The Secret Hen House Theatre by Helen Peters

costumes, and she didn’t want Lottie to have to spend her pocket money when she herself could contribute nothing. She couldn’t wait to be fourteen so she could get a Saturday job.
    Oh, but wait a minute. She still had five pounds left from her Christmas money.
    “That would be great. I’ll probably have to bringthe others, though.”
    “That’s OK,” said Lottie. “They can help us find stuff.”
    “I think we should have a dress rehearsal,” said Hannah, not quite knowing what she was saying or why she was saying it. “With an audience.”
    “With an audience! Hannah, we’re not the Linford Youth Theatre. I can’t believe you’re trying to copy Miranda.”
    “I’m not. I just think it’s a good idea. It will give us something to aim for – make us more organised.”
    “But the competition’s in three weeks.”
    “So let’s have the dress rehearsal in two weeks.”
    “But we haven’t made a single costume!”
    “I’ll come to yours every night after I’ve put Sam to bed and help you make them.”
    Lizzie snorted with laughter. “You! What use would you be?”
    “I can sew! I’m always sewing.”
    “Sewing buttons back on doesn’t count. And you haven’t even sewn on a name tape since my mum gave you that fabric marker. Anyway, there’s no point arguing. There’s no way we can be ready in two weeks. I mean, the queen alone has three costumes, and Esmeralda—”
    “You can show me what to do,” said Hannah. “I’ll help you with anything I can. I’ll really concentrate, I promise. And it doesn’t matter if they’re not all finished – we’ll have another week before the actual performance.”
    “Well, we’re not doing it to an audience if thecostumes aren’t finished. It would look ridiculous.”
    “We need a rehearsal in front of an audience, Lottie. We need to get used to people watching it. We can’t perform for the first time to an audience on the day the judge comes. And at least it will force Martha to learn her lines.”
    “But who will we invite? And what if your dad sees them arriving? No, it’s a crazy idea, Hannah. No. No way. The end.”
    “There’s your bus,” said Hannah. “Go on. We’ll work it all out tomorrow. Have a good evening!”

Chapter Thirteen
A Lift Home
    Alone, Hannah felt the fears swirl into her head again. She pushed them away, crossed the road and trudged up the pavement to the bus shelter. A shadowy figure leaned against the far side of it.
    Wait a minute…
    Could it be…?
    It was!
    Her heart missed a beat. Jack Adamson! And she, Hannah Roberts, was about to be alone in a bus shelter with him!
    Hannah was suddenly painfully aware of every single cell in her body. Her mouth felt dry. Her stomach fluttered like there was a family of sparrows trapped inside it. She didn’t know how to walk. What should she do with her hands? Should she look at him or not? Oh, no, had she brushed her hair after the match? She put a hand to her head, then instantly removed it. Act casual, she told herself.
    Would he speak to her?
    What would he say?
    What if he ignored her?
    Anything, any amount of teasing, was better thanbeing ignored.
    Jack glanced up as she approached.
    “All right?” he said.
    Hannah’s heart leapt. He had spoken to her! Maybe they were about to have a conversation!
    Be casual, she told herself sternly. Be nonchalant.
    “All right?” she replied. He was more good-looking than ever in the dim light with his hands in his pockets. Not that she dared really look at him.
    “Just had a guitar lesson. You?”
    “Hockey match. Away, against Tidemills.”
    “Oh, right. You win?”
    “Yes, three–two.” She didn’t mention that Miranda Hathaway had scored the winning goal.
    “Cool.”
    Cool . He’s being nice to me! And he smiled! I’m sure he smiled!
    Silence.
    That’s because it’s my turn. Say something! Make a witty remark! Keep the conversation going!
    “So, are you getting the bus home?” she asked.
    What a moronic thing