Love-Struck

by Rachael Wing

  “Hmm, I think so.” I nodded coolly, but Remi didn’t seem to sense the tone, and rambled on enthusiastically.

  “Because she texted me before, asking if I could put Emily on the list, so I did, and then I texted her back asking if she was coming, and if she wanted putting on the list, and that I hoped that she was coming – but she didn’t text back.”

  Oh, poor naïve Remi!

  I wanted to tell him that he was wasting his time on Margo because she was just using him for tickets, but I didn’t have the heart.

  “I wouldn’t wait for her, Remi,” I smiled pointedly.

  “Oh I won’t,” he said unconvincingly. “It’s just that I need to be here to let her in when she gets here, because she says that it’s always nice to see me. And her smile is so amazing, and she’s so happy when I let her in for free that—”

  He paused mid-sentence. I raised my eyebrows, hoping he got the subtext.

  Remi continued quickly, “I’ll go inside soon anyway, because The Dandys are on first and I don’t want to miss their set…”

  Of course he didn’t get the subtext. Boys never get the subtext.

  His voice trailed off because he saw Wes turn the corner, accompanied by the longest pair of legs I’ve ever seen, and the shortest pair of shorts. Maybe I should have briefed Emily on gig wear before we came.

  Arno turned around.

  “Mon frère, we can start—”

  The words turned to mush in his mouth as Emily and Wes approached. Wes looked like he was telling a story, and Emily was listening intently, and when he told the punchline she giggled, and leant on his shoulder. I couldn’t help a twinge of anger above my stomach. She’d been texting Jonah.

  “Great scott, that girl’s hot!”

  “You can both shut your mouths now!” I hissed, and the Mortimer twins instantly closed them.

  “Arr, no!” Wes shouted. All the boys in our year do that to Arno – they think they’re being witty. “And Remster, my favourite front man. How’s it going?”

  “Hey, you guys!” Emily exclaimed as she walked up, greeting the boys. They nodded in reply. I smiled at Wes, who grinned and winked back. Emily’s sea-coloured eyes fell on mine. “Hey, Hols, how’s it going? I’ve just been hearing some stories about you!”

  I could feel my cheeks burn a little. Why was he talking about me? He should be getting to know her!

  “Oh yeah?” I said, trying to smile but just ending up with some sort of grimace, glaring at Wes. “Nothing too gruesome, I hope…!”

  “Hey, Rem, it’s time to let people in now,” Arno said, still staring at Emily.

  “Yeah, let people in…” Remi echoed, also still looking at Emily. Then it clicked. “OH, let people in, right, yeah! Come on then, Hols, Wes-man and Emileg – I mean, Emily!”

  We went around the side and scootched into the entrance, the angry glares of the people at the front of the queue digging into our backs as we did so. The familiar scent of the place set me at ease straight away, the dark walls and wooden floor swallowing me up and making me part of it. The place had serious vibes. We went straight past the locker room through to the narrow stairs, and as I climbed them I could almost hear the footsteps of the legends that had taken those stairs before me. Before I knew it, I had pushed open the black double doors and stepped into the room.

  It was like a church, but with a much lower ceiling and no pews: a long rectangle that led up to the altar (the altar obviously being the stage). The same rule applied to both places, too: you came here to worship. To the left, the bar was gleaming – lit up on the inside with dark red lights, the bar boys from the sixth form mooching around, waiting to be asked to serve. The doors were on the back of the room, where the wall curved “for acoustics” I was told. This curved back wall was covered in graffiti: bright and bold letters spelled out “The Venue Presents”, outlines in glow paint, and then hundreds of signatures of bands underneath. I wasn’t lying – this was the magical place of legends and heroes alike.

  And I only lived ten minutes away.

