Today, after Irish, I ended up walking back to our classroom for lunch with Ellie, and we were passing the library when she said, ‘So, what’s the story with you and Sam?’
I could feel my face growing hot, but I tried to sound as normal as possible when I said, ‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, you’ve been having lots of friendly chats recently!’ she said. ‘And … I dunno, I just thought something was up. There’s definitely chemistry between you.’
For a second I thought of saying something. After all, she is my friend, and she has got pretty friendly with Sam and Lucy, and she might know something about what he thinks about me. But then, the fact that she’s close to them might mean she’ll end up telling them that I like him. And as far as I’m concerned, the fewer people who know about that, the better. So I just said, ‘Oh no, there’s nothing going on. He’s just really sound.’
‘Yeah,’ said Ellie, who didn’t look like she suspected anything. ‘He’s lovely. So’s Lucy. And Senan. In fact, the whole art gang are great. I’m so glad the summer-camp people set up this Saturday thing.’
So am I, and not just because of the Sam thing. Or even because of our practice space, though that is the biggest part of it. But I also love having this place where loads of us who are into music and art and stuff can just … hang out.
And I know it doesn’t really mean anything, but someone else noticing how well me and Sam get on makes me very happy. It makes me feel like I’m not totally delusional for liking him so much. And I really, really do. Like him, I mean.
On a very different note, Karen’s audition apparently went very well. In fact, she’s been called back for another audition this weekend. First Vanessa, now her! What is it with my class? It’s like St Dominic’s is turning into one of those schools on telly shows where everyone’s, like, a film star or a pop singer or something. Anyway, Karen was so pleased with how it went she couldn’t resist having a few jibes at me, Cass and Alice. It was like old times.
‘So another classmate beats you to the spotlight,’ she said patronisingly. ‘Never mind, I’m sure that band of yours will do something some day.’
‘Yeah, probably,’ said Cass. ‘So did they actually offer you that ad job or not?’
Karen tossed her hair in a move she’s clearly learned from Vanessa.
‘I’m down to the last four,’ she said snootily.
‘So they haven’t offered it to you,’ said Cass. ‘Oh well. Good luck and all that.’
Vanessa, unsurprisingly, seems to have mixed feelings about her protegée’s success (well, possible success). It’s like Karen copying her wasn’t so bad when it just gave her an opportunity to be bossy and patronising, but now something might actually come of it she is even less enthusiastic. And it probably doesn’t help that Kookie mania seems to be dying down. In fact, there’s definitely more of a buzz about the Dogtown ad. I heard the song from the ad on the radio twice today and I didn’t hear Vanessa’s song once.
I had a very nice conversation with Rachel this evening when Mum and Dad were out at rehearsal. We had just watched this week’s very exciting episode of Laurel Canyon (which made me think Rachel is right about Jack Rosenthal actually being responsible for his friend’s murder, but only by accident) and Rachel seemed so cheerful and relaxed that, without thinking, I said, ‘Rach, you … seem a bit better this week. About everything.’
‘Oh,’ said Rachel. ‘Well … I dunno. I suppose I am.’
‘Really?’ I said.
‘Well, not totally better, obviously,’ she said. ‘I mean, I’m still sadder about it than anything in my entire life. But I suppose I’ve reached the stage where I’m not actually thinking about it every second. Like, I can forget about it and do normal stuff. For a while, anyway.’ And then she looked at me and said, ‘You know, I do appreciate you trying to cheer me up. I did notice what you were doing. Even if I didn’t show it much.’
‘That’s okay,’ I said, feeling a bit embarrassed.
And then Mum and Dad came in, singing as usual, so our moment of sisterly bonding was over. But I’m very glad all my hard labour was appreciated. And I really am glad she’s feeling a bit more normal – some of the time, anyway. I just wish I didn’t have the Tom and Jenny stuff in the back of my mind. I manage not to think about it most of the time I’m with Rachel, but whenever I remember I feel guilty and sick.
On a more positive note, I was definitely right about there being more buzz about that Dogtown ad. They keep playing the song on the radio. Even Dad was humming the chorus when he was making the toast this morning. It really is very catchy. And it has definitely taken attention away from Vanessa. There haven’t been half as many first years coming in to stare at her or get her autograph over the last few days. In fact, now I come to think of it, I haven’t seen half as many Kookie badges this week either. There was a stage when it seemed like half the school were wearing the stupid things. But I did hear two girls humming the Dogtown ad music in the loo this afternoon. Does this mean change is on the way?
Dad has been working very hard on his overture dance all week. He has been practising between lectures in the college gym.
‘In front of the students?’ I said. I can’t imagine it would help you learn about early modern Europe if you’d seen your lecturer dancing around in a tracksuit half an hour earlier.
‘Well, there’s a sort of studio where classes are held,’ said Dad, not looking at all embarrassed. ‘So it’s not like I’m in the middle of the gym or in front of the climbing wall. But yeah, I suppose some students walk by. I think they like it.’
The mind reels. Though I suppose he really is a good dancer, so it’s not like he’s totally humiliating himself. Maybe the students are actually impressed. Rachel isn’t very impressed by the idea, though.
‘Unless something terrible happens at the exams, I’ll be going to that college next year,’ she said. ‘I don’t want everyone to know my dad is the lecturer who was gyrating all over the place.’
‘Well, you’re not going to do history, are you?’ I said. ‘So it’s not like you’ll be taught by him. And, besides, no one in your year will have seen him dancing around the gym because they’ll all be new, like you.’
‘These stories get passed down,’ said Rachel grimly. ‘People still talk about how Mrs O’Reilly drank half a bottle of champagne thinking it was a fizzy cordial on a school tour to Paris, and then sang “Suspicious Minds” on the bus.’
