‘Zo, maybe let’s all take a breath,’ Prakash says.
‘She’s right, he’s ancient!’ Violet calls out from behind them, holding up Darius’s ID. She’s picked up his wallet from the ground. ‘Look! And he gets even older next month.’
Darius steps closer. ‘Joke’s over, give it back.’
Violet looks at the ID again. ‘And he lives at the resort!’ she says, waving it around.
‘You’re kidding,’ Prakash says.
Akito gasps. ‘Wait, so that rooftop hot tub is yours, man? Sweet.’
‘Not the point, Akito,’ Zoë says, rolling her eyes.
Violet pulls a small bag filled with a few coloured pills out of Darius’s wallet. ‘Hey, what are these?’
‘Violet . . .’ Luca warns, swearing under his breath.
Darius’s jaw has hardened. ‘Give me my stuff,’ he says, taking a step towards Violet. ‘Now.’
‘We want our money first,’ Violet tells him.
He shrugs. ‘I don’t have it. Check for yourself.’
She leafs through his wallet, swears, and throws it at his feet. ‘I can’t believe I ever let you kiss me.’
‘Whatever,’ he says, stuffing his wallet into his jeans pocket. Without another word, he legs it down the laneway.
‘Stay the hell away from us, bro!’ Akito yells as Darius disappears into the night.
Zoë shakes her head. ‘Ding dong, the creep is gone.’
‘He made my skin crawl,’ Greta says. ‘We should report that guy.’
‘We didn’t get our money!’ Violet groans. ‘And you all saw the pills, right? He’s dodgy.’
‘Duh,’ Zoë says.
‘This is bullshit,’ Akito says. ‘How about that stolen couch and graffiti too?’
‘It’s suss as,’ Luca says.
Violet purses her lips. ‘I bet he owes money or something.’
‘Shake it off, Violet,’ Prakash says. ‘You’ll be living off telling this story for months.’
Zoë yawns. ‘Can we go back to the resort? I’m exhausted.’
Greta raises an eyebrow. ‘You mean back to where he lives?’
‘We’ll lock the doors,’ Zoë says.
‘And I’ll be security,’ Akito adds.
‘More like Violet and Zoë will, man,’ Prakash says with a grin. ‘You two dragged him.’
‘And now I’m drained and ready to go full sloth,’ Zoë says. ‘Someone get me a recliner.’
Violet twirls around to show off her fairy wings. ‘But we look so adorable, Zo,’ she whines. ‘Let’s go clubbing! I can’t let the last person I kiss this week be him. Ew!’
‘It’s been a day though,’ Zoë says. ‘Although . . . maybe we could hit up the beach cinema?’
‘I’m listening,’ Prakash says.
Luca nods. ‘We can get comfy in beanbags.’
‘And eat all the pizza we want,’ adds Zoë.
‘And ice-cream,’ chimes in Akito.
‘You’re all boring and suck for ganging up on me,’ Violet says, then breaks into a grin. ‘But there’ll be boys there, so throw in lollies and you’ve got a deal.’
Samira
Day 6: 10.13pm
The band leave their instruments onstage and disappear into the wings. Tilly elbows Samira in the side as the lights fade to black and the crowd roars Alotta Peach’s name, begging her to return for an encore.
Everyone in the stadium stomps their feet and thunders as one when gold confetti strips and balloons rain down. Samira stands on her tippy-toes, her fingertips grazing the falling balloons.
Moments later, lights flash red and a siren sounds. Samira looks up to see Alotta Peach raising a diamanté-covered microphone to her lips. She’s high above the crowd, dressed as a peach and perched on a giant swing. Her birthmark, which runs beneath her eye and across her cheek to her right ear, is outlined with sequins.
The beat kicks in and Alotta’s husky voice cuts through the noise.
‘Our girl!’ Tilly wails, gripping Kris’s and Harry’s arms. ‘An encore! She’s back! She’s doing it!’
She’s broken but strong
And she’s dancing alone
But the monster is moving on
No more tears left to cry
She’s awake for the first time
And the monster is moving on
‘I don’t know this song,’ Tilly says, wiping away tears. ‘This isn’t the usual encore! Am I in heaven?’
