Face the Music

by Marianne Levy

  ‘Uh huh.’ She was leaning in.

  ‘And here’s the thing,’ I said. ‘I don’t even like it!’

  ‘That is understandable,’ said Savannah. ‘You are not really a Gucci kind of a girl, Katie. And that bag, it deserves a Gucci kind of a girl.’

  ‘Exactly,’ I said. ‘So I was wondering, could you come and have a look at it? Tell me what to do? Maybe you know someone who might like it . . . ?’ I glanced around. ‘I mean, I don’t want to make you late for your disco preparations.’

  ‘No, that’s fine. This is important. Paige? Sof? You’ll go ahead and explain, mmm?’

  They went.

  But Lacey – Lacey did not go.

  Lacey stayed put. And said:

  ‘What competition?’

  ‘Oh, you know.’

  ‘Because I don’t remember you entering an email competition to win a Gucci bag. You say that those competitions are pointless. And you hate designer stuff.’

  The bracelet was starting to feel like a handcuff or something. I could literally feel my cheeks starting to heat up as I said, ‘I know! It was a complete mistake, actually, that’s what makes it so surprising that I won! Go get your manicure, Lacey. I don’t want to make you late as well!’

  ‘Where is this bag?’ said Savannah.

  ‘I left it in the car. Just round the corner. It won’t take a sec.’

  ‘Something is going on,’ said Lacey.

  Savannah looked from me to Lacey and back again. I did my very best to seem completely casual and like I’d accidentally won a nasty-looking Gucci bag. There isn’t an obvious face for that. But—

  ‘OK,’ said Savannah. ‘Show me.’

  ‘This way,’ I said, and motioned her around the corner, where Adrian was sitting in the car with the engine going and the back door open.

  Savannah said, ‘It’s in here, yes, yes?’

  ‘In the back, that’s right,’ I said, getting behind her as she leaned in and then, with just one tiny push on her perfect backside she fell forward and Jaz rose up from the foot well and pulled her down, and I hurled in behind her and slammed the door, and Adrian revved the engine and then we were off, zooming down the main road, and we’d done it, sort of. We’d . . .

  ‘KIDNAPPED ME!’ gasped Savannah.

  Just as Lacey turned around from the front seat and said:

  ‘Katie, what are you doing?’

  It took quite a long time to explain, partly because Savannah kept screaming.

  ‘So, basically, I need to get backstage at the Teen Time Awards.’

  ‘Eeeeeeeeeew! This seat fabric is so ICKY!’

  ‘Because I have to apologize to Kurt and this is the last chance I’ll ever get.’

  ‘What is ON THIS SEATBELT?’

  ‘And I know everything is ruined and my life is over, but I thought, if I could make this one thing right . . .’

  ‘JAZ IS LOOKING AT ME. MAKE HER STOP LOOKING.’

  ‘Jaz, stop looking at Savannah.’

  ‘You know this really is kidnap,’ said Lacey. ‘I could phone the police.’

  I saw Adrian’s hands stiffen on the steering wheel.

  ‘Well, you’re not kidnapped, Lace. You chose to get in. But, I suppose, yeah. If you wanted to, you could.’

  And Savannah said, ‘Where is the bag, please?’

  Lacey’s groan filled the car. ‘There isn’t a bag, Savannah. It was a way to get you in here. They’re using you. To force their way into Karamel’s dressing room. They’re exploiting your relationship with Kolin.’

  ‘But I don’t even have a relationship with Kolin,’ said Savannah.

  ‘What?’

  The car began to slow. Along with my pulse.

  ‘You said . . .’ My voice cracked. ‘You kept talking about how Kolin was your boyfriend.’

  Savannah was silent.

  ‘Sav?’ Lacey leaned around the seat, looking as shocked as I’ve ever seen her. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Fine, thanks, Lacey,’ said Savannah, and, OMG, the girl was on the verge of crying.

  ‘Do you want some water?’ I said, scrabbling in my bag. ‘Or, here – I’ve got a Mars Milk.’

  She looked like she was going to throw it back in my face, only then, miracle of miracles, she opened it and took a sip. And did this kind of ecstatic groan.

  ‘What is this?’