‘Do they really?’ I said in surprise. ‘I’ve never heard that story!’
‘Oh,’ said Rachel. ‘Well, they talked about it for years, anyway. I bet the history students won’t forget about Dad.’ But she looked a bit comforted at the idea that these tales don’t last all that long. I think as long as she doesn’t do history in Dad’s college it’ll be fine.
Oh, what an excellent day. When I was looking at my parents’ newspapers this morning there was an article about the Dogtown ad and what makes an ad campaign really take off, and it mentioned Vanessa’s Kookie ad, but not in a good way. ‘But the Bluebird Bakery campaign has already been forgotten in favour of the new parading pups,’ wrote the journalist. ‘Because that’s the thing about viral media – it moves as fast as, well, a virus. And what was popular one minute is gone the next, replaced by a new feverish cultural fad. While Bluebird Bakery’s Kookie campaign sparked a brief craze here in Ireland, the Dogtown ad has now been viewed by hundreds of thousands of people all over the world, making it the most talked-about Irish-made ad of all time.’
It’s become an internet sensation! Apparently people everywhere have been going on dog walks and filming themselves and their dogs grooving along the streets to the sound of the ad music. Some people have even done it with dog puppets!
I doubt anyone’s ever made a puppet of Vanessa. Unless it was a voodoo doll or something. And the article said there was footage online from Sydney and San Francisco. I don’t think Vanessa’s fanbase went further than Galway. And I haven’t heard the Kookie song once on the radio all week.
In fact, I really think her reign of media terror might actually be ending. There wasn’t a single first year sticking her head through the door of our classroom today. I would like to shake the paws of each of the Dogtown dogs to say thank you.
‘Well, that’s how things go,’ said Mum, when I showed her the article this afternoon. ‘Things are popular one day and then the next, something new comes along and grabs everyone’s attention.’
Speaking of strange cultural fevers, Dad is currently off at rehearsal, showing his dance to Laura and the cast. I really, really hope it goes well. He’s put so much work into it. And from the steps he’s showed us (he can’t do the entire thing at home because there isn’t enough room for all his leaping, even if you move the furniture against the walls), it really is quite impressive. But I know there’s always a chance she’ll decide it’s not right. I will just cross my fingers and hope.
His dance was a hit! I’m so relieved. I was a bit worried all evening in case it went horribly wrong and Laura decided it wasn’t going to work. Rachel was worried too.
‘I know he’s been a bit ridiculous about all this,’ she said, ‘but he really loves being in that musical.’
When we heard the car pull up, we both looked at each other. Rachel crossed her fingers and so did I.
But as soon as the door opened, we knew things had gone well. Dad was singing ‘I’m Getting Married in the Morning’, and he positively danced into the room.
‘They loved it!’ he said, beaming from ear to ear.
‘They really did,’ said Mum, beaming too. ‘In fact, Joe came up and said he understood exactly why Dad had been so keen to let loose his dancing skills.’
‘And Laura said it was a perfect way to get the audience in the mood for the show,’ said Dad. And he did a little tap dance.
I am very pleased for him. In fact, if it weren’t for the ongoing Jenny and Tom secret thing, I would be in a very, very good mood today. I have a weirdly good feeling about Saturday. I don’t know why. I just feel like something exciting is going to happen. Something with Sam. Maybe it’s because the last time we played a gig at the Knitting Factory, Paperboy kissed me at the end of it. Of course, the last time we played a gig at the Knitting Factory, I also fell backwards off a drum platform and looked completely ridiculous in front of several hundred people. But I’m sure that’s not going to happen again. I’m going to check the drum stool very carefully before I sit down, anyway.
And really, maybe it’s just that I think if anything is ever going to happen with Sam, surely it will happen at something like a gig, which is basically a party. It seems like the right sort of place. I mean, surely it’s more likely to happen there than in the art studio or at the bus stop. Of course, I do know that maybe nothing will ever happen with Sam. And I’m pretty much prepared for that. But IF it does, I really do think it might happen on Saturday. I just have a feeling.
Today got off to an excellent start because the woman who runs that Li’l Tykes animal performers’ agency was on the radio this morning talking about the Dogtown ad – she was one of the animal trainers who worked on it.
‘We know they say when it comes to showbiz, you should never work with children or animals,’ said the presenter. ‘So how do you find working with your canine team?’
‘They’re an absolute dream,’ said the Li’l Tykes lady. ‘I’ve worked with human performers who were much more difficult!’
And I totally know she meant Vanessa, especially because the next thing she said was, ‘And the animals like working together too. One of my dogs, Handsome Dan, recently starred in the famous Bluebird Bakery advert, but I think he found this shoot even easier. He had a great time with the other dogs.’
So it really was Handsome Dan in the Dogtown ad! I knew I recognised his adorable squashy features.
Anyway, I don’t know whether the radio interview had anything to do with it, but today was the first day in weeks that Vanessa didn’t go on about Kookie all the time. She wasn’t even wearing the Kookie badge which has adorned her school jumper ever since the ad came out. In fact, I’ve just remembered that when the campaign started, she said that they were going to make more Kookie ads in the future, but we haven’t heard anything about that recently so maybe this is the end of Kookie forever? What a blessed relief. Unfortunately, she had more news for us.
‘I’ve got an audition for a television series tomorrow,’ she declared. ‘It’s a really interesting part. Much more challenging than the Kookie ad. I think it’ll really stretch my skills as an actor.’
‘If I do get that ad, we can run through our scripts together,’ said Karen. ‘Help train each other. Bernard and I find that very useful. We can spur each other on.’
I thought Vanessa would be outraged at the idea that she might learn something from Karen, considering how she’s been spouting her supposed wisdom at her for weeks, but to my amazement, she said, ‘Hmmm, yeah, I suppose we could.’
