I Was Born for This

by Alice Oseman

  ‘What?’

  ‘I think that Jimmy needs to solve his own problems. And I think you need to solve yours.’

  He doesn’t say this in a mean way, like he wants me to leave or anything. He says it in this gentle tone, like he feels sorry for me.

  ‘I know a fair bit about the fans of Jimmy’s band,’ says Piero. ‘I may be eighty-four, but I keep myself informed about what goes on in this world.’

  He pauses.

  ‘And the saddest thing about you fans,’ he says, ‘is that you don’t care about yourselves.’

  I stare at him.

  ‘You would give your lives for these boys. You cling to them like you’re reaching out to a god. They practically keep you alive. But beneath that, and if you took all that away, you fundamentally do not value yourself.’ He sighs. ‘All your love is given away. You leave nothing for yourself.’

  ‘I-I don’t think we’re all like that,’ I stammer.

  ‘But I think you are,’ says Piero, looking directly at me.

  ‘You … you don’t really know me.’

  ‘I know that you came to a tiny Kentish village, from London, with a boy you barely know in real life, without telling your friends or family, just because he seemed a bit unsettled.’

  I feel a pang of sudden dislike for Piero Ricci.

  ‘I know he asked you for help,’ says Piero, ‘but the trouble is, while asking for help is always good, it’s impossible to keep relying on others to solve your problems for you. There comes a point where you have to help yourself. Believe in yourself.’

  ‘Are you talking about Jimmy or are you talking about me?’ I say.

  He smiles and says, ‘You tell me.’

  Grandad was kind of right. I don’t think I’ve been under-eating, but my old clothes fit me again, despite thinking I’d grown and broadened out. How am I just as thin and small as I was at fourteen? It’s not like I’ve been starving myself. Have I?

  My bedroom feels smaller. It does every single time I come back here, like it’s gradually shrinking and one day it’ll crush me completely. I’ve barely changed it since I stopped living here. There are band posters on the walls. Stickers all over the wardrobe. Stuffed toys on the bed. An old guitar in the corner of the room. The bedsheets are black and white stripes. I add the art book Grandad gave me to the bookcase, then change my mind and put it on my bedside table instead.

  I strip out of my clothes, making sure to take my knife out of my jeans pocket. I feel its weight in my hands. Strange how comforted I feel just holding it. Strange how I feel so much for one simple object. Even if I threw it away, nothing would change.

  I put it on my bedside table too and then get into bed in just my boxers. I’m still kind of damp, and my hair is still wet, but the duvet is thick and warm and snuggly. Feel like I’m sinking and I could keep on sinking until I disappear into the bed and emerge into another universe.

  I’ve done something stupid, coming here. Just to have a little cry on my grandad’s shoulder. My own little pity party.

  I’ve done something even more stupid, asking some fangirl to come with me, just because people on trains scare me, and I thought she was a nice person.

  But there is one thing I am sure of. One thing I know is the right decision now. Not stupid. Not sad. Not pitiful.

  I’m freeing myself.

  I’m leaving The Ark.

  ‘hold the crucifix up before my eyes so i may see it until i die.’

  – Joan of Arc

  Everything is chaos from the moment I wake up on an air bed in Piero Ricci’s study, surrounded by piles of art books, being stared down by a large painting of Jesus.

  I don’t even have to go on Twitter to hear the news. I get a little notification from the BBC News app, which I rarely use. The title is:

  The Ark frontman Jimmy Kaga-Ricci goes missing during chat show recording

  Bit dramatic. But kind of realistic.

  I guess no one knows where he is.

  It also appears that I have gone missing too, judging by the number of missed calls, texts, and Facebook messages I have from Juliet.

  Juliet Schwartz

  Angel are you okay?? Fair enough you wanted to go home but are you safe?? Did you get home okay? I’m really worried I haven’t seen you tweeting or on Tumblr or anything. did you get home okay? Please just message me or call me back. You’ve just disappeared and I’m really worried.

  There’s also a text from Dad.

  Dad

  Heard on the radio that one of your band boys has gone missing? Sounds serious. Hope you’re okay. Text me soon. xxx

  Thank God, he doesn’t know where I am. I text him back. Don’t worry, I’m fine. Probably just a media overreaction.

