Penelope Perfect: The Truly Terrible Mistake, Page 3

So far, Bob hadn’t said anything. Penelope was a bit annoyed at how quiet she’d been. She hadn’t defended Penelope’s play at all. Even though the play was FICTIONAL and not actually about Penelope’s life before Bob came to Chelsea Primary, Likeable Lucy: The Extremely Popular Girl was close to Penelope’s heart.

  Penelope gave her very best friend a nudge. That seemed to work. Bob held up her script and waved it around to get everyone’s attention.

  ‘All right, dudes,’ Bob said, ‘here’s the deal. You guys have wasted a lot of time arguing. Now we’re behind the other groups. So, here are our options.’ Bob held out her right hand as though she was weighing an option. It looked heavy. ‘We could all get together out of school hours and make up a new play. Like, say, this Saturday. Or,’ Bob continued, holding out her left hand (this one was higher, it was obviously a very light option), ‘we could get on with Penelope’s play right now.’

  Personally, Penelope would have preferred it if Bob had sold the play on its artistic quality, but she had to admit, the threat of using up a Saturday was a clever one.

  ‘Well,’ Felix said, ‘there is one boy’s role. I’ll do it if I get to play Simon.’

  ‘I don’t actually mind playing a girl,’ grinned Tommy. ‘Boys played girls’ parts all the time in Shakespeare’s day. I’ll be Nancy.’

  ‘That’s so true, Tommy,’ Penelope said. ‘And it’s very mature of you and –’

  ‘As long as I get to sing the song at the end,’ Tommy interrupted.

  Penelope tried not to grimace. Tommy was likely to MASSACRE a huge song like ‘The Greatest Love of All’. She’d planned on using a recording for it. Still, she nodded graciously and only gritted her teeth a little bit.

  They were going to do her play after all! As long as Penelope got to play the main character, things would be fine.

  ‘I want to be Likeable Lucy,’ Joanna said. ‘She’s so full of herself. It’s funny.’

  Penelope choked back a scream. Likeable Lucy wasn’t full of herself! She was kind and caring and creative. In fact (though of course the character was completely fictional), Likeable Lucy shared some of Penelope’s own good qualities.

  The thought of Joanna getting Penelope’s favourite part was bad enough. Penelope couldn’t stand the idea of her playing that part for laughs.

  Bob must have noticed Penelope’s squished down scream, because she pulled her aside.

  ‘Go with it, Pen,’ Bob whispered. ‘Just make sure you bags being the director. That way you get to tell everyone what to do.’

  Bob gave Penelope a very cheeky grin. ‘Including Joanna,’ she added, bumping Penelope on the shoulder.

  Penelope breathed in deeply. Perhaps Bob was right. And being the writer and director was more important than getting to play Likeable Lucy. She would just explain to Joanna that Lucy was kind and caring and not at all full of herself.

  Joanna could hardly argue with the person who CREATED the character. And she certainly couldn’t argue with the director, because the director was the boss.

  Penelope nodded solemnly. She was (quite) sure that most important play writers and directors would be treated in a more dignified way than she had been.

  She had a goal she could not lose sight of. The play would be excellent, and so would her report at the end of term.

  The show must go on.

  On Friday it was quite difficult to be the director because there was no drama class. But Penelope was determined.

  That night, Penelope sat in her bedroom, script in hand. She tried to ignore the thumping sound coming from Harry’s room. Her big brother was OBSESSED with the basketball ring on his wall.

  Opposite Penelope, in his own chair, sat Blue Teddy. Penelope knew that it was a bit silly to have him there. She was (quite) aware that Blue Teddy wasn’t actually real. She was also (quite) aware that most girls as grown up as she was didn’t have conversations with their toys anymore.

  But Penelope found that Blue Teddy made a good and supportive audience. In fact (if Penelope didn’t know better), she could have sworn she saw him lean in towards her so he could concentrate on her play.

  Penelope started from the very beginning of the play. It was a big job, but as both director and actor, she thought she should learn EVERYONE’S lines. She knew that actors in real plays had understudies who knew their ENTIRE part and could take over in an emergency. Penelope had a (small) role in the play, and wasn’t sure how it would work to play more than one character, but she thought it was a good idea to be prepared.