Maybe finding out that one ad doesn’t mean you’ll be a big star forever is actually making her more humble and maybe even human? Though I won’t hold my breath. She’ll probably be lording it over her so-called friends again next week.
Cass and I went to Alice’s after school for our last-minute practice. Our parents let us do this on the condition that after this weekend we will knuckle down and concentrate on our studies for a while.
‘You spend half the day in town on Saturdays just for your band practices, anyway,’ said Mum. ‘So that should be enough music and weekend socialising for you. It’s back to work on Monday, okay?’
I hope she will forget about this after a while. Seriously, the odd Sunday afternoon out isn’t going to make me fail my exams. But I won’t argue with her for the moment.
Anyway, the practice went very well (I dropped my drum sticks once, and Alice got a chorus and middle eight mixed up, but we agreed it was just pre-show jitters and that we’ll be okay tomorrow). When it was over and we were waiting for Cass’s mum to collect her and me and bring us back to Dublin, we sat around for a while drinking Cokes and talking about stuff.
‘I think we should drink a toast to the Dogtown dogs,’ said Cass, raising her can of Coke. ‘They have taken the country’s attention away from Vanessa, and so they have performed a great service to humankind.’
‘I’ll drink to that,’ I said, clinking my can against Cass’s. Alice leaned over and clinked her can too.
‘Though she might get that TV series,’ she said. ‘And then she’d be on telly for ages. And it’ll probably be even more high profile.’
‘Meh, even if she gets it, it won’t be on TV for months and months,’ said Cass. ‘So we’ll have a nice break from her nonsense until then.’
‘I think we should think about recording something soon,’ I said. ‘I mean, we learned a fair bit about the technical stuff at the summer camp. And we could get some studio time at the Knitting Factory.’
‘Don’t you think we should wait until after the exams?’ said Alice.
‘Oh, we can fit something in before then!’ said Cass. ‘What about the Christmas holidays? You’re not going to spend every second studying then, are you?’
‘There you go,’ said Cass. ‘We can record a mini-album then.’
And we probably will. It’s hard to believe Cass used to be so nervous about band stuff. She’s the most confident of us all these days.
Anyway, I am fairly confident about tomorrow. And very excited. I love playing live so much, even though I’ve only done it twice. And Kitty will be there to see how we’ve come on since she last saw us on stage. And so will Sam. And I really, really hope something will happen with him. Surely something will? I can’t feel so butterflies-in-my-tummy-ish for nothing.
I just went downstairs to find Jenny the Traitor lolling about in my sitting room with Rachel. I don’t know how she dares show her face in this house after what she’s been doing. And it turns out she is staying the night! She is truly shameless. I’ll try to avoid her as much as possible. It shouldn’t be too hard as I want to practise my drums a bit more in preparation for tomorrow. I’ve just spent twenty minutes playing along on my snare to our recording of ‘The Real Me’. I think I’ve actually got better at drumming since we recorded it – when I listen to it I keep thinking of things I’d do slightly differently now. So I’ll just think about drumming and tomorrow’s gig and not about the evil traitor in my house.
It’s only eleven o’clock, so I don’t have to leave the house for ages, but I can’t bear to go downstairs because Jenny is still here. My parents have gone to the garden centre yet again to buy some new winter shrubs, whatever they are, and Rachel and Jenny are in the kitchen drinking mugs of Rachel’s special hot chocolate, which she only makes for special occasions and which Jenny definitely does not deserve. Just the thought of her sitting there drinking that delicious treat is sending me into a rage again. How can I just sit here when I know what she’s done?
Oh, screw this, I can’t. I can’t let her fool Rachel a second longer. It’s gone on for too long. I’m going to do what I should have done weeks ago. I’m going to go down and confront her. It has to be done.
Oh God. I have made a big mistake. A really, really stupid mistake. I feel ridiculously embarrassed. If it weren’t for the fact that I’ve got to go and perform on a stage in a few hours, I would never leave the house again. I can barely bring myself to write it down, but I suppose I have to for the sake of posterity. So here’s what happened.
When I went down to the kitchen, I almost changed my mind about confronting Jenny. But then I came in and I heard her say, ‘Just look how far you’ve come in the last few weeks! I’m kind of in awe.’ And the idea of her fawning over Rachel when really she was stabbing her in the back made me so mad I just said, ‘In awe? Oh, is that what you call it?’ in a really snarky voice.
Rachel and Jenny both stared at me.
‘Sorry?’ said Jenny.
‘You heard what I said,’ I said.
‘Well, yeah,’ said Jenny. ‘But I don’t know what you meant. Seriously, Bex, you’ve been really weird and off with me lately. Is there anything wrong?’
I snorted in a rather undignified way.
‘As if you don’t know!’ I said.
‘I don’t!’ said Jenny. ‘And I’m starting to get tired of it!’
‘Well, good,’ I said rudely.
‘What on earth are you talking about, Bex?’ said Rachel. ‘And why the hell are you being so obnoxious?’
I swallowed. I knew what I was going to say would break Rachel’s heart, and I didn’t want to do it, but I knew it had to be done.
‘It’s Jenny,’ I said. ‘She’s having an affair with Tom.’
I expected Jenny to go white with shock and deny it all, and I assumed Rachel would start wailing or burst into tears or even hit Jenny. But none of these things happened.
In fact, what happened first was that Jenny burst out laughing. And not fake ‘Ha-ha-ha’ laughing, proper, genuine, wheezy laughing.
‘Oh my GOD,’ she said. ‘Where did that come from?’
And Rachel didn’t look upset. She just looked amused and baffled.
