Access All Awkward

by Beth Garrod

  Rach did a double take. I’d forgotten to tell her about yesterday’s fam-bush. “Jo?! What are you doing here?”

  Jo replied, “Hanging out for the weekend,” as I simultaneously said, “Ruining my life.”

  “Riiiiight,” Rach replied, trying not to take sides (although we both knew she was on mine).

  This better not be Jo checking up on us.

  “Did you know stalking is a criminal offence?” I folded my arms.

  She looked me up and down. More specifically up. And most specifically at the topknot that was worming its way off my head. “Did you know that hairstyle is a criminal offence?”

  Plus side. Her hair insults meant she maybe hadn’t spotted that the hoodie tied round my waist was one I’d borrow-stolen from her room.

  She nodded towards the stage. “Can you believe what that dude said? You guys must be fuming?! I know I am.”

  Tegan nodded unhappily. I wanted to agree too, but didn’t want Jo to think I wasn’t still totally mad at her. Rach replied for us.

  “He’s officially a Grade-A moron.”

  “I was so relieved when I saw you three still huddled here. I KNEW you wouldn’t be settling for that lame excuse of a speech he gave.” She looked at me. “I just spoke to Mum and she told me you’d be on the case.” Oh, so she’d been reporting back already. “Plotting, plotting, am I right?”

  None of us said anything, no one about to admit the truth.

  The only thing we’d been plotting was giving up.

  Although…

  WAIT…

  My own mother believed we wouldn’t be quitting. She wouldn’t have just given up with her friends. So why were we?

  Jo was right. So was Tegan.

  This didn’t have to be the end.

  All Baseball Cap Man had done was lay down the gauntlet. There were still two-and-a-half days until the set was happening. Wasn’t this enough time to prove to RebelRocks they’d made the wrong decision? Stop The Session totally getting away with this?!

  It was like I’d leant on the fast-forward button of my emotional controls. From total blankness, now I had a gazillion thoughts whizzing everywhere.

  We had to act FAST. I had to get the others on board.

  “Yes, Jo. Totally right. WATCH THIS SPACE.” I was even speaking double speed. Tegan and Rach were looking at me like that time when I’d put our refrigerated home-made face mask on, but accidentally got it muddled up with a tub of cottage cheese. “So we can’t stand here chatting. We’ve got work to do.”

  With a wave to Jo, I strode off fiercely, willing the others to follow.

  Tegan caught up first. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

  Of course she was.

  Rach walk-jogged next to us.

  “Sozzee to be late to this party, but, err, what is going on?”

  “We’re notching things up a gear, Rach. That’s what.”

  “I LIKE IT!” Rach waggled her eyebrows. “Soooo … what exactly is the first step to this notching?”

  “Well…” I began, but Rach had found the first flaw of my plan. The only step of the plan I had so far was:

  1)Make a plan.

  But I didn’t want to lose the confidence we were building up.

  “…Well. We’re three intelligent peeps…” I remembered my looming exam results. “Well, two, anyway. So … step one is putting our heads together.”

  Tegan thought for a sec. “We could add protest slogans to some of their posters on site? Or … or storm the festival radio station and tell them what’s what?”

  Rach’s eyes had lit up. “And when they start to sell the merch we could get Mikey and Jay and Adam and make some kind of … I dunno. Slowest-moving queue so no one can ever get to the front?!”

  I wasn’t exactly sure what that meant, but I liked the enthusiasm. But what I liked even more was that Tegan had given me an idea. I stopped dead as it hit me.

  “I think we can go even bigger… You know the saying. If we can’t beat ’em – join ’em?”

  Rach shook her head, glitter raining down. “You’re going to have to explain…”

  “The Session and RebelRocks organizers – who are blatantly friends – might think they’ve got away with it, but they might have played straight into our hands.”

  I rubbed my palms together like a villainous cartoon character. But who cared? I was on a mission.

  “Sure, we might not be Brian with his gazillion followers, but we CAN fight back.” My heart was pounding. Tegan nodded at me to finish. “How about we use their gig as the biggest ever platform to tell people that how they treat people is totally sexist and gross and WRONG?” A smile crept across Tegan’s face, as she got it too. It was time to unleash the plan.

  “How about we turn The Session’s gig into the biggest protest a festival has ever seen?”

  CHAPTER

  FOURTEEN

  The next few hours were officially some of the greatest of my life (probably joint only with the hours 9.15– 11.30 p.m. last November when the freezers in our local cinema broke, and they asked us to stay behind after the film to see if we could help “dispose” of the melting Ben & Jerry’s).

