Princess at Silver Spires (13 page)

I was vaguely aware that my voice seemed too strong, but then I realized it wasn't me getting louder, it was the hall growing quieter, and my next words were spoken into a deep silence as all eyes turned on me. I noticed Poppy, surrounded by her friends, staring at me mockingly, but I didn't feel nervous. I wasn't on a catwalk now, fighting the terror of the spotlight, or even letting myself enjoy the brief feeling of rightness I'd had. I was talking about the most important thing in my life, and my voice didn't shake, because it was peaceful inside my head.

“In the north of Ghana, where the water is dirty and dangerous, there's a disease called Guinea worm. The worm grows inside you, up to a metre long, and eventually breaks through your skin.” I heard the audience gasp in horror and, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Poppy clap her hand to her mouth in shock. The mocking look had left her face now. I carried on talking. “I've seen that sight, and I've seen the pain on the faces of the poor suffering people.” I paused to let that sink in, then I carried on, raising my voice slightly. “Look around you. How lucky we all are, gathered here in our beautiful clothes, not one of us more than fifty metres away from clean safe water. And now picture a girl I met called Abina. She and I are the same age. She gets up at five every morning and walks for miles to try and find water. But it's cloudy with mud, even when she's patiently waited for hours and hours in the hope that it might clear a little.” I stopped and glanced around. Poppy and her friends were standing completely still, wide eyes staring out of serious faces. “I want to help Abina. That's why I'm so glad I've had the chance to be involved in this fashion show. The money we raise tonight will go towards digging wells and installing pumps so that the water is no longer contaminated and the awful disease will gradually be stamped out.”

Suddenly I felt exhausted, but there were four more words that needed to be said. I looked at Poppy and the others as I spoke them. “I hope you understand.”

Then my mum was hugging me and I was happy that I could bury my face in her shoulder and not have to face anyone for a few seconds. She was patting my back as she used to when I was a little girl, and I had to fight back tears, especially as I'd noticed Miss Carol close by, wearing such a proud look.

It was Poppy's voice that made me finally look up.

“I didn't know princesses did that kind of work, Naomi. I just…didn't realize…”

I could hardly speak, I felt so choked. I'd seen something in Poppy's eyes that I'd never seen before. Respect. And that meant so much to me.

“Well done,” Dad said quietly, with a nod to show he approved of my speech. He didn't go in for hugs and kisses, my dad, but I could still tell how pleased he was with me.

“Excuse me, Your Majesty,” said Georgie, taking a step forward and looking at Dad nervously.

He gave her a kind smile. “My dear, ‘Mr. Okanta' is fine.”

Georgie nodded, wide-eyed. “Er…right. I was just wondering why you didn't come in traditional costume tonight, er, Mr. Okanta?”

“Well,” replied my dad, stroking his chin thoughtfully as he glanced first at Miss Carol, then at me, “sometimes we have to let go of our principles in order not to let people down.”

I bit my lip and swallowed.

“Your father and I had quite a chat in the interval, Naomi!” Miss Carol said with a twinkle in her eye. “And well done, by the way…not just for
being
a brilliant model, but simply for
being
a model. Good decision.”

Katy gave me a hug. “The best!” she said.

And I hugged her back really tightly, not even caring that the television camera was still on us. I was here with my friends and my family and I was surely the luckiest and happiest girl in the world.

Although I was nervous about strutting my stuff on the catwalk, modelling in the fashion show was not only exciting, but, more importantly, it helped raise money for a great cause! There are so many ways to get involved with deserving charities and have tons of fun with your friends at the same time – here are a few ideas to inspire you!

How to make fund-raising fun!

School is a great place to hold fab fund-raisers, because there are lots of people to support your event. Getting your whole school involved means getting your teachers on board first, but it's worth it! Here's what to do:

* First you need to
choose your charity
. Think about issues that are important to you, and do your research. Most charities will have their own website – you'll be able to find out if they're running any events you can join in with, and where you should send any money you raise.

* Have a
non-school-uniform day
and ask everyone to pay to wear their own clothes to school. Not only will you raise money for charity, but you'll also get a day off from wearing uniform! If you're really brave, you could even have a fancy-dress day. Just make sure your teachers approve the idea first.

* Hold a
bring-and-buy sale
! It's ideal for getting rid of your old clothes, books and CDs, whilst also giving you the chance to bag some bargains of your own! You could even cook up some yummy cakes and treats to sell on the day – shopping always works up an appetite.

* Why not run a
cool quiz
, or even a
talent contest
? You can charge everyone a small entry fee to raise money, and discover your friends' weird and wonderful abilities into the bargain. Let the entertainment begin!

So what are you waiting for? Grab your friends and have some School Friends fun!

