squeezed Jude’s hand, whispering that Ray had gone green.

  She glanced over; he looked as though he might pass out or throw up or something. Catching his eye, she mouthed at him, “Ok?”

  He shook his head, then nodded, with an attempt at a smile.

  Kat looked similarly upset, and Jude definitely saw the glint of a tear in Terry’s eye. Poor Liv. She would be overwhelmed by the strength of feeling in the room. Not only from her best friends, but all the others who admired the smart, sassy girl unafraid to stand up for injustice. Liv had the sharpest sense of humour of anyone they knew. Except Mel, her ex-partner-in-crime who now lived on the south coast.

  As expected, Miss Maines called an emergency meeting of the cast at lunch to discuss the evening show.

  Jude got there first to explain her predicament. “I’m so sorry, but there’s no way I can take over Liv’s part.” She felt dreadful as the drama teacher sank into a chair and put her head in her hands as though she had the weight of the world on her shoulders.

  World-class stress aside, Jude knew she must say something. Her playing Tallulah would not do the show any favours. Give her a complicated skating routine and she’d repeat it faultlessly, time after time, no matter what pressure from judges or audience. But give her a few smart lines which would turn to gibberish without the right delivery or timing, and she’d mess it up nine times out of ten.

  Miss Maines sighed. “It’s only one night, Judith. You were fine depping for Bangles last night, and you had to learn those lines in a hurry.”

  “But it was only one scene and I still botched one of the lines.” Jude’s chest tightened with the memory and she barely registered Kat and Alison’s entrance as the teacher tried coaxing.

  “I know you’ve worked hard to learn the songs for Tallulah.” The smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, and her attempt at a bright tone came off as brittle. “You’ll be fine once you get up there.”

  “The songs are the easy bit. But I’ll freeze if I have to deliver all those vampy lines in the spotlight.”

  “Oh Jude. An understudy part is not something to be taken lightly.” She sighed, frowning as Kat started a sotto voce conversation with Alison. “I chose you because you are a girl who always commits to things. Your sporting record shows that.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.” Jude cringed at the low-key disappointment; it hurt far deeper than anger would have done.

  The drama teacher shook her head. “You could have let us know if you were feeling like this. You seemed fine at the understudy rehearsal.”

  “That’s just the point. I didn’t realise I’d be hit by stage fright until last night.” Jude actually wrung her hands. “Tallulah’s such a main character; you can’t afford to have it messed up.”

  Realising Kat and Alison were working on some kind of solution, she tried one last play. “Not to mention that no one else knows the dance Velma does with Fizzy.”

  “Ok, Jude, you’ve convinced me. Let me think about it.”

  As other members of the cast appeared, Kat stepped forward. “Miss Maines, I may have a solution. I know Tallulah’s part, certainly all of the songs and most of the speeches. Alison is word-perfect as Blowsy, so we could swap.”

  “Mmm, I suppose it could work.” The drama teacher’s gaze swept over the two girls, sizing them up. “Alison’s a little shorter than Kat, but about the same height as Liv, so we can swap some of the Blowsy and Tallulah outfits and dress them down or up accordingly.”

  Kat nodded. “There’s a few dresses in wardrobe which fit the bill.”

  “True. We can always swap with one of the extras if needs be. I’m quite happy you can do Tallulah ...”

  “I won’t be anything like as good as Liv. She was made for the part.”

  “Yes, she did do it well, and I’m sure you’ll be good, just different.” Miss Maines smiled at Alison. “What about you, sweetheart? Are you happy with this idea? You look a little terrified by the prospect.”

  Terry, who would be playing Alison’s love interest, put his arm round her. “I’m sure she’ll be fine on the night.”

  Back in director mode, Miss Maines seemed to have lost some of her worry lines. “Ok, this seems to be our only option. I need to keep all the principals, plus Fizzy and Knuckles. The rest of you can have a lunch break. If you see anyone who’s not here now, can you let them know about the switch, please?”

  Jude’s character name hadn’t been called so she picked up her bag.

  Miss Maines called her back with a smile. “You can stay and read for the other females. I want to run through all the changed scenes, including the Bangles bit if you wanted a few tips. Everyone else, please clear off.”

  As the others started to leave, she shouted after them, “We might run on a little after lunch. If anyone is in class with the main characters, please tell the teachers why they’re going to be late.”

  3 Curse of a Pretty Face

  Although glad to be called, Ray wasn’t needed in any of the chosen scenes, as his character, Dandy Dan, had little to do with Tallulah or Blowsy. It helped to be involved, taking his mind off what might be going on across town in the hospital. Not that he had the right to be this concerned about Liv; she was, technically, going out with Terry. But heck, she was a close friend, and anyone had the right to worry about a friend, right?

