DAY 1 – 6.30 p.m.
Leidseplein Theatre, AMSTERDAM
‘Thank you, Amsterdam, and good night!’
Charley Parker bounded off stage with a grin from ear to ear. While most twelve-year-olds dreamed of being rockstars, Charley was living it. She had just performed to around three hundred fans (and some of their parents) in a beautiful Dutch theatre and, as she
flopped on to a couch backstage, she could still hear the cheers bouncing down the hallway.
‘That went well.’
Charley smiled at her best friend, George, who was half hidden behind his camera. ‘Are you gonna follow me everywhere with that thing?’ she asked, pretending not to enjoy the attention.
‘How about a message for your Dutch fans?’ prompted George as he started filming.
Charley tried to remember how to pronounce the Dutch for thank you. ‘Dank je wel,’ she said carefully, blowing a kiss for good measure.
‘Great,’ replied George. ‘Now let’s go and meet them.’
‘At least let me have a drink first,’ cried Charley in mock exasperation, she picked up a bottle of sparkling water that was waiting for her on the table next to the couch with a bowl of trail mix and some bananas.
She twisted the cap, and a torrent of fizzing water spurted, sprayed and spouted all over her, the couch and the floor. The bottle may have been perched calmly on the table, but it had apparently been transported to the theatre by a donkey trotting on cobblestones.
Charley stared down at the bottle and her hands, then up at the droplets of water now falling from her fringe.
‘Actually,’ she said softly to the camera, ‘I might have to dry myself off before I do anything.’
Charley and George burst into a gale of laughter, in much the same way as the bottle had just exploded with an outpouring of bubbles.
When they managed to catch their breath again, George stopped filming and lowered the camera. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘if that doesn’t go viral, I don’t understand the internet.’
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