by Chris Vick
“Port fucking Barrow,” G complained. “That’s three miles away.”
“Four. We’d better get walking,” said Rag.
We headed for the cliff path. It was a short cut. Apparently.
We walked heads down, using torches to find the way. G had a bottle of vodka. He poured a little on the ground.
“Libations,” he said.
“Libations,” the others echoed back at him. Not me though. I wasn’t into superstitions. We passed around the vodka as we walked. There were spliffs too. No one said anything about it being my birthday.
“So,” I said, “anyone been to one of these before?”
“Nah, not this lot,” said Big G.
Silence. I thought everyone would be more excited than they were.
But then I figured maybe none of us had been to a full-on warehouse party or rave before. They just weren’t letting on. Maybe no one had been to a party that wasn’t in someone’s front room, when their parents were away. This was new. In some ways it was as big a deal as surfing the Horns. At least we – or the others – knew what we were doing when it came to surfing. On this trip we were all out of our depth. For once I wasn’t the only kook. G passed me the vodka. I took a long slug.
As we walked I kept thinking about what Rag had said in the cafe. I’m gonna get you off your face. He meant drugs. Not just spliff, something to get us dancing like bug-eyed, shape-throwing loonies. Dancing like monkeys. Till dawn probably. I wasn’t exactly scared, just aware I was getting into something I’d never done. I had butterflies in my gut. I didn’t like them being there. So I drowned them with more vodka.
*
We walked for hours.
After a leg-knackering climb from a tiny beach to the clifftop, Skip stopped. I stopped too, took the chance to veer off into a field for a piss.
I looked up. Stars. Billions of them. Not staying still though. I was dizzy. No more vodka for a bit, I thought.
“Rag, what we doing?” said Skip, when I came back to the others.
“It’s just round the corner.”
“You say that every time we—”
“Shush!” said Rag. “Can you hear that?”
“I can’t hear anything,” said Skip.
Jade cupped a hand to her ear. If the rave was near, she’d hear it. Or sense it. “Wait. Yeah. Listen,” she said.
I could hear a very faint, distant thudding above the gentle wind and shore break. Deep bass. The heartbeat of something.
“Right,” said Rag, digging in his pockets, “who’s up for sherbet dib dab?”
He produced a small bag with some kind of white powder in it. He opened it, licked a finger, put it in the bag, covered it in the powder, then rubbed the stuff into his gums.
“Jesus,” said G, shaking his head and walking off.
Rag offered it to Skip. He looked at it, really wary, and shook his head. Jade went straight in, with two fingers.
“Hey!” said Rag. “That’s got to last. Leave some for Kook.”
I watched them, heart hammering, not knowing what to do, not knowing what I wanted to do. Not now it was right in front of me.
Rag offered it to me.
Would I regret it if I did some? Would I regret it if I didn’t?
“What is it?” I said.
“A few hours of pure fun,” said Rag, waving it in my face.
Even in the dark the powder sparkled and twinkled, like a bag full of tiny stars, fallen from the sky.
I was drunk from the vodka and that helped me make my mind up. Plus it was my birthday. I licked my finger, put it in and took a dab. Not a lot.
It wasn’t sweet like sherbet. It was bitter; chemical tasting.
I took another swig of vodka to wash it down. I didn’t feel anything. I knew I wasn’t supposed to, not straight off. But I’d sort of expected to.
“Come on, G,” said Rag, waving the bag at his mate. But Big G kept his distance, and folded his arms.
“I’m not even smoking weed any more, let alone that shit.”
“Please yourself,” said Rag, shrugging.
We all walked that bit quicker then.
Once we got to the top of the next valley we could hear the rave properly, and see it too.
Near the old mines, down a track, was a big old stone hall, with a couple of smaller, half-standing ruins attached. To the side of the ruins were three marquees: two small ones, one massive. They were throbbing with music and lights. The deep sides of the valley blocked the rave from the rest of the world perfectly. It was hidden. Secret. Another world.
We followed the track, down into the valley.
My heart was beating in time with the music.