  Courtesy of his analytical mind, he soon proved his worth, keeping track of the action against his copy of the script. A keen attention to detail had him pointing out little bits here and there Miss Maines would otherwise have missed in her agitated state.

  Even with this level of concentration, he had enough time to catch the way Luke gravitated toward Jude at every opportunity, offstage and on. Fair play to the big jock, he was a different guy to the uptight, snarling tormentor of Ray’s first week at Bryant Rockwell.

  Luke and Jude made a good match. Ray smiled; he’d done more than a smidge of playing Cupid, there. They all knew how she felt about Luke, even though she didn’t realise it herself. With enough encouragement in the right direction, she finally saw the light.

  In a quiet moment, he’d compared notes with Kat. She’d been doing similar things with Luke, although far more subt
ly, as was her way.

  The resulting date had happened last week, but so far, Luke refused to discuss it on the grounds that “A man of honour doesn’t disclose details of his conquests.” Like some leading man from a period drama.

  One way or another, Ray would find out the secret which turned Jude from self-contained super-jock to eyelid-batting puddle-of-mush whenever Luke was around. The guy must have something truly special.

  Ray’s eyes narrowed as he caught Alison flashing doe eyes at Terry. Interesting. He watched idly for a while; she could just have been a top-notch actress. Better than Kat? Definitely not: The younger girl’s performance was generally rushed, with a raw edge. But when it came to their love scene, it had so much chemistry Ray could have missed the last lesson. The plot thickens.

  Chemistry itself provided no such distraction. Even if he hadn’t already studied the trends of element valences across the periodic table, the simple concept wouldn’t tax too many brain cells. Where was Liv when he needed her? Despite both doing all three sciences, they only partnered in chemistry. Luke normally sat next to him in physics and Jude in biology.

  He missed Liv’s wicked observations about Mr Pershore’s lack of sartorial taste. According to her, the poor sap had trousers which had fallen out with his shoes, bad tie days, and the very worst kind of Austin Powers’ psychedelic shirts. As the guy turned a basic linear relationship into a major mathematical conundrum, Ray visualised Liv concentrating, with the end of her pen on the corner of her lip.

  Without warning, a different image of her assaulted him. Looking absolutely stunning as Tallulah, she’d twirled round at his command. Just like last night, he worked hard to suppress his natural reaction. Luckily, Nelson had engaged the chemistry teacher’s mathematically-challenged brain with a few well-placed questions.

  Ray returned to his musings. Liv had obviously worked hard to lose so much weight so quickly. Was she doing it because he’d inadvertently told her she could do with losing a stone or two? He grinned as he remembered her response: something about her being fat and him being a cripple, but at least she could lose weight. Then she told him to go to hell.

  At that point, he realised how much her peculiar mix of strength and vulnerability attracted him. By the time she’d walked him home, he fancied her rotten. He could never be sure what she thought about him, due to the constant snarky comments. Sometimes she really seemed to like him, but then he’d catch her raving on about Terry being prime leading-man material. Or blushing when someone mentioned the biker dude, Jimmy something. The girl was special alright, but he wished he’d figured it out sooner. Terry had no idea how lucky he was. Or outclassed. Why the heck had he hesitated?

  He cursed the missed opportunity, glaring at his useless legs in the wheelchair. Before the accident he’d have had no problem asking her straight out. Get real Donnelly, before the accident you probably wouldn’t have looked twice at her. Wouldn’t even have noticed her brand of mousy geek amongst the queues of long-legged beauties just desperate to do anything he asked of them.

  Having a pretty face could be a real curse; he had no illusions about how shallow life was for people labelled “drop-dead gorgeous.” The gods had been generous when they handed him brains and sporting prowess as well. Obviously trying to compensate for all the curves they intended to throw at him before he hit sixteen: like his mother dying in a car crash the week after his eighth birthday. Like being in his uncle’s car when it was hit by some guy celebrating Easter early. He’d trotted out the line often enough: “Nothing good about that Friday.”

  Closing his eyes, he fought to clear the picture of the tree which finally halted the car’s progress down the mountain. Instead, he found the indecision on Liv’s face as he’d asked her if she loved Terry. He grinned. One of the only perks of being wheelchair-bound was the way girls forgave him when he pulled them onto his lap. Liv had gotten used to it, and fought to keep a straight face when he tickled. But he never expected her to respond to his kiss quite so passionately, nor the dazed look in her eye when they were interrupted by his cue call.

  Remembering this made him extremely uncomfortable. He focussed on the chart in front of him in the hope it would slow the blood racing through his veins, thoroughly overheating him. He looked at his watch – twenty minutes to go – wondering whether she’d thought about that impossible, amazing kiss. And if so, what she’d thought.

  4 Think Yourself Lucky

  Liv heard the steady hum of a car engine and voices talking in the soft, low tones her parents always used when she dozed in the back of the car. She heard her mum asking about treatment and the response about neuroplasticity, supervised eating and supportive psychotherapy. Idly, she wondered what could be wrong with Dad’s patient.

