Forty-Three
Lights, camera, action
Can you feel the attraction?
I’m addicted to the fame
Addicted to the game
‘Addiction’ from The In-Between
Kira is still ignoring me. This is the longest I’ve gone without speaking to her ever. Faye has been splitting her time between us all weekend, and it feels like she’s a child of divorce, the way she’s had to trek from house to house.
But in big news, I’ve now sent off my UCAS form! Applying to study English Literature with English Language, all with London universities. And I’m waiting to hear back. Ty tells me he’s starting to be accepted both into UK and US universities. He’s still not told his dad how he feels.
Today is the first day of my work experience at the Croydon Post. Everyone else will be starting their final week of winter term.
Tori and I have got permission to miss it for this.
Despite Mum’s best effort in trying to get me to dress ‘smart’, even though the email clearly says the dress code is ‘casual’, I turn up in a carefully selected jeans and plaid shirt.
What do journalists wear? This feels a bit businessy, but artsy enough to be a professional writer.
If I’m overthinking the outfit this much, god knows how much else I’ll overthink.
Ty texts me good luck, as does Ollie. Ollie and I aren’t talking as much any more, but we still check in now and then. We share the big stuff. It’s a good way of honouring our friendship without creating any pressure. Last time I heard from him, he’d started going out with Keeley.
I arrive at the office and check in. I’m taken to get my photo done, a scenario I’m unprepared for, and handed a badge with my face printed on it. Great, if I had known this I would have worn something plainer than plaid!
Tori, of course, is already here, tapping away at a laptop she must have brought in with her. We’ve not even formally started the day yet.
I sit down next to her, and opposite a boy I assume to be the third intern, who’s tall and lanky with a smattering of acne on his left cheek. Horrifically, he’s also in a plaid shirt and jeans.
‘I’m Doug,’ he says, nodding at me.
‘Selena,’ I say back.
‘Tori,’ says Tori, waving her hand without taking her eyes off her laptop.
‘What are you even doing?’ I say. ‘They’ve not given us anything to do yet.’
‘Yeah, you’re making us look bad,’ jokes Doug.
‘Overworking is her thing,’ I say. ‘You’ll get used to it.’ I see the confusion on his face. ‘We go to school together.’
‘Same English class and everything,’ says Tori, not making eye contact. ‘I’m writing up the headlines of the different news outlets from this morning,’ she says. ‘In case it comes up.’
‘Are you guys on the same student newspaper?’ says Doug. ‘I’m the editor of mine.’
To be fair to Doug, this is an innocuous question, given the circumstances. He does not realise the minefield it is for us.
‘I’m the editor too,’ says Tori, sweetly. ‘And Selena somewhat contributes.’
Doug looks between the two of us, obviously sensing the tension.
‘It’s a long story,’ I say. ‘I’ll tell you later.’
‘Morning, interns,’ says a man walking over to us. He’s in a checked shirt, not plaid – there is a difference – with glasses and a short grey beard. ‘Welcome, welcome. I’m Gareth and I’ll be supervising you here for the next week at the Post.’
Tori immediately snaps her laptop shut.
‘Now, you’ll be shadowing a lot of our staff writers here,’ continues Gareth.
‘Helping them out on day-to-day tasks and hopefully getting a feel for local journalism.’ Gareth goes on to explain different journalists we’ll be assigned to, events that are going on during the week, and admin like when to take lunch.
He continues, ‘Lastly, you’ll be gearing up to write your own article.
We have found it’s a good way for you to put everything you’ve learnt into practice, as well as getting some healthy competition going.
So, we’d like you to interview a local person and write it up for us.
The best interview will be published in the Post in print and online, getting you your first official byline.
We know you only have a few days to do it, but such is the pressure of journalism. ’
We all look at each other excitedly. Tori looks smug, no doubt she thinks she has this in the bag.
‘But not only that,’ says Gareth. ‘This year we have an additional prize. Do any of you know of Rose Conrad?’
We all gape at him. Me especially. Where is this going?
‘Yes!’ I say.
‘My girlfriend loves her,’ says Doug.
‘Good news,’ says Gareth. ‘We’ve got two tickets to cover the concert in Central London this weekend, as it’s a big event happening in the city.
We thought we’d give them to the winner of this – you’re her target audience and can write a more authentic review.
Pull in some younger readers. So if you win, you’ll get two bylines!
One is your published interview, one is the review of the concert in a few weeks. ’
We’re all stunned. Forget the byline, those tickets are like gold dust! Extremely expensive gold dust on resell sites. And this is my chance to get them and go.
Tori turns to me, a cold and calculated look in her eyes. ‘Those bylines are mine,’ she says. ‘You may think you’re better than me, but I’ll prove it by winning here.’
Okay, it may not be a good chance to get them, but there’s still a chance.
***
My evening is spent calling local business owners to see if they’d be interested in talking to me.
I get some outright no’s, a few maybe’s, and a couple of yeses.
But deep down my heart isn’t in it. I could interview Annie Bannanie of ice cream fame, but for some reason, it doesn’t feel right.
Having spent five minutes on the phone with her, I can tell Annie is a creative woman with a mind for wild ice cream flavours, but there’s no story there. But I guess it’s better than nothing.
‘I don’t see how I can win,’ I say, pacing Ty’s living room.
I’m exhausted. ‘Tori has spent all day mentioning all the local celebrities her mum knows and how she is going to get a great interview. Somehow her mum knows every person from the mayor to that guy who ate all those jelly babies and made national news!’
‘Let’s work through it,’ says Ty. ‘Who else do you know?’
‘You. Mum. Faye. Ki— My friends from school. And Mum’s got no useful connections, unless I want to interview someone about planning permission from the council. I don’t even know what planning permission is! I hear Mum complain about it.’
I sit on the sofa, with a sinking feeling of disappointment.
‘This is our chance to go,’ I say to Ty.
‘Those Rose Conrad tickets are within my reach! I’ve been holding on to this spark of hope that there would be some kind of magical coincidence and I’d be able to go.
Like Cinderella and the ball. And now the fairy godmother has turned up in the form of Gareth, and Tori is about to turn my tickets into a pumpkin! ’
‘What a metaphor,’ says Ty, shaking his head. ‘And you would take me to the concert? Are you sure?’
‘You or Kira are the next biggest fans I know, but Kira isn’t exactly speaking to me.’
In this moment, I really miss Kira. She would know exactly what to do or say. She would tell me that I could do it, that I could win against Tori. And no doubt she would come up with a hundred ideas of how I could try.
Kira was more than my friend, she was my champion. She’s always backed me to be a writer, it’s why she submitted me to The Common Room in the first place. And I really took her for granted.
‘I have to go,’ I say, standing up. ‘I have an idea.’
‘What? About who to interview?’
‘No,’ I say, running out of the door, ‘Something more important.’
I get home and run upstairs to my laptop. Words are all I’ve ever had. And even if I can’t use them to beat Tori, maybe I can use them to fix this.
I start drafting an email to Ms Harkness, hoping I can make it in time.