Книга - Cupcakes and Glitter Shakes

Cupcakes and Glitter Shakes
Lisa Clark


Lola Love and the pink ladies are back in the next kick-ass installment of the new fiction series by Lisa Clark.It’s the school holidays but that doesn’t mean Lola Love isn’t working hard - she’s scored an internship at Missy Magazine, working with her total inspiro girl, Tori Frankel.But after an embarassing revolving-door-eats-girl incident and the unforeseen ick factor of Evil Eva’s cousin, Mean Maddie, Lola is starting to worry that her journo girl dreams might not come true after all. It’s going to take a whole lot of pink thinking, Aunt Lullah’s BFF and a big batch of cupcakes to turn this situation around - but if anyone can do it, it’s Lola and the Pink Ladies!Join Lola and the Pink Ladies as they work out the ups, downs and in betweens of being a girl.




LOLA LOVE



Cupcakes



and



glitter shakes



By

Lisa Clark

























Cupcakes and glitter shakes to:

The Man — mwooah? x

Team Lola — especially Darley, Zoe and Lindsey, for continuing to make my dreams come true!

Team Lolasland.com — Sophie — for ‘getting it’ and for being awesome — you rock and rule and Clive, Laura,

Tom and Zoe for making magic happen!

Julie — for giving me inside info, for being a kick-ass cheerleader and the coolest pen-pal ever!

Christoff and Keithster o’ FF — for being my BBF — best boys forevz and for my secret giftie — made finishing

this book so sweet!

Carla and Nadia — for being so super-fab and supportive and sending me the cutest notebook in which all

the notes for this book were written — cheers chicas!

The Pink Ladies who read the books and write fabulous-o emails and Letters to Lola and I-you’re amazing!




Table of Contents


Chapter One (#u391658e5-b3d6-5330-9f5a-264a3ecc7255)

Chapter Two (#ua248b913-30ad-5bc4-815f-cbcac636c2be)

Chapter Three (#u992da01a-06e2-5f55-b0ed-ad9d2e60ba85)

Chapter Four (#u2b79dd25-3f2b-5ba8-a7e0-9f6f3eca6f28)

Chapter Five (#u9e2f2241-0019-5212-a05e-ed6d338bd915)

Chapter Six (#u5161f0fa-b139-5d1c-b430-572b6e00aab2)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twentyone (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)




Chapter One (#u18886f61-da59-500c-b822-fb1ed545d8be)







“Bella,” I say as calmly as I possibly can, “can you come reread this for me please, I think there’s a chance I might be dreaming!”

Pink Lady Bella crawls across my pink bedspread and rests her head on my shoulder. She mutters the words as she reads from the screen, and when she gets to the end, she lets out a really loud squeal in my ear.

“Lo, Lo—the ed of Missy magazine has just asked you to go be her intern—this is huge, this is may-jah!” she says, doing a stompy boot dance in honour of quite possibly the best news I’ve ever had.

So, I wasn’t dreaming.

Bella had just confirmed it.

The ed-girl—my idol-girl—of my most favourite magazine, Missy, has asked me to be an intern.

What did I go and do so right to deserve this?!

And um…more importantly than that I guess, what was an intern?

“It’s what Americans call work-experience, Lola!” Bella informs me, when I ask her. Which makes sense because like Bella, Tori Frankel—ed girl extraordinaire, is an American-o too.

“I thought that’s what it meant!” I say, which isn’t altogether true, which is why I asked. You should never be afraid to ask questions, y’know, no matter how silly they seem, because imagine if ‘internship’ meant something completely different like, I don’t know, eat maggots or clean toilets. If I hadn’t asked, I could have arrived on the first day and been in for a complete icky shock.

This was a BIG deal.

Missy magazine was my most favourite magazine and while I didn’t want to pester ed-girl Tori Frankel, after I met her, I thought it would be crazy not to take the opportunity to keep in contact—so I emailed her. I emailed her a copy of my new zine and I thought up lots of cool ideas for Missy, just so she knew I was serious about it. I even made a mood board to go with the ideas—cutting out pictures and words and colour schemes that went with them—it took me ages, but it didn’t matter.