  High off the new plan (and chomping through a burrito that was the size of a small bulldog), the three of us began to put the protest plan into action. We had to get together as many people as possible for a #StopTheSession squad to storm the crowd on Sunday and force the band to answer our questions. To do it we were going to need as much publicity as we could get, while trying to keep it below the organizers’ and band’s radar so they couldn’t put a stop to it. Our first mission was to spread the message on site, as well as posting online in the forums of people who’d been supporting us. We set up a bunch of new profiles to try and stay under Brian and @HeyItsTheSessionHQ’s radar.

  “So we’re agreed then?” Tegan composed herself as she chewed her last mouthful of burrito. “Head back to tents, charge phones, change clothes, then come to see Fika Party, the Action! Action! panel, Molly and the Bens and…”

  “The Tomato Ketchup Conspiracy Theory.” Rach finished off the careful list of bands we were going to see today with my favourite one. We’d planned with precision. “And along the way we get everyone we know to put the word out on the d-low about the protest. And speak to the stall owners to see if they can help?” Rach reckoned she could sweet talk the T-shirt printer Tegan and I had met yesterday into printing some slogan tops for us.

  I nodded. “Exacto. We need as much #StopTheSession stuff for Sunday as possible.”

  When I’d sent Adam the picture of his set time on screen, I’d also cryptically asked him to pack some extra Sharpies and Blu-Tack for when he arrived later. As soon as he’d got out of his exam he replied to say he was on it. And that his exam had gone really well. And that he couldn’t wait to see me.

  S-woon. I couldn’t wait to see him – and tell him what we’d planned.

  First on our hit list was to stick up signs all around the festival about the protest (in places the organizers would never go, like the back of the public Portaloo doors), and work out how to make as many signs as possible to unleash on the day.

  “This gig is going to be THE most talked about thing ever. They won’t know what’s hit them!” Tegan was 100% confident this was going to work. “Sunday, 8 p.m., you better watch out!” She said it so fiercely I almost felt sorry for The Session. Almost.

  We made our way back before separating at the top of the hill to go either side of the fence, ready to meet up back by our tents. But as we approached ours my phone rang, so I motioned for them to carry on.

  The pic on the screen gave me a familiar thud of excitement. The feeling I only ever got from Adam. Along with the instantaneous nerves about being able to come across normal over the phone.

  “BEEEEEEEF.”

  I couldn’t help but grin at hearing him so excited.

  “AAAAAAAARD. Whassssup?” Although this was a totally cringe way of saying hello, we’d
agreed we’d try and reclaim it, and make it so uncool it full-circled and was acceptable again. “Other than nailing your last exam, obv?! Welcome to the other side!”

  “I wouldn’t say ‘nailed’. But it’s done!” He whooped. “I wanted to see how you were doing after earlier? I saw Brian’s story. That man is a …” A car beeped at that exact moment, drowning out his word. Probably for the best.

  “I told you. I’m fine. And I have a PLAN! BUT I’LL TELL YOU IN PERSON, OK?”

  He laughed. “OK, OK!”

  But I could hear something in his voice.

  “There’s something up, isn’t there?”

  He paused.

  “Maaaaybe?” The way he went up at the end meant there definitely was. And it was something good.

  “OI?! Don’t be as annoying as me. TELL?!”

  He laughed. His gorgeous warm laugh.

  “Guess?”

  “Have you found an eyeliner that can do cat-flicks evenly on both sides?!”

  “I … er … don’t know what that means … but I’m sure it’s on a level?!”

  “What? Are you here already?” I spun round. “Are you behind me or something?”

  “Nah – but I will be in a couple of hours.”

  For the first time I noticed how busy it sounded at his end of the phone.

  “Go on…”

  “Are you sitting down?”

  “I’m leaning on a bin?”

  “That’ll do….” He took a deep breath. “Bad news – I might be a bit later than I said today.”

  That wasn’t so bad, I was just excited to see him. “And the good news??”

  “BELLS! We just got a call from a booker! They’ve had a band drop out. They’ve bumped us … TO HEADLINERS OF THE NEW BAND TENT ON SATURDAY!!”

  Woah. HEADLINERS??? This was EPIC!

  “Oh. MY. GAH!!! That’s AMAYYYYZZZIIINNNG.”

  I realized I was jumping up and down on the spot.

  But I was so happy for him! So proud! And beyond excited to see him on stage (where I was 100% going to loudly point out that he was my boyfriend to anyone who would listen/couldn’t get away to not listen).

