'That leather it looks as soft as butter.'

'Look at all those zippy bits.'

'Where did she get it?'

'It must be worth hundreds.'

'I bet her mum nicked it!'

'My mum didn't nick it, so you shut your face, Angel,' I yell. 'It was given to me as a present, see.'

'Yeah, pull the other one!'

'You're talking rubbish, Destiny. A present!'

'It was a present. You shut up!' I shout.

'Now calm down, Destiny,' says Mr Roberts. He's folding my jacket up again, trying to put it back inside my towel, but doing it all wrong so that the sleeves are wrinkling up.

'Let me do it,' I say. 'It's my present. A friend gave it to me.'

'Don't be so daft, Destiny,' says Angel. 'You haven't got any friends.'

'You don't know anything about me! I have so got a very special friend, only I'm not going to tell you anything about her because it's none of your business, see.'

'Hey, hey, let's stop all the argy-bargy. We're all losing the plot here,' says Mr Roberts. 'Settle down, all of you.'

He leans over me. 'It's a beautiful jacket, Destiny,' he says very softly. 'I can see why you're so worried about it. A sensible girl would never take such a clearly expensive jacket into school with her but I can see why you long to wear it for the talent contest. A sensible teacher would send you all the way home with it and a really strict teacher wouldn't let you take part in the contest for refusing to do as you're told. But I'm not always sensible and I don't seem to have it in me to be strict. However, I can't keep falling over that bag, and now the others have seen the jacket they'll be all over you to try it on, and before you know where you are it will be ripped to shreds. So how about running it along to the school secretary's office? Mrs Hazel keeps her room locked whenever she's out of it. I'm sure she'll look after it for you until after lunch. Is that a deal?' He holds out his hand and I shake it very gratefully.

'You're a very, very kind teacher, Mr Roberts,' I say.

I take the jacket in its bag to Mrs Hazel and tell her Mr Roberts said I had to leave it with her. She keeps all the money and the medication locked up. Her office is like Fort Knox.

She doesn't look too happy about it. 'Tell Mr Roberts my room isn't a left-luggage office, Destiny. I don't want it cluttered up with any more bags, thank you very much.'

But I know my jacket is safe now.

I still can't manage to concentrate on school work, and eating lunch is an ordeal. I manage five baked beans and one chip and know I'll throw up if I have any more. Most of the boys still shovel stuff down, but outside in the playground, where both boy dance groups are rehearsing their somersaults and backflips, Rocky throws up all down himself like a disgusting fountain. Mr Roberts sends him off to be hosed down and shakes his head at all of us.

'Why don't you all relax, guys. No more rehearsing. Just chill out until the bell goes and then quietly collect your stuff from Mrs Avery, get changed, and come backstage in the hall. There's no need to get so worked up. You're all going to do splendidly.'

They go off in little groups. I wander off by myself, walking round and round the playground. I pretend Sunset is walking round with me. We're linked arm in arm, and she's telling me I'm going to sing Destiny perfectly. 'Better than Dad!' she says, and we both laugh.

Then the bell rings and oh God it's time! I whizz off to Mrs Hazel and collect my stuff, and then I change in the girls' toilets. The mirror by the wash basins is too high up to see all of me, but if I leap up I can see as far down as my waist. The jacket looks wonderful. I feel like I've got Sunset's arms round me, giving me a hug.

I rush off to the hall, and then force myself to stop and breathe deeply before joining the others. I mustn't show I'm nervous. I need to look cool!

It's pandemonium behind the stage, kids running around everywhere, boys doing backflips, girls step-shuffle-tapping, Fareed dropping all his cards, Mrs Avery frantically sewing up someone's skirt, Mr Roberts red in the face, great damp patches under his arms.

Lots of the kids nudge each other when they see me.

'Look at Destiny!'

'Love the jacket!'

'Wow, doesn't she look different?'

Angel tugs my jacket. 'What you wearing them silly mittens for? And why all black? You look like you're going to a funeral.'

'It'll be yours if you don't take your clammy hands off my jacket,' I say, twitching away from her.

