Star Dreams Read online

  Flame gave a friendly miaow and walked over to Fran.

  ‘He likes you. Would you like to hold him while I show you my routine?’ Jemma asked.

  Fran nodded eagerly. She lifted Flame into her lap and then sat cross-legged on her bed, watching as Jemma sang and danced in time to the beat.

  ‘Da-dah!’ Jemma froze in her final pose, just as the music stopped. ‘How did that look?’

  Fran jumped up and clapped her hands. ‘That was really good!’

  Flame gave a soft yowl of approval.

  Fran laughed. ‘Flame agrees with me!’

  Jemma performed a mock bow.

  ‘Thanks, fans,’ she joked. ‘All I have to do now is polish up my moves.’

  ‘Easy-peasy. Not!’ Fran pulled a face.

  They heard footsteps on the stairs. Fran’s mum came into the room with a tray. ‘How’s it going, you two? I thought you might like a drink and a snack.’ She noticed Flame and gave him a friendly pat.

  ‘Thanks, Mrs Bradshaw.’ Jemma helped herself to some juice and a chocolate biscuit.

  ‘Jemma’s really good, Mum,’ Fran said generously.

  Jemma blushed. ‘I’m not bad.’

  ‘You’ll have to get your costumes organized. Have you decided when you want to go into town?’ asked Mrs Bradshaw.

  ‘Not yet,’ Jemma said quickly, feeling a bit anxious. The friendly reminder made her realize that she really must decide what to wear.

  Mrs Bradshaw smiled. ‘Well – just let me know.’

  After a short break, Fran put her music on and she and Jemma worked on some more steps. When they were tired of practising, Fran pulled a box of magazines from under the bed and they stretched out together on a colourful rug to read them.

  Flame curled up with them and began playing with a loose thread hanging out of the rug.

  Jemma was really enjoying herself with Fran but when she glanced at her watch she was shocked to see how late it was. She leapt to her feet and grabbed her shoulder bag. ‘I have to go now! Jump in, Flame.’

  Fran saw her to the front door. ‘See you tomorrow at school. Don’t forget what Mum said about our costumes. We’ve got less than a week before the auditions,’ she reminded her excitedly.

  ‘Oh, er, right.’ Jemma’s good mood began to fade.

  She didn’t see Flame looking up at her, a thoughtful look in his green eyes.

  What was the point of kidding herself, Jemma thought. She couldn’t afford new clothes and there was no way she was going in for the audition in some tired old outfit. Maybe she should just tell Fran she was pulling out.

  CHAPTER SIX

  ‘You’re quiet, love,’ Mrs Watson said as she wiped the kitchen table that evening. ‘Is something wrong?’

  Jemma sighed as she ran the iron over her school blouse. Flame was dozing on a kitchen chair beside her. ‘I don’t think I’ll bother going in for the auditions,’ she said, trying to sound as if she didn’t mind.

  Her mum stopped dead and looked at her in surprise. ‘But Jemma, you were so keen! Has something happened?’

  Jemma shrugged. ‘Not really. I … I’ve just changed my mind.’

  Mrs Watson frowned. She dried her hands before coming over and putting her arm round Jemma. ‘Come on. Out with it,’ she said gently.

  Jemma’s worries started to spill out and once she started she couldn’t stop. ‘It’s just that I haven’t got anything to wear. Fran’s going to get a new costume, and I bet everyone else will too, except me! I’m going to really stand out and look stupid in front of all my friends!’ She hung her head. ‘I didn’t want to tell you, Mum. I know we can’t afford to buy anything new. Anyway, it doesn’t matter now. I’ve made up my mind. I’m not going in for the auditions.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Mrs Watson looked thoughtful. She opened a kitchen cupboard and took out a tin. ‘Would this help to change your mind?’ she said, pressing some money into Jemma’s hand.

  ‘But that’s for your winter coat. You’ve been saving for it for ages!’ Jemma looked at her mum in amazement.

  ‘I’ve still got lots of time to save up again. You need a costume and we’re going to get you one,’ Mrs Watson said firmly.

  Jemma gave her mum a huge hug. ‘You’re the best mum in the world!’

  Flame sat up suddenly and began purring loudly. He gave Jemma and her mum a wide, catty grin.

  ‘I know it sounds strange, but I reckon that kitten understands every word we say,’ Mrs Watson said with a chuckle.

