Princess at Silver Spires (2 page)

I grinned at her, and Katy and I squished up a bit on the bench to make room for them.

“One of the Year Elevens was looking for you,” said Grace, as she sat down.

“Whoa! Sounding urgent now!
Quelle intrigue!
” said Georgie, putting on a French accent.

“Who was it?” Katy asked.

“A girl called Elise,” Grace replied.

Georgie gasped. “That one who looks like Rachel from
Friends
?”

Grace wrinkled her nose. “Er…does she?” Grace is the least into looks and fashion out of all of us. Her passion is sport, and when she's not in her school uniform she's in her tracksuit.

It was Jess who answered Georgie's question. “Yes, she's got streaky blonde hair and always wears a big slide holding half of it back. And she's got a long neck and wide shoulders, and wears quite a bit of make-up,” she added, which made us all laugh, it was such unexpected detail.

“What's funny about that?” asked Jess.

“Nothing!” said Grace, sticking up for her best friend. “We're all just jealous of your artist's eye that picks up every little thing.”

“Did she say what she wanted?” asked Katy.

“It was straight after school when we saw her and she didn't seem too pleased that she might have to wait till supper before she saw Naomi,” Grace said. Then she lowered her voice as she turned to me. “Don't worry, we didn't tell her where she could find you.”

“Even though I reckon she would have paid us for the info,” Jess added. “She looked so…so keen to get hold of you.”

“Wow!” said Georgie. “I'd better be there when she
does
track you down!”

“Looks like your wish has come true,” said Mia quietly.

We all followed her gaze and saw a much older student marching purposefully in our direction.

“That's her!” hissed Georgie. “That's Elise!”

I don't know why, but I suddenly felt uneasy. I hate being the centre of attention and I found myself crossing my fingers that everyone was mistaken, and Elise wanted to speak to someone else. Anyone but me.

She squatted down in between Georgie and me, and Georgie immediately swizzled round a bit and leaned forwards. The others were all silent too, as though waiting for a show to begin.

Elise blinked a bit and I saw how thick her mascara was. She looked annoyed about everyone tuning in. “Er…when you've finished, Naomi, I'd like a word,” she said.

I wanted to get whatever it was over with, so I started to get up. “I've finished
now
.”

“Are you sure?” She was eyeing my half-eaten cheesecake, but there was no way I could manage it. I was just too nervous.

I followed her out of the dining hall, certain the others were all staring after me, and as soon as we were in the corridor she turned into an empty classroom and shut the door. She perched on a desk while I stood opposite her. Now I was really nervous. Her face was so serious I began to wonder if I'd done something terribly wrong and was about to get a big telling-off.

“Naomi…” She suddenly broke into a huge smile, then leaned forwards and grabbed both my wrists dramatically. “I've got something to ask you. I know you're going to find it totally unusual and you might wonder if I've got a screw loose or something, but believe me, I
do
know what I'm doing.” She nodded slowly and paused, her eyes sparkling as she looked straight into mine. “I'd like
you
…” Another pause. I wished she'd just finish her sentence. “…to be one of my two models for the fashion show at the end of term!”

I didn't understand what she meant. Katy is totally into fashion and wants to be a designer when she's older, so I did know that there was going to be a fashion show. But I was certain Katy had said it was for GCSE textile students, because I could remember her saying she couldn't wait till she was in Year Ten so she could take part. Then I suddenly had a thought. Maybe Elise had somehow got to hear about the incredible hip wraps and bracelets that Katy made for all of us just before half-term for Chinese New Year, and she thought I was the one who'd done them.

“Oh, I think you might be confusing me with Katy. She's a fantastic designer.”

Elise's eyes shot wide open and she dropped my wrists as dramatically as she had grabbed them. “It's nothing to do with design.
I'm
the designer. I'm saying I want you to model for me.” She suddenly frowned. “You
are
Naomi Okanta, aren't you?”

I felt myself tensing right up, but I wasn't sure why.

“Yes,” I replied, a bit abruptly.

She looked startled and I suddenly felt like a cheeky little girl talking back to a teacher, even though she was only a Year Eleven. I think I must have sounded really rude. “But…I'm only Year Seven…”

She suddenly smiled at me as though I was a bit too young to get the hang of things, and then she spoke slowly and deliberately. “Okay, Naomi, the fashion show is for the students taking GCSE textiles this year, and yes, it's true that most of them have chosen their models from Years Ten and Eleven. But…” She opened her eyes wide, then broke into an even bigger smile. “…there's nothing in the rules to say that you can't have a model from any year! And let's get one thing straight, I
didn't
choose you because you're a princess. No way.”

I still felt uncomfortable though. What other reason could there be for choosing a Year Seven, except that I was quite tall? And if she particularly wanted a black model, there were plenty of other black girls higher up the school.

“I…I don't get why you want me…?”

She tipped her head on one side and smiled even more. “Because you've got the most wonderful posture. You stand so straight and walk so smoothly. You're tall and slim and elegant…” She giggled. “Need I say more?”

I couldn't help feeling flattered by what Elise had said, but I still thought there were plenty of other girls who could do it better than me.

“I'm not sure…”

I thought I saw a tiny flash of annoyance cross her face. Maybe I should be jumping at the chance. I knew Katy would. But that's only because fashion is totally Katy's scene. Georgie would grasp the opportunity with both hands too, because she absolutely loves performing. I think the others would probably be like me, though – a bit scared of the unknown.

Elise paused thoughtfully before she said her next words. “It's a big charity event, you know, Naomi.”

