Star Struck Page 8

  ‘Or what?’ I manage to say.

  ‘Or we are over,’ she says. Kat and Betty stare at me in silence and I know she’s speaking for all of them.

  I look at Bea, this girl who I’ve known for so many years, who’s shaking at the memory of things I said and did to her.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I say. And I really am.

  Then I turn round, hit the button and the door hisses open. I jump off the train and run across the empty platform. I have to get Hoshi off that train!

  A guard is standing next to Hoshi’s train, whistle in her mouth, arm raised. I hammer on the window until Hoshi looks up. ‘Get off!’ I shout. ‘You’re on the wrong train!’

  She frowns and stares at me.

  ‘Hoshi!’ I beg. ‘Just get off the train!’

  She jumps to her feet. ‘You!’ the guard yells at me. ‘Move away from the train.’

  I shake my head. ‘My friend’s getting off!’

  ‘Too bad,’ she says. ‘Stand back. This train is departing!’

  I ignore her and run to the door. I press my finger down on the button and keep it there. Come on, come on! I see Hoshi pushing her way through the carriage. Behind me the last doors shut on our train.

  ‘Step back, young lady.’ The guard marches towards me just as the doors slide open and Hoshi tumbles out.

  ‘Quick,’ I say, grabbing her wrist. We spin round, but our train is already moving along the platform, sliding away from us. I run towards it, dragging Hoshi behind me. Bea, Kat and Betty are still standing by the door, their hands pressed against the glass, eyes wide open. ‘You should have kept the door open!’ I yell. ‘I got her!’ But they can’t hear me and the train picks up speed and snakes out of the station.

  I let go of Hoshi’s wrist and sink to the dusty ground. Hoshi stares after the disappearing train. ‘It was never platform thirteen, was it?’ she says.

  I press my fingers into my eyes. My head is throbbing. ‘No.’ I look up. Both trains have gone and the platform is strangely quiet. A pigeon lands next to me and starts pecking at a bit of croissant. It watches me with a yellow eye.

  Hoshi turns to face me, strands of her bleached hair sticking out of her horns. Her eyes are wide. ‘Looks like we’re stranded,’ she says with a smile.

  EIGHTEEN

  Ten minutes later, we’re sitting on a bench furiously texting. Yo miss am on train with hoshi but can’t see you!! I think we’re carriage 6 or it might be 3 x pearl

  Hoshi sends a similar message to Miss while I text Kat. Me and hoshi will get next train SAY WE ARE ON TRAIN!!! Ps thanks for holding it up for us dumbass (pass this message on to bea and betty)

  We’re in the quietest bit of the station we could find, opposite a pasty shop. I stare at the rows of greasy golden pasties until I get a reply. This is KARMA. Will try to cover for you. Say hi to Hoshi. xox Kat ps you’re the dumbass obvs

  After a moment, I text back: I know. Then I go back to staring at the pasties. How could I have made such a mess of things?

  ‘Listen to this,’ says Hoshi. ‘Ms Kapoor says she can’t move up or down the train because it’s too crowded and that we should make sure we find her when we get off.’

  I look up at her. ‘So we might actually get away with this? The next train goes in half an hour!’

  ‘There’s only one problem.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘No tickets.’

  She’s right. We were on a group ticket and Ms Kapoor had them all. ‘We’ll buy one,’ I say, pulling out my wallet.

  Hoshi turns to face me, crossing her legs on the bench. She unzips her panda purse and shakes the contents on to my rucksack. ‘Oh,’ she says. ‘I’ve got two pounds.’

  I push my fingers into the corners of my wallet and drop a few coins next to hers. ‘I haven’t even got that!’ I say with a groan.

  ‘Don’t look so worried.’

  ‘I can’t help it. Unlike you, I’m on, like, my last, last chance at school!’

  ‘Why? What’ve you done?’

  ‘Pretty much everything.’

  Hoshi smiles. ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘So we can’t ring Ms Kapoor or I’ll definitely be thrown off the show.’ My shoulders slump. ‘I could even get excluded.’

  ‘We just need some money.’ Hoshi pulls her cardigan tight around her. Even though it’s warm for autumn, a freezing wind is blowing through the station.

  I look up as two police officers stroll round the corner. They’re wearing chunky black vests with guns slung across their shoulders. ‘Well, obviously,’ I whisper.