‘Bex, Jenny is not having an affair with Tom,’ she said.
‘But I saw them!’ I said. ‘A few weeks ago! Sitting in the window of a café on Wicklow Street!’
Rachel turned to Jenny. ‘Isn’t that where you met him to give back his stupid books?’ she said.
‘Yeah,’ said Jenny. ‘And she’s right, we were near the window.’ She looked at me. ‘God, Bex, why on earth did you think I was having an affair with him? Rachel asked me to meet Tom to give back some of his books and stuff. So I did.’
‘But …’ I said. ‘But why did you hang around having a coffee with him? You looked like you were having a really intense conversation!’
‘Well, I suppose we were,’ said Jenny. ‘He was asking me how Rachel was and I was telling him that she was doing amazingly – of course – but that he’d really upset her just dumping her out of the blue. And he felt guilty without feeling sorry for her, which is exactly what we wanted to happen.’
‘I knew all about it,’ said Rachel. ‘We’d spent ages talking about what she’d say to him to make him think I had moved on and wasn’t thinking about him at all.’
‘But it did look …’ I said. ‘I mean, Jenny could still have been carrying on with him! She was leaning over and giving him something!’ But even as I said it, I realised what she’d been giving him.
‘Bex, I’m sorry to burst your bubble, but I’m seeing someone else,’ said Jenny. ‘His name is Fionn. Seriously, I wouldn’t have time to have an affair even if I wanted to, which I don’t, and even if I did, I’d never even contemplate having one with Tom. And what I was giving him was Rachel’s books.’
‘So do you believe me now?’ said Jenny.
‘Um, yes,’ I said. ‘Sorry. About yelling at you. And not believing you.’
‘It’s okay,’ said Jenny.
‘And, um, about being weird to you over the last few weeks,’ I said. ‘I just thought you had stabbed Rachel in the back. And, um, I was just upset about it.’
‘Ah, I understand,’ said Jenny.
Rachel was looking at me with a funny expression on her face.
‘You should have just said something to me,’ she said. And I thought she was going to yell at me for not saying anything when I thought her best friend was having a secret affair with her ex. ‘But I suppose you were just worried about me.’ She paused. ‘You’re not the worst sister in the world.’
Which, from a member of my family, who are not prone to declarations of love (I found it very difficult when I wrote a song for Rachel’s birthday a few months ago), is quite something, especially on top of her thanking me for cheering her up on Tuesday. There was a long pause.
‘So …’ I said. ‘I suppose I’d better go and get ready for the gig.’
‘We’ll be there,’ said Jenny, who I must admit was behaving very decently for someone who’d just been accused by me of betraying her best friend and having a secret affair. ‘And Fionn is going to meet us there. So you can see I’m not making him up.’
‘I don’t think you’re making him up!’ I said miserably. I felt like a giant fool. And then I basically ran up here to my room, where I am writing this while the shame is still fresh.
I am really glad that Jenny isn’t having an affair with Tom, though. And at least I don’t have to worry about keeping a terrible secret from Rachel anymore. And, actually, I feel a bit less ridiculous having written it all down. It’s strange what a relief writing about bad stuff can be. And I do have to get ready for the gig now. I am still feeling quite butterflies-in-the-tummy about it. I still can’t help thinking something exciting is going to happen, apart from the whole gig stuff, which is exciting in itself. It just feels like today will be a Big Day.
Right. I’ve really got to change and get ready at last. I wish I’d asked Rachel if I could borrow some of her posh make-up before I went down and embarrassed myself – I don’t feel like creeping in and asking for a favour now. I’ll just have to make do with my own non-posh stuff. And I’m going to wear my brilliant ’60s brown and gold dress that I got in a charity shop at the end of the summer. Not only does it look cool, it’s not too tight so it’s particularly easy to drum in. I do like it when clothes are practical as well as cute.
Okay, I really am going now. I won’t think about what I said to Jenny at all. I’m going to think about the gig. And about seeing Sam. And what might happen. Because I really do have a feeling that something will.
Well, first things first. Our gig was brilliant. At least, it went pretty well as far as we were concerned, and the crowd seemed to like it. And there was a pretty big crowd too. But – and I feel kind of stupid even being a bit sad about this when our gig went so well, but after all you can’t help how your heart feels – nothing happened with Sam. I mean, I was talking to him a lot. And I was trying to get that balance between being friendly and too friendly. And we did talk on our own for a while. But nothing really happened. By which I mean we didn’t start kissing passionately by the speakers (or anywhere else, for that matter), and we didn’t declare our undying love (or even mild affection) for each other. So much for my butterflies.
It all happened like this. All four bands only had time to do a quick soundcheck, so we didn’t really get a chance to properly see what the other bands were doing. We did get to talk to Veronica and Paul, the sound engineer, about our backdrop, and she promised to get it up just before we went on. Then she told us the running order of the show – first Bad Monkey, then Puce, then us, then the Wicked Ways. And then all four bands just stood around a bit nervously waiting for the main doors to open (well, some of us were nervous. Puce were in a corner practising their stage moves). Some of the others had sneaked cans in, but they were too nervous to take them out and drink anything, mostly because it had been made quite clear that if Veronica saw any booze on the premises, we’d all be kicked out (and, she’d warned us before, there’d be no chance of any more all-ages gigs there).
‘What if no one turns up?’ said Katie from Bad Monkey. ‘I mean, the Battle of the Bands was full, but there were a million bands playing then and everyone brought their friends …’
But then the door to the venue was pulled back and lots of people started to pour in.
‘Whoah,’ said Alice, a few minutes later. ‘I didn’t think it’d be this jammed.’
‘Neither did I,’ said Richard. ‘We’ll all be fine though.’ He was wearing his specially altered suit and looked very cool. His quiff was at full blast, but he can really pull it off.