  There are more texts and messages, but they all sort of say the same thing, until I get to one of the last ones from Juliet.

  Juliet Schwartz

  ANGEL. I just saw a photo of Jimmy on a train and … YOU’RE THERE? You’re with him??? It’s a blurry photo but it’s definitely you, I recognise your hoodie … What the FUCK … please tell me what the fuck is happening. The internet says he’s gone to Kent so I assume you’re there too!? Why??? What the fuck Angel?? What the fuck are you doing??

  I quickly go through all the photos taken of Jimmy on the run; there are only a few that I’m in. And they’re blurry. You can clearly tell we’re together, but I’m not identifiable. That’s good.

  God, it’s not easy to hide when you’re an internationally famous celebrity, is it?

  I feel a pang of guilt. Juliet was worried about me. Of course she was. She’s my friend. Shit, I should have gone back to her.

  I send her a half-hearted message back, not really knowing what else to say.

  Angel Rahimi

  Hi I’m safe everything is fine

  Jimmy is still in bed and I am drinking a cup of tea in the kitchen when there are several very loud bangs on the front door of the bungalow.

  Piero, who is already up and dressed, sighs and lifts himself up from the table.

  ‘That’ll be the boys,’ he says, and the way he says ‘the boys’ reminds me of the way the fans always call them ‘our boys’. The Boys. Our Boys.

  Then it sinks in properly.

  Rowan Omondi and Lister Bird are here.

  I hear Piero open the door and he starts to say, ‘Hello,’ but somebody starts speaking over him immediately.

  ‘All right, where the fuck is he? I’m going to fucking kill him. Is he okay? Did he make it here okay?’

  The voice changes from stern to deeply concerned so quickly that it’s difficult to identify who exactly is talking, but when the figure storms through the hallway and past the kitchen door, I realise that, of course, it’s Rowan.

  He steps backwards and peers in at me through the door, frowning.

  ‘I’ve got a fucking bone to pick with you in a minute,’ he says, pointing directly at me, and then continues walking.

  It’s absolutely fascinating. I’ve never seen Rowan angry before.

  Lister Bird slopes after him, looking freezing and soaked in just a plain white T-shirt and joggers. He shoots me a guilty look as he walks past the doorway, but doesn’t say anything.

  This really is not exactly how I wanted to meet The Ark – make-up-less, wearing an old lady’s clothes, them probably thinking I’m a kidnapper of some sort – but you take what you can get.

  My entire body jumps as I wake up and realise that I am being violently shaken from side to side. I unglue my eyelids and try to focus, a strangled ‘Wh-what’ leaving my lips, and realise that the person shaking me is none other than Rowan Omondi.

  ‘You fucking dickhead,’ he shouts too loud. Oh God, what have I done? ‘You absolute fucking dickhead, I can’t fucking believe you did this to us. Why didn’t you reply to my fucking messages? I can’t believe we had to fucking drive all the way to fucking Kent just to come and get you. Why don’t you ever fucking tell me anything—’

  Lister is standi
ng next to him. He pats Rowan gently on the back. ‘Okay, Ro, you can stop shaking him like a bloody snow globe now.’

  Rowan opens his mouth to continue shouting, but then closes it again, and he stops shaking me. Then he sits down on the bed next to me and pulls me up and into a hug.

  ‘Jesus fucking Christ, I thought you’d been kidnapped. Thank God I still remember your fucking home phone number. God, look at you, sleeping in this tiny bed with a knife on your bedside table. Like, you could hurt yourself. God.’

  He moves back from me, keeping his hands on my shoulders. He looks me up and down. I can see myself, blinking and disoriented, reflected in his glasses.

  ‘Are you all right? Did anything happen? Is there something you’re not telling me?’

  I clear my throat, feeling still half asleep and confused. ‘Er … those are three different questions.’

  He shakes his head. ‘Why did you come here, Jimmy?’

  Why?

  ‘I don’t want to be in The Ark any more,’ I say, my voice barely more than a whisper.

  Rowan and Lister stare down at me.

  ‘All right,’ says Rowan, ‘where’s that girl? She’s got some explaining to do.’

