Songs About a Girl

by Chris Russell

  “Well … anyway. We can talk about that another time.” He cleared his throat. “Now listen, I’ve, um … I’ve been called away on business this week.”

  “OK.”

  I returned to my computer screen.

  “Tomorrow and Friday I’ll be up in Birmingham, back on Saturday morning. Around eleven-ish. You’ll be OK on your own?”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  He took a small step forward, his fingers slipping off the doorknob.

  “I know it’s the anniversary tomorrow, Charlie.” He wrung his hands. “I’m sorry I won’t be here. We can lay flowers next week, if you like?”

  Dad usually took me to London on 28 November to visit Mum’s grave. In the car, on the way, he would talk to me about school, or about so-and-so’s house being on the market. Anything but her.

  “Don’t worry.”

  He straightened up.

  “This doesn’t change anything, mind you. You’re still grounded.”

  “I know.”

  I had no camera (at least not a decent one), no invitation, and no reason to go back. My father had nothing to worry about.

  “I’ll leave some money on the kitchen table. You can always call me, you know.”

  My phone vibrated again, under the covers. We both heard it.

  “Sure. Good night.”

  He lingered for a moment, scratched the top of his head, then left the room. I reached for my phone and opened the message.

  We’re doing a shoot with an “award-winning” photographer from vogue magazine today. Everyone prefers you. G x

  I clenched my jaw. Surely the teenage girl was supposed to stalk the pop star, not the other way round?

  Still holding my phone in one hand, I began scrolling through Romeo and Juliet videos on my computer, skimming the descriptions, trying to ignore the voice in the back of my head. Did Gabriel really mean that, or was he just appealing to my ego? Was he hoping to trick me into replying? Shaking the thought away, I tossed my phone across the bed.

  My laptop flickered, and I realized that while lost in thought, I had clicked on a random video and it was about to play. An advert was loading and, when it began, four faces I knew very well appeared on the screen.

  “Hey guys!”

  My shoulders slumped. They really were impossible to avoid.

  “We’re Fire&Lights,” continued Olly breezily, “and we’re here to tell you about a very special single we’ve just released.”

  Olly was sitting with the rest of his bandmates on a leather sofa in what looked like a recording studio, and a song I didn’t recognize was playing in the background. In the bottom right-hand corner, a little black box read Skip Ad. All I had to do was click it.

  All I had to do was click it, and get on with my life.

  “It wasn’t planned,” added Aiden, “but we’ve been trying to finish this track for months, and Gabriel finally found the right lyrics.”

  Gabriel was sitting at the end of the row. He smiled distractedly.

  Yuki took over. “The song’s called ‘2 a.m. (The Sound of Your Heart Breaking),’ which I think is a pretty cool title. I like songs that tell you what time it is.”

  “Anyway,” said Olly, as Aiden play-punched Yuki on the arm, “we decided to release it this week as an unexpected treat for you guys before our debut album, Songs About a Girl, comes out next month. We even shot a video, which you can watch at the link below.”

  “So click the link,” said Gabriel mechanically, “and check it out. Let us know what you think.”

  There was something not quite right about Gabriel’s expression. It would’ve been lost on most people, but if you’d ever spent any time with him, you’d know. Something was wrong.

  “Enjoy,” said all four boys in unison, and the advert faded away. As I sat there, motionless, Mercutio’s death scene began to run on the video player, and I hit the space bar to pause it.

  One listen wouldn’t hurt, would it?

  An old version of Charlie, pre-Gabriel, would have laughed at this: me sitting in my room, alone, unable to concentrate on schoolwork because Fire&Lights had released a new single. But things had changed, and I wasn’t the same person anymore. They had infected me. And so, plugging my earphones into my computer, I typed fire&lights 2 a.m. into the search bar, clicked the top hit, and turned up the volume.

  The video began to play. Gabriel, his face half in shadow, was sitting on the edge of a bed in a dark, anonymous-looking hotel room. The colors were nocturnal, grays and blues, and a passing siren could be heard in the distance. Slowly, a lightly picked guitar part faded in, and in his rich, jagged voice, Gabriel began to sing.