If it meant I got to work at Missy Magazine, one of the only magazines in magazine-y world that doesn’t get all hung up on body bits and instead writes about cool stuff like, 15 year old girls doing kick-ass things with their lives, and fashion shoots with real-sized girls, then it would be worth it. I know I do my own thing with my own zine, which I love, but I want to learn all about how a real magazine works so that when I’m ready, I can make my magazine the best magazine in the world ever.

My computer pings again. Bella and I both rush to the screen in anticipation. It’s my Aunt Lullah. When she lived here, and not in swanksville New York, city of my dreams, we always used to joke that she wasn’t really my auntie and that she was actually my psychic sister and it turns out she really is (psychic that is, not my sister, coz that would just be weird) because I really wanted to talk to her!

I click the IM icon on the screen and pull up a blank message box.






I’m literally buzzing with excitement as I type, because Lulllah is my number one inspir-o-girl and I just know she’ll be as excited as I am about me entering the land of my pink-tinted dreams—real magazines.






Ah.

The Mothership.

Bella, who has been reading over my shoulder, pulls a knowing face. This is because she knows the full-on craziness that is my mum. Well, she should do, what with my mum spending A LOT of time with her Yoga Dad.

Yep, this is, in case you were wondering, the very same mum who threatened to call the police about her cult-like neighbours when Bella and Yoga Dad first arrived in the ‘hood. For a while they’ve just been ‘hanging out’ or whatever parental types call spending time together, but now, according to Bella, it seems they might, y’know, like each other. Mum hasn’t told me this herself, but that’s because mum and I don’t talk in the same way as Bella and Yoga Dad talk. I’d kinda guessed something might be going on, as her volume switch had been re-set to normal and she sometimes had a smile where her perma-frown used to be. I don’t think they’re dating or anything, just think enjoying spending time together, what with them both being single. That, I’m cool with.

I think.

I mean, parentals deserve to be happy too, right? And when my particular parental is happy, I no longer get hurty ears. And Yoga Dad, rules. He’s a chilled out zen dude, who couldn’t be more unlike my earring-wearing, traveller dad, if he tried. But as much as I love Bella, when she jokes about the idea of them actually dating, and maybe getting married, and us becoming sisters, it turns out I’m not that cool about that in the slightest. In fact, can we change the subject please?

I let my fingers hover above the keyboard before typing back to Lullah. Writing is my most persuasive medium, so I’d better make this good.






Which was absolutely true.

Lullah might be mum’s younger sister and she might be across a huge expanse of sea, but there really was no-one wiser to the workings of the Mothership? than Lullah.






I love Lullah. She’s the greatest.

I especially love how she doesn’t even think the internship won’t happen. She always looks on the bright side of things, and lives her life by her most favourite saying, ‘what you think about, you bring about.’ She would always write cute li’l things like that on Post-it notes and leave them round the house when she was staying here. The Mothership? used to shake her head, tut a little bit and put them in the bin. Positivity was not a word my parental was familiar back then. But I’d collect the notes and put them in my journal. They’re the perfect pick-me-ups for sad days or just days when you need a reminder that life really is sweet. I particularly like ‘thoughts become things—choose the good ones!’ I have it on my mirror, next to my own mantra, ‘I’m feisty, fun, fearless and fabulous!’ which is written on a lip-shaped Post-it note in pink ink—natch.

Lullah is just the tiara-wearing princess of positivity and is my real life proof that if you have a dream, work hard and believe you can do it, you can actually have that dream come true, she’s not my number one inspir-o-girl for nothing, y’know!

I swivel round on my chair, to see Bella lying on my bed and Cat lying on Bella. Cat, or Catitude as I like to call her, takes one look at me, realises she has no interest at all in the pink-haired girl-shape—she never does—and returns to licking her paw.

“So, what’s the score, Miss Magraw?” Bella asks pulling her head up from the pillow, trying hard not to disturb Catitude’s extensive grooming procedure.

“It’s good news, Miss Ma-pooz, Lullah’s on it!” I say, joining her back on the bed. “She’s going to ask her BFF, Skye if I can stay with her in London and then she’s going to deal with the Mothership…Cool, huh?”

