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head!”
    “No!!” I squawk a little too loudly. “I mean, yes, I’d love to help out. And, um, my sister’s actually in the band.”
    “Yeah? You mean…Sarah?” I see Mr Fisher frown, instantly ruling out Angel and Cherish as obvious relations and settling on Sarah by a process of elimination.
    I can see he’s struggling to see the resemblance. But I don’t care. I’m not offended; I’m elated – already a change is happening in my life, and it seems to be a change of luck. OK, maybe that’s not the exact change I wished for over my PJ Harvey plastic CD cover a couple of nights ago, but it’ll more than do.
    And who knows, maybe even that wish will come true too, if I keep positive (and keep everything crossed)…

Chapter 6
The surprise – make that shock – party
    Mum and Dad dropped me and my overnight bag at Pamela’s this morning, on their way to the train station to spend the weekend with Auntie Kelly and Uncle Jack. All I can say is, thank God there was a band rehearsal to disappear to this afternoon. Pamela is in some seriously weird, distant mood at the moment and is zero fun to be around. Must be all the unrequited love messing with her head, although she went ballistic at me this morning when I suggested that. Hope she’s in a better frame of mind by the time I get back to hers. Which is pretty soon, unfortunately, seeing as the rehearsal has just finished…
    Mr Fisher has darted off to talk to the lad in chargeof the mixing desk, and he’s left me to check with everyone that they’re free for the next band practice – the last band practice before the competition next Friday. Hey – an excuse to talk to Conor close up… what could be more brilliant? But first, I’ll have to find him. All the gear is still on stage, but Conor, Salman and Sarah have wandered off somewhere. Still, I can start with Cherish and Angel, I decide, heading up the wooden stairs that leads to the stage.
    “Um, hi…” I hear myself squeak apologetically.
    God, I wish I didn’t get so intimidated at the idea of talking to the two of them. My hand is shaking so much that I have to clutch my clipboard tight so it doesn’t show. I know, I know, I know they’re only human, like me. The trouble is, they’re stupidly gorgeous and they’re super-cool, unlike me.
    And, from the way they’re ignoring me, it’s obvious that my squeak is inaudible to the ears of the stupidly gorgeous and super-cool.
    “So, are—are you OK for Tuesday?” I ask, a little louder.
    Cherish and Angel stop chatting to each other as they wind up their mike leads and stare at me as if I’m a total stranger who’s just walked up to them and started talking in Ancient Greek.
    You know, Alice Morgan in our year: well, her big brother plays in the reserves for our local football team. His mates – guys who play for the first team; guys who’ve been in the papers and on the telly – they’ve given her personal signed photographs and everything. Me: I can’t even get my sister’s mates to acknowledge my existence. How bizarre…I’m just a totally nobody to them.
    “What?” shrugs Angel, her long, dark hair tumbling off her shoulders as she speaks.
    “Mr Fisher – he wants to know if you’re OK for rehearsals on Tuesday?” I rephrase my question.
    “Oh, Tuesday! Yeah, sure!” Cherish nods, now that she and Angel have realised the question has come from someone who actually matters (ie, not me).
    With relief, I see Conor come back on to the stage, flipping open the empty bass guitar case he’s just collected from backstage.
    “Fine,” I mumble at Angel and Cherish, as I quickly put a tick beside their names and hurry off to someone who will hopefully treat me more like a member of the human race.
    “Hey, Megan!” Conor beams, not letting me down.
    “Hi!” I grin, basking gratefully in the warmth of his welcoming smile.
    “So how did that sound today?”
    “Good! It sounded…great!” I babble enthusiastically as he