  Jemma smiled to herself, but said nothing.

  ‘Be careful you don’t fall!’ Jemma said to Flame as she walked down the street swinging her school bag on Wednesday.

  ‘I am fine, thank you, Jemma,’ mewed Flame happily as he tiptoed across the tops of fences and garden gates, keeping pace with Jemma.

  His ears were pricked and his tail stuck up jauntily. The sunlight made the brown spots on his cream fur really stand out.

  ‘I can’t wait until I see Fran,’ Jemma said to him. ‘We can arrange to go into town and buy our outfits together now!’

  Flame purred in agreement. He batted at a bumblebee and almost lost his balance.

  Jemma chuckled and reached out to steady him. Just then, someone came barging round the corner and knocked right into her.

  Jemma stumbled and almost fell over. ‘Hey!’ she called angrily at the back of the stocky figure that carried on walking right past her.

  ‘What?’ He turned round and came back. Jemma recognized him now. It was Sam Thomas, a tough boy from their school who picked on some of the younger children – even Georgie sometimes.

  ‘Uh-oh,’ she murmured.

  ‘Well, if it isn’t that freckly kid’s sister,’ Sam scoffed. ‘Is that your kitten? What a fleabag!’

  Before Jemma realized what was happening, Sam reached out and grabbed Flame by the scruff of his neck. As the boy pulled him off the fence, Flame mewed with alarm. His body just hung there and his legs and tail dangled down.

  He was helpless.

  ‘Stop it! Put him down!’ Jemma fumed.

  ‘Let’s see if he can fly!’ Sam pretended to throw Flame over a nearby garden wall.

  Flame gave a terrified wail. His paws scrabbled at thin air. He seemed too scared to do any magic. Or maybe he didn’t want to give himself away.

  Jemma’s stomach clenched. ‘Please don’t hurt him!’ she begged.

  Sam lifted his hand slowly, higher and higher, ready to fling Flame into the air.

  He’s really going to do it, Jemma thought. She felt desperate. She had to help Flame. But what could she do?

  ‘Wait!’ she cried. Plunging her hand into her pocket, she took out her outfit money and showed it to Sam. ‘Let him go and I’ll give you this.’

  Sam’s eyes lit up greedily. He reached for the money.

  Jemma snatched back her hand. ‘Give me Flame first,’ she demanded. Her knees were shaking, but she made herself stare boldly at the mean older boy.

  Sam made up his mind. ‘Here. Have your stupid kitten.’

  He thrust Flame at Jemma and grabbed the money. Without a backward glance, he went on his way.

  Jemma’s hands trembled as she cuddled Flame. The thought of him being hurt gave her a horrible sick feeling. ‘I’ve got you. You’re safe now,’ she said softly.

  Flame dug in with his claws and clung tightly to her school jumper. He looked up at her with round, troubled eyes.

  ‘Jemma, all your money has gone,’ he whimpered.

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ she told him, rubbing her chin on his soft head.

  She tucked Flame into her school bag, where he curled up next to her pencil case. She kept her hand in her bag, stroking him gently until he began to purr.

  Jemma grew calmer as she walked to school, but her spirits were low.

  There was no way she could tell her mum that the money had been stolen. And her last chance of buying an outfit for the audition was gone for good.

  The school day seemed to pass
by in a blur. Jemma’s class were doing medieval history, but Jemma just couldn’t concentrate. How was she going to enter the audition without an outfit?

  At least Flame seemed no worse after his ordeal. Jemma had to smile. She watched Flame jumping round the classroom from desk to desk. He seemed very interested in the open medieval history books. Once, she saw him staring at a computer screen, dabbing at the keyboard with his paw.

  Jemma hurried home when school finished. It was her mum’s late night at the supermarket. She planned to get tea ready for when she came home.

  Just as she let herself into the house, she heard a crash.

  ‘Oh, heck!’ shouted a voice.

  ‘Georgie! Is that you?’ Jemma called. He was supposed to be playing with a friend after school.

  Georgie stuck his head round the kitchen door. There was flour all over his face and his hair stuck up in white powdery spikes. ‘Hi, Jems!’ he said brightly. ‘I came straight home. I’ve got a surprise. I’m making tea!’

  Jemma had a strange sinking feeling. She slowly pushed open the kitchen door.