  The opening lines stole the breath from my lungs.

  Charlie, I know how your heart beats

  Quietly, with secrets that you can’t keep

  I’d been here before. I’d sat in my room, convincing myself that one of the world’s biggest pop stars was singing about me, and I’d got it wrong.

  But this was different.

  He was singing my name.

  Charlie, I know how your heart beats

  Quietly, with secrets that you can’t keep

  Believe me, I know that I did you wrong

  But lately, I feel as if I can’t go on

  I screwed my eyes shut, but there was no getting away from it. These weren’t scraps of poetry from an old notebook, lifted from some forgotten indie band. These were Gabriel’s thoughts, his fears, laid bare for everyone to see.

  The song was about me.

  It was about us.

  Gabriel was alone in the video. This was unusual, but then he was singing the lead vocal entirely on his own, and they clearly hadn’t had long to put this together. So there was only him, the boy who had consumed me, singing my song into the darkness. Desolate, defeated. Heartbroken.

  As the chorus began to swell, I felt the walls fall away around me.

  It’s 2 a.m. and I am here alone

  Empty bottle and a silent phone

  I can feel you, when I’m without you

  Even now

  And I don’t wanna fall asleep tonight

  Unless I can have you by my side

  ’Cause when I’m sleeping, it keeps repeating

  Round and round

  The sound of your heart breaking

  The sound of your heart breaking

  I don’t think that I can take it

  The sound of your heart breaking

  The words echoed through my brain.

  I can feel you, when I’m without you … even now.

  I thought about the things Gabriel had said to me, trapped inside that lift, before we kissed. I can’t put it into words, Charlie, but … we’re connected. I knew it the first moment I saw you. And he was right. There was something between us. Something indescribable. Maybe it was losing our parents as kids, maybe we were just reaching out to someone who understood what that meant, but whatever it was, it was there, and I felt it too. In my gut.

  That feeling, Charlie Brown … that’s what I feel when I’m with you.

  As the video played out on my computer, and Gabriel spoke to me, so clearly, through his music, I knew that I had to see him. I had to touch him, talk to him; I had to hold him close to me and hear his heartbeat and warm his skin and smell his scent, and fall into his arms. I didn’t care what had happened.

  I didn’t care if I got hurt.

  Because the truth was, I was falling for him, irretrievably, and there could be no turning back.

  27

  “You OK?”

  I peered across the lunch table at Melissa. She was poking at her sandwich with a stick of carrot, her eyes misted over.

  Since the incident with Aimee, she’d been quieter than usual.

  “Huh?”

  “Everything all right?”

  We were sitting alone at a table in the most remote corner of the cafeteria, while around us the room clattered with cutlery and gossip. The school felt like a different place without A
imee, but hardly a safer one. Her friends blamed me for what happened, and they were making no secret of it.

  “It’s her fault Aimee was expelled…”

  “She always goes crying to Mr. Bennett…”

  “Has Gabriel dumped her yet…?”

  “People are saying it’s her in that song…”

  “No way, it’s that dancer, Charlotte Stevens…”

  I rolled a tomato across the table toward Melissa.

  “Hey, Chuckles.”

  The tomato came to rest next to Melissa’s lunchbox, and she eyed it, confused. I clicked my fingers at her.

  “Talk to me.”

  “Um … yeah, sorry. I’m fine.”

  My phone went off in my bag, and I felt a familiar twinge. It was still there, every time: the fear of an unknown number.

  “I’m worried. I’ve never seen you like this.”

  Melissa gave me a weak smile.

  “Just school … it’s getting me down. Big-time.”

  I know the feeling, I thought. I opened up my phone and, to my relief, found a message from Gabriel.

  What’s new, charlie brown?

  I looked up from my phone. Across the cafeteria, a table of Year Sevens were throwing fries at each other.