‘Look, there’s Tall Paula and Sophie!’ said Cass, giving them a wave. ‘And – wow, Small Paula too. I didn’t know if she’d come along.’
‘And there’s Jane and Aoife,’ said Alice. Aoife is Jane’s best friend. ‘Hey, over here!’
I must admit that as soon as the doors opened I started looking out for Sam. Every time a tall boy with scruffy hair walked in my stomach felt all funny because I thought it was him. And then, while I was telling Jane and Aoife about how we’d made our backdrop (Jane is very interested in all things vaguely theatrical), Sam walked in with Lucy and a boy I’d never seen before.
Lucy waved when she saw us and the three of them came over to join us.
‘Hey, band people,’ said Sam. ‘This is Daire.’
‘Hey,’ said Daire. He was a tall, friendly-looking boy holding a skateboard. ‘Ah, hi, Richard.’ I forgot they were all in the same school. ‘I’ve heard a lot about all these bands,’ Daire went on. ‘Sam and Lucy say you’re all pretty good …’
‘Well, they might have exaggerated a bit,’ said Alice nervously. ‘Don’t get your hopes up too much.’
‘Not really,’ I said. ‘That’s not tempting fate, is it? Maybe it would be better if I was really nervous …’
‘Nah,’ said Sam. ‘I don’t believe in tempting fate anyway. You’ll all be brilliant.’
I wish he hadn’t said that ‘all’. I wish he’d singled us out. Anyway, then Alice said, ‘Hey, Emma’s arrived. And look who’s with her!’
It was Alison! And Karen was nowhere to be seen. Alison has clearly escaped from her clutches at last. She looked a bit shy when she and Emma joined us, but soon she and Emma were talking to Daire, whose brother, it turns out, goes to the same computer course as them.
‘Wow, Dublin really is small,’ I said.
‘Well, our bit of north Dublin definitely is,’ said Sam.
And then I noticed Rachel come in with Jenny and another boy I’d never seen before. I realised it must be Fionn, Jenny’s actual boyfriend. He must definitely really like her if he’s willing to come and see her best friend’s little sister’s band. I still felt too embarrassed to talk to them, but I couldn’t avoid doing so because Jenny yelled ‘Rebecca! Over here!’ in a loud voice, so I had to trot over to them.
‘Look what a good sister I am,’ said Rachel. ‘Bringing along some more people to cheer for you so it’s not too embarrassing later.’
‘Hey, Bex,’ said Jenny, grinning at me. ‘This is Fionn. Fionn, as you’ve gathered, this is Rebecca.’
‘Hi,’ said Fionn. He was a cheerful-looking boy with fair hair and a nice cardigan. And he didn’t look anything at all like Tom.
‘I’ve told him all about you,’ said Jenny.
I knew she was enjoying my embarrassment, but I suppose it was what I deserved. Anyway, I didn’t stay talking to them for long because the main lights in the venue were getting dimmer, which meant the show was about to begin. Bad Monkey were on first and I was really looking forward to seeing them because the only time I’ve ever seen them perform was a year ago at the Battle of the Bands.
‘Good luck!’ said Rachel.
‘You’ll be great,’ said Jenny, winking at me, and I knew things would be okay between us. She clearly has a forgiving nature. I think I’d have let someone suffer for a bit longer if they’d accused me of being a friend-betrayer.
‘Hi, everyone!’ said Veronica. ‘I’m very happy to welcome you all to what will hopefully be the first of many all-ages gigs here at the Knitting Factory. We’ve got four brilliant bands playing this afternoon, so without further ado please give a warm welcome to … Bad Monkey!’
I was very impressed with Bad Monkey back at the Battle of the Bands, even though they only did two songs, and this time they were even better. Liz is such a cool frontwoman, I couldn’t take my eyes off her. I don’t fancy girls, but I can definitely see why Cass likes her so much. The crowd were clearly impressed too, judging by the wild cheers when she played her guitar solo (she’d been worried that she was going to mess it up, but it sounded perfect).
When they came off stage Liz ran over to Cass, who gave her a big hug, and we all congratulated her.
‘I can’t believe we made it through a whole set!’ she said. ‘We haven’t played in front of an audience for so long!’
‘It doesn’t show,’ said Cass. ‘You were amazing!’
‘You were fantastic!’ said Lucy, who had never seen Bad Monkey play before. ‘I didn’t realise you could play such fancy stuff on the guitar.’
‘Ooh, what’s going on now?’ said Ellie, pointing at the stage.
It was Puce, arranging their stage set. Or rather, helping Veronica pull down a screen at the back of the stage. A few moments later, they had taken their positions and Veronica was announcing them to the crowd. We all cheered loudly as Niall took to the mike.
‘We’re Puce!’ he cried. ‘And we’re going to take you to another world! A world … of robots!’
Then, as the band started playing, the screen behind them was filled with old black and white footage of robots. And, as if that wasn’t enough, Niall and the others started doing some dramatic moves – not just prowling around the stage as Shane from The Invited had taught them, but some coordinated dance moves that mimicked the motion of the robots. It was all very impressive. The music was, as ever, a little bit dull, but to be honest what with the dancing and the robots you barely noticed.
In fact, I don’t think I was giving Puce the attention they deserved because I was standing next to Sam and I was kind of conscious of him all the time. Also, I was getting nervous about going on next. But anyway, by the time Puce finished the audience were all cheering like mad.
Sam leaned over to me.
‘Did you ever think of having projections and stuff?’ he said over the wild applause. ‘That looked really good!’
‘Don’t let Cass hear you say that,’ I said. ‘It’ll only encourage her. Right, we’re on next. I’d better go.’