Three bouncers stood outside the entrance. They wore hoodies, jumpers, beanies. They looked like surfers, but they had big yellow patches on their chests saying ‘Security’. One of them was wearing shades.
Rag did the talking. The rest of us hung back.
He showed them his ticket. But instead of opening the tent flap the bouncers walked across the entrance, blocking it. That wasn’t good.
Rag talked to them for a bit. Eventually he called us forward, looking for support.
“Look, we’ve all got tickets,” he shouted, to be heard over the music. We held them up.
The bouncers didn’t move, or speak.
Rag did his best Obi Wan Kenobi impression. “Let us through. These are not the droids you are looking for.” We all laughed. Nervously.
“What are you lot… twelve?” said the shades guy.
“This rave probably isn’t even legal!” Rag complained. “How can you say we’re too young?”
All three of the ‘Security’ found this hilarious.
“You’re not coming in,” said Shades. “It’s past bedtime. Go home. Now.” And he folded his arms, staring at Rag through his glasses.
We put our tickets in our pockets and limped into the dark like a pack of beaten dogs.
I’d never felt like such a loser.
“What now?” said Big G. No one had an answer.
“The gear will kick in soon,” said Rag.
“So,” said Big G, “me and Skip are in for a night walking clifftops in the dark, with you lot off your faces. Great. Just great.”
We stood in a circle. Looking up at the path. Looking back at the rave.
The tent flap opened for a second. A guy rolled out. Inside, hundreds of bodies swayed in a sea of green smoke and blue light.
“Sod this,” said Jade. She walked back down the path, but before she got near the marquee, wandered off into the shadows. We all followed.
We clambered around the lowest edge of the valley, sneaking round the marquee and ruins, till we got round the back. There were lorries parked up, with their engines running, and massive cables running from the back of them into the smaller of the two marquees. There were a couple of guys in the front of the vans. But they were facing away from the rave.
We sneaked up between the wall and vans till we got to the edge of the marquee attached to the small building next to the main hall.
“What now?” said Big G.
I felt brave. Heady. Maybe from the drugs, maybe from the vodka. Maybe just from being there. I crawled up to where a cable led into the tent, and stuck my head under.
Inside were generators, stacks of speakers, and a desk with buttons and dials on it. There was one guy in there, a thin dude with a pile of dreadlocks on his head, leaning over a laptop and smoking a roll-up. I thought maybe I recognised him from somewhere. Like I’d seen him in the surf sometime.
“Who are you?” he said.
“Sam.”
“What you doing, Sam?”
“Trying to get me and my mates in.” There didn’t seem any point in lying. “We’ve got tickets.” I pulled mine out of my pocket and showed him.
“Then why are you crawling in the dirt?”
“The bouncers said we were too young.”
“Too young, eh. Well you’d better piss off
then, hadn’t you, Sam?” He turned back to his laptop.
That was that then. Game over. But I didn’t move. I couldn’t face telling the others, never mind the long trawl home. So I just lay there, melting into a puddle of disappointment. I wondered… what if the St Wenna lot were there? What if they’d got in and we hadn’t? We’d never live that one down.
“Didn’t you hear me, Sam?” said Dreadman.
“How old were you?” I said. He stopped fiddling on the keyboard and looked at me. I carried on. “I mean, your first rave.”
“About fifteen.”
“I’m sixteen. It’s my birthday. Today.”
He put his laptop down, took a long pull on his roll-up, thinking. Then he came over, and lifted the canvas to get a better look at me.
“How many of you?” he said.
“Five.”
He sighed. Rolled his eyes. Then a wide grin spread over his face.
“Get a move on then. I sodding hate bouncers anyway.”
I crawled in, then put my hand back under the canvas and waved the others in. They crawled in too, one by one.
A curtain blocked the entrance. Behind it was the hall and the main marquee. I could just see the back of the decks where the DJs were.
“Quick then,” said Dreadman.
I dumped my coat and sleeping bag. The others filed through, one by one, keen to get in before anyone stopped us, patting me on the back and punching my shoulder, as they went. Me and Jade were last.
She took off her coat.