  Penelope was halfway through Likeable Lucy’s monologue (the bit where all the other kids in her year had finally realised how kind and caring and creative she actually was, and suddenly she was so in demand at lunchtimes that she had to graciously tell everyone when she would be able to join their activities) when her bedroom door flew open. Without a single knock! Very quickly, Penelope grabbed Blue Teddy and put him on her dressing table with zebra and her other toys.

  ‘Are you talking to yourself?’ Harry asked, his eyes darting around the room. When Harry’s eyes landed on the chair opposite her, she lifted her feet onto it (even though, unlike her mum and brother, Penelope did not think feet and furniture went together).

  ‘Of course not!’ Penelope replied. ‘I’m learning lines for a play we’re doing at school next week.’

  She did not tell Harry she was learning EVERYONE’S lines because that was precisely the kind of thing Harry would NOT understand.

  ‘Ah, OK,’ Harry replied. ‘Listen, Mum just texted. She wants me to unpack the dishwasher and you to wipe the benches before she gets home from work. But I want to shoot some more hoops, and you’ve got to learn your lines. So let’s not.’

  Penelope put down her script. As much as she would have liked to continue, it was important to remind Harry of the right thing to do. Unfortunately, Harry could be very single-minded.

  ‘Come on, Harry,’ she said, ‘let’s help Mum.’

  Penelope worked very hard over the weekend.

  This was the list she worked through.

  By Sunday afternoon, Penelope had completed the top three tasks.

  Unfortunately, Penelope’s mother was busy doing chores and said she didn’t have time to take her to do the laminating. Which (as Penelope had pointed out) was not actually Very Fair since she had spent at least twenty minutes reading the paper.

  Luckily, they were dropping Grandpa George at the airport that evening (he was going on a silent meditation retreat with Fred). So Penelope checked the maps application on her iPhone. There was an office supplies shop that was only a little bit off the highway. They could go on their way home from the airport.

  Most NORMAL mothers would be delighted to drive there, happy that their daughter was so hard-working. Not Penelope’s mum, though.

  Penelope sat in the back seat of the car next to Harry (who had not showered since his soccer game and had mud ALL over him). She leaned forward as far as her seatbelt would let her.

  ‘Seriously Mum,’ Penelope tried (for the sixth time that day – which just showed how STUBBORN and UNREASONABLE her mum could be). ‘It will take half an hour at the most.’

  ‘Penelope Kingston,’ her mum said, glaring at Penelope in the rear-vision mirror, ‘I’m putting my foot down. There is absolutely no need for you to laminate your director’s notes. You cannot run our family agenda all the time. There will be no visits to office supplies shops this evening. Full stop.’

  Penelope’s hopes were dashed. Her mum hardly ever called her by her full name, but when she did, Penelope knew she would NEVER get her way (even if she was COMPLETELY in the right).

  Penelope bumped back in her seat and crossed her arms.

  ‘Uh oh,’ Harry said, ‘watch out for rain. The little black cloud is back.’

  ‘Hey, you two,’ their mum butted in. ‘Grandpa George is about to have some precious time away with his friend to meditate and be silent. Perhaps you’d like to kick off the silent bit for us?’

&n
bsp; Grandpa George swivelled his head around and winked at Penelope and Harry. Penelope kept her arms crossed so he knew she wasn’t happy.

  ‘Grandpa,’ she said after a while, because the silence was already getting boring, ‘why would you want to go away with Fred and not even be able to talk to him? Why would anyone want four whole days of silence?’

  ‘I could think of a reason,’ Harry said, pointing at Penelope. Which was very rude, especially since her question hadn’t been directed at him.

  Penelope hardly spoke the rest of the way to the airport.

  Just before Grandpa had to go through the beeper, he picked her up. Penelope was (probably) too big to be picked up, but this was a special occasion.

  ‘Sweetheart,’ he said, giving her a moustache-tickly kiss on the cheek. He looked very thoughtful, like he did when he was reciting a poem or discussing the meaning of dreams. ‘Fred and I are going on this silent meditation retreat to remind ourselves how to colour outside the lines.’ He paused and put Penelope down.

  ‘I don’t think you should ever let yourself get too old for that.’

  The next time they had drama, Mr Salmon was wearing red shoes. Perhaps that should have been a warning – Penelope’s great plan had started when he’d been wearing green ones. But she was so keen to give everyone her director’s notes and props and to see how well they’d learned their lines that she didn’t pay much attention.