Alotta waves as she flies above the crowd, never once falling out of tune.
The nights are still long
And she’s holding on tight
But the monster is moving on
She’ll fight for her life
She’ll fight for her rights
And the monster is dead and gone
As the swing is lowered towards the screaming audience, some jostle to create space for it, while others surge forward to get closer.
Alotta gracefully slides onto the shoulders of two dancers, who carry her up the sweeping stairs onto the stage. She steps into a lone spotlight, one hand gripping the microphone. She lifts her other hand, calming the crowd in seconds. The music falls away and the stadium rings with the sound of her voice.
She’s finally free
She tore down all the walls
And the monster is dead and gone
The lights go out. More confetti strips fall as the audience swells in a standing ovation. It’s so powerful that Samira’s cheeks hurt from screaming.
Finally, the spotlight reappears and Alotta steps into its circle and lifts the microphone to her lips.
‘Hello again, my Peachies,’ she begins.
The crowd rumbles with excitement. Someone screeches, ‘We love you, Alotta!’
She blows a kiss in their direction and more cries echo through the stadium. Alotta lifts her hand again and waits for silence to fall.
‘Before tonight’s show, lightning bolts were rocketing inside my brain,’ she says. ‘My chest hurt. Stage fright can be palpable. But then something happened: I met a few beautiful humans in an alleyway. And afterwards, sitting in my dressing room and reflecting on what we’d spoken about, it was clear: I love every part of this ride — even the tough bits.’ The crowd thunders but she raises her hand again. ‘Especially the tough bits. They make me strong and they make me who I am. But most of all, I love everyone in this room!’
The crowd screams again as more gold confetti and balloons float down.
Tilly leans in closer to Samira. ‘I adore her so much that I’m about to have a heart attack,’ she hisses. ‘Or wet my pants. Possibly at the same time.’
‘Understandable,’ Samira says with a grin, her gaze locked on the stage.
‘I always want to give you more,’ Alotta continues. ‘So that last song? It’s called “Monster” and it’s not out for a few months, so that was a little surprise even for my stage manager.’ She beams at someone in the wings. ‘Sorry, I’ll buy you dinner tomorrow!’
The audience laughs and Tilly clings to Samira. ‘Yep, heart attack is imminent. I may also be having an out-of-body experience.’
‘My Peachies,’ Alotta says, ‘I needed to share that song with you tonight. It couldn’t wait another day. I need you to know you can level up, despite any voices in your head telling you you’re not good enough. You can change your future, despite past mistakes. You can fall over and get up and try again, no matter what monsters try to scare you into believing you can’t. You don’t need anyone’s approval except your own. I love you so much and you can live your way, baby!’
Dancers holding a sparkling rainbow parachute form a circle around Alotta and she disappears behind the shimmery material. It balloons in and out, and then the dancers let go and the parachute drops to the stage floor.
Alotta is revealed dressed in a gold catsuit. She growls and the familiar beat of ‘Live Your Way’ kicks in.
I nearly ran away
To start things over
Inste
ad I’m gonna
Take what’s mine
Live your way
Live your way
Live your way, sweet baby
Samira’s fingers find her Alotta Peach bangle. Tears glisten in her eyes as the music soars and Alotta prowls around the stage.
There’s a fire
Inside my soul
Getting up, getting out
Like I want
Live your way
Live your way
Live your way, sweet baby
Live your way
Live your way
Oh, oh, live your way, baby
Pyrotechnics sparkle at the end of the song and the stage falls into darkness. The audience begs for more, but this time the house lights go up. The show is over.
Samira and the Peachies huddle together as Tilly snaps photos, then Harry scoops up some of the confetti strips from the floor.
‘Look,’ he says, holding them out. ‘There are lyrics printed on them!’
Tilly gasps. ‘She’s never done that before.’
‘Iconic,’ Kris says.
Samira crouches down to pick up a strip of sparkling gold next to her foot. She turns it over and reads the words There’s a fire inside my soul, before slipping it into her pocket.
