Pop Princess by Cathy Hopkins

Author:Cathy Hopkins [Hopkins, Cathy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781848122857
Publisher: Piccadilly Press

‘WHAT I said about the judges being nice the first time . . .’ I said to Cat when we caught up at the lunch break the next day. ‘I take it back.’

‘Tell me about it,’ she said gloomily.

Mr Macey had dropped us off at the hall behind Tottenham Court Road at nine o’clock. It was now twelve and the last three hours were possibly the most excruciating of my whole life.

After we’d arrived and registered, we were separated from the boys and split into groups of five. Then we were asked to go in, one group at a time, to see the judges. Sadly, Cat wasn’t in my group; happily, Jade wasn’t either. When we got in the hall, we all had to troop up on to the stage and stand there with the spotlight on us. It was awful – the judges didn’t say anything, just looked us up and down like we were contestants at a pet show, then they all wrote stuff on pads of paper in front of them. I felt like doing something really stupid at one point, like flashing my chest at them, then I saw that a camera crew had set up at the back of the hall and decided that my parents wouldn’t be too happy if they saw me doing something daft like that on telly.

When the judges had all had a good stare at us, they dimmed the lights, and one by one, we were called to sing our song, in front of each other as well as in front of the camera and judges. I was third up and was feeling intimidated, as the two girls before me were good, and I mean really good. The one after me was OK and the fifth one blew it all together. Worst of all, though, was that at the end of our performances the judges made no comment. I’d prepared myself for the usual insults, but total silence was much worse. Nothing. Not a ‘good’, a ‘bad’ or a ‘you’re ugly’. They just told each group, ‘We’ll let you know this afternoon when we’ve seen everyone.’

After that, everyone had to go and have lunch in a room on the first floor. It felt like we were at a funeral, not a pop competition. No one was popping here, not any more. We’d done our bubbly bit, now everyone looked anxious and deflated. Not surprising, really, considering what we’d been though.

Cat and I took a sandwich and an apple juice from the table and went to sit on a bench in a corner to talk over the events of the morning.

‘Well, at least we get a free buttie this time.’ Cat smiled weakly.

‘Consolation prize,’ I said. ‘Not a Grammy, but a cheese and tomato bap. Yeah, at least we’ll have something to show for our efforts. So how did you get on?’

‘Crap, crap, crapola,’ said Cat, shaking her head. ‘It really threw me when we had to get up in groups of five.

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