  ‘Hello, girls,’ says the police woman, her radio buzzing. ‘What are you two up to?’

  ‘Going to Covent Garden,’ says Hoshi, scooping all the coins into her purse and jumping to her feet. ‘Come on, Ruby.’ I sit on the bench, blinking up at her. ‘Ruby.’ Hoshi’s eyes go wide. ‘Mum’s waiting for us at Belgo. We’re going to be late for our moules.’

  The police officers glance at each other.

  I stand up and Hoshi pulls me towards an exit. ‘I love moules!’ I shout over my shoulder.

  We run down some steps into the Underground. ‘So where are we going?’ I say.

  ‘Like I said, Covent Garden.’

  ‘Hoshi,’ I stop walking and a flood of people stream past us, ‘we haven’t even got enough money to buy two tube tickets!’

  ‘We’re not buying tickets,’ she says, then she plunges forward into the crowd. I catch up with her by the ticket barriers. Hoshi’s stopped a woman with a back pack. ‘Excuse me,’ she says. ‘Have you finished with your travel card?’

  ‘Sure,’ says the lady, passing Hoshi her ticket.

  Hoshi turns round and grins at me. ‘Simples,’ she says. ‘Only ask people with tickets in their hands. No one’s going to give us their Oyster card. Oh, and go for tourists and make sure the tube staff don’t see you.’

  I stare at her. For someone who couldn’t work out that I sent her to the wrong platform, she seems to know a lot about the London Underground. ‘What are we actually going to do when we get there?’ I say, but Hoshi has already turned round and is approaching an elderly Japanese couple. I watch as she chats away in Japanese, her face tilted to one side, all cute and innocent. I’ve seen her do this so many times at school.

  ‘Excuse me,’ I say to a man passing by. He looks up, frowning, one arm tightening on the strap of his bag. ‘Have you finished with your ticket?’

  ‘Sorry,’ he says. ‘Still need it.’ He pushes past me.

  Hoshi appears at my side. ‘Got one,’ she says, handing it to me. ‘Got two actually, and some Marukawa gum.’ She holds out a wrapped sweet. ‘Want one?’

  I follow Hoshi through the ticket barrier and unwrap my chewing gum on the escalator. Hoshi turns round so she’s going down backwards. ‘They’re squidgy, aren’t they?’ She chews and shuts her eyes for a moment. Then pops them back open. ‘Now you know what Japan tastes like.’

  ‘Strawberry?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘What are we doing?’ I can’t believe we’re heading down into the Underground, actually getting further away from home. Warm air blows up the escalator. ‘How can we get money at Covent Garden? I need to get back.’

  ‘You’ll see,’ she says.

  ‘Just tell me.’

  ‘Are your parents expecting you?’

  ‘Parent. my mum. No, not on a Friday night.’ Hoshi steps off the escalator and I follow. ‘I did have a curfew,’ I say, ‘but she gave up on it ages ago.’

  ‘So, what’s the rush? We’ll get some money then go back.’ Without even looking at the list of stations, she takes the passage towards the Victoria line. ‘Trust me!’ she calls over her shoulder.

  I watch her go. Maybe I could go back into the station and try to sneak on to the train. Hide in the toilets or something. But if I got caught I’d be in even more trouble. Plus, I can’t shake the feeling that whatever Hoshi is up to, I have to go along with it, see this thing that I started t
hrough to the end.

  ‘Wait for me!’ I shout, then I push against the crowd of people towards her.

  NINETEEN

  When we come out at Covent Garden it’s nearly dark. We walk towards the main plaza, past Monsoon, a juggler and at least three human statues. Lights are strung across the road and shop windows are full of fake presents, snowflakes and glittery dresses. A group of people wearing Santa hats and Shelter T-shirts are shaking buckets of coins.

  I check my phone. Our train will be getting in soon. I’ve had loads of texts. The last one was from Betty: Miss just found us. I said you and Hoshi had gone looking for a toilet ‘with paper’ lols. She didn’t seem bothered. Looks like you’re gonna get away with it. Amazeballs!!!

  But I can’t relax, not until I know they’re off the train and everyone is heading home. I drop my phone in my bag. ‘What are you looking for?’ I ask.

  Her eyes flick up and down each road. ‘The right spot.’

  ‘For what?’ I’m starting to get hungry, and my feet are killing me from all the dancing.