Day 7
Samira
Day 7: 12.11am
Samira lies on her bed in full costume and stares up at the ceiling. She’s still buzzing from the concert. Beside her sits her packed suitcase and a ripped copy of Alotta’s set list. She rolls onto her side to look at it again. The edges are covered in tape, some songs have been crossed off and new ones scribbled in. Alotta’s handwriting scrawls across the corner of the page:
For Sammy the Warrior, who’s free at last.
Keep showing the monsters who’s boss.
Alotta xox
It’s a gift from Tilly after her VIP meet-and-greet with Alotta, during which Alotta touched Tilly’s shoulder for two seconds, her right hand for three seconds and her back for five seconds when the Peachies joined her for a photo.
Samira lingers on the phrase free at last, then places the set list on the bedside table. A small smile twitches her mouth every time she steals a glance at it.
Her phone buzzes. Tilly.
Sammy! Check my pulse tomoz? I think being in the presence of her greatness killed me
Samira laughs and flops back on the bed.
Unable to resist, she does a quick scroll through social media and sees Anoush and the group partying at Dan’s earlier in the night. There’s Zain and Mathieu lounging on oversized blow-up doughnuts in the pool, and Rashida posing in a tiny bikini while sipping from a coconut.
Samira sits up and keeps scrolling. On Anoush’s feed, there’s a group photo in front of a row of palm trees with a caption saying #squadgoals. On Claire’s feed, she sees Claire has changed her profile picture to a shot of Anoush and Rashida kissing her cheeks. In another of Claire’s photos, Mathieu, Zain and Rashida dancing is stamped with the header #myfriendsarebetterthanyourfriends.
It stings to admit it, but the longer Samira stares at the photos, the clearer it is that, other than Anoush, she doesn’t truly know these people. Not beyond surface level. Not in a way she’d ever consider them real friends.
Suddenly, there’s a loud shriek. ‘Samira, you’re here! You scared me!’
She looks up to see Anoush in the doorway, balancing awkwardly in heels.
‘Omigod, do I look that bad?’ Samira jokes with a weak smile.
Anoush teeters towards her. ‘Nah, girl, I just wasn’t expecting to see you tonight.’
‘I could say the same about you.’
‘I need sleep, like, so bad,’ Anoush says. ‘My body’s going to be covered in bruises from falling over so much at the rollerskating rink.’ She pauses, taking in Samira’s look. ‘What’s with the boots and wig?’
‘Alotta Peach concert, remember?’ Samira points to the plastic sword and shield in the corner.
‘Oh. You still went?’
Samira nods. ‘Yeah.’
‘It’s a whole vibe, huh?’
‘Kinda. It was pretty amazing,’ Samira says, sitting up and pulling off the silver knee-high boots. ‘The perfect way to end the trip.’
‘You’re leaving early? No!’ Anoush perches on the corner of the bed. ‘Because of Zain?’
‘Because of lots of things. The new ticket’s booked for tomorrow.’ She glances at the time on her phone. ‘Well, technically today, I guess.’
‘Cancel it. We can all head back together as planned.’
‘If there’s anything I’ve learnt this week, it’s that plans change,’ Samira says. ‘I’m ready to go. I don’t want to be in this house any more.’
‘I guess it’s, like, been a long few days for you,’ Anoush says. She hangs her head in her hands. ‘Shit, I . . . Samira, I have to tell you something. It’s been weighing on me.’
‘Yeah?’
‘Don’t hate me, but I knew Zain wanted to break up,’ she says in a rush.
Samira nods. ‘I know.’
Anoush peeks through her fingers. ‘Really? You do?’ She swears under her breath. ‘I’m so sorry I lied. The situation snowballed and I didn’t know what to do.’
Samira swallows. She’s been waiting for the right moment to face Anoush and this is it. ‘So is that what happened with the bitching too? It snowballed?’
Anoush raises an eyebrow. ‘What do you mean?’
‘The other day . . . I heard you all talking about me before Dan’s party.’
‘I . . . I didn’t say anything.’
