musical. They’re going to donate heaps of money towards the electronic scoreboard.”
“I thought Chinese people were all poor rice farmers,” Jesus said.
“Her family owns a very successful electrical goods chain. They’re rich.”
Mei Hua bowed again. She must have heard a word she understood.
Drago was about to launch into another defence, but he stopped. “What’s that noise?”
They all listened. There was a faint sound like someone gargling.
“Hey, Corduroy. Hate to tell you this, but it’s your phone.”
Velvet put her hand in her pocket. Her phone wasn’t there. She looked around. Drago was pointing at the misshapen ceramic pot. “It’s in there.”
Velvet was on her hands and knees fishing her phone out of the water.
“No!” Velvet groaned. “Not my iPhone.”
She dried the phone on her uniform and tried to play some music, check her email, call someone. It wouldn’t respond. It wasn’t the latest model and she had the cheapest possible prepaid plan, but her phone was the one thing that she hadn’t had to sell. She wanted to cry.
The others were more concerned about the casting of the new girl.
“It’s not fair,” Roula said. “We didn’t even get a chance.”
Velvet stared at her phone’s blank screen and prodded the button.
“My whole life is on my phone.”
“Get over it, Velvet.”
She’d lost her contacts from St Theresa’s, photos of her old life. And her music – playlists she’d spent hours compiling. She was already angry because Mr MacDonald hadn’t given her the part of Lady Anne, but this was the last straw.
“We should go on strike!” she said. “If we walk out, the play can’t go on.”
“Yeah,” Hailie said. “Who’s going to play all the dragon women if we go on strike?”
“Come on, girls. Only one of you can play Lady Anne,” Mr MacDonald said. “Even if Mei Hua hadn’t arrived, there’d still be two of you playing the supporting roles.”
Velvet shook her phone to get the water out. “Well, we’re not going to! You guys will have to dress up for the women’s parts. You can be Drago’s mum, Jesus.”
“Get lost,” Jesus said.
“Don’t be stupid, Velvet,” Peter said.
“I’m serious. That’s what they did in Shakespeare’s day.”
“What?” Drago wasn’t following.
“Men played the female parts. Only men were actors.”
“Yeah?”
“Taleb, play Lady Anne’s song,” Mr MacDonald said, “so Mei Hua can hear it.”
“It’s not ready yet.”
“It doesn’t have to be perfect.”
“I said it’s not ready, okay?”
“How about we rehearse some of act one then? Let’s have a look at the script you and Drago have been working on, Velvet.”
“I’m on strike as a writer as well as a performer,” Velvet said, cradling her phone in her hands.
It suddenly started to play “Don’t Cry for Me Argentina” at full volume.
Taleb glared at her. “Turn off that horrible noise!”
The song kept repeating over and over again. There was nothing Velvet could do to stop it. Velvet sat on her phone.
When the bell went, the girls were still striking, Sarah Brightman was still singing and Mr MacDonald would not change his mind.
Velvet didn’t think the battery in her phone was ever going to go flat. At home, she tried putting it under her mattress, burying it in the dirty clothes basket, but there was nowhere in their little house where she could escape the faint strains of “Don’t Cry for Me Argentina”. Eventually, she put it out in the shed and was able to get to sleep.
C H A P TE R 11
Mr MacDonald was droning on about the brilliance of Shakespeare’s language, but no one was listening. Velvet was still trying to get her phone to work. Following advice on the internet, she had buried it in a bowl of rice grains to dry it out. She’d recharged it but the touch screen wouldn’t respond. It was still blank, but at least iTunes had stopped playing “Don’t Cry for Me Argentina”.
Hailie and
“I thought Chinese people were all poor rice farmers,” Jesus said.
“Her family owns a very successful electrical goods chain. They’re rich.”
Mei Hua bowed again. She must have heard a word she understood.
Drago was about to launch into another defence, but he stopped. “What’s that noise?”
They all listened. There was a faint sound like someone gargling.
“Hey, Corduroy. Hate to tell you this, but it’s your phone.”
Velvet put her hand in her pocket. Her phone wasn’t there. She looked around. Drago was pointing at the misshapen ceramic pot. “It’s in there.”
Velvet was on her hands and knees fishing her phone out of the water.
“No!” Velvet groaned. “Not my iPhone.”
She dried the phone on her uniform and tried to play some music, check her email, call someone. It wouldn’t respond. It wasn’t the latest model and she had the cheapest possible prepaid plan, but her phone was the one thing that she hadn’t had to sell. She wanted to cry.
The others were more concerned about the casting of the new girl.
“It’s not fair,” Roula said. “We didn’t even get a chance.”
Velvet stared at her phone’s blank screen and prodded the button.
“My whole life is on my phone.”
“Get over it, Velvet.”
She’d lost her contacts from St Theresa’s, photos of her old life. And her music – playlists she’d spent hours compiling. She was already angry because Mr MacDonald hadn’t given her the part of Lady Anne, but this was the last straw.
“We should go on strike!” she said. “If we walk out, the play can’t go on.”
“Yeah,” Hailie said. “Who’s going to play all the dragon women if we go on strike?”
“Come on, girls. Only one of you can play Lady Anne,” Mr MacDonald said. “Even if Mei Hua hadn’t arrived, there’d still be two of you playing the supporting roles.”
Velvet shook her phone to get the water out. “Well, we’re not going to! You guys will have to dress up for the women’s parts. You can be Drago’s mum, Jesus.”
“Get lost,” Jesus said.
“Don’t be stupid, Velvet,” Peter said.
“I’m serious. That’s what they did in Shakespeare’s day.”
“What?” Drago wasn’t following.
“Men played the female parts. Only men were actors.”
“Yeah?”
“Taleb, play Lady Anne’s song,” Mr MacDonald said, “so Mei Hua can hear it.”
“It’s not ready yet.”
“It doesn’t have to be perfect.”
“I said it’s not ready, okay?”
“How about we rehearse some of act one then? Let’s have a look at the script you and Drago have been working on, Velvet.”
“I’m on strike as a writer as well as a performer,” Velvet said, cradling her phone in her hands.
It suddenly started to play “Don’t Cry for Me Argentina” at full volume.
Taleb glared at her. “Turn off that horrible noise!”
The song kept repeating over and over again. There was nothing Velvet could do to stop it. Velvet sat on her phone.
When the bell went, the girls were still striking, Sarah Brightman was still singing and Mr MacDonald would not change his mind.
Velvet didn’t think the battery in her phone was ever going to go flat. At home, she tried putting it under her mattress, burying it in the dirty clothes basket, but there was nowhere in their little house where she could escape the faint strains of “Don’t Cry for Me Argentina”. Eventually, she put it out in the shed and was able to get to sleep.
C H A P TE R 11
Mr MacDonald was droning on about the brilliance of Shakespeare’s language, but no one was listening. Velvet was still trying to get her phone to work. Following advice on the internet, she had buried it in a bowl of rice grains to dry it out. She’d recharged it but the touch screen wouldn’t respond. It was still blank, but at least iTunes had stopped playing “Don’t Cry for Me Argentina”.
Hailie and
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