Jack Myers is still staring at me. Is he going to have a go too? He comes up close, sticking his hands in the back pockets of his jeans. 'You look great, Destiny,' he says.

I blink at him, wondering if this is a wind-up.

'I think you're a fantastic singer too. I bet you win the contest,' he says.

I stare at him. 'Thanks, Jack,' I say.

We're still staring. We've run out of words. Jack eventually nods and goes over to the rest of his gang.

'You can take that smirk off your face,' says Angel. 'He's just saying that. He knows he'll win. He's the most popular boy in the whole school. Everyone will vote for him.' She pauses. 'Or me.'

I shrug. 'As if I care,' I say. 'It's just a silly little school concert.'

Yes, it is. But I care, I care enormously. Jack might be popular maybe I even like him a little bit but I don't think he and his gang are very good dancers all the same.

The hall fills up with all the kids. If I peep out of the wings I can see the panel of judges sitting on a bench right in front of the stage. At Mr Roberts's suggestion they've all got dressed up. Both the boys are in white T-shirts, trying for the Simon Cowell look, and the girls are in their big sisters' posh frocks. One of them is even wearing a blonde wig.

Mr Roberts goes bustling onto the stage. He's put on an embarrassingly weird shiny brocade jacket, but at least it hides his damp shirt.

'Hello, everyone. Welcome to Bilefield's Got Talent!' he bellows into his mike. He introduces the boys and girls on the judging panel. I can tell by the cheers that both boys are in the Flatboys gang big mistake.

'Now for our first act the Jack the Lads!' says Mr Roberts.

Jack and his mates bounce onstage, all style and swagger. Jack spits on his hands like he means business and the others spit in unison, making everyone laugh, even the Speedos. Then Mrs Avery puts on their loud music and they start their dance. You can tell they've rehearsed a bit. They've put in several extra moves, including a pretend fight, but they haven't worked hard enough at it. Jack trips several times, and one of his lads falls on his bum when he tries a backflip. They're all a bit rubbish at keeping time with the music and they don't end properly they just look at each other and then try to stop when Jack does, petering out so that at first no one realizes they've finished, so no one claps. There's an awkward pause and then sudden cheers and applause, mixed with loud booing and hissing from the Speedo boys.

Then the panel have their say. Both boys and the girl in the blonde wig insist the Jack the Lads are fantastic. The littlest girl from Year Three looks puzzled and mumbles that she didn't think they were that great. She doesn't live on the Bilefield Estate so she's not associated with either gang. When she votes she gives the Jack the Lads five out of ten, and then looks worried when the audience hiss her. The other three judges each give the Jack the Lads ten. It's crazy a performance should be perfect to warrant ten out of ten but half the audience approves noisily, while the other half yells abuse.

Mr Roberts has a hard job quietening everyone down to announce the next act, Girls Very Soft. As their name suggests, they sing very softly at first, but then get louder and louder until they're belting it out at the end of their song. I don't know whose idea it was, but it works well. They dance well too, though their routine is a bit basic. The other half of the audience cheers loudly this time. Someone whispers that Simone is the girlfriend of one of the Speedos. The little girl on the panel loves their act and gives them an eight, but Blonde Wig and the boys say they are prissy rubbish and give them two.

Fareed and Hannah are hopeless. Poor Fareed keeps dropping his cards and Hannah rushes round in a fluster trying to pick them up and drops them all over again. Someone shouts, 'Off!' and then nearly everyone starts chanting, 'Off, off, off!' though Mr Roberts has specifically said everyone can complete their performance. I can't understand why Fareed and Hannah don't clear off because they're both all hot and sweaty now, and Fareed is fumbling every trick. Mr Roberts must have told him to remember to smile at his audience because he grins madly the entire time, baring all his teeth. When the next trick goes completely wrong, his smile is still fixed on his face. Someone bursts out laughing and then everyone is laughing, and someone else starts clapping. When Fareed's toy rabbit finally falls right out his top hat, everyone collapses and then cheers.

