Bridie

‘Just put it away,’ Emmet shouted in her ear. ‘You’re missing the experience.’

‘Shut up,’ she yelled back at him. ‘I can do what I want.’

Her brother was annoyed that she was texting. He had the impression that she wasn’t enjoying herself. He couldn’t have been more wrong. She felt like she was glowing with happiness.

‘Who are you texting anyway?’

‘None of your business.’

She angled her phone so he couldn’t see the screen. Fitz had asked her to drop a pin so he could find them in the crowd. Bridie wanted to meet up with him but not with Emmet watching their every move. Her brother’s disapproval would ruin the mood.

Coldplay were playing some of their more recent songs, which she didn’t know as well as the classics. Maybe this would be a good time to slip away and hook up with Fitz? Or AJ; she was still undecided.

Emmet’s attention was back on the music. Her brother was jump-dancing, shouting the lyrics, punching his arm in the air.

Her phone buzzed in her hand. AJ. I love this song.

Me too, she replied, even though she didn’t really know it.

The crowd began to sing the chorus, and then she realised that she actually did know the song, and this made her ecstatically happy. She jumped and pumped her arms in the air along with her brother and thousands of others. One of the giant screens showed the crowd: raised arms and upturned faces under rainbow-coloured strobe lights. Emmet grinned down at her and she grinned back: friends again. This was literally the best night of her life. This was what the future looked like, being part of something bigger than herself, never being lonely again. Everything was coming together. Fitz or AJ: not knowing which one only added to the thrill. If she could just fix things with Lily, her life would be perfect.

Her phone buzzed and she waited until the song was finished before checking it.

Meet me at the bathrooms near Gate C.

The concert was going off. She recognised the guitar at the beginning of ‘Yellow’. The crowd was hyped, going mental. But it was now or never.

She tugged Emmet’s arm to get his attention.

‘I need to go to the bathroom.’

‘What? They’re playing “Yellow”. Can’t you hang on?’

She shook her head. ‘You don’t have to come. The queues will be bad.’

‘I do have to come,’ he said ungraciously. ‘Mum and Dad will kill me.’

‘It’s okay.’ Her tone was firm and grown-up; she was liking this new version of herself. ‘Enjoy the end of the concert. See you at the meeting spot.’

She slipped away before he thought to grab her arm and prevent her from going. They’d pushed a long way forward in the mosh pit. Bridie weaved her way through what must have been hundreds of jumping, jostling people. Suddenly she felt small and claustrophobic. The crowd was too dense, too caught up in singing along to notice that she was trying to get through. She contemplated turning back. But when she tried to locate Emmet’s tall, gangly frame, he was gone, camouflaged by hundreds of other tall young men.

As she entered the tunnel that led to the inside of the stadium, someone bumped hard against her shoulder and didn’t even apologise. The toilets had a few girls who looked like her: overheated and dehydrated. Bridie refilled her water bottle and drank thirstily. She used the loo, and then fixed her hair and make-up as best she could. Her reflection was fuzzy in the mirror, and she smiled wryly at herself.

She sent a text as she left the bathroom. Here.

Back out in the foyer, the music warbled in her ears, the ground tilted. The continued effects of vodka and dehydration. Oops.

‘Hey, miss. Are you okay? Do you need help?’ A face – round, sweaty, concerned – materialised in front of her eyes. Security. Did she need help? What was going on? Was she drunk? Or experiencing severe dehydration? She knew from PE classes how serious dehydration could be.

She had all the symptoms: wooziness, heavy limbs, headache.

She was forming a response when someone else cut in and answered on her behalf. ‘She’s good. I’m taking care of her.’