My ears pricked up. “Oh, I didn't realize that. What charity is it?”

“Er…it's not completely been decided yet. I told Miss Owen – she's the textiles teacher who's in charge of the whole thing – that I thought it should be a Third World charity.”

I found myself getting really interested now, as a picture of Abina flashed through my mind. “So when will it be decided?”

Elise was looking at me carefully. “Well, the thing is, Miss Owen is open to suggestions. Do you…have a preference?”

“Yes, Just Water for Ghana!” I blurted out. “That's an amazing charity. Only forty-four per cent of—”

“Okay! Just Water…right…” Elise jumped up. “I'll put it to Miss Owen. She's been asking for specific ideas.” She touched my arm. “So…are you saying yes to being my number one model?”

“I…I…” My head was swimming with doubts. I hate being the centre of attention. And I'd be terrified being the only Year Seven amongst a load of Year Tens and Elevens. But if I could do anything to help Just Water, then I should.

Elise must have seen the struggle I was having. “Don't worry, Naomi. Think about it for a couple of days and I'll talk to Miss Owen about whether we can choose your charity…what was it? Just Water?”

I nodded.

“I'll get her to look it up on the internet. Then I'll come and find you tomorrow and you can tell me what you've decided, all right?”

I nodded weakly and she was gone like a whirlwind, leaving me in a strange daze, still flattered to have been asked and excited at the thought that I might be able to do something for my beloved charity, but confused and uneasy, and not really sure why.

“How come I'm the only one who thinks Naomi's totally mad?” Georgie was looking round at us with big staring eyes, her palms up, her mouth slightly open.

It was the next day and we were sitting in a circle on the round rug right in the middle of our dorm. Katy had called a friendship meeting to discuss my dilemma. She already knew my worries, but felt that the others ought to have a say because she was, as she put it, “totally biased about anything to do with fashion”.

“You're not the only one who thinks Naomi should go for it,” she told Georgie now. “But I definitely don't think you're mad,” she added, turning to me. Then a second later she was looking back at Georgie. “The thing is, Naomi's not like you…”

“That's right, I'm not…an actress, like you,” I told her quietly. “I can't think of anything worse than having a whole audience watching me strut down a catwalk.”

“Ooooh, it'd be sooooo cool!” squeaked Georgie, jumping up. Then she gave us a brilliant impression of a supermodel walking down the catwalk. In no time at all we were rocking with laughter, because Amethyst dorm isn't exactly designed for modelling, so Georgie could only take about two steps before she had to swing dramatically round. She finished by climbing the ladder to her bed and lying on her side with her leg in the air. “Da daa!” Then she changed to a booming announcer's voice. “Thank you, Georgie Henderson!” And we all broke into loud applause and whoops and cheers.

“Yes, thanks, Georgie!” said Mia, grinning at her. “But I'm not sure you're doing anything to help poor Naomi, you know!”

“Well actually,” I admitted, “your demonstration helped a lot, Georgie, because you've made me realize I could never do it in a million years.”

“Yes, you could!” said Katy. “I bet you'd be a natural!” She gave me an imploring look like a little child begging its mother for something. “Please, please say you'll do it, because then I can come along to fittings and rehearsals and learn first-hand about textiles and design and everything. Please, please, pretty please.” She suddenly stopped and looked apologetic. “Sorry, I'm just being selfish, aren't I? Forget everything I just said…except the bit about you being a natural.”

I gave her a grateful look but didn't say anything.

“I'm not sure I'd do it,” said Jess thoughtfully, “because you're kind of stuck with wearing whatever they produce for you, aren't you?” Then she grinned. “But I guess there's no danger of anyone asking me anyway!”

“But what if you had to wear a bikini or something?” said Grace, clapping her hand over her mouth in horror. “I'd die!”

Mia covered her eyes, which made Georgie laugh. “Me too!”

“I can't imagine anyone designing a bikini,” said Katy. “What normally happens is that you get categories like daywear, evening wear, and that kind of thing.”

“Swimwear!” added Georgie, jumping down from her bed.

“I wish I'd asked Elise more questions now,” I said, feeling myself cringing at the whole idea again and imagining how awful it would be if I had to wear something really short and tight, because that's not the sort of thing I feel comfortable in at all. In fact, I don't like any kind of dressing up, even when I have to wear formal traditional African outfits for photo shoots or public appearances with my family. It could actually be just my parents dressed up like that, and I still feel a bit awkward with everyone staring at them. On my first day at Silver Spires, I wanted to sink through the ground when they dressed traditionally just to drop me off. If it was up to me, I'd wear jeans and a T-shirt all the time.

I knew I shouldn't get hung up about what I might have to wear for the fashion show and I told myself off for being pathetic about doing something which could help a charity – and hopefully
my
charity. All I had to do was get a bit of courage together.

“From what you said, Elise sounds quite laid-back about it, giving you time to think and everything,” said Katy. “Do you want me to talk to her to find out exactly what you'd have to wear?”

Immediately I felt worked up again, and wondered what it was about what Katy had just said that was so scary. In the end I went to the secret garden and sat on my own, staring at the silver spires, deep in thought. There wasn't any sun today and the spires looked steely grey and forlorn, poking into the overcast sky.

Katy thought Elise was laid-back, but when I pictured her talking to me the day before, grabbing my wrists and looking at me so intently, she seemed far from laid-back to me. But maybe that's how she was with everyone. And anyway, what did it matter if she was a bit intense? I suppose famous designers must be like that too.