Bella picks Cat up from her belly and places her on the bed beside her. Cat is not impressed. For an animal that belonged to such a positive person like my Aunt Lullah, Cat really is quite the grumpster. She has an array of not-impressed faces that vary from mildly annoyed, to utter distain. This one was definitely a peeved’. She jumps off the bed and pulls a totally un-Cat-like pose. It seems that since Yoga Dad has been on the scene, Cat has become a wacky yoga-doing kitty.

Oh, and if you stare at her pulling crazy shapes, she will stop and give you the look—as if you’ve walked in on her naked or something. A look that says ‘Excuse me, do you mind?’

She’s deffo a quirky one, that’s f’sure. That’s why I secretly quite like her, but ssshhh, don’t tell her.

“So, Lo-Lo,” Bella says, trying to watch Cat out of the corner of her eye. “I know this is this coolest news ever and all, but I think you’ve forgotten one teeny-tiny thing…”

“What?” I ask inquisitively. “I’ve covered everything, haven’t I? Parental, accommodation—what else is there?”

Bella reaches across to my bedside table and holds up my invite to a garden party tea dance.

“Err…the small matter of a Sadie soiree?”




Chapter Two (#u18886f61-da59-500c-b822-fb1ed545d8be)


“No way!” I say, grabbing at a fist full of pink tresses. “I can’t believe I went and got so excited about working at Missy magazine that I forgot Sadie’s soiree!”

Now I feel bad.

In fact, I feel beyond bad. On a scale of one to ten, with ten being badness personified, I’m feeling a whopping eighty-four, because Pink Lady, Sadie is the official organiser of fun.

This is factuality.

There’s not a holiday break that goes by without a themed party of some sort at Chez Sadie. It’s like the law or something.

“Chill, chica!” Bella says, removing my clenched, knot-making fists from my hair and placing them safely back down by my side. “It’s cool, this is a huge opportunity for you, Sadie’ll underst…”

“But…” I interrupt, “being a Pink Lady is all about putting your gal-pals first. Nope, it’s okay, I’ll just ask Tori if I can intern at Missy another time, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

Except that it really didn’t feel fine.

Not one little bit.

What if this was my only chance? My one shot? What if they were booked up for the next four years? What if they were booked up for the rest of my life and I NEVER got the chance to intern at Missy? That would be just sucky × 100. But I couldn’t let Sadie down either. She really was one of the best friends a girl could ever ask for and she’d never let me down, not ever.

“That’s it, I’m gonna call Sadie, let’s get this sorted out!” Bella says reaching past me and picking up the receiver of the lip-shaped phone on my bedside table.

“No!” I shout putting my hand on the receiver to stop her calling, I then jump back in insta-fright as the phone starts to ring.

It stops after one ring and I hear the parental greet whoever was on the other end with a cheery ‘Hi!’ a ‘Hi’ which is usually only reserved for the likes of Yoga Dad and it wasn’t him, because he was here, so I could only assume it was Aunt Lullah.

Now I felt bad again.

Aunt Lullah was going to have to work some of her serious Lullah magic to persuade the Mothership to let me go be a real-life writer girl in the Londinium, and now it would all be for nothing because I had friendship commitments and wouldn’t be able to go.

Undeterred, Bella reaches for my mobile instead and starts searching for Sadie’s number.

“Where’s your mobile?” I ask, realising that there was no point in arguing with Bella, once she had her mind set on something, there really was no stopping her.

“Err, Lola, does this outfit look like it could accommodate a mobile?” she tuts. I scan Bella up and down. She really was just wearing an oversized tee, boots and an excessive amount of pearls, so no, apparently not.

Having found Sadie’s number, Bella presses the green button and puts it on loudspeaker.

After three rings, Sadie’s voice fills my room.

“Hey Lola, how you doing?” she asks, not realising my phone has been hijacked by Bella.

“So, Sadie,” Bella pipes up, “Lo has something she wants to tell you.”

I wave my hands at Bella, mouthing the word ‘no’ to make her stop, but it’s too late.