  Mr Salmon allocated an area of the drama studio for each group to rehearse in. It was noisy, and not as good as having the actual stage to work on, but Penelope was determined to make do. One group was making a human pyramid and another was lining up some chairs in a way that suggested their play was set on a plane. It was a bit disturbing to see Oscar in the same group as (mean) Rita, but Penelope refused to let herself get distracted. She pointed to one of the five crosses she’d made on the floor with masking tape. Even though the crosses wouldn’t be there on the actual day of the performance, it was good practice for the actors to work from them.

  ‘You’re up first, Bob,’ she said, pointing to the cross that Bob’s character, Bonnie, had to start on. ‘Action!’

  Bonnie: I’ve made the invitation list for my party. I think I’ve written down the names of the kids I want to come, but, for some reason, it feels like there’s something missing.

  ‘Cut!’ Penelope said. ‘You forgot to say “all”, Bob. “I think I’ve written down all the names of the kids I want to come”.’

  She pointed to another cross so that Tommy would know where to stand to deliver the next line.

  Everything was going really well. Penelope was sure she’d delivered her own lines as Maisie extremely nicely. Next up was Joanna as Likeable Lucy. Penelope crossed her fingers, hoping that Joanna had learned her lines and would be able to deliver them with grace and feeling.

  Instead of walking up to the cross, Joanna JUMPED on it. Then she flicked back her hair with both hands in a very SHOWING OFF way, and not at all in the elegant way Penelope had requested in her director’s notes. When she delivered her line, her voice was high-pitched and silly.

  Likeable Lucy: It’s hard being such a deep thinker. Sometimes the other kids don’t seem to notice how kind and caring and creative I am. But I have a feeling that things are going to …

  ‘CUT!’ Penelope called.

  Joanna did seem to know her lines off by heart. But EVERYONE in her group (even Bob!) was laughing. Yes, laughing. Penelope worked to squish down her HORROR. In the past, that sort of feeling had (sometimes, very rarely) meant that the bossy, angry Penelope inside her was about to take over. Penelope knew she had to be careful. She counted to ten before she spoke.

  ‘Now, Joanna,’ she said in her Very Patient Explaining Voice. ‘Likeable Lucy would not flick her hair back with two hands like that.’ She paused so that Joanna could take in her excellent advice. ‘Also, she would not talk in that strange voice.’

  ‘Chill, Penelope,’ Felix said. ‘I reckon Joanna’s doing an awesome job. She’s funny.’

  ‘It’s a DRAMA though, Felix,’ Penelope reminded him through her teeth. ‘Joanna, action.’

  Joanna did a shimmy move that Penelope forced herself to ignore, then continued with her lines.

  Likeable Lucy: But I have a feeling that things are about to change. For the better. Pretty soon, everyone is going to see how kind and creative and caring I am. Because I’m AWESOME.

  Penelope felt her nostrils flare. Those last three words weren’t even IN THE SCRIPT. Joanna was making her character totally UNlikeable.

  Penelope’s temples started to throb. She could feel her heart banging against her chest. She had to work Very Hard on taking extra-deep breaths to stop the TYPHOON that was swirling around inside her.

  Penelope looked around. Rita Azul was staring at her. Honestly, it seemed as though Rita was destined to witness every one of Penelope’s (rare) outbursts. There was actually quite a lot of evidence that Rita could sense them before they even happened. But Penelope was DEFINITELY NOT, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, going to give Rita anything new to tease her about.

  She took Joanna aside so they could speak privately. It would have been supportive of Bob to come and help Penelope, but Bob was chatting away to Tommy as though Joanna’s TREASON was no big deal.

  ‘You need to listen to me, Joanna,’ Penelope tried to keep her voice calm. It was unfortunate and entirely accidental that a tiny (practically microscopic) bit of spit came out in the hissing part of the word ‘listen’. Anyone else would have let it go. Not Joanna, though.

  ‘Geez, Penelope,’ Joanna said in a loud voice. She made a great show of wiping her cheek. ‘Say it, don’t spray it. I want the news, not the weather.’

  It was a Very Bad Moment when Penelope looked over to Rita Azul and saw her laughing and making windscreen wiper movements with her hands.