  Mounds of flour covered the table and the floor. White footprints trailed all through the house. Sticky red fingerprints smeared the wall, the fridge and the cooker.

  ‘Jam tarts!’ said Georgie proudly.

  Jemma was speechless.

  Mum was going to go mad!

  ‘In the shower – now!’ she ordered Georgie.

  He scowled but did as she told him.

  She dashed towards a cupboard and took out the vacuum cleaner. Plugging it in, Jemma switched it on. There was a loud bang and a puff of black smoke.

  The vacuum cleaner had died.

  ‘Oh, that’s just great!’ Jemma burst out. She felt like dissolving into tears. She’d had a horrible day and it wasn’t getting any better.

  There was a shower of sparks as Flame jumped on to the kitchen table. ‘I will help,’ he mewed.

  Jemma felt the warm, magical tingling and wondered what was going to happen next.

  A moment later, the vacuum cleaner burst into action. It zoomed about madly, making clean trails through the flour. ‘Must clean up! Must clean up!’ it hummed, trundling into the sitting room.

  ‘Wow! Thanks, Flame,’ Jemma said. She grabbed a cloth and began scrubbing at a sticky, jammy fingerprint. Her mum would be home soon. With a bit of luck, she might have time to clear up this mess.

  Just then she heard the vacuum cleaner give a loud cough and then it burped.

  Jemma stood in the doorway, staring in horror at the scene before her. The vacuum cleaner wove back and forth, sucking up everything in its path. It swallowed a pile of books and a jumper, and began chomping the curtains.

  ‘Oh, heck!’ Jemma gasped. It looked like the cleaner was going to gobble up the whole room!

  There was a faint sound above the din. Jemma’s head came up. It was the front door closing.

  Mum was home!

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ‘Flame! Do something!’ Jemma wailed.

  Flame’s whiskers crackled as he lifted a paw. A comet’s tail of gold sparks flew all round the room.

  Bang! The vacuum cleaner whizzed back into the cupboard. Swish! Cushions, carpets and curtains flicked back into place. Phloop! Flour and jam disappeared back into bags and jars.

  Mrs Watson came into the kitchen, carrying Poppy.

  ‘Hi, Mum,’ Jemma said breathlessly. ‘Did you have a good day?’

  ‘Not bad,’ her mum said, smiling. ‘My goodness! You and Georgie have been busy. Everything’s sparkling clean. And what’s that cooking?’ She opened the oven door. ‘Jam tarts. Lovely.’

  Jemma grinned at her mum. ‘Georgie made the tarts. With a bit of help!’ And a great big dollop of magic, she thought.

  Jemma went straight up to her bedroom after tea, before her mum started asking questions about when she was going to buy her outfit. She wanted to put off telling her about the money for as long as she could.

  Flame followed her into the room. He rubbed himself against her legs. ‘Do you need an outfit?’ he mewed.

  Jemma nodded sadly. ‘Yes, I do. But it’s not going to happen, is it?’

  Flame put his head on one side. His tail stuck up jauntily. A couple of sparks flicked out of the end. ‘Close your eyes!’ he miaowed eagerly.

  Despite herself, Jemma smiled. What was he up to? She closed her eyes. A familiar tingling spread all over her.

  ‘Look now!’ Flame told her.

  Slowly, Jemma opened her eyes. Her jaw dropped as she stared at her reflection. ‘Oh, my goodness,’ she gasped.

  She wore a long dress of yellow silk and bright-red velvet. It had a V-neck and trailing sleeves. On her head there was a tall, pointed hat with a floaty veil.

  Flame had made her a medieval costume! Jemma’s heart sank. Flame must have got the idea from one of her classmate’s textbooks at school that day.

  ‘Do you like it?’ Flame asked proudly, his tail in the air.

  ‘It’s … er … beautiful,’ she stammered. ‘But I can’t wear it for the audition. How would I dance in it?’

  Flame looked dejected. ‘Is the dress wrong, Jemma?’

  ‘No, not at all,’ Jemma said quickly, not wanting Flame to feel bad. She bent down to stroke him. ‘I love it. Really, I do. I’ll keep it for a fancy-dress party,’ she promised. ‘Thanks, Flame.’

  ‘You are welcome!’ Flame cheered up.

  He gave her a whiskery grin.

  Jumping back on to the bed, he began licking his fur.