  There was already a lot of activity going on: roadies were carrying equipment around the stage, microphones had been placed, people were walking across the floor to the bar and going through doors to fetch things; some people were also stood down in the pit next to the stage. A metal fence that came up to just under my shoulder separated the pit from the stage, so that the bands couldn’t get mauled by over-excited fans. The norm for me was to get to the front with Wes, to “the cage”, as we called it, and hang on to it for dear life for the night. It’s the best place to be because it’s right in front of the bands. You do get crushed, because there’s a surging crowd behind you and they are squishing you into a metal pole, but it’s worth it. Sometimes I think I’m a bit of a music junkie, and I need to feel the music and have it blasting in my ears to feel secure, but Wes says he feels the same, so at least I’m not alone. It’s why we love gigging it so much – the atmosphere and the feeling you get, and sharing it with someone – it’s unreal. The only thing that could be better than being right at the front of the stage is being right there in the middle of it all; standing on the stage as they play around me. That’s my dream.

  I looked at my watch and it was coming up to half seven. I didn’t know if Jonah would be on time – I doubted he would be, so I reckoned I had time to go to the loos and check on my make-up and stuff. I turned around to see Wes explaining The Venue Presents wall to Emily, who was watching him talk with a small, satisfied smile on her face. See?

  Everything goes according to plan.

  I walked off, past a group of chemo girls (the “next big thing”, apparently – a fusion of emo and chav. Sounds useless to me. Depressed Chavs? Nuh-uh. Not good) who had just walked in, giggling and dressed in black with Nike wrist bands, baseball hats and trainers. I realized that one of them was Hannah Eveleigh, a loud-mouthed, outspoken blonde girl that I know from down my road, so I quickly ducked my head and made my way over to the girls’ loos on the other side of the room, which was next to a door marked “Private”.

  I pushed the door open and stepped inside. The toilets are a little bit grim, but they have this amazing huge mirror over the taps that’s on a bit of a slant, so you can see your entire body if you back off a bit. I reapplied my lip gloss – a girl can never have enough lip gloss – and had a good look at myself in the mirror. The girl I saw looking back at me looked nervous. She was chewing her lip and her eyes were wide. Then I realized I was a little bit nervous. But also excited. Both feelings were bubbling up inside of me, and I couldn’t stay looking at myself for ever, so I took one last glance at the petite brunette with dark-lined green eyes and ripped black T-shirt, and went out into the crowd.

  The place was at least half full already, some people on stage, fiddling with the amps and guitars, and some milling around and greeting each other, the air starting to buzz with expectancy – or maybe that was just me. I couldn’t see Wes anywhere. The crowd was pretty thick, so I just decided to make my way over to the bar. I looked at my watch as I walked, trying to keep my feet from doing a jig to release the tension. It was just a few minutes later than we said, so I was casually late, which was good, but when I looked over to the bar I couldn’t see him. My pulse picked up a fraction, but I calmed it down. He’s a boy, and what is the one thing we can count on all boys being?

  Late.

  So I strutted with more confidence than I felt over to the bar, which I leaned on, so that I could see the door but also the crowd. After all, he might have walked in, not seen me at the bar and gone to talk to a few people.

  Maybe.

  I was lost in my own thoughts for a bit, and then I decided to crowd-scan. I still couldn’t see Wes and Emily, but the roadies had subtly come on to the stage and started to do a final tuning. That’s one of the good things about The Venue: they always make sure that their acts start promptly.

&n
bsp; I flicked my hair a bit for something to do, put on a bit more lip gloss, and then pretended to text someone, like I was a bit cool and, like, had friends, they just weren’t here. Then the door opened and I jumped out of my skin and my head snapped up, but it was just a large group of kids from the year above filing in and filling up most of the extra space. The place was getting full and loud, and it made me aware that everyone was talking to someone else whilst I was stood at the bar, alone, feeling like a right gooseberry. I looked at my watch. I’d been standing there for ten minutes! It had felt like twenty. Where was he? I couldn’t have missed him, surely?

  “Excuse me, can I help?”

  I turned around. The guy behind the bar was very cute. He had dark, messy blond hair, really toned arms and a friendly smile with a lip piercing.

  Hmm, lip ring!

  I pouted. “Not really.”

  He put down the glass he was holding and leaned forward. “Waiting for someone?”