  He leaves the room but Lister stays. He rummages in my wardrobe, and chucks a T-shirt at me. I stay very still, not quite able to process what I’m supposed to be doing.

  ‘You’re not naked under there, are you?’ he says, raising an eyebrow and leaning against the wardrobe.

  ‘What’s the time?’

  ‘It’s nearly one in the afternoon.’

  Nearly one. I think I was sixteen the last time I slept in until one.

  I put the T-shirt on and get out of bed.

  ‘Maybe some trousers too?’

  ‘Oh.’ I grab my old chinos off the floor and put them on. Lister waits and watches me passively.

  ‘Sorry to make you come here,’ I say.

  ‘Yeah,’ he says.

  I look up at him. He looks cold and unlike himself. No smile.

  ‘I really am sorry,’ I say. Well, it’s more of a hoarse, sleepy whisper. ‘I really … hate myself. I wish I –’

  Lister looks me in the eyes, suddenly fearful.

  ‘Don’t say what I think you’re going to say,’ he says.

  ‘Sorry,’ I say, but he’s already worked out what I was going to say. I wish I wasn’t alive.

  ‘Like, who the fuck even are you? No fucking offence, but who the fuck are you?’ Rowan is gesturing at Angel aggressively with one hand. They’re standing on opposite sides of the table. Angel looks like she’s not sure whether she’s starstruck or about to cry.

  ‘Can we please tone down the language, Rowan?’ Grandad mutters from one corner of the kitchen.

  ‘Yeah, sorry, but this girl –’ he points at her like she’s one of the kitchen chairs – ‘she’s been creeping around The Ark all week. She literally spent a whole night at that fandom meet-up with Bliss on Tuesday.’

  I wonder if I’m still dreaming. Bliss? How would Angel know Bliss?

  I look at Angel. She is staring, wide-eyed, at Rowan, frozen in her chair.

  Rowan nods at her. ‘Yep. I know all about that. You think my girlfriend wouldn’t have told me that? She’s my girlfriend. She told me all about you. Your name’s Angel, isn’t it?’

  Lister snaps his head round to face Rowan. ‘Wait – Angel?’ He looks at me. ‘Is this Angel? Angel from the bathroom?’

  Rowan nods. ‘Yeah.’

  Everyone looks at Angel.

  She forces a short laugh. ‘“Angel from the bathroom” … Jenny from the Block’s slightly more awkward younger sister?’

  No one laughs with her.

  ‘And then,’ Rowan continues, ‘Jimmy disappears and I see pictures of Angel and Jimmy on the internet and then Bliss messages me out of nowhere, like, Rowan, I know this girl – which, by the way, is the first I’ve heard from Bliss since Tuesday night – and then next thing I know Jimmy’s going off with her on the train to Kent? Like, I think I deserve an explanation, all right?’ He looks around the room, waiting for someone to nod and agree with him. No one does anything.

  ‘It was my decision—’ I start to say, but he interrupts me.

  ‘You don’t know what you’re fucking doing half the time, Jimmy. I bet if she hadn’t encouraged you, you would have been totally fine. You do realise we had to cancel the whole chat show thing, don’t you? And the fucking contract. Cecily is freaking out.’ He holds his phone up to me. ‘She’s texting me, like, demanding that I bring you back—’

  ‘Angel didn’t do anything; it was my decision to come here and it’s my decision to leave The Ark—’

  ‘No, you can’t make decisions like that by yourself—’

  ‘You want to leave The Ark?’ Angel whispers faintly in the background, but none of us respond to her.

  I feel myself starting to shout at Rowan. ‘Stop treating me like I’m younger and dumber than you!’

  Rowan falters, his eyebrows furrowed. ‘I’m not! It’s just … you’re more fragile than … than …’

  ‘What? Than you and Lister?’

  Rowan steps towards where I’m standing in the door frame. ‘Well, yeah, basically!’

  ‘I’m not fragile! Why do you always treat me like a baby?!’

  ‘Because you’re the one who does shit like this! Who just ups and leaves us right before we’re recording for fucking primetime television!’

  Grandad steps forward a little. ‘All right, enough. Arguing like this isn’t going to solve anything.’

