Nathalia Buttface and the Most Embarrassing Five Minutes of Fame Ever. Nigel Smith
Darius barged to the front of the queue and had almost made it through the door when Nat grabbed his frayed collar and dragged him away. His face was dirty, his hair cropped short and in tufts. He was wearing an old shirt three sizes too big for him and he had a baked bean in his ear.
“Where are you going, looking so smart?” she said. She wasn’t being sarcastic – he WAS looking smart. For Darius, that is.
“Let me get on the bus, I’ll be late for my job,” said Darius, wriggling.
“You’ve got a lot to answer for,” said Nat. “Why did you give Dad that video?”
The last few passengers were getting on as Darius wriggled and squirmed to get away.
“People are watching,” said Darius loudly. “Can’t you be normal?”
Everyone in the street stopped and looked at Nat.
“It’s her,” shouted one man. “It’s really her!”
“Can’t you be normal?” yelled a woman with a baby buggy. “Ha ha ha!”
“People are watching NOW,” shrieked a young shoplifter, who was running past with a toaster under one arm, closely followed by a security guard. The guard slowed down in front of Nat.
“Hey, it’s you! Do the dance!” he said.
“Eeek,” said Nat, dropping Darius and running back inside the salon. Darius grinned and hopped on the Number 3 bus just as the doors closed.
“Dad, I don’t think I want to do this,” said Nat, panting, once she was safely back inside the salon.
“Too late!” said Irene Hideous, waving the contract. “It’s all signed, sealed and paid for. Now don’t worry, this won’t hurt a bit.”
… screamed the poster in the hair salon.
“So, we want pictures of you every day for ten days,” explained Mrs Hideous. “Every morning you’ll be given a free new hairstyle by our top stylist Suki Glossop. Won’t that be exciting?” She was using the sort of pretend-nice voice that mums use when they’re trying to get kids to take medicine and the poorly child has already spat it out twice.
“I dunno,” said Nat, still shaken from her brush with fame outside.
“Come on – people are going to look at you anyway,” said Dad. “At least this way you’ll get something out of it.”
Yes, and I should be used to being stared at by now, being in your stupid company, Nat thought to herself glumly.
Top stylist Suki Glossop, a young woman with half her head shaved, a collection of piercings and a big tattoo of a dragon up her arm, started fluffing up Nat’s hair.
“Get off,” said Nat.
“Can you do something with it?” asked Mrs Hideous.
“You’re not giving me quality materials to work with,” Suki said, sounding very bored.
“Hey,” said Nat, “that’s me you’re talking about. I AM quality materials, thank you very much.”
“Just do what you can, OK?” said Mrs Hideous to Suki Glossop. “You’ve got Elsie Stain booked in for a shampoo and set at eleven and you know how she gets if we’re not ready. Especially if she’s started on the sherry early.”
“I thought modelling was supposed to be glamorous, Dad,” hissed Nat as Suki started preparing her scissors and brushes. “This place is horrible. It smells of burned hair and cats and it’s full of mad old people.”
“That’s why they need you, love,” explained Dad. “You’re their bit of glamour. You should be flattered.”
Nathalia didn’t feel very glamorous when her head was shoved in the sink and red-hot water sprayed all over it.
“Ow ow ow!” gasped Nat as her head boiled.
“It needs a hot wash to get the muck out,” said Suki, scrubbing shampoo into Nat’s tender scalp.
“There’s no muck IN,” said Nat, offended.
“Sorry, she doesn’t wash her hair very much,” said Dad. “I’d offer to do it for her, but she says she’s too old these days. But this is the result – manky hair.”
“I have NOT got manky hair!” bubbled Nat from the sink, mouth full of shampoo. Her whole head was a big afro of foam. “Shut up, Dad.”
Eventually her hair was de-mucked enough for Suki to begin drying, which she insisted on doing with a rough towel, by hand, very hard.
“You’re very lucky,” said Suki, with a pout. “I wanted to be the hair model, but apparently I’m not as famous as you.”
“You’re pulling,” complained Nat, buried under the scratchy towel. “Ouchy!”
“I can’t put you under the dryer – you’ve got such weak roots they’ll just frazzle to a crisp,” said Suki.
“Hear that, Dad?” said Nat. “Weak roots. I know where I get those from.” Dad put his hand up to his thinning thatch.
“Does she always complain this much?” asked Mrs Hideous, coming over with a tub of the gloopy gel.
“She’s not TOO bad,” said Dad, who liked talking about Nat to people when she was sitting right next to him. “Although she moaned and moaned when I wouldn’t let her have her ears pierced.”
“What’s wrong with getting your ears pierced?” said Suki, rubbing Nat’s head even harder. Shuddup, Dad, thought Nat. Can’t you see this woman’s got twelve earrings in each ear??? Not to mention the one in her nose. Or eyebrow. In fact, she’s got more piercings than FACE.
“Nothing WRONG with them,” said Dad. “It’s just that children look horrible with earrings. Also, it hurts them. Parents who give their kids earrings should be arrested.”
“My little Trayvon and D’Shaun have BOTH got earrings,” growled Suki. “And they’ve had them since they were two years old.” Nat’s head was getting squashed.
“That’s nice,” said Dad. “Um – is her hair dry now?”
Suki whipped off the towel, grabbed a massive handful of the gel and slapped it on Nat’s head with a splat. Nat could feel it trickling down her neck.
“That’s rather a lot,” said Mrs Hideous, but then she saw the dark expression on Suki’s face and slid off out of the way.
“I think something EXTREME to start,” said Suki. “Unless Daddy’s little girl can’t handle it?”
Nat had had enough of Suki flipping Glossop. Dad might be embarrassing, but this girl was unpleasant and rude. And she was NOT going to let her think she was some silly kid.
Suki began to style. She yanked and pulled and twisted her hair, but Nat wouldn’t let on that it hurt. She was a very determined girl and shut her eyes tight and didn’t utter a squeak until she heard:
“Finished. Waddya think?”
She opened her eyes and looked in the mirror. She had promised herself that she wouldn’t complain NO MATTER HOW HORRIBLE it was.
But it wasn’t horrible.
It was wild,