the last day of term, Edie arranges for a video about Invisible Children in the camps in Uganda to be shown to the whole school. We watch them singing. And dancing. And making bracelets to sell. And talking about people they know who've died of AIDS. Or been killed or kidnapped. We watch some of them going to school. Most can't, because there are no schools to go to.
Our headmistress looks extremely grim and several sixth-formers can be heard sniffling into their sleeves. It's not the most fun-filled atmosphere to end the school year with, but the idea is to make us appreciate our good luck and fill the world with our noble deeds.
Afterwards, an old pupil stands up and tells us how we're connected to everyone on the planet. She tells us not to be obsessed with cheap celebrity and to make sure we do something useful with our lives.
Then Edie wins so many prizes that I have to holdmost of them for her while she goes up for more. Situation normal.
The trouble is, next morning I have to go to the airport at the crack of dawn to meet Jenny, who's fresh back from the Tokyo premiere of Kid Code and full of stories about cheap celebrity that she's picked up from her Hollywood friends. And however hard I try to stay noble and unobsessed, they are, frankly, FASCINATING. I'd share them, but I'm sworn to secrecy. That CIA thing you have to do when you know people who know stars.
Suffice it to say, most of the stories are about people you know from all the magazines we're not supposed to buy and some of them would make your HAIR CURL. They in no way make the world a better place, but they certainly make it entertaining.
Jenny's dying to meet Crow. She had to head off just as things were getting interesting and since then I've been keeping her up to speed with Crow's new designs, and her incredible drawings, and her new workroom in our house. Edie's been giving her updates on the reading progress and the Invisible Children video. Sadly, I think Edie is trying to compete with me on Project Crow, but I'm so winning. Not that it is a competition, obviously.
We meet in the workroom. Crow's in her new designer uniform of blue dungarees and slippers. When she's working, she doesn't bother with the fairy wings and tutus. Jenny is ecstatic about everything. You can tell she'sbeen surrounded by acting types for a while. Everything is GORGEOUS or INCREDIBLE or ADORABLE. Crow just gets on with cutting a new pattern and leaves her to it.
Jenny's brought back a few cute outfits for Crow to look at. She gets them out of her bag with a flourish. Crow looks vaguely grateful, but it's hard to tell. So Jenny goes back to admiring the room. When she gets to the drawings of dancing girls, she pauses to look at them for a long, long time. You can tell she's thinking something.
‘Can I watch you work?’ she asks eventually.
Crow looks surprised and shrugs. Jenny takes it as a yes and curls herself up in the purple armchair where, within minutes, her jet-lagged body goes limp and we hear her gently snoring.
For a while, I watch Crow by myself. I'd offer to help, but I've tried before and everything she does is a lot more difficult than it looks. Especially cutting. She does it in long, confident strokes, but I've seen what she has to do with the fabric afterwards and if you make one tiny mistake you've ruined the whole thing. I made one tiny mistake once and she was very kind about it, but I haven't offered since.
I sometimes wonder whether it's fair to let a girl of her age work so constantly. I asked Mum one day, when she came down to the workroom with me to see how she was getting on.
‘We're not exactly forcing her,’ she said. ‘I'd say, ifanything, it was a question of not stopping her.’
It's true. I look at her expression as she cuts. It's totally focused, but also sort of happy. She catches me watching her and gives me a quick smile.
She holds up a complicated shape that looks like a leaf that's been mauled by a
Our headmistress looks extremely grim and several sixth-formers can be heard sniffling into their sleeves. It's not the most fun-filled atmosphere to end the school year with, but the idea is to make us appreciate our good luck and fill the world with our noble deeds.
Afterwards, an old pupil stands up and tells us how we're connected to everyone on the planet. She tells us not to be obsessed with cheap celebrity and to make sure we do something useful with our lives.
Then Edie wins so many prizes that I have to holdmost of them for her while she goes up for more. Situation normal.
The trouble is, next morning I have to go to the airport at the crack of dawn to meet Jenny, who's fresh back from the Tokyo premiere of Kid Code and full of stories about cheap celebrity that she's picked up from her Hollywood friends. And however hard I try to stay noble and unobsessed, they are, frankly, FASCINATING. I'd share them, but I'm sworn to secrecy. That CIA thing you have to do when you know people who know stars.
Suffice it to say, most of the stories are about people you know from all the magazines we're not supposed to buy and some of them would make your HAIR CURL. They in no way make the world a better place, but they certainly make it entertaining.
Jenny's dying to meet Crow. She had to head off just as things were getting interesting and since then I've been keeping her up to speed with Crow's new designs, and her incredible drawings, and her new workroom in our house. Edie's been giving her updates on the reading progress and the Invisible Children video. Sadly, I think Edie is trying to compete with me on Project Crow, but I'm so winning. Not that it is a competition, obviously.
We meet in the workroom. Crow's in her new designer uniform of blue dungarees and slippers. When she's working, she doesn't bother with the fairy wings and tutus. Jenny is ecstatic about everything. You can tell she'sbeen surrounded by acting types for a while. Everything is GORGEOUS or INCREDIBLE or ADORABLE. Crow just gets on with cutting a new pattern and leaves her to it.
Jenny's brought back a few cute outfits for Crow to look at. She gets them out of her bag with a flourish. Crow looks vaguely grateful, but it's hard to tell. So Jenny goes back to admiring the room. When she gets to the drawings of dancing girls, she pauses to look at them for a long, long time. You can tell she's thinking something.
‘Can I watch you work?’ she asks eventually.
Crow looks surprised and shrugs. Jenny takes it as a yes and curls herself up in the purple armchair where, within minutes, her jet-lagged body goes limp and we hear her gently snoring.
For a while, I watch Crow by myself. I'd offer to help, but I've tried before and everything she does is a lot more difficult than it looks. Especially cutting. She does it in long, confident strokes, but I've seen what she has to do with the fabric afterwards and if you make one tiny mistake you've ruined the whole thing. I made one tiny mistake once and she was very kind about it, but I haven't offered since.
I sometimes wonder whether it's fair to let a girl of her age work so constantly. I asked Mum one day, when she came down to the workroom with me to see how she was getting on.
‘We're not exactly forcing her,’ she said. ‘I'd say, ifanything, it was a question of not stopping her.’
It's true. I look at her expression as she cuts. It's totally focused, but also sort of happy. She catches me watching her and gives me a quick smile.
She holds up a complicated shape that looks like a leaf that's been mauled by a
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