  Nothing much. Just hanging around the cafeteria, like a loser :)

  Life in the fast lane, wrote Gabriel, and I smiled.

  After hearing his new song, I had broken my silence with Gabriel. Just a single message, at first, to say I was thinking about him. To ask him about his day. Soon, though, it escalated, and by Wednesday lunchtime we were messaging feverishly: I would tell him about my lessons, my teachers, and my mock exam papers, and he would tell me about the band’s radio interviews, the midweek charts (it looked like “Dance with You” was staying at number one) and Yuki’s fling with Jenna Jackson. We hadn’t talked about “2 a.m.” yet, but it was always there, in the back of my mind. In the hours after the release, I had a few phone calls from withheld numbers—reporters, I imagined, connecting me to the song—but I ignored them all, and they soon dried up completely. I was surprised at first, but then I heard an interview Gabriel had given on the radio, just after the single went live. They asked him about that line, and he hinted that he’d written it about a backing dancer called Charlotte Stevens who he’d supposedly had a fling with during Make or Break.

  It could be true, I told myself. It could be true … but somehow I knew that it wasn’t.

  Life in the fast lane? I repeated. You’ve clearly never been to my school

  Sounds like you need some drama in your life, replied Gabriel.

  I’m not cut out for drama. It doesn’t suit me

  Course it does, charlie brown. You’re wild, inside

  Those last three words sounded like a song lyric, I thought. Perhaps, in a month’s time, I’d hear them on the radio.

  Come to the gig tomorrow. Last show of the tour, london complex. I want you there with me

  I drafted several replies, declining his invite, but deleted them all. A plan was already forming in my mind. It was only London, less than half an hour on the train. And Dad would be away the whole time. I could get there and back without him ever knowing.

  My good camera’s broken

  As I wrote the words, I thought, guiltily, of Olly. I still hadn’t told him about the camera. I wasn’t sure how to.

  I’m inviting you as a guest, replied Gabriel, not a photographer. Bring a friend if you want, make a night of it

  I knew it was possible. I knew, technically, the chances of my father finding out were very small. And I knew, most of all, that I burned to see him.

  In case you’d forgotten, I’m grounded. For which I blame you entirely

  Charm your way out of it

  We can’t all sail through life on charm, gabe

  I imagined him smiling at this and bit my lip.

  I have to see you, came the reply, and I sent mine straight back.

  Me too

  There was a long pause.

  I know you’ve had a rough time, came Gabriel’s message eventually, but I never meant for those things to happen. I never meant for you to get hurt

  I wrote two words, then deleted them … then wrote them again.

  I know

  Plus … I could do with a friend. This time of year’s kinda crappy for me

  I hesitated over the keypad. I was still never sure how much to push him on these things.

  Really? Why?

  Another pause.

  Hard to explain. I’d just be happier if you were there

  I took a long, slow breath, remembering the mechanical tone of his voice in the “2 a.m.” promo video, and his weak, distracted smile. My instinct had been right. Something was weighing him down.

  Another message lit up my screen.

  So come. There’ll be a big party afterward … bring your coolest friend, management’s doubling our guest list

  I glanced up. Melissa was rolling the tomato around the table with one finger. She saw me looking at her and narrowed her eyes.

  “What?”

  “I think I have something that’ll cheer you up.”

  I walked round to her side of the table, sat down next to her, and handed her my phone.

  “Read this,” I said.

  Gingerly, she took my phone and began scrolling through the messages. My gaze wandered the cafeteria, and I caught Gemma’s eye, at a distant table, for just a second. Her face darkened, and I broke away.

  “Um … what? Ohmygosh…”

  Melissa was glued to my phone, lips moving as she read.

  “Ohmygosh … Gabriel … A message from Ga—a massive p—sounds like he’s inviting you to the … party…” She sprang up from her chair. “Ohmygodcharlie, I’m your coolest friend!”

  “Yes. Yes, you are.” I quickly scanned the nearby tables. “But keep it down, will you?”

  “We HAVE to go!”