Fareed isn't a Flatboy or a Speedo and so the voting is bizarre. One of the boys gives him nought, but the other boy gives him nine because he still can't stop laughing. The two girls give him five, so weirdly his final score is higher than Girls Very Soft.

The girl dancers call themselves the Dancing Queens. They're all wearing shocking pink T-shirts and little black shorts and those fake tiaras that light up in their hair. All the boys whistle, whether Flatboy or Speedo. Their dancing isn't really all that great, they just repeat the same sequence of steps again and again, but they get huge cheers from the Speedos because one of them has a brother in their gang so the Flatboys on the panel meanly mark them with a three, though Blonde Wig is fairer this time and gives them a six, because she's clearly impressed by their costumes, and the little girl gives them ten.

The girls' play drags on for so long that everyone gets fidgety, especially when half of them forget their words and keep nudging each other and whispering. Someone starts up the 'Off, off, off!' chant, and soon everyone's shouting it. Two of the girls run off in tears, but two of them act it out to the bitter end. I think one of the girls is a Flatboy sister, but even so their scores are terrible because the play's so boring.

Then it's Angel's turn and she's certainly not boring. She's wearing a skimpy top and very tight shiny white leggings and she struts onstage, grinning and wiggling her hips to this very sexy music. I see Mr Roberts tense, wringing his hands, clearly wondering what on earth Angel's going to do next. She does a few simple cartwheels, arches her back and walks across the stage on her hands and feet, and then spins on her bottom for a bit. Angel has a very big bottom so this is easy-peasy for her. It's not really a brilliant acrobatic routine at all, but when she finishes there's a roar of applause.

Angel is no one's sister, but she hangs out with the Flatboys. She gets two tens from the boys and a nine from Blonde Wig and even the little girl gives her an eight. Angel's in the lead and she knows it. She punches the air and looks thrilled. When she swaggers offstage she gives me a little poke in the chest. She doesn't say a word, but it's obvious what she means: Beat that!

Raymond comes after her, and he's truly brilliant, leaping about all over the stage and twirling his arms and legs, but because he's wearing leggings the boys yell stupid comments at him and he gets a rubbish score. It's so unfair Jeff and Ritchie come next with a silly comic ballet routine. They just lumber around and make silly gestures, but they're given higher marks than poor Raymond.

Everyone's getting fed up now, chatting away, so Mr Roberts has to raise his voice and bellow to announce the Superspeedos. They all have a red Superman sign clumsily inked on their T-shirts, but thank goodness they don't wear red underpants over their trousers. They still look a little silly, but their routine is quite clever, all of them managing backflips more or less simultaneously, and it's clear they've rehearsed far more than Jack and his lads. They do a lot of leaping, swooping movements too, making out they're flying, and then they end in a row with arms spread, grinning. I'd give them an eight or a nine they're definitely the best act yet apart from poor Raymond but those hateful Flatboys give them one each. Blonde Wig wavers a little and gives them five, and the younger girl gives them a ten, but they're not even in the top three and it's so unfair. They all look gutted and I don't blame them, but I haven't got time to think about that now because Mr Roberts is announcing me.

'Please put your hands together and welcome the last lovely contestant for Bilefield's Got Talent, Miss Destiny Williams, who will delight us with her namesake song, Destiny, made famous by Mr Danny Kilman. I give you Destiny!'

Oh God. I walk right out onstage, and there's everyone staring back at me. Some of them clap half-heartedly, all of them staring at my black outfit. I get hot inside my beautiful leather jacket. I'm scared I'm sweating onto the sleeves. I see them all whispering and giggling. I do my best to blot them all out. I open my mouth and start singing.

'You are my Destiny . . .'

The words and the music take over. I'm just a voice, and it soars around the hall. I finish and there's a pause, as if they're all stunned. Then there's clapping. Some kids are clapping loudly, even cheering but some are silent, not knowing what to make of me. I'm the new girl. They aren't sure if I'm in the Flatboy camp or the Speedos. And if I'm neither, how can they vote for me?

