by Emma Grey
Second to the day her dad died, it was the worst afternoon in Kat’s life. And Angus didn’t seem to be enjoying it much, either.
The jet took off and she watched until it was a tiny dot in the sky. She watched until well after it vanished, and she had run out of tissues, and had to use toilet paper from the airport bathrooms instead. Pushing back through the blinding flashes of media photographers, she finally appreciated why famous people wear sunglasses, even at night. It’s not just because it looks cool.
It’s self-preservation.
So now, she’s grappling with this incongruous mix of loving the new stuff that’s going on in her life while hating the void left by Angus. The worst part is, he had to leave early to meet a rescheduled concert commitment, so he’s going to miss her formal.
Which is tonight.
She’s going anyway, without a Plus One. She’d rather be on her own than settle for taking someone just for the sake of it. Besides, after the Unrequited concert, she feels pretty invincible when it comes to conquering nerve-wracking situations. She did that. She can do anything.
Including this.
She and Lucy meet at the hairdresser after lunch and giggle over the gossip mags, and the purely fabricated representation of Kat and Angus’s ‘Cinderella Story’. Apparently it’s different from all the other relationships Angus has reportedly been in over the last five years, because Kat is ‘The One’.
‘It must be true,’ Lucy says, winking. ‘A “source close to Kat” told the reporter. Although, as nobody contacted me, I don’t know how that can possibly be the case. Unless you’re telling your secrets to other people now, Kat? Do I need to be jealous?’
Kat laughs.
An hour and a half later, they emerge from the salon with red-carpet-worthy hair. Next step: makeup.
‘You know you’re going to have to get used to all this,’ Lucy says. ‘Are you ready for it?’
Kat’s not ready for it. Although, she wasn’t ready to sing a couple of weeks ago, either. Sometimes you just have to do things afraid . . .
When their makeup is done, they go home again and spend the next hour in Kat’s bedroom, getting ready and talking, like they’ve done so many times growing up. It’s comforting.
‘I bought you a present,’ Lucy says unexpectedly, producing a long cylinder.
Kat’s caught off-guard. ‘I didn’t get you anything . . .’
‘No, that’s okay. I just thought what an appalling lack of posters there is in this bedroom. So I got you one. You say you wanna stay normal? Sorry, but you’re not a normal teenage girl, Kat, unless there are pop stars on your walls!’
Kat laughs and opens the tube. It’s probably one of the most stereotypical boy band shots she’s ever seen. Cheesy. Posed. The kind of thing the Unrequited boys will be cringing about in ten or twenty years, if they’re not already.
‘I love it.’
‘You love him.’
It stings. ‘Lucy don’t. I can’t. He’s gone now. I’m doing everything I can not to think about it.’
Kat gets some Blu Tack and sticks the poster up on her wall. She stares at Angus for a minute, the way millions of girls have done before her, except she has a great deal of insider knowledge now, which makes her smile.
‘He’s not that boy, you know,’ she says. ‘There’s so much more to him than this.’
Then she snaps out of it, or tries to, and notices the time. They need to finish getting dressed or they’ll miss the arrivals.
‘Let’s have fun, Luce. This is our reward for six years of incarceration!’
Formal arrivals are predictably gorgeous. Everyone looks so different. Are they really this grown up? Weren’t they just in Year Seven? How did they get here so fast?
They pose for the obligatory five thousand photos with their parents. Kat tries to ignore the ring of security guards, the camera flashes and the squealing mob of fans pressed around the perimeter of the hotel car park. They’re causing exactly the kind of scene she’d worried might unfold in her fantasy, had she taken a pop star as a formal date. Little had she known she was going to be the star, so quickly.
Her friends don’t seem to care. Most of them are living vicariously through the attention anyway. Some of them are going out of their way to be photographed. Kat’s happy to hang back with Lucy and Max.
Now, Max. This is the guy . . . Kat still can’t believe this story. He’s the guy Lucy picked up at the Unrequited concert the night Kat performed. He was working in a food van and they got talking, and then after the concert they talked some more, and added each other on pretty much every single social media platform in existence. It’s possible Lucy likes him even more than she likes Reuben!
Then the parents leave and everyone trails inside. The room is twinkling with fairy lights. It’s exquisite. It’s perfect. Or it would be, if Angus were here.
Max agrees to mind their stuff at the table while Lucy drags Kat onto the dance floor just for one song, the way she’s been dragging her onto dance floors at all of the high-school discos they’ve endured over the last six years. At least their moves have improved a little in that time. And their fashion sense.
Halfway through the song, she notices Max weaving his way through the crowd, carrying a phone.
‘I hope you don’t mind!’ he yells at Kat, over the loud music. ‘It’s yours. I noticed the caller ID and thought you wouldn’t want to miss this one’.
Angus.
She moves off the dance floor and to the back of the room.
‘Hello?’
‘Hey. Good to hear your voice.’
Her heart quickens.
‘I feel really bad that I’m not there,’ he says. ‘Neala gave me a massive lecture about it on the phone last night. A massive lecture about a lot of things, actually. Can you at least let me request a song for you?’