‘Good luck!’ said Sam. ‘I’ll be dancing in the front row.’
I knew he was joking, but it would have been very cool if he had been. And when we got on stage I could see he was up near the front with all our friends (and Rachel, Jenny and Fionn too). Just behind them I could see our mentor Kitty, who caught my eye and gave me a thumbs up. While we were setting up our instruments, Veronica and Paul hung up the backdrop. It looked really good. You’d never guess it had been one of Cass’s parents’ old bed sheets until a week ago.
‘Right,’ said Cass, as we took our positions. ‘Our biggest gig ever. No pressure!’
‘We thrive under pressure,’ said Alice grandly, and picked up the microphone. She has real stage presence. No wonder she and Richard make such a good couple.
‘Hey, we’re Hey Dollface,’ she said. ‘And we’re going to start with a song about falling for the wrong person. One, two, three, four!’
We launched into ‘Ever Saw In You’, with lyrics all about me and John Kowalski. As I drummed along furiously, I found myself wondering if Sam would realise what it was about, and would he know that I wasn’t, like, harbouring any feelings for John. But soon I got so into playing I forgot to think about Sam, or anything else but how cool it felt to be up on the stage playing music with my best friends. When we finished the first song, the crowd all cheered and hollered very loudly, and Cass and Alice and I beamed at each other before Cass announced the next song, ‘Pistachio’. After every song, I found myself counting how many songs we had left, not because I wanted it to end but because I wanted it to last as long as possible. We made a few tiny mistakes, but I don’t think anyone really noticed, and when we finished the last song (our environmental anthem ‘Living in a Bubble’) everyone cheered and cheered. It felt brilliant.
When we got back to our friends, everyone was very enthusiastic. Kitty ran over and hugged us all and told us she was proud of us, which was lovely.
‘I can’t wait to see what you do next!’ she said.
Small Paula, who is of course a girl of few words, just nodded at us and said, ‘Very nice work.’ Which is high praise from her.
And Sam was enthusiastic too.
‘That was amazing!’ he said. ‘You were all even better than when you played at the camp.’
I was on such a high I forgot to be self-conscious.
‘Really? Thanks!’ I said. ‘It was so much fun.’
‘How do you play the drums with your feet and hands at the same time?’ said Sam. ‘I’ve always wondered about that. I’m pretty sure I’d get something confused.’
‘Ah, it’s not that hard,’ I said, and it isn’t now, even though when I first got my drum kit I was horrified to discover that I had to use a pedal as well as the drumsticks to play some of the drums and I got totally confused myself. ‘Hey, look, the Wicked Ways are on now.’
Richard and his friends were on stage and ready to go. A spotlight shone on one of the mikes, and Richard walked up to it.
‘Wow, his suit looks so cool!’ said Cass. ‘I think it might be even better than his brother’s one. I mean, it’s basically made to measure.’
‘Welcome, welcome,’ said Richard in the booming voice he adopts on stage, a voice that should be ridiculous but is somehow impressive. ‘We’re the Wicked Ways. I’m Richard Murray. And I’m a fool for love.’
They launched into their song ‘Fool For Love’, which involves him doing even more booming than usual. The first time I saw them perform it, I thought it was ridiculous, but it quickly grew on me.
The audience liked it too. In fact, by the time the band did their song ‘Pterodactyl’ and Richard was singing about ‘Flying over unforgiving lands / Wishing that I had human hands …’ he had the crowd eating out of his (human) hands. It was really good. Alice looked very proud. I wonder what their musical collaboration will sound like? She does a lot less bellowing than him (though she too is a very confident performer). Anyway, when they finished they got a huge cheer, and then Veronica came out and thanked everyone for coming.
‘And the biggest thanks of all go to our four bands, Bad Monkey, Puce, Hey Dollface and of course Richard Murray and the Wicked Ways. Give them a big round of applause!’
The crowd went wild, and then it was over. Except it wasn’t over, for us. Rachel, Jenny and Fionn went off (Jenny even gave me a hug. She really is quite noble) and then all four bands and some of our friends like Jane and Ellie and of course Sam, Lucy and Senan all went back to the art space, where Veronica had laid out some snacks and soft drinks as a special reward for us being the stars of the first all-ages band afternoon.
‘You’ve got this space for an hour and a half,’ she said. ‘And I’ll be checking in on you. So don’t mess it up.’
It was like a party. Well, basically it was a party. It was dark outside and the only lighting came from the lamps over the drawing boards, which helped create a party-ish mood. Liz had brought little speakers and plugged in her phone so we had some music. Someone produced some of the cans, the contents of which were discreetly poured into mugs from the art space kitchen. But I didn’t have more than a sip because I don’t really like beer, and I was also totally paranoid about Veronica finding out and banning us all from the Knitting Factory forever. In fact, I was glad when the beer ran out (quite quickly as it happened, because they didn’t have many cans and there were loads of us).
I was talking to lots of people, but, like the last time we all hung out in the art space, I was always conscious of Sam, of where he was and who he was talking to, and of the fact that we weren’t talking to each other and that time was going by very quickly. And then, when I went over to the table to refill my glass (just Coke, I might add), he came over.
‘Hello, drumming sensation,’ he said. ‘Having fun?’
‘I’m still in a bit of a daze,’ I said.
‘Well, you were great,’ he said, smiling. He has a very nice smile. ‘I look forward to the next one. Next gig, I mean.’
And then there was a pause, and maybe it was because I’d spent so much time convincing myself that something was going to happen today, but suddenly everything felt sort of intense and strange. Like, well, like something might happen.