  ‘It’s a Mars Milk.’

  ‘I’ve never . . . it tastes like . . .’

  ‘Calories. That’s what calories taste like.’

  She took a long swig, and then another. And another.

  ‘Er, Sav. You and Kolin . . . ?’

  She blinked, her eyes deep blue beneath twin pools of tears. ‘He did text me. He texted me a lot. We texted for ages. Only . . .’

  ‘What?’ said Lacey, and she gave Savannah this sweet, kind smile, and I thought, Sav has a heart. How did I miss this?

  ‘Only then he said he wanted to meet up. And so I stopped texting him back.’

  ‘Why the . . . ?’ I started. Then, after Lacey shot me a glare: ‘Um, I mean, I’m sure you had a very good reason, but . . . why?!’

  Another long swig. ‘Because . . . I’m not you, Katie.’

  ‘No. You’re way better than me.’

  ‘I’m way better looking than you,’ corrected Savannah. ‘But I’m not . . . I don’t have any . . . talent. I’m just a pretty girl. Like everyone else. Well, prettier than everyone else. But that’s it.’ She sniffed. ‘Kolin would have found out and . . . you may be facially challenged, Katie, but at least you’re . . . original.’

  Savannah was insecure?

  Savannah was jealous of me?

  Genuinely, I don’t know anything about anything.

  ‘Savannah,’ I said, ‘you are completely original. I’ve never met anyone like you. You’re beautiful—’

  ‘I know,’ said Savannah.

  ‘I mean, inside. You’re really funny. Often without realizing it, but hey. Plus, you’ve been a great friend to Lacey recently. Which is more than can be said for me.’

  Lacey shifted in her seat.

  ‘In fact,’ I went on, ‘I’d say, as far as friends went, I’m pretty much the worst there is.’

  There was a long pause.

  My eyes met Lacey’s in the mirror.

  ‘But I can’t,’ said Savannah. ‘I never texted him back. I can’t just suddenly get in contact now. What will he think of me? Don’t ask any more, Katie, I won’t do it. And nothing you can say will change my mind.’

  Then Adrian said:

  ‘If you get us into Karamel’s dressing room, Savannah, I’ll buy you a Gucci bag.’

  ‘Total yes,’ said Savannah.

  That conversation happened in the first part of the car journey, but in fact it was another forty-five minutes before we got to Wembley. Forty-five minutes is quite a long time even in a normal situation. Forty-five minutes in a car with a silent ex-best friend, a scary person and a Savannah is actual forever.

  Lacey had her head down and wasn’t saying much, which was like having a black hole sitting on the front seat, sucking up every scrap of small talk any of the rest of us managed to generate and making it disappear.

  Savannah was scrolling through Gucci bags on her phone.

  ‘Maybe a tote? But, hmm, a waste to get canvas, it won’t wear well. I think it has to be leather, yes? Oooh, this one’s nice. It’s cross body and the G’s are embossed.’

  ‘How much?’ said Adrian.

  ‘Eight hundred and fifty.’

  The car swerved and we nearly went into the central barrier.

  ‘You had to say a Gucci bag, didn’t you, Katie,’ said Adrian. ‘It couldn’t just be Topshop.’

  ‘Topshop is OK,’ said Savannah.

  ‘Great! In that case—’

  ‘For other girls.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘In fact, might we consider upgrading to Prada?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Look,’ I said. ‘We don�
�t have to do this. It’s not like it’s the answer to all of my problems. It’s not even the answer to some of my problems.’ I thought, and sighed. ‘It’s the answer to one of my problems. One of many. And that’s if he even . . .’

  Then, on the horizon, I saw it. That arch.

  Wembley.

  ‘So here’s what we need to do. All very simple, nothing to get in a panic about,’ said Adrian, looking rather grey. ‘We’ve got to get through security and go backstage. And we mustn’t let anyone see Katie. And I don’t want to get the car towed, so some kind of permit might be nice.’

  We all looked at Savannah. Who said, ‘GG supreme mini chain bag. In a blossom finish. Six hundred is a bargain, really.’

  Swallowing very hard, Adrian nodded, and Savannah lifted her phone to her ear. ‘Kolin! It’s Sav. From the party. I know, I did mean to call . . . Were you? Were you? Oh, Kolin. You are very sweet.’