  “Hmmm,” I said, not meeting his eyes.

  Time check: ten to. The band were starting to play a bit, finishing off their tuning. Any minute they would start to play. Where was he? Was he not even coming?

  I willed myself not to blurt out that I’d been stood up. I was not about to—

  “Got stood up?”

  Damn, was I that obvious?

  “No!” I snapped, far too quickly. The blond boy laughed.

  “No,” I said, in calmer tones. “He’s just a little bit late, is all. He’ll be here soon.”

  “What’s your name?” he asked, with a half smile that gave him a dimple in one cheek.

  “Holly,” I answered, surprised.

  “Well, Holly, if your friend doesn’t show up in the next ten minutes, how about I buy you a drink?”

  Inside I was nearly crying. I must have looked really, really good or else the cute boy with a lip ring (hmm, lip ring!) wouldn’t be asking me if I wanted a drink, and Jonah wasn’t there to see me looking so great! I felt so stupid for making an effort for someone who couldn’t even make the effort to show up.

  TK, a part owner of The Venue, walked out on to the stage. The room had totally filled up now, and everyone cheered as he walked on.

  “Hey, everybody! Let’s get on with it. Here’s the first part of the line-up for MSR! Let’s hear it for The Dandys!”

  The entire room erupted as the band strutted on, claimed their instruments and started their first song. The bass line and riff combined with the drums hypnotized my hips, and they wanted to dance. I looked at my watch. He was nearly twenty-five minutes late, with not so much as a text.

  Screw this, I thought.

  I turned to Boy-At-The-Bar.

  “I’ll hold you to that! I’m going to dance, see you later…”

  “Jack.” He filled the space with his name.

  “Right,” I smiled. “Jack! Later…”

  Jonah obviously asked me out, and then met some other girl and just decided that I wasn’t worth it. Well, he was wrong. So wrong. I pushed my way to the middle of the crowd, which is always a scary thing to do when you’re a midget like me, and got near the front, listening to the set.

  I don’t know how long I stayed there, but I just let the crowd carry me. That’s the thing with the pit – if you resist, you get hurt; but if you go with the flow and let the music carry you, the crowd is just one organism and it’s all good.

  I let the drums beat into my head and drum out all of the thoughts about Jonah the Pig and what he might be doing instead of being here with me. I let the bass soak into my soul and cleanse me like a steaming hot shower. I let the lead guitar take over my body and make it jump and shake and dance as hard as it could, and then I let the vocals dance around my eyes like raindrops stuck to my eyelashes. Music can be the most healing of things.

  Before I knew it, the set was over and I was thirsty as hell. I headed over to the bar, and finally caught sight of Wes.

  “Good set!” I exclaimed, bouncing on his shoulders as he waited to be served.

  “There you are!” he said beaming. “I couldn’t find you anywhere! I thought it would be all right, that you’d be with Jonah—”

  My face must have dropped a little, because the next thing I knew he was giving me a pitying look, almost like he was expecting it. A twinge of annoyance hit my stomach, but I ignored it because I’d been alone for God-knows-how-long, and I needed to talk to him.

  “Did he not show?”

  I shrugged. “Nope. But it’s OK, because I’ve got a drink waiting for me!”

  And right on cue, Jack waltzed up and beamed at me.

  “So, Holly – did your friend show?”

  I shook my head sadly.

  “One drink coming up, then, as promised!” He picked up a glass with a flourish. “What do you want?”

  “J20, pink flavour?”

  He winked. “Sure, anything you want.”

  He wandered off to the other end of the bar. Wes turned to me, blocking my view of Jack’s lovely bum.

  “Who’s that guy?”

  “Oh, that’s Jack!” I replied loftily, looking down at my twisting hands. “He wanted to buy me a drink because I’ve been stood up.” I looked up into Wes’s face, which was frowning. “Oh, what, Wes?”