  ‘Jemma! Could you come down here, please?’ her mum called up the stairs.

  ‘Coming, Mum!’ Jemma quickly took off the dress and put it in her wardrobe.

  She found her mum in the hall, filling a bag with books. ‘I’ve just remembered these library books. They’re due back today. Be a love and take them for me, will you? The library’s open until seven p.m.’

  ‘OK.’ Jemma checked the time. It was already 6 p.m. ‘I’ll go now.’

  It took only a few minutes to walk to the library. She handed the books in and still had time to look around.

  In the children’s section, there was a rack of magazines. Jemma chose one and spread it open on a table. It had pictures of pop stars, a problem page and loads of stuff about make-up and hairstyles.

  As she flipped a page, she saw a photo of a girl in a red T-shirt decorated with bright ribbons, buttons and sequins. It looked really expensive and it was just the type of thing Jemma would have loved to have worn.

  As Jemma closed the magazine, a brilliant idea jumped into her head. That was it! Her problem was solved. But would Fran agree with her?

  Jemma phoned Fran the moment she got home. She told her about the photo of the gorgeous T-shirt. ‘Why don’t we make our own outfits? It can’t be that hard. We’ve already got jeans and T-shirts. And my mum’s brilliant at sewing. I could ask her to help us!’

  ‘And no one else would have anything like them!’ Fran got caught up in the excitement. ‘My mum’s got a big box of sewing stuff. It’s got ribbons and sequins and loads of other things in it. I’ll ask her if we can use some of that.’

  ‘Great!’ Jemma said, then she bit her lip. ‘I’ve just thought. It’s Thursday tomorrow. The auditions are on Saturday!’

  There was a short silence before Fran replied. ‘We can do this! But we’ll have to work on them Thursday and Friday night. How about if I come to your house straight after school?’

  Jemma hesitated. She still felt doubtful about letting Fran see her messy house. Then she remembered how friendly and relaxed Fran had been with Poppy.

  ‘OK. I’ll tell my mum,’ she decided. ‘I’m sure she won’t mind. But we’ll have to think of something to keep Georgie out of the way!’

  Fran chuckled. ‘Leave it to me!’

  With Fran coming round, Jemma decided she was going to have to tell her mum what happened to the costume money.

  She went into the sitting room where Mrs Watson was on the s
ofa reading the local newspaper. Jemma sat down next to her. ‘Mum, I’ve got something to …’ she stopped in surprise as she spotted a familiar name in the paper. ‘That’s Sam Thomas, from my school! Why’s he in the paper?’

  ‘Apparently an old couple caught him pinching apples from their back garden,’ her mum told her. ‘The old lady chased Sam with her walking stick and he fell backwards into their garden pond. Her husband took a photo as Sam tried to climb out. Do you know this boy?’

  Jemma nodded. ‘Sam Thomas is really mean. A lot of kids are scared of him.’ She told her mum about bumping into the older boy on the way to school. ‘Sam threatened to throw Flame over a garden wall. I thought he was going to do it. So I gave him the money for my outfit to stop him. I’m really sorry for losing the money, Mum, but I didn’t know what else to do.’

  There was a long pause and then Mrs Watson sighed. ‘I’d probably have done the same thing in your shoes.’ She slipped her arm round her daughter’s shoulders. ‘I bet you’ve been worrying yourself sick about this, haven’t you? You should have come and told me straight away.’

  ‘I know,’ Jemma said, feeling better for having got it off her chest. ‘Next time I will!’

  ‘Good.’ Suddenly Mrs Watson began chuckling. ‘Look at this! I’d say that bully got what he deserved, wouldn’t you? This will be all round your school tomorrow!’

  She opened out the newspaper so that Jemma could see the picture of Sam Thomas crawling out of the muddy pond with waterweed piled on his head and dripping from his ears. The old lady stood there, waving her stick at him.

  ‘He doesn’t look so tough now, does he?’ Jemma fell about laughing as she imagined all the schoolkids seeing the picture of the mean boy.

  Sam Thomas would never live it down.

  On Thursday, Fran’s mum gave Jemma and Fran a lift home. ‘Don’t forget this! And these.’ She passed Fran the big box full of sewing stuff and a pile of football magazines. ‘Have fun, girls. I’ll pick you up later, Fran. Bye!’ She drove away.