Then he asked me if we’d thought any more about recording stuff, and I told him maybe at Christmas, and he said he’d do some artwork for us if we liked, but I was barely listening to what he was saying because I was so conscious of the two of us, together, and somehow we ended up on the side of the room where fewer people were and he said something about feeling really at home in the studio, and I was sure, absolutely sure, that something would happen, because everything seemed so, I dunno, intimate. We got talking about the future and about Sam’s comics and how he was going to enter the one he showed me last week in a big competition.
‘I know the chances of winning anything are small,’ he said. ‘But I want to give it a try.’
‘You should definitely go for it,’ I said.
‘Well, if I win, I’ll thank you in my acceptance speech,’ he said. ‘You can do the same for me whenever you win a, well, whatever the big awards for cool indie bands are.’
‘It’s a deal,’ I said. And we kept talking about nonsense, and it was fun. But as it got later and later my hope that SOMETHING was going to happen between us gradually trickled away. I knew we were all going to have to go home eventually, and the time was getting closer and closer. But even though we’d talked on our own and it had felt so weird and intense for a while, he hadn’t made any sort of move. And I hadn’t done anything either. And just as I was thinking about this Veronica came in and said, ‘Right, ladies and gentlemen, time to go!’
I was wondering if we’d go on somewhere else, though I’m not sure where I thought we could go at half six on a Saturday. It’s not like we could go to a pub. Also, I needed to get home for dinner. Then Lucy said she’d better go home, and then someone else said they needed to as well, so that was that. We all headed outside.
‘If I spend any longer at the Knitting Factory on Saturdays, my parents are going to stop me going at all,’ said Niall. ‘Exams, and all that.’
‘Is anyone free tomorrow?’ said Tall Paula. ‘Why don’t we have one last afternoon meet-up before we have to really knuckle down?’
‘I have to go to my aunt’s house,’ said Sophie regretfully.
‘I should be able to wangle it,’ said Cass. ‘What about you, Bex?’
‘Oh yeah, probably,’ I said.
‘I’ll try and make it,’ said Sam. ‘But I’ll have to check with my folks. I think there’s something on tomorrow.’
Most of the others said they could make it too, so we’re going to meet tomorrow. I hope Sam comes, though knowing my luck he won’t. And even if he did, if nothing is going to happen when we’re all at a party (well, sort of party), then I doubt anything will happen in the Flapper Café in the middle of the afternoon.
So yeah. I walked to the bus stop with Cass and Lucy, and Daire and Sam went off to their bus stop, and that was that. I feel kind of silly about having got my hopes up. I mean, really there was no reason to assume something was going to happen. Or, I suppose, that something will ever happen. And I also just feel sad about it. Because I really like him, and I want to be with him, and even though being friends with him is great, it’s not quite enough for me.
I suppose I’ll just have to wait until it wears off. Which I know it will. Eventually. Everything does, as I found out with Paperboy (and as Rachel is sort of finding out about Tom). I’ll just hope that he doesn’t start going out with someone else before then. I don’t think I could bear that. I don’t think I could be friends with him anymore if that happened.
But, at the same time, I’m not totally miserable, because when I think about us playing up on that stage, I just feel really happy. It’s such a brilliant feeling to do something you love and do it well. It’s especially good when other people like it, of course, but even when we’re just practising, I love it when a song comes together. It’s not like any other feeling in the world. And it’s even better when you feel it in front of your friends (and your sister and the person you unfairly accused of being a traitor a few hours ago). So apart from that very embarrassing moment this morning, it should have been a very cool day. And it was.
But at the same time I feel so disappointed about Sam, and then I feel stupid for being disappointed. It’s very weird. I wonder if feeling loads of things at the same time is normal? I suppose it must be. I mean, so much of life is a sort of mixture. Anyway, I’m not going to get my hopes up about tomorrow. I’ll just feel miserable if nothing happens AGAIN. He probably won’t even turn up.
I’m relieved I’m allowed to go out at all, though. When I mentioned it to Mum and Dad this evening, they started grumbling about how I was never home, but then I reminded them that they’d said ‘Back to work on Monday!’ and I promised to do all my homework before I went out tomorrow so they grudgingly agreed.
I don’t know what to wear tomorrow. I was thinking of wearing the dress that I wore for our first Knitting Factory gig. It might be a lucky dress because I was wearing it when Paperboy first kissed me, but then it was also what I was wearing when I fell backwards off the drum platform. Hmmm.
Maybe I should wear my dress with the stripy navy and white top bit and a flared navy skirt bit. It makes me look like I have slightly more bosom than I actually do (not that that’s saying very much) AND it’s really comfy so it’s perfect. And Sam has never seen it before so maybe he’ll be dazzled by it. But like I said, I don’t want to get my hopes up. I really don’t want to be disappointed again.
Wow. Today did not go exactly as I thought it would. To say the least. I’m still in a bit of a daze, to be honest. But a good sort of daze. Definitely a good sort of daze.
It started out very boringly. As promised, I did my homework nice and early and even showed it to my parents so they could see I was working nice and hard.
‘Look!’ I said dramatically, waving an English essay at them. ‘Now do you believe that I’m on top of my schoolwork?’
‘We do trust you, Bex,’ said Dad. ‘We just want to make sure you take your studying seriously this year. Learning how to knuckle down to hard work is very important.’
I could have said something about people who seem to spend more time on their Henry Higgins dances than their actual job, but I didn’t want to push my luck. So I borrowed a fiver off him and went in to meet the others.
I was running a bit late and when I got to the Flapper Café Cass, Liz, Richard, Alice, Lucy, Tall Paula and Sophie were there already. But no Sam. I didn’t even feel surprised. I’d had a feeling he wouldn’t come. Obviously, it was cool to see all the others, but I was still really disappointed. I tried not to show it, of course.