I stood. Dead still. Staring. Just like the first time I’d seen her, that autumn afternoon, with her dad outside our cottage.
“What?” said Jade.
She was wearing a dress. Jade. A dress! Summer-ocean blue, shimmering and thin, curving over her body. She wore white glowing trainers. A chain of flowers on her head.
She had eye make-up on too. Her eyes shone like diamonds. Like the girl on the ticket.
“What?” she said, again.
“You,” I said. “You look… different.” I was kicking myself. That was the lamest thing I’d ever said.
Jade offered me her hand. I took it. We crouched down, snuck into the rave behind the curtain.
And walked hand in hand, into the sea of bodies.
A FILM WAS PROJECTED on one of the walls: a surfer deep in the barrel. It was slowed down so much he was hardly moving. But the wave was caving over him. Explosions of light and water.
On another wall, a projection of a girl, on a longboard, hair down to her bum, swaying as she carved a line on a crystal-green wave.
And the lights on the crowd. A sea of jade green and acid blue, with the sunlight dancing on it.
Waves of arms were rising, falling, swooping, crashing, rising, falling.
And all of us. In the middle of it. Whooping. Screaming with happiness.
The DJ put on the deepest tunes. Tracks that built, paused for a bit, slowing, then increasing the rhythm, the beats per minute. Getting into us with small electronic beeps, long whistles that started in our heads and ran down to our feet. Filling us up till the music was pouring through our blood and thumping in our heads.
Rag stood on a speaker waving his arms over the crowd.
We were below him, in the ocean.
The music went… higher. Higher.
The music… tweak, tweak. Tweeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaakkkkkkkk…k…k…k…k…k
A second pause… then…
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM, BOOM.
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM, BOOM.
Arms raised to the sky, saluting, praying, thumping the air.
Everyone went bonkers. Everyone. Hundreds of us.
A kaleidoscope of lights, music, arms and smiles.
And in the heart of it, in her own space, but the centre of it all, soaking up the energy and spitting it right back out…
Jade. Her body swaying, her hands over her head.
We all danced around her, with her. She was the centre of it all.
*
We danced for hours.
When the music wound down after one really mad, long tune, she held a hand to her throat and stuck her tongue out to let me know she was thirsty. She turned, ducked under whirling arms. I followed. But the crowd was thick. A surge of bodies swayed into me, blocking me. I had to squeeze, to push. By the time I found space, Jade had vanished. I went back to the others. She’d be back soon enough.
But apart from Rag, the others had gone too. We carried on for a bit, but it wasn’t the same. After a while we decided we’d go and get some drinks ourselves.
It was only when we came out of the crowd that I noticed I wasn’t wearing my T-shirt. It was tucked into the back of my jeans. I didn’t remember taking it off.
I was cool with it. My body had changed. I had muscles now. Surfing does that to you. I was dripping with sweat. I was pissed. I was high. On the music, the vodka and… spliff? Or the sherbet dib dab? If this was it, I liked it. I didn’t feel out of it like I’d expected to, just totally happy, and really into the place, the people and the music.
There was a ‘bar’ in the smaller marquee, selling bottles of water for stupid prices. People – beautiful people – stood around, smoking and drinking. You could even hear yourself talk in there. Everyone was smiling, but looking like they’d done a few hours in a heavy swell. Super happy, but kind of stunned.
I used the T as a towel to wipe the sweat off my face, then put it back on. Rag passed me a bottle of water. I necked it in one go.
“You getting anything off the gear?” said Rag.
I felt great. Happy, dizzy, head spinning. But now I was out of the crowd…
“Dunno,” I said. “I think so.”
“You think so? Let me look at your eyes.” He looked into them like a doctor checking for something. And he looked disappointed.
“Nothing. Thought so. I’ve been sold actual sherbet. Or something else. But it tasted proper! Shit. Bugger.”
So I wasn’t on anything after all. No biggy. I was having a great time.
Skip and Big G appeared. No Jade. Skip put his arms round mine and Rag’s necks.
“This is mental!” he shouted, his head nodding in time to the music. I’d never seen him so happy.