  ‘This way.’ She walks towards a theatre tucked away down a side street, stopping outside a crowded pub. Post-work drinkers spill out on to the street, laughing and blowing smoke from their fags into the air. Hoshi walks up to a man. ‘Excuse me,’ she says. ‘Can I borrow your hat?’

  Instinctively, his hand goes to the black cap he’s wearing. ‘Sorry?’ He laughs, confused.

  ‘Your hat. I need it. Just for five minutes. I promise to give it back.’

  The man frowns, but then Hoshi does her special smile and the woman next to him squeezes his arm. ‘Don’t be so mean,’ she says. ‘Let her have it!’

  With a sigh, the man hands it over. It has ‘SECRET AGENT’ written across the front.

  Hoshi does a quick bow. ‘Arigatou,’ she says, then she passes it to me, pulls off her cardi and stuffs it in her bag. Standing in the middle of the wide pavement, she faces the pub. ‘Who wants to see a show?’ she shouts out.

  What? Quickly I step back as Hoshi spins round and calls to the tourists walking past, ‘Where are you going? The show’s about to start! Don’t be shy. Gather round.’ She beckons people closer and, amazingly, they start to form a semi-circle round her. ‘I’m going to sing for you!’ she announces.

  ‘What’s she doing?’ says a girl standing behind me, and her boyfriend laughs. Hoshi just ignores all the stares and giggles, lifts her chin and waits until everyone falls quiet. I want to disappear, but I’m trapped, surrounded by people on all sides.

  Suddenly Hoshi’s voice rises above the traffic and distant sirens, strong and perfectly clear, stopping the chatter from the pub and making people stare. She’s singing her solo from the show, ‘What’s in a Name?’, a slow and beautiful song and the only one that Mr Simms actually wrote. She puts her hands behind her back and closes her eyes, effortlessly hitting the high notes. All around me people smile and I know that her voice is getting inside them, working its magic.

  As she sings, Hoshi turns slowly. When she sees me, she raises her eyebrows and nods. Then I get what she wants me to do. I walk around the circle, cap stretched out, and coins start to fall inside.

  Hoshi finishes the song to loud applause. She smiles sweetly and I keep shaking the hat under people’s noses. I may not want to be doing this, but if people stood there listening to Hoshi sing they should at least pay up. ‘Want to see us do a dance?’ she asks the crowd. I freeze at the word ‘us’, but all around people are clapping and, even though the hat is getting heavy, I know we haven’t got enough money yet. ‘Come on, Pearl,’ she says.

  I shake my head. ‘No way,’ I mutter. Performing in a theatre is one thing, but here on the street?

  ‘Oh, go on, Pearl,’ says a lady holding her daughter’s hand, and then everyone joins in, patting me on my back and telling me to get up there and help my friend out.

  I look at Hoshi and sigh. ‘What?’ she says, laughing.

  ‘This is all your fault.’ I pull off my hoodie and drop it on the floor next to the cap.

  Everyone is delighted that I’ve been bullied into dancing and their claps and shouts of ‘Go, Pearl!’ only encourage more people to stop and see what’s going on.

  ‘We only learnt this dance today,’ says Hoshi, ‘and we’re going to need you to help out.’ She starts the clapping, getting the rhythm right. ‘Come on,’ she shouts to the people outside the pub. ‘Put those drinks down and make some noise!’ Soon most people are joining in. ‘Ready, Pearl?’ She grins at me.

  ‘No,’ I say, feeling my cheeks burn.

  ‘Great,’ she says. ‘Then let’s go.’

  We start Kai’s routine to whoops and cheers and almost immediately I’m enjoying myself. I know I’m good at dancing and I can’t help loving the attention.

  Halfway through the dance, Hoshi speeds up. It’s like she can’t hold back any more and I finally see what she was trying to hide at the dance studio.

  Hoshi’s not OK at dancing. She’s amazing.

  Every move she makes is lightning fast and utterly laid back. After a quick chicken noodle soup that is ten times better than Kai’s, she drops down and starts to breakdance.

  The crowd roars their approval and this is when I stop dancing, step back and find myself watching Hoshi along with everyone else. Her bleached blonde hair shines in the darkness and as her moves get more acrobatic I see just how strong she is. She does a series of monkey flips across the pavement before rolling back on her shoulders and flipping effortlessly back to her feet.