‘No Sam today?’ I asked Lucy, but only after we’d been talking for a few minutes. I didn’t want it to be the first thing out of my mouth.
‘No, he had to go and visit his new baby cousin this morning,’ said Lucy.
I might have known. Stupid babies! Still ruining my social life. I hoped this one hadn’t headbutted him. Babies can be very violent.
Anyway, I tried not to think about him and just enjoy the afternoon. And it really was fun. Cass was planning to go back to Liz’s house afterwards for their first musical collaboration attempt.
‘I’ll have to use Liz’s sister’s old keyboard,’ she said. ‘But it’ll do for now.’
Alice was going to Richard’s for dinner, but she said they wouldn’t have time to do any music stuff because her dad was coming to pick her up at half seven.
‘As soon as I’m old enough to legally drive, I’m going to beg my parents for lessons,’ she said. ‘Living out in the wilds wouldn’t be half as bad if I didn’t have to rely on them for lifts all the time.’
‘Small Paula can drive,’ said Tall Paula. We all stared at her. ‘Seriously! I know it’s illegal, but she can. She told me her aunt taught her. She can drive a tractor too.’
‘Is there anything Small Paula can’t do?’ said Richard admiringly.
It was almost starting to get dark when we all left and said our goodbyes. I was walking down the road with Liz and Cass when I realised I’d forgotten something.
‘My scarf!’ I said. ‘It must be on my chair. I’d better go back.’
‘We’ll wait here for you,’ said Cass.
‘Ah, don’t bother,’ I said. ‘We’re not going the same way, anyway. Go and write some amazing electro-pop songs!’
‘We’ll do our best,’ said Liz.
‘See you on Monday!’ said Cass.
I went back to the café, feeling a bit sorry for myself. Everyone seemed to be all happily coupled up apart from me. Well, me and Lucy. And Paula and Sophie. But still.
My scarf was hanging on the back of the chair where I’d left it, so I grabbed it and headed back out. It was chilly and I felt even more sorry for myself as I turned in the direction of the bus stop. And then I saw something that made me freeze in my tracks. Running up the road towards me, his portfolio bag hanging from one shoulder, was Sam.
‘Oh good, you’re still here!’ he said breathlessly, coming to a halt outside the café. ‘I thought I’d missed you all. The bus broke down and was stuck at the side of the road for ages. And my stupid phone died so I couldn’t text any of you.’
‘Well, I’m the only one left,’ I said. ‘The others have gone. Were you looking for Lucy?’
‘No, actually it was you I wanted to see,’ said Sam. He leaned over and took a deep breath. ‘God, I need to get fitter. I just ran from the bus stop, but I feel like I’m dying.’
‘What …’ I said. The butterflies started fluttering in my tummy again. ‘What did you want to see me for?’
‘Ah,’ said Sam. He looked a bit flustered, but I thought he could just still be out of breath. ‘I just wanted to talk to you and … I wanted to give you this.’
He took a piece of paper out of his portfolio bag and handed it to me. It was a picture of me, drawn in the style of his comics. There was nothing cutesy about it. It was funny and cool and it really did look like me but with slightly better hair. I was leaning on a pile of books with my drum sticks in one hand and a pen in the other, and I was wearing what looked like my brown ’60s dress. It was the best picture I’ve ever seen in my life.
‘Sam!’ I said. ‘That’s amazing! But …’
‘And there’s something else,’ said Sam. ‘Something I want to say and I’ve got to say it now or I’ll never say it at all.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I have no idea whether you feel the same way, but I know I just need to tell you how much I like you. And NOT just as a friend. And if you don’t feel the same way, that’s cool, I wasn’t just hanging out with you because I thought I’d get anything out of it, but I just needed to tell you that I really liked you because if there was a chance you liked me back, I needed to …’
But before he finished the sentence, I leaned over and kissed him. I didn’t even think about it. I just did it.
And straight away he was kissing me back, and there was something about it, something different to kissing Paperboy or John Kowalski. It was better. With Paperboy I was madly in love with him, but I never really knew him – I mean, when he first kissed me, we’d only talked for about ten minutes altogether. And with John, I really, really fancied him, but I don’t think I actually liked him very much.
But with Sam … I really fancy him, but I also like him. I know him. We’re actual friends. And I’ve wanted this to happen for ages and ages, and then finally it did, and a part of me felt it was almost too good to be true, but mostly it just felt … right. It was the best of everything, all coming together at once. It was brilliant.
We stood there kissing for ages, and finally we drew apart and stared at each other.
‘Wow,’ said Sam, and smiled. ‘So … you don’t feel the same way, then?’
And I laughed, and he laughed, and then I kissed him again, and he kissed me back, and I felt very, very happy. And when we eventually stopped, he took my hand and we walked down the street in a sort of happy daze.
‘I’ve liked you for ages too,’ I said. ‘I think I liked you in the summer.’
‘Well, I noticed you when I first saw you at the musical,’ said Sam. ‘But then you were with John, so I sort of stopped thinking of you in that way. And then, in the summer, after we’d got friendly at the camp, I suppose I started, well, thinking of you like that again.’
He squeezed my hand tightly.
‘Me too,’ he said.
And we walked down to my bus stop together, and he’s going to message me later, and we’re hopefully going to meet after school during the week (just for a few minutes. I’m not going to push it with my parents), and of course we’ll see each other properly next Saturday.
And I feel so happy about all of it. I don’t think I’ve ever known a boy who seems to get me like Sam gets me. I really like him and I fancy him and we just … get on with each other. He’s funny and nice and smart and he loves making stuff and reading stuff and he gets on with my friends and … it already works. We work. I really think we’ll be very good together. I mean, I suppose I could be wrong about this.
But I’m pretty sure I’m right.
The End