“You on something?” I said.
“Skip?” said Rag. “You’re kidding. He’s just high on life. Always. Annoying wanker.”
Skip laughed. “So what, we’re having a blast, right?”
“Yeah,” I said. “You seen Jade?”
“Nah, not for a bit. How you guys getting on? You don’t look out of it.”
“We aren’t. Might as well do it all,” said Rag, sounding sad. “It’s probably just weakened down; there could be some in there. We might get something off it if we take enough.”
Rag dug in. He didn’t bother to hide what he was doing. No one seemed to mind, or even notice. He offered it to me. But I was fine as I was. It probably wouldn’t work, and now we were inside and having a good time it seemed a bit late and pointless anyway.
I saw Jade then, weaving through the crowd, moving fast. Guys were looking at her, noticing her. Not leering, just doing a double-take at this gorgeous girl, skipping through the crowd. She was hopping and running, almost bumping into people, but dancing round them, weaving like a dodgem at a fair.
“Hi, what’s happening?” she said.
“Want some?” said Rag, offering what was left in the bag.
“That shit? It doesn’t work, Rag,” said Jade. “The St Wenna crew are here: Tel, Billy, Alice, Pig, all that lot. I been dancing with them!” She was blurting the words out, speaking super fast. She sounded ecstatic about finding them.
I wasn’t. She hadn’t said Mick’s name. But he had to be there, didn’t he? I didn’t want to ask.
“Right,” said G, a twisted grin on his face, rubbing his hands. “Time for a chat.”
“No,” said Jade, wagging her finger in G’s face. “No, no, no, no. Noooooooooo, big hairy G. Only peace and love tonight. D
on’t spoil it. Bad G. Baaaad.”
“All right. Just with Billy then,” said G, standing straight, puffing his chest out. “He set up Rag.”
“Not tonight, man,” Jade begged. “Come on, let’s just have a good time. Get even, sure, but not now, not here. This is too… special. Pleeeeeease.” She grabbed his wispy beard and pulled it.
“All right,” he said. She could even charm that miserable git.
“You okay?” said Big G. Jade was bobbing about like she needed a piss. She couldn’t keep still. She put an arm around my neck, pulling me away from the others.
“Smile, Kook, come and dance.” I caught sight of her eyes then. Her pupils were black saucers. Massive. I put my arm round her waist.
“You okay?” I said.
“More than okay, it’s like… like…” She was struggling to get the feelings out of her head and into words. “Us, together. Now. It’s the best. And I’m gonna be a surfer, Kook. A pro, free surfer. I can do it. I know so. And this… THIS. It’s gonna be us.” She pointed at a projection on the tent wall – surfers riding waves on a beach, at the edge of a jungle, in front of a ruined temple. “That. This. Us. Right?”
“Us?” I said, squeezing her waist.
“I love you, Kook…”
Love. Had she just said love? I zoned out, not even hearing what she said next. I could see her lips moving, but I couldn’t hear.
Love.
Then I zoned back in. I did hear.
“…you’re the sweetest, cleverest dude I know. You’re not like that lot. I love them too but I’ve known ’em forever and you’re, well, you’re different, aren’t you? And Jesus, you can even surf, good too, for how long you been doing it. And… science, you know about science, and facts and things like water and energy, and I read that we’re mostly water and so is the earth’s surface, Kook, so we’re like the earth, right? Or the ocean really, and when we surf we’re part of it and it’s inside us and it’s insane and makes sense all at the same time, which is like I am right now. And time. It’s not even real… and… you get me, right? Grrrrr…” she growled with frustration, taking her arm off me and grabbing at her hair. She was fizzing and bubbling, talking a thousand words a minute. It was hard to keep up. “It’s like it’s like it’s like it’s what I was born to do born in the water and we come from water all life does, I looked it up, you’ve got me into it, Kook, made me think about shit like that. I looked it all up on Google and the whole universe was tinier than the tiniest thing and there was no time before and… what was I saying? Oh yeah, when we surf we’re just going back into the water. Made of it. In it. Part of it and born in the water and… and…”