“Oh? What’s that? Sadie asks.

“Look, Sades,” Bella jumps in, not letting me even try to make this sitch sweeter, seriously, that girl really has no patience sometimes.

“Lo, has been offered an internship at Missy magazine…”

“No way!” screams Sadie. “That’s AMAZING!”

Okay, it was now or never, I took a big gulp of air and swallowed hard.

“Well, it would be,” I begin, “except it’s in the school holidays, like, next week, which means it’ll clash with the Sadie Soiree.”

I chew hard on my lip, Bella has found her nail varnish incredibly fascinating all of a sudden and Cat struts past with her nose in the air and a defiant look on her face.

The line goes silent and stays that way for what seems like a whole lot of forever.

“Look Sades, it’s no biggie,” I say breaking the silence. “I’ll email the ed-girl back and ask if I can intern another time.” Sadie is the official organiser of fun and I really, really don’t want to rain on her fun-time-Frankie parade.

“C’mon, she doesn’t have to do that, does she Sadie?” Bella asks. “Take MeSuki for example…”

As well as our band, The Rainbow Hearts, Bella is in another band called MeSuki. They formed when Suki came into J’adore, the shop Bella works in wearing a badge that said ‘wanna be in my band?’ Bella asked her who her band was exactly, and the girl replied, ‘Me, Suki!’ Ever since then Bella and Suki meet every month and make experimental electro-noise. Suki on keyboard and Bella on guitar. They’ve never played an actual gig or anything, but that’s okay. It’s just something Bella likes to do.

“It’s not that I didn’t want to be in The Rainbow Hearts,” continues Bella. “It’s just that MeSuki was a chance for me to try something new, to experiment with my passion for music. Just like this internship will give Lo-Lo the opportunity to explore her passion for writing, you’re cool with that aren’t you, Sades?”

“Of course,” Sadie says finally, “Look, I’m not going to pretend we won’t miss you Lola, because we will, but this is huge, of course you’ve got to do it. Carpe Diem!”

“Carp de what?” Bella exclaims.

“It means seize the day, Bella!” Sadie tuts. “Jeez Louise, do they teach you nothing at that school of yours?” We all laugh because Bella doesn’t go to a real school, she’s home-schooled by Yoga Dad.

I know. We’re super-jealous too. No uniform. No long division. More importantly, no Evil Eva Satine to heckle you in the playground.

Bella says that home-schooling is much harder than going to real school, but seriously, Sadie and I are still not entirely convinced.

“Are you absolutely sure you’re cool about this Sadie?” I ask hoping and wishing really hard that she meant what she had just said.

“Of course I am, Lola” Sadie confirms. “This is big stuff in Lola’s land of pink fabulousness, it would be rude and wrong of you NOT to go!”

I thank each and every one of my lucky pink-tinted stars that I’ve got such incredibly amazing friends.

“And to show you how totally cool I am about it, why don’t we have a cupcake bake here at mine on Sunday?”

“Sounds great, Sadie. Thank you so much, love you!” I say, feeling my insides fill up with the total loveliness that comes with having caring, sharing gal-pals who know what’s important to you.

“Love you too, see you Sunday—mwooah!”

I press the red button on my mobile, sit down next to Bella and rest my head on her shoulder.

Happy days.

This moment of girlkind bliss is rudely interrupted by a parental that appears to have lost the ability to knock, standing, hands-on-hip in my doorway.




Chapter Three (#u18886f61-da59-500c-b822-fb1ed545d8be)







The parental said yes.

No really, she did.

And I think, although I can’t be 100% sure, that she might even have been a little bit proud of me in her own hard-to-spot way.

Chica, I’m just as shocked as you are, but it seems Aunt Lullah is able to cast her special kind of fabulous magic all the way from NYC.

Lullah spoke with her BFF Skye, who is adorable and cute and basically a black-haired version of Lullah. They were just like two-peas-in-a-pod at University and in the holidays, Skye would come down to the coast to escape the big city. That’s why I think that when Skye rang to speak to the parental, the parental instantly agreed to let me go. She knows Skye, she’s met her and actually really likes her, which is really good news for me. And guess what? Not only is Skye super-lovely and nice and liked by the parental, she’s also editor at a new magazine based in the same building as Missy. I didn’t even know she was an ed-girl! So now I’ll be working with super cool ed-girl Tori by day, and I’ll be staying with super-cool ed-girl Skye at night, it’ll be inspir-o-girl city-hurrah!

