My nerves jangled as I cased the joint for Carter and Richie. A singer paced onstage while his friends clustered at the lip. I could tell from his pained expression that he knew just how much he was tanking. Sam seemed to know everyone and greeted them all. Tish waved at us from the back of the hall where she was hogging a bunch of chairs, dressed in Topshop’s finest. She squeezed Sam’s arm and cast a critical eye over my rain-speckled jumper, torn black jeans and muddy sneakers. I’d thought my outfit was just the right side of rock star. Apparently, she had other ideas.
‘Next time, I’ll dress you,’ she said firmly, pulling me in for a selfie. I tried for a smile, which just made me look like roadkill in headlights. ‘I’ve got these gorgeous red heels that’d probably fit you.’
Balancing a guitar in heels sounded like my personal brand of hell, but I had to admit Tish knew what she was doing when it came to make-up. Today she’d contoured so much that her face had changed shape.
‘How did you learn to do that?’ I asked.
‘Make-up tutorials,’ she said. ‘When I first started dating Sam I was really nervous about going out with an older guy, so I started getting into it. At the time I didn’t know he wouldn’t even notice.’
‘I just think you’re beautiful without all that stuff on your face,’ he said, and pulled her in for a kiss. I looked away to give them some privacy and saw Carter and Richie trading their coins for cans of soft drink and packets of chips at the makeshift bar. Carter leaned over the trestle table so the girl behind it could write something on the back of his hand. My stomach clenched, but I chalked it up to heightened nerves. Onstage, the Jack Johnson wannabe finally limped over the finish line and I clapped politely in the hope he might return the favour when it was our turn. Sam went backstage to set up our guitars, but I was glued to the competition.
‘We’re gonna wipe the floor with this guy.’ Carter came over to us, glowing with his tuning achievement. He had two cans of Sprite in each hand and was wearing a T-shirt that said ‘Calm down.’ He didn’t sit on the chair so much as glide over it like a Dali clock. He gave me one of the cans and took out a hip flask to pour a shot of vodka into his own. I averted my eyes so he wouldn’t offer me any.
And that was when I saw Verity.
She was across the room, chatting to Richie, wearing a bra top and high-waisted jeans, her hair straightened into a heavy blonde sheet down her back. Freya and Austin were there too, attached at the hip. I grabbed Carter’s arm and he looked at me in surprise.
‘Verity’s here,’ I said.
‘She can’t be.’
He shook off my hand just as she turned. Suddenly aware of how close we were sitting, I shuffled back on my seat and took a swig of my drink. She strode over to us with Austin, Richie and Freya trailing her.
Richie sniggered. ‘I was just telling Verity how I hope she’ll stick around to see my band play.’
‘Are you here to cheer Richie on too?’ she asked me, ignoring Carter.
I tried to catch Carter’s eye, but he was intently reading the ingredients of Sprite. Sam came over and handed me my guitar, but it was only as he passed Carter his Fender that Verity seemed to twig. Carter finally looked at her with a slightly sheepish grin.
‘I didn’t think you’d ever find out, babe.’
It was the ‘babe’ that seemed to tip her over the edge. All that time ignoring her in the dining hall and now she was ‘babe’? It was like he’d never met a girl before.
‘You’ve been lying to me for weeks!’
‘Not lying,’ he countered. ‘I mean … I wanted it to be a surprise?’
He really wasn’t doing himself any favours.
‘Was it not a lie when you said Ms Marney had found out about the band and shut it down?’ she demanded. ‘And every time you told me I was your first choice, was that not a lie?’ She turned to me. ‘He did say that,’ she added. ‘Just in case you were wondering.’
Every muscle I had was stretched tight. To my surprise, it was Sam who spoke. ‘You have the most classical talent,’ he said. ‘But we decided, as a band’ – he nudged Richie, who nodded swiftly – ‘that Liliana had the most unique voice. And when it came to stage presence, she eclipsed all of you.’ He sounded so calm and reasonable, like stage presence and talent were facts rather than a matter of opinion – so unassailably confident that they’d made the right call. A rush of gratitude smoothed out my pre-show nerves. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse us, we’ve got a gig to play.’