  I glance at Angel. She’s not crying, thankfully. I thought she might cry. I mean, I would cry if my idol started shouting at me.

  ‘Okay, well, fair enough if you need a break,’ says Rowan. ‘Fair enough if you want to see your grandad. Could have chosen a better time, but fair enough.’ He turns on the spot and points once again at Angel. ‘But I don’t want this fangirl anywhere near us. I don’t know what the fuck you want, but you’re creeping me the fuck out, and this is entirely your fault.’

  Angel opens her mouth and stammers, ‘I-I can leave … it’s fine—’

  But at the same time, I say, ‘She doesn’t need to leave; she’s not what you think. I wanted to come here and she helped me—’

  ‘They’re all the same, Jimmy,’ Rowan spits, rolling his eyes. ‘The fans all just want to take pictures of us, fuck us or watch us fuck each other. That’s all they want.’

  ‘Right, I’m not having any more of this,’ Grandad barks, and grips Rowan firmly on the shoulder. ‘You go into the living room. Angel can stay in here. I don’t want to hear any raised voices or any swearing. We’re going to have an adult conversation about what Jimmy wants and what is the best course of action. All right?’

  Everyone is silent.

  Then Rowan mutters, ‘All right.’ He slinks out of the kitchen, giving me a stern look as he walks past me.

  ‘All right, Jimmy?’

  I look at Grandad. He reminds me of when he used to tell me off for coming home late after school due to band practice.

  ‘All right,’ I say.

  Lister’s tapping his hand rapidly against the side of his leg. He catches my eye, and then turns and follows Rowan and Grandad into the living room.

  I look at Angel.

  ‘Sorry,’ I say to her, hoping that sums it up.

  She huffs out a small laugh and then sits down in a chair.

  ‘Not your fault,’ she says, and it sounds like she’s blaming herself.

  So. Rowan hates his own fans. Genuinely did not see that one coming.

  It’s definitely my fault that all of this is happening. I should have said no when Jimmy asked me to come with him. Then maybe he wouldn’t have gone, he wouldn’t be trying to leave The Ark, and Rowan and Jimmy wouldn’t be literally destroying their relationship in front of my eyes.

  Rowan shouting at me wasn’t too bad. But watching Rowan and Jimmy argue was like watching the world tear itself into two. Wha
t can I do? God. I can’t do anything. What if they stop speaking because of me? What if they fall out of love because of me? What if they hate each other because of me?

  Oh God.

  What have I done?

  Everything is my fault.

  Why am I here?

  What is my life?

  I stand up from the kitchen table, shoving the chair back. Everyone else is in the living room. No one sees me run to the study, shove all my not-quite-dry clothes into my suitcase and put a jumper on. No one sees me hoist my rucksack onto my back and pull my suitcase down the hallway. No one sees me open the door and walk right out without saying a thing.

  It is still raining. So heavily, now, that you can’t actually see very far ahead. It feels like a nightmare.

  Maybe this is all a nightmare. Or is it a dream? I can’t tell the difference any more.

  I pull my suitcase down Piero Ricci’s driveway and onto the empty road. It lands with a splash that completely soaks my socks, and when I look down I realise that the road is pretty much one giant puddle. Maybe the taxi driver was right about the flooding. Across the road are a few more cottages, but beyond that are just blurry fields. The world seems deserted, dissolving in the rain.

  I stop walking.

  What am I doing?

  Where am I going?

  Who am I without The Ark?

  I fish my phone out of my pocket and call home. Someone picks up after two rings.

  ‘Hello?’

  I wipe rain out of my eyes. It’s Mum.

  Didn’t realise how much I missed her voice.

  ‘Hi, Mum, it’s me.’

  Is she still angry? Is she going to shout at me? I thought Dad would pick up the phone.

  ‘Fereshteh.’ She waits for me to speak, but I don’t. ‘Your dad said you aren’t coming home until tomorrow after all.’

  My knees feel weak suddenly, like I really need to sit down.

  ‘I don’t know what I’m doing, Mum,’ I say.

  ‘Fereshteh, what is it? Tell me. Tell your maman. I’m here, my girl. I’m here.’