IM to self

Q. Could life be any more fabulous?

A. No.

I’d been so ready to practise the new-found parental persuasion skills that I’d learned from an episode of this American-o show called Dr Grill, that I was the teeniest tiniest bit disappointed when I didn’t get to try them out for size. It had been a great episode too, with Dr Grill, who’s not a cook btw, but actually an agony uncle type dude, giving bratty American-o teens with ‘issues’, failsafe ways to get their parents to ‘understand’ them. In fact, if I didn’t know better, I’d have thought the Mothership had watched it too, because getting her to agree to let me go was much less painful than I could ever, ever have imagined. Turns out that Lullah + Skye + Yoga Dad’s bendy-wendy, zen-like presence = a near normal parental able to make rational decisions that may change the course of her daughter’s future for the better.

Now that’s an equation that makes me think Maths might not be all that bad after all.

So you’d think I’d be worry-free, right?

Wrong.

My only real concern should have been creating a day-by-day outfit plan and figuring out how I could be the best intern-girl that Missy has ever seen, but there was still the smallest niggle in the back of my mind that I was letting Sadie and the Pink Ladies down.

Y’see, school breaks are the only time we get to all spend quality BFF girl time together, because that’s when Angel comes home from her swanksville boarding school. Except this particular school break, I was going to be rockin’ it up journo-girl style in the Londinium. What if Angel comes home, gets bored of not seeing me and decides she’d rather stay at her super-swank boarding school with her new friends who have daddy-funded credit cards, yah?

When I’d messaged her about the internship, she replied instantly with;

Wow! Amazing. B sure 2 scope out the fashion rail and if you’re allowed freebies remember I’m a size 5 shoe, ‘k?

Which made me think she was more than okay with it, so I couldn’t help but wonder why today, at the thought of the impending yummy scrummy cupcake bake, when my head should be filled with thoughts of pink frosting and edible glitter shakes, I was actually still feeling slightly weirded out at the thought of hanging with my gal-pals.




Chapter Four (#u18886f61-da59-500c-b822-fb1ed545d8be)


“Lo-Lo, it’ll be fine,” Bella assures me as we whizz at a hundred miles per hour (well, it feels like it anyway!) along the promenade on her brand new Chopper bike. It shouldn’t be cool because it’s a total throwback from the 1970’s, but with its black and hot pink piping, coloured ribbons and feathers attached to the handlebars that flap and blow the faster we go, it was totally hipster cool, just like her.

“Sades will be fine, and as for Angel…” Bella shouts in my ear as we pass the funfair, “it’s just hard for you two. You’re so used to having spent all your time together as kids, that now, when you’re apart, you both just get your weird on!”

I was sitting on the metal bar in front of Bella, with my flip-flop feet outstretched in front of me and my candyfloss pink coloured hair whipping my face in the wind, it was all I could do to stay on board let alone answer. Instead, I let the salty sea air tangle up my pink tresses, the smell of hot dogs and fried onions fill my nostrils and the strain of some cheesy 80s pop star provide the soundtrack to my beach ride with Bella.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Sadie sing-songs as she answers the door to us. She’s wearing a baby blue apron with big floral print and she’s licking cake mix from her finger.

“Mmmm, delish!” she informs us. “Angel and I already have a batch in the oven, so they’ll be ready for frosting soon!” Sadie throws me a little wink, as she knows that hands down, frosting is by far my most favourite part of Cupcake Bake. Well, besides the actual taste testing part obviously, but surely that goes without saying, right?

“When she says ‘we’, what she actually means is ‘she’!” says Angel coming at me with open arms. “Do I look like I could whip up cupcakes? Seriously, do I?” she asks.