CHAPTER 10
Backstage was fogged with the smell of deodorant, hairspray and sweat. The emcee called our name and I placed my amp on the stage, recorded music throwing a bubblegum sheen of unreality over everything. Sam attached his kick pedal, snare and cymbals to the drum kit while I plugged in my guitar. Someone – Tish, probably – let out a premature whoop, but beyond that there was just the murmur of the hall.
I glanced at the emcee in the wings and, to my surprise, he cut the music as if he’d been waiting for my signal. Silence crashed in and my hands started to shake. I checked my settings with the opening riff from the Violent Femmes’ classic ‘Blister in the Sun’ and a couple of quick-off-the-mark people clapped in time, causing a ripple of laughter. I shifted the EQ on the amp and finally looked out at the faces.
Tish cheered again, watching through the viewer of her phone. Verity was at the front of the crowd, scowling, but I ignored her, took a breath to focus and drew on all my vocal training to keep my voice level. ‘Hi, we’re Lady Stardust. This song is called “King Cutie”.’ Sam clicked his drumsticks four times and we launched into it, feet first, no safety net.
He’s always single but he’s never alone
He’s got a million girls saved into his phone
If he’s ever lonely he just calls up and sees
Who’s ready to tango with King Cutie
A whirlpool rippled in the crowd: Tish’s friends from Reading Comp. Their laughter and calls grew through the first verse, and heads started to turn towards us. The initial interest began to grow and build until it felt like the crowd was really there for us. Behind me, the drums were a consistent, regular pulse.
When he asks, he asks so easily
Steps up fast and moves in close to me
And I reply, I know absolutely
I’m with him, and he’s King Cutie
We chased this feeling every night in rehearsal, but it had always felt incomplete: the audience was the missing ingredient. They thought they were here to watch, but didn’t realise every performance was a collaboration – a language shared between singer and listener. I leaned on the mic stand and ramped up to the second chorus, glancing over at Carter, the reason the band was here, the inspiration for my song.
When he asks, I answer physically
I’m with him, and he’s King Cutie
And when he leaves, he does so freely
Can’t tie him down, he belongs to nobody
Carter’s fingers moved as fast as spiders through the guitar solo. I forgot about Verity, forgot the girl at the trestle table as the music – our music – washed over me. I strode over to him and stood close, like we were Bowie and Ronson, and for one crowded moment everything was totally uncomplicated. The magic fizzed between us like electricity and I flung it out into the crowd.
I stepped back up to the mic as Sam’s tempo increased and the bridge took over, my cheeks aching from smiling. As the feedback faded I thanked the crowd, then Sam counted us in and we did it all again with ‘Cat and Mouse’, followed by our cover songs: ‘Fell in Love with a Girl’ and ‘Naïve’.
When our set was done I bowed over my guitar, flamboyant like any good frontman, and cast my pick into the cheering audience. We barely made it back into the wings before Carter threw his arms around me. He grabbed the belt loop of my jeans and angled his hip bone into my stomach so our guitars didn’t collide.
‘That was awesome,’ he said, his mouth on my ear. Goosebumps rose through my sweat-slicked skin. ‘Yo
u were amazing.’
‘So were you.’
He held me for a moment. His neck was wet and warm and smelled like soap. I was giving in to him too much but I didn’t care. ‘Jimi …’ he murmured. ‘What Verity just said …’
Someone tapped me on the shoulder: the girl from the bar, extending her arms to Carter as if I’d already faded into the background. I scraped my matted hair out of my eyes, hardening my features.
‘Hey, Chelsea,’ said Carter. Was I imagining a flustered note in his voice? ‘You haven’t met our Aussie import, have you?’ He handed me his guitar as if I were a roadie.
‘You looked so great up there,’ she gushed.
‘Chelsea’s going to be our first groupie,’ said Carter with a grin.
‘We prefer the term “Band-aids”,’ she laughed, quoting Almost Famous, and I tried not to let my reaction show. Why would anyone want to be a groupie when they could be onstage instead?
‘We don’t have groupies,’ I said. ‘We’ve only been a band for three weeks.’