  Grabbing her by the arm, I yanked her down on to the bench and clamped my hand across her mouth.

  “If I take my hand away, do you promise not to say anything?”

  Melissa nodded from behind my hand, her eyes bulging.

  “Promise?”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  I let go, and she fell about in a dramatic fit of gasping.

  “Ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod … I’m going to meet … Fire&Lights…”

  I leaned in front of her, waving a hand directly in her face.

  “Mel, Mel. Just listen to me for a second.”

  “Yip.”

  “If we do this, then—”

  “HOLY HECK WE’RE ACTUALLY GOING.”

  I grabbed her by the cheeks and squeezed.

  “Wait, wait. Just … shut up. Shut up a sec. If we do this—if we do this—I need you to promise you’ll act like…” She gulped at me through her squidged mouth. “Like a normal human being.”

  Hesitantly, I let go of her face. Sporting a grin so huge that it joined one ear to the other, she stood up and saluted me.

  “Orders received loud and clear, Cap’n Bloom.”

  “Yep. It’s stuff like that. That’s exactly what I’m talking about.”

  Melissa pulled a bright-red lipstick from her bag and, while she waved it around and blathered about how short her skirt was going to be at the concert, I plucked my phone from her hand, wrote Gabriel another message, and clicked Send.

  A thrill powered through me, and I closed my eyes.

  At least this time I’d have my best friend at my side.

  28

  By the time we reached the stage door, Melissa was at boiling point.

  “Charlie, Charlie. Charlie. Charlie.”

  I placed a hand on each of her shoulders and tried to establish eye contact.

  “Mel, you have to calm down. This is not cool.”

  “I know, I know, but every time I think about meeting the band I’m scared I’m going to pee my pants. Is that bad?”

  Melissa had agonized for hours ove
r her look for the evening. In the end she had gone for sequins, high heels, and a pink miniskirt. Her makeup had been painstakingly applied, with smoky eye shadow and little glittery sparkles twinkling under her lower lashes.

  I stared into her manic eyes.

  “Is it bad if you pee your pants?” I repeated.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Yes, Melissa, that would be bad.”

  “OK, noted. No pants-peeing.”

  “Hey, Yuki…!”

  Yuki was standing in the stage door. When he turned around he beamed at us and threw me a high five. The security guards flanking the doorway gave me a nod.

  “Charlie! The Bloomster.” Yuki pointed at my head. “Hey, where’s your hat?”

  Aimee’s face flashed up in my mind. I flattened my hair at the back.

  “I’m … trying a new look.”

  “Nice! I like it.” His eyes fell on Melissa. “And who’s your friend?”

  We both waited for Melissa to reply. She appeared to be holding her breath.

  “Mel?” I said, tugging on her sleeve. She swallowed.

  “M … Melissa,” she said, looking up at him, her eyes unblinking. “You’re Yuki Benjamin Harrison.”

  Yuki smiled.

  “I sure am,” he said, stretching out his arm. “Come on in.”

  Melissa stepped through the doorway hesitantly, like a kitten exploring its new home, and I followed her inside. The guards closed the door behind us.

  The London Complex show had been billed as the band’s homecoming concert, and Gabriel said it had sold out in under thirty seconds. The queue outside the lobby was the biggest I’d seen so far, and inside, even in the bowels of the building, you could still hear the cheering.

  Yuki was leading us through winding back corridors toward the dressing room, with Melissa hiccupping—as she often did when she was overexcited—and whispering, “This is the coolest,” to herself.

  When we arrived, Aiden and Olly were lying on sofas, listening to music. Olly immediately sat up when he saw me.

  “Charlie!” he said, his smile, as always, all teeth. Perfect white teeth. “You brought company.”

  “This is Melissa,” I said, and everybody waved hello. Melissa waved back.

  “This your first Fire&Lights concert, Melissa?” asked Aiden, plucking a bottle of water from the fridge. Melissa stared back at him. Her eyes had gone wide and bright, like little moons.