Her hugs were the most familiar and comforting hugs in the whole wide world. When Matthew Mavin tied my plaits to the chair in year three, it was an Angel hug that made it better. When the Mothership and the dad dude used to argue, which, FYI, was a LOT, it was an Angel hug that made it better. She was really rather good at them. She was also really rather good at throwing an outfit together, although whether this particular ensemble was Cupcake Bake appropriate, I’m not too sure. Not that Angel would altogether care, she’s not one for being appropriate, just well dressed.

Her fro is tied back with an adorable purple head scarf, she’s wearing a yellow velour track top and cut off denim short shorts, there’s no denying she looks fab, which is why I’m guessing she’s refusing to put on the apron that Sadie is holding out for her.

“Thanks Sadie-cakes,” Angel says, running her finger around the mixing bowl and popping the contents in her mouth, “but I’ll be just fine as I am!” She pulls herself up onto one of the kitchen stools and turns her attention to Bella.

“B, I am loving that totally-of-the-moment look you’ve got going on right there!”

Bella, who gives Angel a big bear hug, is now accustomed to Angel talking like she’s an actual page from a swanky fashion magazine, and responds accordingly.

“Why thank you, Miss Angel, this is what I like to call my Minnie Mouse-inspired outfit—frilly skirt from Topshop, a vintage halter and a faux diamond watch I won in a art competition!”

Angel nods in approval, pleased that Bella at least entertains her passion for the fashion deets.

“Yay—glitter shakes!” Bella exclaims, turning her attention from fashion reports to the pink and purple container sat on the kitchen table. She empties the edible sparkliness into the palm of her hand.

“I freakin’ love this stuff!” she says pushing and poking it around her hand with the tip of her tongue.

“Me too,” Sadie agrees and does exactly the same. “In fact, when I become a hugely successful fashion designer, I’m going to call my customised collection, Glitter Shakes by Sadie—what d’ya think? “We all nod with approval and give Sadie an enthusiastic thumbs up. We’d express our excitement through words, except we’ve all got our mouths full with either glitter shakes, cake mix or in my case, pink frosting.

This stuff is just too, too good.

“So, Lo,” Angel says swallowing the remainder of an unfrosted cupcake (which in my opinion is a complete waste of a cupcake). “I want to hear all about this internship of yours!”

As I add far too much pink colouring to the frosting I’m whipping up, my belly does a full 180 flip of excitement as I tell her all the plans for tomorrow’s all-about-me adventure.

Tori Frankel, ed-girl of fabulousness, had emailed me back with directions to the office—it was literally a minute’s walk from the train station, a starting time of 10am and had signed off the email with ‘You’re adorable Lola Love, see you Monday!’

Eep. She seriously makes me do silent squeals of filled-to-the-brim joy. A total doll.

In the meantime, Aunt Lullah had made sure I had all Skye’s details—mobile number, email address, home address—which made me swell with complete happiness too, because even though Lullah was super-busy and super-important doing all things costume on film sets in NYC, she still made time, no matter what, to look out for me.

“I can’t believe you’ve actually made this happen—you’re amazing!” Angel says reaching out to touch my arm.

“Well technically, Miss Angel,” I say, still mixing hard at the frosting and doing everything within my power not to lick it all up in one gulp, “Aunt Lullah made it happen, she’s totally magic!”

“Okay, hold up Lola Love,” Angel holds out her palm in front of my face. “Sure, Lullah rocks, that’s f’sure, and she might well have hooked you up with somewhere to stay, but you’re the one that created a kick-ass zine, you’re the one that made sure it got into the hands of your very own inspir-o-girl, you’re the one that knocked her very-expensive-I’m-sure socks off. YOU, Lola Love.”

Wow.

I did, didn’t I?

“What’s that saying you’ve got pinned to your mirror, Lo?” Angel asks, “Something like, ‘we are our thoughts, make them good ones’, isn’t it?” She was close, and I really didn’t realise that anyone else had ever really noticed them.

“Well, you thought about being a journo-girl, you, Lola Love and with the help of the people who dig you, you’ve made it happen, and that’s totally kick-ass—high five!”

We slap hands, and all do a collective high five while we sing and dance along to The Pipettes, an official Cupcake Bake soundtrack staple.