‘What song?’
‘Can’t say. Just pass the phone to the DJ for a minute . . .’
‘Angus. You’re not going to embarrass me, are you? It’s not going to be our song is it?’
He laughs. ‘Kat, come on. I wouldn’t embarrass you. When are you going to learn to trust me?’
Maybe now? She walks up to the DJ and says she’s got a song request from Tokyo, holding out her phone. The DJ takes it and listens. He nods, and hands the phone back.
There’s an excruciating pause. This had better not be their song. Either of their songs. Or any of Unrequited’s songs for that matter.
ANY of those choices will only draw attention to her, and she doesn’t want that. ‘Angus, I’m telling you — this better be good.’
‘Oh, it is,’ he says, just as the music changes and the DJ winks at her and turns the volume up loud for Paloma Faith, ‘Only Love Can Hurt Like This’.
The relief!
‘Enjoy this, Kat!’ Angus yells above the noise. ‘I know you prefer her.’
She laughs. ‘This is the best!’ He is the best.
‘Just don’t get any crazy ideas about grabbing the microphone and singing along, okay? I know what you’re like.’
The way he makes her smile . . .
‘And no stage stunts at the formal, okay? Not in that dress.’
Her heart stops for a beat or two. Not in that dress?
She glances around the room. Silly, really. Of course he’s not here. Of course he knows she’s in a dress. It’s the formal! What else would she be wearing?
‘Have a good night, Kat. Gotta go now. Enjoy the song!’
She will not cry at her formal in front of everyone. She needs to sit down for a minute.
She starts threading her way back from the dance floor — through the crowd of students and their partners. Weaving around tables, blinking back tears, until her own table comes into view. There’s a part of her that hopes to find him sitting at it, but no. There are still only seven seats, and he’s still not in any of them.
At least he called. That’s worth something, right? She can’t let his absence deflate what’s
meant to be a GREAT night with the kids she grew up with — before they all head off in different directions for gap years and study and work and life. They’re on the brink of it all, together. She has a flashback to the end of High School Musical — a movie she and Lucy watched in primary school until they wore out the disc. The DJ sees her across the room and smiles like he feels sorry for her.
A little while and lots of dancing later, it’s a slow song that’s her undoing. It has everyone paired up on the dance floor, except Kat and a few others.
She slips back to her table, sits down and picks up her phone — scrolling habitually through the news feeds. That’s when she notices a topic trending on a whole heap of the pages she follows. It’s an Instagram pic that first catches her eye. It’s of Angus at an airport. In a suit. The hashtag isn’t #Tokyo, though. It’s #Sydney. And it was posted an hour ago. Twitter, too. Totally going off about sightings of Angus Marsden at Sydney airport, in formal gear.
Kat sits bolt upright in her chair, scrolling through comment after comment, then flicks back onto his Twitter account to see if he’s said anything.
She refreshes the page. There IS a new tweet.
It’s from him.
@elle_twentysix, is this seat taken?
What?
She spins around.
There, leaning casually against the table behind her, one hand in his trouser pocket, the other holding his phone which is still lit up fresh from posting the tweet, is Angus. He’s about as understatedly cool as she’d expect a seasoned pop star to be, having just flown in from Tokyo to surprise her.
Well, he might be calm, but she isn’t. Not even remotely. He might be playing this cool but she refuses to. She leaps into his arms like no one’s watching, even though everyone is.
She wraps herself around him in her fifties ballgown, with the very opposite of fifties decorum. He tries to grasp hold of bunches of delicate chiffon and steady the two of them, laughing. And then she kisses him like she means it.
Should she have consulted her new publicist first? Too late! They hardly need paparazzi. A hundred and fifty teenagers armed with phones and a suite of social media apps will do the job. This will be all over the magazine websites within minutes, and Kat doesn’t care.
She doesn’t care what anyone else thinks, or what they want to imagine about her now. She only cares about what she knows. And she knows this:
This is her new life now.
New career.
New love.
And another thing: the world is small, Angus Marsden. Flights are short. The web is immediate. Facetime is free.
They can do this. Long distance. They have to. Because what’s going on between them here is the complete opposite of ‘unrequited’. There isn’t a mismatch of feelings.
There’s no confusion.
There’s no doubt.
There isn’t one of them wanting one thing and one wanting another.
There’s just her and him.
Completely on the same page.
Excited about ‘what next?’
Heading in one direction.
Acknowledgements
This book may never have come about had Eric Weideman not flashed his drop-dead gorgeous smile at me from the stage during the 1927 . . . ish concert. That’s a band called 1927, BTW. It was actually 1988, and I was fourteen, and it was my first concert, and maybe he was flashing his smile at my friend, Niki — or maybe not at anyone in particular. The point is, when he did, I felt exactly the way Kat feels when Angus first looks at her from the stage. Except I adored him! Check out 1927’s ‘If I Could’ video clip on YouTube. Sigh! Eighties idols . . .
Oops! Side-tracked.