  “Of course, we’ll have to wait until she regains consciousness, but she’s showing signs already. Technically it’s a coma because of the number of hours she’s been out, but I’m confident it won’t be long, now.”

  “What about the high ketones and low blood count you mentioned? Are they serious?”

  Blimey, Mum. Since when did you get so technical?

  “A slight possibility of other complications like diabetes or anaemia. But if there’s no history of these in either side of the family, I think we’ll wait until she comes round and find out what she’s been up to.”

  History what? And it didn’t sound much like Dad.

  “But it makes no sense. Liv, anorexic?”

  They were talking about her? Anorexic? Supportive psychotherapy?

  Her mum continued. “I can’t believe it. She’s so sensible and bright and she loves her food.”

  “You know Liv best, Mrs Tranter. If you think she’s lost weight, this must be our starting place.”

  And it definitely wasn’t her dad speaking. What on earth was going on? Liv felt as though something imprisoned her, and struggled to get past the straps which secured her to the bed and the fingers holding her eyelids shut. She tried shouting for help, but her mum didn’t listen. The humming noise, quite obviously not a car engine, got louder, and the rhythm changed.

  “There we are; what did I tell you? She’s waking up. Sure, take her hand if you want to. I’ll go and find the obs cart.” She heard a rustling sound as the man left the room.

  “Liv darling, it’s time to wake up, now. We’re here; it’s perfectly safe. I didn’t mean to leave you. Please come back, Livvy.”

  Hanging onto the feel of her mum’s hand and the sound of her nervous babble, Liv climbed to the surface.

  “I dreamt about coming back from the course to a hospital case. But I was worried about Davey, not you. What did you do to yourself while I was away?” A tut, then a whisper. “You frightened the life out of me.”

  Liv finally opened her eyes to see her mum’s anxious face. “Sorry, Mum. I’m not anorexic; I just tried to lose some weight to be Tallulah.” At least that’s what she tried to say. The reality was a jumble of unintelligible sounds.

  “Oh, Olivia. What are we going to do with you?”

  As Liv’s mum hugged her, they both burst into tears, crying and laughing at the same time. A nurse came in and cautiously went about her observation duties, taking blood pressure, pulse and temperature readings which she marked on the chart at the bottom of the bed.

  “Now, young lady. Can we get you anything to eat or drink? The doctor says you should start off with a light diet. How does a cup of tea and some toast sound?”

  “Marvellous, I’m starving. Not too much butter on the toast please, it’s fattening.” Liv’s garbled response had to be translated, but her mum knew her preferences.

  “Tea with no sugar and a thin scrape of butter on the toast.”

  “Nonsense, she’ll have it full strength to build her up. As if a young thing like her has to watch her weight.” She smiled directly at Liv. “With a lovely figure like yours? You should think yourself lucky.”

  “Yes. Liv. You should think yourself very lucky. Was it one of those silly diet
s you read about in slimming magazines?”

  Liv sipped some water and coughed to clear the lily pad’s worth of frogs invading her throat. She tried speaking slowly, and her words began to resemble human speech.

  “No, mum. I ate plenty of protein and fresh fruit and vegetables. I just left out all the fats and carbs.” She sipped more water and cleared her throat again. “What makes you say that?”

  “Your father found a stack of them in your bedroom. Those things are dangerous without proper medical supervision. You’re not supposed to be dieting at your age.”

  Liv looked suitably chastened, but she still tried to explain. “I think the extra exercise caused the damage. I felt faint a couple of times, but I just slowed down ’til the feeling went away.” Her mum’s expression was the adult version of an eye-roll.

  She persevered with a shrug. “It was really good ’cos when I came in from a run, I didn’t even feel hungry.”

  “Until you passed out on stage.” Her mum’s smile was tinged with sadness. “I’m afraid your Aunt Karen and Uncle Trevor will miss your moment of glory at tonight’s show.”

  As Liv tried to process the idea of letting so many people down, the doctor returned and picked up her chart, examining the readings. He glanced at his watch and noted down the time.

  Liv noticed the clock on the wall. “Oh my goodness, what time is it? I’ve got to get up and get ready for the show. I … ohhh.” She flinched as her head moved too fast and the pain hit her.

  “You, young lady, are not going anywhere for a few days until your systems are all back to normal and we find out why you were unconscious for so long.” The doctor tapped the chart. “Blood pressure still on the low side, but otherwise everything is ok.”

  “My husband has particularly low blood pressure, and mine’s on the low side of normal.”

  “It tends to be hereditary.” He made a note and replaced the clipboard, then stood next to Liv, examining one of her hands. “We’ll want urine and stool samples every time you go until we tell you differently.”