Chapter Five (#u18886f61-da59-500c-b822-fb1ed545d8be)


Seriously, who knew there was more than one six o’clock in the day? Not me.

I guess that’s why alarm clocks were invented. Luckily, I don’t need an alarm clock because I have a Bella, who is sat on the end of my bed looking every inch the tangerine orange-cream dream. How she has managed to colour co-ordinate so efficiently at such an unearthly hour is truly beyond me.

“Lo-Lo, wake up!” Bella says shaking me, but my body is still in sleep mode, as it should be at this time of the day, and is not entirely receptive to this method of wake up call.

“Lo!” Bella is shouting now. “Dude, you should be up and dressed by now, anyone would think you weren’t excited about going to work at the glossy magazine of your dreams!” she tugs at the duvet, but I hold on tight.

“Of course I am!” I reply trying desperately hard to keep my eyes open, “Why do you think I’m so tired now? I’ve been up all night trying to contain the belly flips—they’re relentless, just like you!” I pull the duvet over my head, trying to escape from the Bella noise, but she is much quicker than me and is pulling me feet first from the sheet and duvet cocoon I’d created.

“Okay, okay, I’m up already!” I say, looking up at her from my just-been-dumped position on the bedroom floor.

“Right you’ve got five minutes, missy!” she says tapping her watch. “I’ll see you downstairs—c’mon, I’m counting!” Who needs a Mothership when you have a Bella?

It’s okay, I can totally do this.

F’sure, fabulousness deffo takes time but being aware of both my inability to ever be able to get up and my big time love of all things sleep, preparing ensembles the night before has become something of a much-needed routine in the land of Lola.

Now, I’m not a total fashion-obsess-o fashionista like my fellow Pink Ladies, but I do love to channel my favourite era icons to create my own Lola Love stylin’—sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t—but that’s okay, because Lola stylin’ isn’t meant to be serious, it’s all about having fun. Y’see, Aunt Lullah left me a ton of stuff she couldn’t take to NYC and ever since, getting dressed each day has been like one big game of dress-up with my very own treasure chest filled with era-inspired treasures.

My first-day-at-work-at-a-glossy-magazine outfit is super-cute even if I do say so myself.

It consists of a white vest top, a denim pencil skirt, a thick shocking pink patent belt, my brand-new white gym pumps that really need to be kicked in, pink frilly ankle socks a la reception class, and a Sadie-made oversized pink and turquoise corsage with lots of glitter and ribbon. It’s a total convo-maker.

“It’s something that will make people stop and want to talk to you, Lola!” Sadie had said as she gave me the hand-wrapped package last night before I left. “It will be just perfect-o for making new friends at Missy magazine!”

Sadie really is the cutest bundle of goodness you will ever meet.

As well as a convo maker, we’d also agreed that it was mucho important that I made a good impression on the Missy team, Angel especially, as she thought it was by far the best way for me to score her a pair of designer shoes. We all umm-ed and ahh-ed as to how I’d do it without coming across like a super suck-up, until mid-way through my third pink frosted cupcake, I realised the most perfect way to impress my potential employers would be to rock up on the first day with yummy treats. Everyone loved yummy treats.

Fact.

We whipped up a batch of very special Think Pink cupcakes, sprinkled them with glitter shakes, put them in a pink box—natch, and wrapped it with a big silver and pink ribbon from Sadie’s craft box.

Think Pink cupcakes really are the very best kind.

Do you wanna know why?

Because they have a shhh-it’s-a-secret ingredient.

When you make Think Pink cupcakes you have to whisper lots of love and pink thinkin’ thoughts of fabulousness as you mix—it makes them taste extra sweet.

I’d also already packed up my pink leopard print holdall with everything I’d need for my week in the Londinium. FYI, the pink leopard print is deffo erring on the wrong side of tacky, but I figured it’s so tacky, that it’s actually really rather fabulous. There was probably a whole lot that I wouldn’t be needing too, but imagine how awful it would be if I got all the way to Londinium to discover I didn’t have my pink Converse high tops? Or my sweet-as sugar collection of assorted hair candy? And I’m not even going to begin to imagine what life might be like without my pair of pink, natch, hair straighteners, because that would just be allsorts of crazy.