  But Penelope was determined to stay calm.

  ‘The thing is, Joanna,’ Penelope tried again, ‘that’s not how Likeable Lucy would be. She’s not vain and silly. She’s smart and pretty and kind. You’re not doing it the right way. You’re using the wrong character motivation.’

  Penelope very much hoped Joanna hadn’t been too busy figuring out how to touch her nose with her tongue or shooting pellets out of pen casings or some other naughty thing to pay attention to Mr Salmon’s talk about character motivation. It had been one of his best classes, as far as Penelope was concerned.

  Joanna put her hands on her hips in a very UNCOOPERATIVE way.

  ‘It’s my choice how I play Likeable Lucy, Penelope,’ she said. ‘Stop being so bossy!’

  Bossy. Bossy. Bossy.

  The terribly unfair accusation landed right in the heart of the TYPHOON inside Penelope and started spinning and whirring until it drowned out her determination to stay calm. Bossy was the LAST thing she was being.

  She had (graciously) given her group a play she’d written (and laminated!) in her own time. She’d made director’s notes and set crosses on the floor and brought along all the props. She had learned all the parts OFF BY HEART.

  She was even allowing Tommy Stratton to sing!

  BOSSY?

  The whirring feelings inside her rose right up to her throat.

  There was nothing Penelope could do but open her mouth and let it all spill out.

  ‘I AM NOT BOSSY, JOANNA! NOT EVEN ONE TINY BIT. WHY SHOULD YOU GET TO CHOOSE HOW TO PLAY LIKEABLE LUCY WHEN YOU’RE DOING IT ALL WRONG? I’M THE DIRECTOR AND I’M THE ONE WHO MADE HER UP IN THE FIRST PLACE. SHE IS SUPPOSED TO BE A SERIOUS AND GOOD AND TRUE PERSON THAT THE OTHER CHARACTERS LEARN TO LIKE VERY MUCH. NOT SOME RIDICULOUS PERSON WHO THINKS THAT GETTING 15/20 FOR A MATHS TEST IS FINE, AND SPENDS HALF HER LIFE TRYING TO GET HER TONGUE TO TOUCH HER NOSE.’

  Penelope was so carried away that she didn’t even notice Mr Salmon’s red shoes next to her.

  ‘For goodness sake, Penelope. You’ve worked yourself into a state,’ he said. He pulled up a chair. ‘Put your head down between your leg
s and breathe.’

  Penelope did as Mr Salmon asked. Five breaths in, she started feeling calmer. After ten breaths though, she began to realise what she’d done. Then she felt like she might just stay like this, with her head down, so she didn’t have to face anyone ever again.

  She’d done it. She’d had (another) outburst.

  Mr Salmon touched Penelope’s shoulder. ‘OK, lift your head now,’ he said. Penelope would never normally disobey a teacher. But she just couldn’t do it.

  Penelope knew that Joanna was super tough. In fact, the only award Joanna had ever won that wasn’t to do with sport (which she was extremely good at) was a resilience award. So she was sure Joanna would just be laughing or rolling her eyes.

  But it was possible that the whole class had seen Penelope’s outburst. Including (mean) Rita.

  The only way Penelope could bring herself to sit up was to visualise her very best friend. Possibly (fingers crossed) the first thing she would see would be Bob, with her special Bob-smile that always made things at least a tiny bit better.

  Penelope lifted her head. And Bob was right there. Even though she wasn’t smiling her Bob-smile, it was still a great relief to see her. It was also a GREAT RELIEF to see that all the other groups (including mean Rita’s group) were so busy with their own plays they didn’t seem to have noticed Penelope’s outburst at all.

  Because Joanna didn’t look resilient. Not at all. She was sitting down (which was already quite un-Joanna-like). Her shoulders were slumped and it looked like her lips were wobbly.

  ‘What happened over here, girls?’ Mr Salmon asked.

  Before Penelope could think of a reply, Joanna spoke.

  ‘Nothing,’ she said. Her voice was soft and not a bit Joannaish.

  Then, without getting permission from the teacher or organising for someone to go with her like you were supposed to do, Joanna walked out of the drama studio.

  ‘Go with Joanna please, Bob,’ Mr Salmon said, already walking over to the other side of the studio, where the human pyramid was collapsing.