‘You said, or didn’t say, enough.’ Samira’s voice grows stronger; she’s no longer worried about the outcome or upsetting Anoush. ‘Stalker? Clueless? And let’s not forget she’s not one of us. I’m supposed to be cool with all that?’
‘Samira, listen, I’m sorry . . .’ Anoush slides closer. ‘You know what they’re like — they love the drama. It means nothing.’
‘Maybe not to you. It means something to me though. Imagine if you overheard them calling you tragic behind your back? You’d be so hurt.’
Anoush nods. ‘I know. But I swear Rashida and Claire aren’t so bad once you get to know them.’
‘Well, I guess I really don’t know them because they seem pretty horrible to me,’ Samira says. ‘The worst part isn’t even that I heard you bitching about me too. It’s that I thought we were friends, like, close friends. Turns out I was just an annoying assignment the teachers lumped you with.’
‘Samira, no! That’s not true. I’m sorry you heard all that. And I’m even sorrier I said what I did. It was awful. And we were friends. We are.’
She totters over to her open beauty bag on the chest of drawers and pulls out a handful of colourful nail polishes.
‘What are you doing?’ Samira asks.
Anoush looks at her with watery eyes. ‘We planned a girls’ pampering session and it never happened, so I’m painting your nails. Toes or fingers? Your choice.’
‘It’s fine. You’re tipsy and I’m over it. I just want to go to sleep.’
‘Please,’ Anoush says, her voice trembling. She sits on the bed next to Samira. ‘I can’t have you leaving tomorrow without things being okay with us. I got lost in the drama, caught up with Dan. I screwed up.’
Samira bites her lip. ‘The thing is, I’m glad Dan’s been making you happy. You deserve that. He does make you happy, right? He’s treating you well? Respectful?’
Anoush nods. ‘And I love that you care about that for me.’
‘Of course.’
‘It’s only a holiday thing, I guess — it’s not like he’s from our side of the country — but he’s a good guy. We might even stay friends . . . well, until he gets a cute girlfriend and my head explodes with jealousy.’
Samira laughs. ‘Tick, tick, boom.’
‘I’m sorry I haven’t been around,’ Anoush says, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. ‘It’s, like, being her
e, away from our real lives, helped me to escape this year, you know? The final year of school’s intense. Like, I still don’t think I’ve come down from it. But I never wanted to be the girl who puts a guy before her friends.’
‘Even if he’s amazing?’
‘Even then. And I know things are going to change soon with me moving away—’
‘Don’t stress,’ Samira cuts in, her cheeks burning. ‘I’m not under any illusion that we’ll be hanging out. I’m not like the girls — I get it. I’m me, and that’s never going to change.’
‘What I was going to say is we can still catch up when I come home for holidays.’
‘You’d want that?’
‘Yeah. The two of us, away from the drama. And you’re glorious just as you are.’
Samira smiles. ‘Can I quote you on that?’
‘It’s a date,’ Anoush says, fanning out the polishes on the bedspread. ‘Now, can I paint your nails?’
Zoë
Day 7: 6.13am
The sky shimmers pale pink as Zoë walks out onto the balcony. Prakash is stretched out in the hammock, eating watermelon and flicking through his phone.
‘Morning, Zo. You’re up and at it.’
‘I couldn’t sleep,’ she says. ‘How about you, early bird?’
‘We crashed out after the cinema.’ He passes her a slice of melon. ‘Didn’t need any more.’
‘We’ll be the first ones at the markets,’ she says, taking a bite and sending juice dribbling over her chin. ‘Greta and Luca are keen too.’
He waves her closer. ‘Here, check this out.’
Zoë grins and clambers into the hammock with him. ‘It’s not more of Violet’s videos, is it? I saw she got her wish and ended up at a club with Akito.’
He laughs. ‘They did, big time, but that’s not it. I got a reminder on my profile and this memory’s sent me into a nostalgia vortex.’
She takes Prakash’s phone for a better look. It’s a photo of them from two years earlier, taken after their last day of work experience. She’d gone to the local hospital, he’d gone to a radio station. They’re both beaming and Zoë clutches a piece of paper.
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