  This went on for a very long time.

  ‘Aw.’

  And on.

  ‘Squee!’

  And on.

  Finally, about a year later, I tapped on my watch. Which Savannah looked at, and wrinkled her nose.

  ‘Eew. No, not you! I just saw the most revolting timepiece.’

  ‘Savannah!’

  ‘So, here’s the thing. I’m actually outside Wembley, right now . . . complete coincidence . . . yes . . . oh I know . . . of course, babes . . .’

  It wasn’t working. He was surely telling her to go away. Because, now that I thought about it properly, obviously you don’t meet up with people you ran into once at a party just before you sing to Wembley Arena. I mean, if you’re me, you’re too busy puking to even think of using your mouth for anything else.

  Only, then . . .

  ‘Yay! So we’re in this completely grim, like, truck thing, it’s blue, I know, it does go with my eyes, thank you, will you tell the security people? See you in five. Kiss kiss.’

  ‘Thank you, Savannah,’ said Adrian. ‘Now, Katie, it’s up to you.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  I’m not going to go into the Savannah/Kolin reunion, which involved the two of them gluing their faces together with Savannah’s Crème de la Mer lip balm, while me, Lacey, Jaz and Adrian stood and admired the wall.

  Eventually, after about a hundred thousand years of whispers and giggles, Savannah pointed and said, ‘Dressing room seven. He’s on his own; Kristian went to find something to eat.’ And then she went back to kissing Kolin.

  Adrian turned to Jaz and Lacey.

  ‘Shall we . . . go and find a cup of tea?’

  ‘OK,’ said Lacey.

  ‘No way, I want to see this. I mean, yeah, all right,’ said Jaz.

  I took a deep breath. And wondered what the point of taking a deep breath was, as it never seemed to help.

  Then I knocked, and went inside.

  I guess I’d been expecting Karamel’s dressing room to be this kind of deluxe palace of gorgeousness with, I don’t know, gold walls and a jacuzzi. Instead, it was just quite nice, in that there was a big mirror and a noticeboard and a small table with a huge bunch of white lilies in the middle, which smelt lovely, almost lovely enough to counteract the very strong odour of feet.

  Kurt was tuning his guitar when I went in, and he looked up with this great big smile, which, as he clocked who it was, fell off his face and smashed into pieces all over the floor.

  ‘Hi!’ I said.

  ‘You?’

  He didn’t look especially overjoyed that I was there.

  In fact, I’d go as far as to say that I was the person he least wanted to see in the entire universe.

  ‘Yes, me.’

  ‘Get out.’

  ‘Um . . .’

  ‘Go!’

  I didn’t – couldn’t – move, and that just made him shout louder.

  ‘I’ve supported you from the beginning. Right back when you did your first single and stupid Tony wouldn’t release it, I defended you. And I let you put out a song where you basically accused my music, my art, of being worthless.’

  I crumpled as the words hit me.

  ‘I was nice to you. I respected you, even after you dragged me into the stupid Karamel vs Katie fight, which I never wanted because I liked your music. I liked you. And you still thought I’d sell you out to Pop Trash, and not only that, you went public and told everyone?! What does that make me look like?’ He spun a small, angry circle. ‘And why are you still here?’

  ‘Because . . . I’ve come to take it all back. OK? I’m a complete idiot and you don’t have to forgive me.’

  ‘I wasn’t planning to.’

  Once again, I was coming to realize the importance of making a plan before you get into the room with someone important.

  Only, really, what else could I say? Other than:

  ‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry for all of it. For the song, the rubbish pathetic excuse for a song, which I only wrote to get back at my best friend for ignoring me on my birthday.’

  He didn’t look any happier. He certainly didn’t look like the apology was helping. But he hadn’t chucked me out. So:

  ‘And the chart battle, which was low. And pointless. Who cares if some people like one thing and some people like another? There’s room in the world for all of us. More than that, though, I should never have let it carry on, after the concert, when I realized you were good.’

  ‘No. You shouldn’t have.’

  I managed to look up and meet his eyes, his huge, beautiful eyes the colour of new conkers, and saw that he hated me, so much.