My business partner, Audrey Thomas, has lived and breathed this book with me every day since I first had the idea to write it. Thanks, Audrey, for listening to me drone on about Angus and Kat and Joel and Sarah when we were supposed to be working — and for helping me work through so many of the plot lines as we went along.
The name of the book, and the band, was workshopped by a fabulous group of women in the program that Audrey and I were running online. Helen Foster came up with the name Unrequited and we all loved it. Thanks, Helen!
My gorgeous and talented friend, Emma Evans, helped me with songwriting and encouraged me throughout.
My friend, Gaëtane Burkolter, offered to read the first draft and returned it with pages and pages and PAGES of notes. Oh my gosh! It would be a very different book had Gaëtane not been so generous with her feedback. You have no idea how much I appreciate it, Ed.
Hot on the heels of Gaëtane’s improvements, Tania McCartney, my friend and expert copyeditor took the manuscript and tightened it, added more suggestions, checked it over for consistency and suggested I further develop certain elements of the story. Again, it would be a different book without your professional advice, lovely Tania, and your encouragement. Thank you!
Rebecca Sparrow, my friend and an author whose writing I admire greatly, kindly agreed to read Unrequited and write an endorsement. I so value your friendship, feedback, love and support, Bec. xx
When you write a book, it’s scary to put it out there. There can be a fear that people won’t warm to it, or won’t like the characters, or will criticise it. So, at first, you’re quite choosy who you show. I showed my ‘inner circle’ of my parents and sister and three BFFs first, and when they thought it was all right, I showed friends Melinda Crumblin and Nina Campbell — both of whom were extremely supportive of my first book, Wits’ End Before Breakfast! Confessions of a Working Mum. Thanks guys for being crucial early supporters of this story.
Next, I had to trust some teenagers with it. Wow, that was scary! Megan Brinkley, Briahna Anderson, Siobhan McCullagh, Neala and Tully Jocumsen, Sascha Harrison and Ashleigh Howell — you made it easy to take this step, and your support was invaluable. xxx
To my Facebook (and real-life) friends, thank you so much for enduring the never-ending posts about this book. And the questions, for example: ‘Can we talk about arm parts? If she’s flung off a train seat practically into his lap is she grabbing his bicep, tricep or forearm?’ Your support through the whole process has meant so much to me.
Lyndal Greenwood, Alison Avery and Alison Bailey — my BFFs since we were twelve. Thank you for every step along the way, and for your enduring loyalty and love.
To my dear friend and ‘hare-brained scheme’ partner, Sally Whitwell — an ARIA-winning composer with whom I’m thrilled to have written a full-length musical based on this book. Thank you for the music, and for sharing my dream! Ness Johnson — thank you for embracing our show and sharing our vision.
To my literary agent, Anjanette Fennell, we wouldn’t be reading this without your incredible support and calm, enduring faith in the story, and in me. Thank you!
To Lisa Berryman, Publisher of Children’s and Young Adult Books at HarperCollins, all my thanks for falling in love with Kat and Angus, and for championing their story.
To my editor Eve Tonelli, my thanks for your eagle eye and light touch.
To my sister and brother-in-law, Sarah and Paul Turner, and to our parents Barrie and Claire Virtue — what can I say? You know what you mean to me, and how immensely I value your love and support for everything I do, not just this. I adore you in ways that would take many more words than are contained in this story to explain. Dad, I think you have read every word I’ve ever written, since I learnt how to write. Many of the words more than once. I don’t know how I’ll ever write without you.
To my husband, Jeffrey, who knew more about boy bands than any self-respecting history professor would ever want to — thank you, as always, for supporting my dreams. Thanks for sending me a copy of ‘Why I Write’ and understanding me. I wish with all my heart you were here to see this. To our little boy, Sebastian, thank you for letting Mummy write and write and write, even though you’d rather she played lightsaber games or Minecraft with you.
And to my beautiful daughters, Hannah and
Sophie Robertson — thank you for everything. Hannah, for trusting this with your friends before you’d even read it yourself. And Sophie — I loved our summer walks, talking about ‘what happens next’. Your enthusiasm has meant the world to me. This book is for you. xxx
About the Author
EMMA GREY is the Canberra-based author of Wits’ End Before Breakfast! Confessions of a Working Mum (2005) and the award-winning I Don’t Have Time, co-authored with Audrey Thomas (2017).
Unrequited is her first novel, and the story has inspired the development of a full-length musical, created in collaboration with dual ARIA-winning composer, Sally Whitwell.
Emma lives with her daughters, Hannah and Sophie and her son, Sebastian.
Copyright
Angus&Robertson
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers, Australia
First published in Australia in 2014 by Emma Grey
under the title Unrequited: Girl Meets Boy Band
This edition published in 2017 by HarperCollinsPublishers Australia Pty Limited
ABN 36 009 913 517
harpercollins.com.au
Copyright © Emma Grey 2017
The right of Emma Grey to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her under the Copyright Amendment (Moral Rights) Act 2000.
This work is copyright. Apart from any use as permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part may be reproduced, copied, scanned, stored in a retrieval system, recorded, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
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