‘Don’t sell yourself short, Liliana,’ Carter said. His hand was moving distractingly at her waist. ‘This is a glimpse of the future.’
I left them to it, trying not to feel disappointed. What did I want from him, anyway? I had Ellie to think about. I blamed Phoenix for putting ideas into my head. They’d always been my shoulder devil.
The crowd was thick now and I had to push through to the front to find Sam and Tish. The emcee bounded onstage again. ‘And your final band for the night,’ he announced in a Jamaican accent that lapsed every so often, ‘are local favourites – and last year’s winners – Dragonfly Tears!’
The frontman was unshaven-on-purpose, his white chest sunken under a fur coat that could’ve been lifted from my nonna’s closet. When he lifted his guitar above his head his nipple-ring glinted in the spotlight.
‘We’re Dragonfly Tears,’ he said with more pride than was reasonable at such a shit band name. ‘This is our song, “Damned Generation”.’
Sam frowned as they began to play. Carter appeared with Chelsea in tow and stared up at the stage with barely disguised fury. The other bands had played echoes of songs we all knew, with meandering solos and underwritten riffs. But this one was different. The lyrics were direct and heartfelt and the band had the kind of tightness that only comes from years of playing together. The sound was influenced by Panic! At The Disco but with the soul of early Muse – it would’ve been Carter’s jam if they weren’t our main competition. When they finished and a cheer erupted around us, he didn’t even offer a clap.
‘The frontman used to go to Reading Comp with Tish,’ said Sam. ‘He’s a total wanker.’
‘I’m getting that vibe,’ I said.
‘If they win again this year, I’m gonna lose it,’ Carter muttered, and I was suddenly glad he was Chelsea’s problem. If he needed a sensitive female ear while he pretended the judging was rigged, it wasn’t going to be mine.
‘All right!’ the emcee called out. ‘The judges have made their deliberations. It was a very close call, a hard decision, yo, but your brave judges have done it!’ I grabbed Carter’s hand and we stood together, braced like protestors against riot police. The emcee continued, ‘The name of the lucky band who’ll be playing the street party at the Henley-On-Thames Royal Regatta is …’
Sam reached for my other hand and I kept a tight grip on them both as the emcee tore his envelope open.
‘… Lay-dee Stardust!’
Carter grabbed me first, hoisting me into the air by the waist. Then I pulled in Sam and Richie and Tish and we leapt and screamed and ran up to the stage to take our prize.
•
Richie’s place was in Henley, on the opposite riverbank from the academy. He tied the speedboat to a spotlit mooring at the end of the lawn, and we went inside through a set of floor-to-ceiling French doors that opened onto a room filled with heavy antiques. Creeping through to the kitchen, Richie raided his parents’ liquor cabinet, offering around Baileys and Scotch. I made myself tea while Sam found a review of the night on his phone.
‘The surprise winner was four-piece Lady Stardust from Reading Comprehensive, a rousing punk band with pop sensibilities. Liliana Donadi on guitar and vocals has a husky but soulful voice and gave a tough, high-energy performance’ – Sam raised his own cup of tea to me in a mock salute – ‘and Carter Tankeret – they’ve spelled your name wrong there, mate – on lead guitar had a strong stage presence.’
I squeezed Carter’s shoulders.
‘No mention of yours truly, the backbone of the whole operation,’ Sam added without a trace of surprise, then continued. ‘“Cat and Mouse” got the crowd moving, but the revelation was party anthem “King Cutie”, which showcased their deft songwriting, intricate guitar and slick lyrics.’ He paused, grinning. ‘We need to capitalise on this. See if we can get a weekly gig out of it. Imagine how good we’d be if we could try out new songs on an actual audience every week in the lead-up to the Regatta show!’
‘It’d be great, but we only get three night passes a term. I can’t exactly say I’m going to the movies every Wednesday night,’ I said.
‘Plus, we’re underage: no pub is gonna let us play,’ Carter pointed out.
‘I’m not underage,’ muttered Sam.