  ‘I did everything wrong.’

  ‘You did.’

  ‘And it turns out it was my dad who sold the story on me if you can imagine how that feels, and Adrian’s committed to spending six hundred pounds on Savannah for getting me in here, so you don’t have to listen to my apology but I do at least have to stand in front of you and say it.’

  ‘What the . . . ?’

  ‘I know! But I promised her a Gucci bag. I maybe should have checked the cost first, but there we go.’

  ‘I meant, the story came from your dad?’

  ‘Um. Yeah.’ I’d promised myself I wouldn’t cry, and I very nearly kept it.

  ‘That’s harsh.’

  ‘He didn’t know what he was doing,’ I said quickly. Then, ‘Which, really, is just as bad as if he did.’

  ‘I’d had it down as being a teacher or someone your mum works with. Or a mate. Well, a so-called mate.’

  ‘He’s a so-called dad,’ I said. ‘I should’ve known. I’ve been so stupid.’

  I caught a glimpse of myself in that big mirror and looked away. I’m sure that mirror has seen lots of interesting things, being situated in the main dressing room at Wembley Arena. Still, I bet it has never seen anyone produce such a spectacular quantity of snot as me.

  Nor, by his expression, had Kurt. Even so, he came and sat next to me, and I saw that something in what I’d said had pierced him, somehow. ‘It’s not stupid to love someone. It’s not stupid to trust your father.’

  ‘No?’

  ‘It’s not stupid to have faith in people. Even if they let you down. You keep having faith in them. Maybe they’ll live up to it.’ He smiled that amazing smile. ‘That’s what I tell myself about my dad. It hasn’t worked so far. But you never know.’

  I looked at my feet. ‘I don’t think I have much faith in me, any more.’

  ‘Um, quick question – because I do want to talk about this, but we’re supposed to be onstage fairly soon – where is Kolin?’

  ‘Oh. Yes. Um, Kolin’s with Savannah. They’re getting back together.’ I thought about exactly what this might entail. ‘You might want to text him.’

  He did, and I watched his face frowning over his phone. Not in a weird, stalkery way or anything.

  OK, in a slightly stalkery way. But I don’t think it counts as stalking if the person finishes texting and looks up at you and grins.

  Which made me blush so much that I looked away,
and made myself stare very hard at a bit of paper stuck to the noticeboard.

  A running order. Which went like this:

  TEEN TIME AWARDS

  Olly Murs

  Ed Sheeran

  Tinie Tempah

  Little Mix

  Bruno Mars

  Katie Cox

  Rita Ora

  Karamel

  ‘What’s my name doing up there?’

  ‘I thought you’d won something,’ said Kurt.

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘You must have done.’

  ‘No. Except, maybe . . .’ My mind rewound to that conversation with Tony, on an afternoon where everything had still seemed possible. ‘I did win something, I think. But that was before . . . everything . . .’

  ‘You could still sing, you know,’ said Kurt, in this light voice that completely went against the enormous weight of what he was suggesting.

  ‘Um, ha ha – I don’t think so.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘You want reasons? OK. For one thing, literally the entire stadium wants me to be erased from the face of the earth. So there’s that. Also, I don’t have my guitar with me. Also, I’m done with music.’

  ‘Katie, you can’t give up music.’

  ‘Watch me.’ Not that there was anything to actually watch, but, you know.

  ‘You’re never going to play again?’

  ‘I made some rules, if you must know. I can’t play or sing anything unless I hum something without realizing, and I’m allowed to sing if it would be weird not to, like, say, I’m at a party and someone brings in a birthday cake. And—’

  ‘You’re happy with this? As a decision? For the rest of your life?’

  And I wanted to scream at him. That, no, of course I wasn’t happy with it. That I was basically trapping myself in a grey, soulless universe of nothingness, as though all the flavour had been drained from everything that mattered, like when you eat a strawberry in February, only multiplied by everything, for always and ever.

  ‘I just . . . don’t want to make things any worse.’

  ‘I guess.’ He nodded. ‘Yeah. It’s sad, but . . . it makes sense.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  So, that was it, then. I’d made my apology.

  Everything was finished.