So, because of my ‘be prepared’ girl scoutness, with a quick SuperGirl-esque twirl, and a brush through my hair, I was more than ready for my all-about-me magazine adventure. Well, as ready as a super-nervous Lola-shaped girl could be.

I checked my reflection, repeated my go-for-it girl mantra, “I’m feisty, fun, fearless and fabulous!” three times, and was ready to paint Missy magazine a distinctive shade of Lola pink!

Yoga Dad and the Mothership were driving me to the station as planned and, if I’m honest, she was surprisingly chilled under the circumstances. The mood switch wasn’t quite switched to mellow yellow, as she kept referring to the Londinium as ‘that big city’ but she was deffo not as angsty as she usually is. In fact she even kissed the top of my head before I got in the camper van. Weird.

Yoga dad was telling her, in his most soothing Californian way, that I would ‘find myself on my time away. I hadn’t been entirely aware that I had lost myself, but what I think Yoga Dad—who always speaks in riddles and rhymes—meant, is that I, Lola Love, am about to embark on my very first one-girl, all-about-me magazine adventure and that I would be coolio-a-go-go and she shouldn’t worry.

Bella, who had kissed my cheek and wished me luck back at the house, was one Mischievous Millie. She had told me that her work with me was done, and that now she knew I was ready to rock the Missy magazine, she was going to go back to bed.

Except, she didn’t.

Instead, she and The Pink Ladies had all come to the station to see me off on my big all-about-me magazine adventure too. Sadie-Cakes was still wearing her pyjamas, and as I boarded the train, holdall in one hand, and a box of cupcakes in the other, Angel checked, and double checked again, to make sure that I’d remembered her shoe size.

I sit close to the window so I can wave goodbye to everyone, and as the train pulls away, I’m safe in the knowledge that no matter what, I have the bestest set of cheerleaders in all of the world.

Fact.




Chapter Six (#u18886f61-da59-500c-b822-fb1ed545d8be)


So, this is it.

The Missy offices.

Home to my all-about-me magazine adventure for the next week.

Wowzers.

If I thought my belly was doing crazy kinds of belly flips last night before I went to sleep, it was nothing compared to the triple somersault Olympics that was taking place in my tummy right now.

I had done my very best to prepare myself for all things magazine-y on the train journey here.

I’d read the latest copy of Missy from cover to cover to get familiar with all the sections and the people featured inside. I’d taken out my new super-cute pink notebook that I’d decorated with two pretty cartoon Japanese girls on the cover (seriously, if ever there was an excuse needed to buy new stationery, then doing an internship was deffo it!) and made notes with my new pink pen. I love writing in a notebook in public, it makes me feel like a super-mysterious writer girl. No one ever need know that you’re just writing shopping lists, or in my case, potential questions I might ask Ed-girl, Tori, if I get the chance. I also took lots of deep yoga breaths as demonstrated by Yoga Dad on the train platform before I left. I’d laughed at him at the time, and you would have too if you’d have seen him panting like a puppy dog, but I take it back, because yoga breaths are deffo calming the nervy feelings I’ve got going on.

Well they had done ‘til now.

Nothing could have prepared me for this. The building is ma-hoosive. It scrapes the Londinium cloud-filled sky it’s so tall. It has big glass revolving doors and a security man standing outside.

The security man nods his head and wishes me good morning as I take a deep breath and head into the whirl-swirl of the revolving door.

This is it.

I’m here, and I’m going to be the best intern-girl Missy magazine has ever had. I’ll be attentive, I’ll make lots of cups of tea and despite the crazy amount of butterflies currently inhabiting my tummy, I’ll rock. Besides, I’ve got cupcakes, everyone loves a cupcake.

I stand up tall ready to rock my most practiced runway walk of confidence to the reception desk, when I’m yanked backwards.

Hard.

I turn on my heel, thinking the security man has decided he’s made a mistake in letting me pass, that actually I’m way too young to be working in this big and important building, and that I must leave immediately, but it’s not.





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