‘We don’t need to test out our songs,’ said Carter. The alcohol had raised his voice and Richie hissed at him to stay quiet. ‘We’ve got Liliana. She’s our secret weapon. All she had to do was play a twenty-year-old riff and they were eating from the palm of her hand.’
‘Try thirty years,’ Sam corrected him. ‘“Blister In The Sun” is early eighties.’
I was taken aback by the admiration in Carter’s voice. He ran his guitar pick lightly up my forearm.
‘Thought I didn’t notice?’ he said.
•
The gardener was already on the ride-on mower and freshly cut grass clung to my sneakers as Carter and I ran up to the schoolhouse. When we reached the verandah, I hesitated, not ready for the night to be over.
‘Tonight was wild,’ I said.
‘You’re wild,’ he said. ‘Fucking “Blister In The Sun”.’
He was a little unsteady from the whisky, or at least that was what I told myself as he looped his arm around my waist and pulled me up to the front door. Chelsea’s phone number was starting to rub off the back of his hand.
‘I think tonight was the best night of my life.’
I laughed, looking up at his electric eyes, then he leaned in towards me. Panic rose in my throat but I didn’t move away, didn’t try to, didn’t want to, wanted the complete opposite, and his soft mouth skimmed mine and who knows what would’ve happened next if the door hadn’t suddenly opened behind us. We fell backwards, right into Ms Marney and Verity, who was wearing last night’s clothes and a triumphant expression.
CHAPTER 11
‘Our international exchange program is one of the most sought-after in the world.’ Ms Marney was just hitting her stride, but at least she’d left Verity outside her office. ‘We selected you from two hundred applicants across the world even though it’s rare not to give the spot to a classical musician. We have rules to ensure you get the most out of the program. I don’t just make them up for my own entertainment.’
Carter sat in the uncomfortable-looking antique chair in the corner of her office. I could still feel the skirmish of his lips on mine.
‘In all the years we’ve run this program we’ve never had to send anyone home, but your continuous deception has left me with no choice.’
The air went out of me. ‘You can’t send me home!’
‘I can and I will. Unless you have some kind of compelling reason why I shouldn’t.’
When I’d told Dad I’d won the exchange, he couldn’t wait to get on the phone to Nonna, who’d taken us all out for dinner and presented me with a cheque of spending money. Dad had always been a hundred per cent behind my music, even though he described himself as ‘musically
illiterate’. There was no way he’d understand how I could have blown this opportunity. Phoenix would think I was mad.
And that didn’t even touch on Ellie.
My skin went cold. Last night, when we’d realised we’d won, I’d clutched the boys and jumped around and hadn’t thought to call her. I hadn’t thought about her as we’d received our cheque or when Sam had read the glowing review aloud at Richie’s place. And I certainly hadn’t thought about her when Carter had reached for me outside the schoolhouse.
The clock behind Ms Marney showed it was almost ten. I’d missed Ellie by hours. Carter broke into my thoughts. ‘It wasn’t Liliana’s fault. She just got in with a bad crowd.’
Ms Marney raised a curious eyebrow. ‘Are you referring to yourself there?’
‘Yes, actually.’ He looked stoked. ‘And Richie Jameson.’
‘I heard he was part of this mess,’ she said, and I wondered if there was anything Verity had kept to herself.
‘When you caught me and Richie last year, you said it was my final chance,’ Carter went on. ‘Well, why doesn’t Liliana get a first chance, and a second, like I did? Or is that only reserved for kids whose parents give a lot of money to the school?’
The sinew in Ms Marney’s neck tightened. ‘Carter, I’d be very careful.’
‘Why should I be? You’re going to expel me now anyway. But it’s not fair to expel Liliana for a first offence.’
‘Please give me another chance,’ I said. ‘I’m really sorry.’
‘I won’t have you missing Chapel, Liliana. I want to see you in the hall every day. And there’ll be no more sneaking off to the boathouse after Lights Out.’ Her eyes were slits behind her tortoiseshell glasses. ‘I mean it.’
I nodded, elated. I would have agreed to anything, but Carter had tougher skin. He glanced slyly from one of us to the other.
‘What about the Regatta gig?’ he said. ‘How are we meant to rehearse?’
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