Cathy Hopkins

Zodiac Girls: Brat Princess

‘Who are you?’
  Silence.
  ‘Where are you taking me?’
  Silence.
  We were whizzed through customs and I found myself in the back of a car. A car with tinted windows so I could see out but no-one could see in. Celebrity man was in the front, and between us was a glass partition, but I could see that there was a gap in it through which he could hear me. There was no doubt about it, I had been kidnapped. I had done my best to resist getting off the plane but the man had simply picked me up, put me over his shoulder and carried me out to the car as if I were as light as a feather. Of course, I kicked and thumped but it seemed to have no effect at all. The man was a monster. Or wearing body armour. Whichever, his broad shoulders didn’t seem to feel my protests.
  ‘Can I have my phone back?’
  Silence.
  ‘I need to use the bathroom.’
  Silence.
  ‘Look, my parents are very rich, but I expect you know that already. They will pay you off, no doubt about it. I even have my own account with thousands in it so how about we don’t waste any more time, you let me speak to them, we’ll get your money sorted and I can be on my way to Paris to meet my friend?’
  More silence.
  ‘Where’s Henry? I suppose he put you up to this?’
  Still no reply. I felt a tantrum coming on. ‘WeeeraaaarrrgHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH-HHHHHHHHHH!’ I blasted out. I pummelled the seats. Kicked the back of the front seats. Thrashed about. The man didn’t take any notice at all. Not one bit. He didn’t even turn around. Hmm. Tantrum tactic not working, I thought. Best save my energy for later.
  I leant forwards to tap on the glass partition. And that was when I saw that he was listening to an iPod. No wonder he wasn’t responding.
  ‘Oi, dingbat brain,’ I yelled, but he was warbling along with some tune, totally oblivious to me in the back. I knocked on the partition again. Nothing.
  I had no choice but to sit back and look out the window. It was beginning to grow dark outside, but I could see that the area was rural. We drove through a village with shops and where houses looked warm and cosy as people switched lights on and through one window, I glimpsed a family gathering round a fire. I saw a sign for the village as we left it behind. Osbury? Osbury, sounds vaguely familiar, I thought and made a mental note of it so that I could tell my rescuers later. After the village, the road grew dark again and we made our way through hedgerows, narrow lanes. We are totally out in the country, I thought as we sped along. I wonder where X-factor man is taking me.
  After a further fifteen minutes, there was some movement in the front. I leant forwards to see that the driver had taken off his headphones.
  ‘Hey,’ I said.
  ‘Hey,’ he replied.
  ‘Did you hear any of what I was saying before?’
  ‘A bit. Who? Why? Where? Yeah. Heard all that. That’s why I put on my headphones. Henry’s on his way back to St Kitts. He had nothing to do with this.’
  ‘So who are you?’
  ‘Name’s Sonny Olympus.’
  I burst out laughing. ‘Sonny Olympus! What kind of stupid name is that?’
  Sonny looked put out. ‘My name!’ he replied, then he pouted like a spoilt sulky teenager. ‘And it is so not stupid. If you’ve really got a problem, though, you can call me Mr O, but only if you must.’
  I laughed again. My tactic was to make him feel inferior. It works on most people. ‘Mr O! Pff. Also a stupid name. So who are you anyway?’
  He turned and said proudly. ‘I am, or will be, like a ray of sunshine in your life. I am to be your guardian for a month.’
  ‘Oh, get a life,’ I said. ‘I’m a bit old for guardians wouldn’t you say?’ But something he had said had panicked me. A month. Whoever was behind this, Mr O or a whole bunch of them, they planned to keep me for a month. No way. Outside the scenery looked bleak, like we were driving through the moors. I felt a trickle of fear and, as a hundred horror stories began to play through my mind, I tried not to imagine what could happen to me in such a remote place. 
  ‘You did hear that my parents are very rich…?’ I began.
  ‘Yep, heard that bit. And you’ve got thousands. Lucky old you.’
  ‘So as soon as you call Mummy and Daddy, they’ll pay.’
  For some reason, Mr O seemed to think that I had said something hysterical and guffawed loudly.
  ‘WHY are you laughing?’
  ‘Oh, I think you’ll find that they’ve paid already,’ he said in a really girlie spiteful way. Just who is this guy?
  I wondered.
  ‘Paid already? What do you mean?’
  ‘Board and lodging. Hey, relax, kid. You’ll see soon enough.’
  ‘Don’t call me ‘kid’. And relax? Are you from another planet?’
  This caused Mr O to laugh more than ever. ‘Yes. Yes. Indeed I am,’ he said. ‘How observant of you.’
  Rude, sulky and sarcastic, and all in under an hour, I thought. Boy! This guy could almost outdo me!
  He was starting to really annoy me. Time to try another tactic, I decided. I leant forwards and caught his eyes in the driver’s mirror. He smiled. I smiled back. ‘You really are very handsome you know…’ I began. Flattery usually gets you everywhere, particularly with boys, and although Mr O was clearly a man, what are men except older boys?
  Mr O nodded his head. ‘Yes. I do know. People tell me all the time.’
  D’er. Modest, too. Not, I thought as I flicked my hair and did my best seductive look. Mr O flicked his hair at exactly the same time. ‘I’m sure they do,’ I said. ‘Now, Mr O, if you are nice to me, I’ll be nice to you and…’
  ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, cut it out. Who do you think you are? Lolita the teenage seductress? I’m way too old for you. Way too old.’
  ‘Okay, so how old are you, then?’
  Mr O snorted. ‘Couple of thousand centuries. You?’
  ‘Fourteen.’
  ‘Exactly. I rest my case.’
  ‘Anyway, that’s stupid. You can’t be a couple of centuries old. That’s not possible.’
  ‘There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy, kid,’ said Mr O.
  ‘Oh, yeah? Says who? And don’t call me ‘kid’.’
  ‘Pal of mine name of William Shakespeare.’
  Oh, good heavens, I thought. He thinks he’s centuries old and  a friend of Shakespeare’s. He’s a nutter.
  ‘I have my own money, you know Mr O…’ I began again.
  ‘I know. You said. Lesson number one. Money can’t buy you everything and you’d better believe me, it won’t where we’re going,’ he said as we rounded a corner and I glimpsed the lights of a building ahead. It was hard to see in the dark, but it looked like an old fortress on top of a hill. The lights were on and cast a warm glow out into the dark night. Our hotel, I thought as Mr O drove up and stopped the car. At least it appears that they’re going to hide me somewhere decent.

Zodiac Girls: Brat Princess © Cathy Hopkins, 2007. Published by Kingfisher Books.