  “You’re accepting a drink off a total stranger?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Sorry, big brother, I didn’t realize I had to check with you first. And besides, he’s not a total stranger, he’s Jack…”

  Wes looked like he wanted to say something, but then judging the look on my face, he just let it slide. His drinks arrived, he paid, and then turned back to me.

  “So how’s it going with Emily?” I asked.

  He smiled, his eyes a bit distant. “Good! We danced and we’ve had a laugh, and now I’ve come to get her a drink whilst she’s talking to some girls she knows.”

  My drink came and I smiled at Jack. “Thanks, you’re an angel.”

  “Yeah, you could say that!” he laughed. “Are you coming next week to MSR?”

  “Yep!” I nodded. “I’m going with this fine guy here!” I clapped Wes on the shoulder.

  Jack nodded. “Great. If you see me there, come over and say hi. Maybe you can repay me for the drink?”

  “Yeah, sure!”

  Jack walked away, and Wes cleared his throat.

  “Look, I’ve got to go, y’know, give Emily her drink, so…”

  “OK!” I said, feeling suddenly awkward, putting a damper on my newly found good mood. Now I just felt stupid and alone again. I tried to put on a bright face. “Yeah, well, have a great night! Good luck!”

  He nodded, and suddenly mingled off into the crowd. He was being all weird. Huh. Boys!

  I was sipping away at my girly J20, musing dark thoughts to myself about the uselessness of boys and why we bother with them, when some big-footed, lager-ridden oaf tumbled backwards and managed to tip the entire contents of his pint glass down my brand new top. I felt the chilly liquid soak through the top layer and then into the second layer of my bra, and it splashed all into my nicely curled pretty hair.

  And then to top it all off, he stood on my foot.

  My mood suddenly snapped and I thought I was either going to scream or cry. I ran off in the direction of the girls’ loos again, feeling utterly lost and sad. Why did Jonah not turn up? Why was Wes being distant and snappy? Why were all big tall blokes jerks?!

  I burst into the girls’ toilets, almost ready to cry, limping heavily and looking down my top to assess the damage, when I realized that I wasn’t in the girl’s bathroom.

  “Have you come to get us more drinks?” asked a voice.

  I paused, horrified. I knew that voice.

  I looked up in disbelief.

  There sat The Faeries.

  No kidding.

  Th
e actual real-life Faeries, all four of them: Matt in a rocking chair, Vikki and Chevans on bean bags and the god himself, Robin Goodfellow, on his feet and staring at me with those beautiful eyes like I had just fallen out of his fridge.

  And there I was: covered in beer, my hair all askew, my face reddened with embarrassment and sheer frustration and peering down my top to look at my bra.

  Not how I imagined this would go.

  Thoughts broke like a dam into my head. They weren’t even supposed to be in Cathen yet, not until the week after! What were they even doing in The Venue? A sudden thought hit me. Oh my god – a secret gig! Amazing! I stood there frozen to the spot, feeling for the second time that night the absolute gooseberry that I am, until miraculously Vikki spoke.

  “Hey, you look familiar. Do you come to a lot of our gigs?”

  I couldn’t speak. Wide-eyed, I nodded.

  “I’m at the front of every south-west show you do,” I croaked, my voice finding its way out unexpectedly. “With Wes. We’re big fans.”

  “Oh my God, you’re the kids who always wear the Superman T-shirts, right?” cried Chevans.

  Oh my God. Chevans knew who I was.

  “Yeah, you’re the superhero chick!” agreed Matt.

  Matt with the great bum.

  He knew us too!

  Ohmygoodness!!

  “I know you now,” Robin started, his devilish smile creeping on to his face. “You and your boyfriend are really cute together.”

  I was about to reply with a great big “Wes isn’t my boyfriend, I’m single, Robin, TAKE ME!”, but right then a bouncer walked in.

  “Do you need any—”

  Then he saw me.

  “NO CIVILIANS IN THE PRIVATE ROOMS! OUT!”

  And I was yanked backwards by my right arm. I just had time to wave to the band before I was escorted through the hall, down the stairs, through the entrance and out into the fresh air. It hit me like a wake-up call.