Now turn the page for a sneak preview of the next unmissable School Friends story…

“That's coming on nicely, Jess.”

I jumped a mile at the sound of Mr. Cary's voice because I'd been in a world of my own, blending shapes and patterns in a collage. It was my favourite lesson of the week: art. With my favourite teacher.

Mr. Cary and I both laughed at the way he'd given me such a shock.

“Sorry, Jess, I forget how absorbed you always get! I'll cough or something to warn you I'm approaching in future.” He leaned forward and studied my picture carefully, then took a step back and nodded to himself. “Hmm. I like the shape that's emerging through the colours of the collage.”

I frowned at my picture because I didn't get what Mr. Cary meant. I hadn't intended there to be any shape.

“Look,” he said, seeing the puzzled look on my face, as his finger drew a line in the air just above the painting. “It's a shoe!”

“Oh wow! So it is!”

“Let's have a look,” said my best friend, Grace, coming over from her easel. “Yes, it's a trainer!” she said, smiling to herself. “I think it's one of mine!”

I grinned at her. Some people wonder why she and I are best friends when we don't seem to have anything in common. You see, Grace is the most talented girl in Year Seven at sport and she's really good at most other subjects too, whereas I'm no good at anything except art. But Grace is a very sensitive person so she understands what it is I love about art, and when I show her stuff I've done, she doesn't just say,
Oh yes, very nice.
She asks questions and tries to see what I see. And that's lovely for me because, apart from Mr. Cary, Grace is the only person in my entire life who really understands me.

“Are you getting ideas for the art exhibition, Jess?” she asked me, her eyes all sparkly. Grace is from Thailand and when she smiles she's so pretty. Her whole face kind of crinkles and lights up.

“Just what I was about to ask, Grace!” said Mr. Cary. “I'm looking forward to seeing what you come up with for the exhibition, Jess.” He smiled. “Remember, you don't have to limit your work to a painting. Or even to craftwork. Last year we had sculptures, pottery, silk screening, installation art—”

“Installation art?” said Georgie, bouncing over with a paintbrush in her hand.

“Georgie, you're dripping!” said Mr. Cary, pretending to be cross, even though everyone knows that Mr. Cary never really gets cross. None of the art teachers do. That's one of the lovely things about art – there's no need for crossness. There's no right or wrong. No horrible words. Just lovely, lovely pictures, and everyone simply slides into the magical world of whatever they're creating.

For me personally, I really feel the magic. I've always felt it, ever since I was four, moulding a ball of Play-Doh into an elephant at nursery. I can still remember the excitement I felt as I made two thin plate shapes for the elephant's ears. I was having a little competition with myself to see if I could make the whole elephant without tearing any bits off the dough and sticking them back on again. I was trying to just keep moulding away, teasing out the legs and the trunk and the ears and the tail until the blob of dough turned into an elephant.

Then the playgroup leader said I had to stop because it was time for milk, and I remember how I cried and cried and stamped my foot until she promised to keep my elephant safe so I could carry on with it the next day. Later, when my nanny, Julie, came to collect me, the playgroup leader told her about me crying, but Julie didn't even ask to see the elephant, which made me sad.

After nursery, I got Julie to make Play-Doh at home and I created a whole zoo. I arranged all the animals on newspaper spread right across the kitchen table, and as soon as I heard Mum's key in the front door when she got home from work – she's an accountant by the way – I rushed to the hall, grabbed her hand and pulled her through to the kitchen.

“Look!” I said proudly.

“Oooh! That's lovely, Jess!” she said, giving me a big hug. But she hadn't looked for long enough, and I think that was the first time I realized in some funny little childish way that I could see things that some people couldn't see. I mean, I'm sure the blobs of dough looked exactly that – blobs of Play-Doh with bits sticking out – but to me there were all sorts of animals in there just waiting to be seen.

Then, when Dad got home – he's also an accountant by the way – he hardly even glanced at my zoo. He just patted my head and said, “Very nice. Let's clear it away now, Jess.”

As I got older, I realized that there are two kinds of people in the world: those who kind of connect with art (that's the only way I can describe it), and those who simply don't. So that's why I feel so lucky to have Grace. I mean, the teachers at primary must have thought I was quite a good artist because they often praised me, but none of them actually wanted to
discuss
anything I'd done. Whereas Grace seems genuinely interested and says she loves trying to see the world in pictures like I do.

“I've heard that word ‘installation' before,” Georgie was saying. “But I don't get it. I mean an installation is like getting a washing machine or something fitted, isn't it?”

Mr. Cary chuckled, partly because Georgie had been waving her brush around while she'd been talking and had accidentally smeared green paint across her nose.