Daizy Star and the Pink Guitar by Cathy Cassidy Read Free Book Online Page B

Everyone is excited, but I am just about bursting with happiness because Dad will be back and I cannot wait to see him. At the corner of the street, I break into a run and I don’t stop until I am hurtling through the front door into the hallway.
    There is no sign of either Mum or Dad cuddled up on the sofa the way I hoped they might be. There is no sign of them at all.

    ‘Dad!’ I yell. ‘Dad! Mum? Where are you?’
    Becca appears on the staircase.
    ‘They’re not here,’ she tells me. ‘Dad’s plane was delayed in Lilongwe … Mum’s been stuck at the airport all day, waiting for him. She rang my mobile to say we are not to worry, Dad is definitely on his way now. They should make it in time for the Battle of the Bands, but they might have to go straight there.’
    ‘What?’ I yelp. ‘But … Dad was meant to be here hours ago! What if they miss my moment of glory?’
    Becca ruffles my hair. ‘It’ll all work out, Daizy,’ she says. ‘Don’t worry. Come on, help me get my make-up kit and crimpers set up … we have work to do!’
      
    By the time Pixie, Beth, Willow and Murphy arrive, Becca and I have turned the living room into a thrash-punk-metal beauty salon. I get to work crimping Beth’s hair while Becca starts painting Willow’s eyes and nails a startling shade of neon green. There is lots of inky eyeliner and black lipstick that makes us look faintly vampire-ish.
    Next, we get changed into the splash-painted T-shirts and little black skirts, or skinny red jeans in Murphy’s case, and Becca gets to work on our hair. She gives Pixie a handful of neon hair mascaras, and soon random stripes of turquoise, orange and pink appear in everyone’s hair. Becca starts backcombing madly and scooshing us with great clouds of hairspray, adding black lace bows and scarves to go with the black furry ears.
    Murphy gets a whole crop of pointy dinosaur spikes all over the back of his head while his dipping, multi-coloured fringe is straightened. Becca even threatens him with the black eyeliner, but he wriggles away before she can do any damage.
    We are ready. We have through-a-hedge-backwards hair and panda eyes, and clothes that look like Halloween fancy dress.
    ‘Scary,’ Pixie says, and I agree. If I saw the whole bunch of us walking along Silver Street, I would turn round and leg it in the opposite direction.
    We look perfect.
    But there is a little ache of sadness in my chest because it’s five thirty now and time to set off for Brightford Playhouse, and there is still no sign of Dad. If he doesn’t hurry up, he’s going to miss our big break.
    Becca slips an arm round my shoulder. ‘Stop worrying,’ she whispers. ‘He’ll be there.’

    ‘I know,’ I say, but I don’t believe it. My confidence has dissolved. A feeling of doom and disaster is hanging over me. There’s the toot of a car horn from outside, and we grab the guitars and load them into Murphy’s mum’s car. We don’t have to stress about drum kits and mikes and amps because Spike’s band are bringing theirs along and all the bands will be sharing them once we get to the theatre.
      
    All that’s left is for us to squeeze into the car and go, and suddenly my tummy is full of butterflies because it’s not every day you get to achieve your thrash-punk-metal potential and change the world as well, all in ten short minutes on stage. It is going to be awesome.
    I just hope Mum and Dad will be there to see it.
      
    Once we get to the theatre, things get a little scary. We have a bit of trouble convincing the sound-check guys we are actually a band and not a bunch of autograph-hunting fans trying to sneak backstage, which is very ageist of them when you think about it. In the end, Spike spots us and vouches for us, and then we are up there with the other bands, who do seem very tall and old and scary-looking.
      
    Beth and Willow have gone totally silent, and Murphy just keeps saying, ‘Right, cool,’ whenever someone asks him a