  As I watch her, this tiny figure surrounded by adoring strangers, I realise the prickle of irritation isn’t there. In fact, I’m looking at Hoshi and thinking, That’s my friend you’re all gazing at …

  I’m so distracted by her dancing that I almost forget the hat. I grab it off the ground and take it round the audience. This time, loads of coins go in and even some notes. I glance back at Hoshi, wondering how long she can keep this up. She grins at me, but then I see her frown and glance over my shoulder. Someone behind me is shouting, ‘Hoshi! Hoshi!’ again and again.

  I turn round. Two Japanese girls are jumping up and down. ‘Hoshi!’ they shout. One of the girls has her phone out and is filming Hoshi dance.

  Hoshi does a final boomerang flip. ‘That’s it,’ she says, grabbing our bags off the floor. ‘Show’s over.’

  But no one’s going anywhere – they all applaud and shout for more. Hoshi puts her hands together and bows quickly, turning round the circle, then she beckons me to follow her through the crowd. As we pass by the two girls, one of them says something to Hoshi in Japanese. She just shakes her head and steps round her.

  Then, through a gap in the crowd, I see a policeman walking towards us.

  ‘Time to go!’ I say to Hoshi, grabbing her arm. We push our way out of the group. When I look back, the policeman is jogging in our direction. ‘Go … go!’ I shout to Hoshi, shoving her ahead of me.

  We run past the theatre and down a narrow road, the policeman following. As we dash across a junction, I come so close to a taxi that I have to slam my hand on its bonnet. A horn blares and I catch a glimpse of the driver’s furious face before Hoshi pulls me back on to the pavement and we’re heading down an even narrower road that twists and turns. Eventually we find our way blocked by a huge road. Beyond the road is the Thames.

  We cross between cars, running to make it to the other side. ‘Has he gone?’ I ask, gasping for breath.

  Hoshi peers behind us. ‘Definitely gone,’ she says. Then we start laughing and we don’t stop until we’ve crossed a bridge and are walking on the other side of the river, shoulders heaving, chests burning.

  That’s when I look down at my hand. ‘Oh no, Hoshi,’ I say, holding up the cap. ‘Look what we stole!’

  Her eyes go wide. ‘Now we’re fugitives!’

  TWENTY

  We decide to walk back to Victoria along the Embankment because Hoshi says the Underground is ‘too dangerous for criminals’. Pers
onally, I think the police will have bigger things to worry about on a Friday night than two girls nicking a cap, but it’s kind of cool wandering along by the river, passing Big Ben and the London Eye.

  A text from Kat tells us that they’re at the station, but it’s so crowded she doesn’t think the teachers will notice we’re missing. Quickly, I send Ms Kapoor a text: Can’t see you – me and hoshi have gone home. Have a good weekend! x pearl

  A minute later, I get a reply: Glad you got back safely. See you on Monday! x Miss. ‘We actually did it,’ I say, staring at my phone. Then I feel a rush of excitement. ‘It’s Friday night, and we are out in London.’

  ‘Awesome, right?’ Hoshi shuts her eyes and breathes in deeply. ‘I love the smell of cities. It reminds me of Tokyo.’ She’s taken out her hair-horns and her hair is sticking out underneath the stolen cap. ‘Except the buildings. In Tokyo they are twice as high and covered in lights. I wish you could see them.’

  We walk beside the dark glittering river, past girls shivering in tiny dresses and tourists looking for places to eat. ‘So,’ I say, giving her a nudge, ‘you did some OK dancing back there.’

  She jumps up on a wall and walks along it doing some pops and locks. ‘Thanks,’ she says. Then she laughs. ‘I guess I didn’t want to show off at the dance studio.’

  ‘And what were those girls saying to you?’

  She shrugs. ‘Just wanted to know if I was Japanese.’ Hoshi spins round, arms spread wide like a ballerina.

  ‘How come they knew your name?’

  ‘They didn’t.’

  I laugh. She’s not getting away with this. ‘Yes, they did. I heard them say “Hoshi”.’

  ‘That’s because hoshi means “star”. Mum gave me a non-traditional name. It’s like someone being called “Sky” or “Blossom” over here. Those girls were just trying to get my attention because I was the one dancing.’ She jumps over a gap in the wall and I run to catch up with her. ‘Watch this,’ she says, jumping off the wall, arms and legs wide apart. ‘Hoshi jump!’