The two Flatboys confer and both give me two. Blonde Wig gives me three. The little girl looks bewildered and gives me nine, but of course it's not enough to get me anywhere. I don't even do as well as Fareed. I come second to bottom, just above the girls in the play.

10.

SUNSET.

'Please may I open my presents?' Sweetie begs.

'Not yet, darling. You have to wait till your party, when the magazine people come,' says Mum.

'Oh for God's sake, let the kid open a few of her presents. What harm will it do?' says Dad. He's up very early, specially for Sweetie's birthday.

'Rose-May will kill us. She's had all the presents professionally wrapped to go with the party theme.'

'What is my party theme, Mum?' Sweetie asks, jumping up and down, looking so cute in her white embroidered top and pink jeans.

'Let's just say it's specially for you, darling,' says Mum. 'Now, we're all going to be busy-busy-busy getting the big living room transformed the party planners should be arriving any minute. I want you children right out of the way until well after lunch time. Danny, I don't suppose you could take them out somewhere? Maybe Kingtown?'

'Oh yes, that would be the best birthday treat ever!' says Sweetie, bouncing on Dad's lap.

'I'd love that too, Sweet Pea, you know I would, it would be the greatest fun in the whole world, but I've got to nip up to London this morning'

'Oh, Danny, it's Sweetie's birthday!' says Mum.

'Yeah, yeah, and I'm not going to miss a moment of it, don't you worry. But I need to see some of the lads there's talk about this benefit concert and they want me to take part.'

'Which lads?' Mum asks suspiciously.

Dad taps his nose. 'What's it to you, hmm? You get on playing parties and I'll get on with doing the work that pays all the bills, OK?'

He slopes off, leaving Mum clenching her fists.

'Right. Well, I can't take you out, darlings I have to sort out the party planners and rush to get my hair and nails done. So I'll need my car, and it looks like Dad's taking his so maybe you can ask John to drive you and the children somewhere, Claudia?'

It turns out that John's already off running errands and won't be back until after lunch.

'This is just too bad,' says Mum, sighing. 'Well, you'll just have to keep the children amused up in their rooms, Claudia.'

'That's not a very good birthday treat,' says Sweetie, drooping.

'Well, there's nothing I can do about it, darling. I was relying on your daddy, but of course that was a big mistake,' Mum starts. 'He's so selfish he doesn't mind who he lets down even you, Sweetie.'

Sweetie puts her thumb in her mouth.

'Don't suck your thumb, you'll ruin your teeth!' Mum snaps.

'I can still take the children out,' Claudia says quickly. 'We'll take the bus to Kingtown.'

'A bus!' Sweetie cries, spitting out her thumb. 'Oh, a bus!' She twirls around as if Claudia has offered her a ride in a fairy-tale chariot.

'A bus, a bus, a bus, we're going on a bus!' Ace screams, capering about.

'Now don't get the children too over-excited, for heaven's sake,' says Mum. 'Just keep them quiet and calm, especially Sweetie. She's going to need to be on tip-top form this afternoon. She's got to cope with a really big photo shoot. There can't be any tears or tantrums.'

'I'll do my best to make sure Sweetie enjoys her birthday,' Claudia says coldly.

'That wretched woman!' she mutters to herself as we go out the gate, Claudia, Sweetie, Ace and me.

'Mum gets awfully worked up before we have a magazine shoot,' I say.

'Why does she think it's a good idea to turn her own daughter's birthday into a commercial bear-garden?' says Claudia.

'Bear-garden!' Ace repeats. 'Where are the bears in the garden? I'm Tigerman and I want to play with the bears, but they might have big claws.'

'You roar at them and they'll run away,' I say.

Ace roars at every hedge and tree and picket fence along the road. Sweetie skips along beside him, pointing her toes.

'It's ridiculous,' Claudia grumbles to me. 'Imagine making the poor little mite wait till the photographer's there before she can open her presents! And did you know Margaret's been told to make two birthday cakes just in case they can't get all the photos they need of her blowing out the candles and cutting the cake the first time round.'