  Unable to stop myself, I put my hand over the speaker and said to a passing stranger, “My boyfriend’s headlining the New Band Tent!!” The lovely thing was they gave me an impromptu high five. The less lovely thing was realizing I was becoming my mother.

  “Awesome, huh?”

  “Next-level awesome.”

  “And you know the best thing?” I shook my head. Not so useful on a phone call. “Having you there to see it.”

  OH HELLO ALL THE FEELS.

  “I wouldn’t miss it for the WORLD…” It was going to be my life highlight to date.

  But I wanted to say more. Tell him how he’d got it all wrong. The best thing about all of this was him.

  “Ah, Bells. You da best. I genuinely feel a whole load less freaked about it knowing you’ll be there.” I grinned, basking in his loveliness. “But look. I’m going to have to go. We’re squeezing in as much practice today as possible.”

  So that’s what I could hear in the background. His bandmates chatting.

  “Yeah – you go!”

  “I’ll message when we get on site!”

  “Cool beans!” Oh great. My boyfriend headlined stages. I said “cool beans”.

  Adam paused. “You know…” His voice sounded different. Like he’d put his hand over his mouth for privacy. “I really like you Bells, right? As in … REALLY like you.”

  WHOA.

  I wasn’t expecting that. It came out of nowhere. I was a mixture of absolutely over the moon, and totally panicked about the right thing to reply. Because the truth was: I really liked him too. More than liked him. So what could I say back?

  When good stuff happened, I didn’t just want to tell Tegan and Rach, I wanted to share it with him too. And when things happened at home, or my exams went wrong, or there were money worries with GADAC, it was Adam who wrapped me up in a cuddle and made me feel OK. Anything was possible when I was around him. I even tidied my room voluntarily when I knew he was coming over.

  Deep down, I knew what I should say back.

  I should tell him how I really felt.

  Love.

  Yup. I loved him.

  It was a feeling that didn’t seem to have a start or an end. Just an everything.

  So could I admit it to him?

  I took a deep breath. And replied.

  “Me too.”

  As usual, I was Bella, middle name Wimp, Fisher.

  CHAPTER

  FIFTEEN

  I was still smiling by the time I got back to our tent.

  Teeg was next to the fence, sitting on some rocks and magazines she’d made into a mini stool (leaving me our one camping chair to sit on. She was The Best). Rach was the other side of the fence, chatting away, swapping into different socks and trainers.

  They were as made up as me when I told them Adam’s news. Rach suggested I wear my new short-sleeved polka-dot playsuit to celebrate the news. A most excellent call.

  Rach’s field was unrecognizable from yesterday – there was hardly any grass to be seen, just tents that were the size of Rach’s garage, and bunting, camper vans, groups of friends setting up, and so many girls in short shorts (who looked like they hadn’t forgotten to bring their razors and weren’t on day two of leg hair regrowth like me). Where there had been space around Rach’s tent, now a group of five tents had popped up in a sort of U-shape around it, each of them proudly decorated with a glittery “PARTY HQ”.

  “Looks like you got company!” I plonked myself down on the chair as Tegan zipped my playsuit into place.

  Rach scrunched her face. “Gotta hope they’re nice?! Or at least don’t snore.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Don’t mind YOU snoring, more like?”

  “Oi.” She threw a sock at me over the fence. But she knew it was true. When she stayed at mine, her night noises sometimes made the neighbour’s dog bark. How a face so serene could make the sound of a pneumatic drill, I had no idea. I threw the sock back, and it totally missed. As Rach went to fetch it, she peered into the new mini campsite she’d found herself in.

  “Seriously, guys. These peeps are next level. They’ve got a full-length mirror. As in a glass mirror. And an actual bucket of glitter.” Rach spotted Tegan looking at her nervously. Was it even possible to trespass when you all lived in a field? “Don’t worry, they’re not in.”

  But Rach suddenly stopped dead and dropped to the floor, her mouth hanging open. She looked like she’d seen a ghost. Which, considering it was bright daylight, and they didn’t exist, was fairly unlikely. Voices were approaching – were these the mysterious campmates?

  I leant as far forward as I could to get a glimpse of them. Which caused two things to happen. One very good, one very bad.

  Good: Rach had struck campmate gold. Her tent buddies were people we knew very well (/knew very well from afar). The Mega Girl Crush girls!

  Bad: With a sound of snapping plastic (and maybe a snapping leg bone) I spectacularly toppled off my chair.

  Tegan lunged forward to save me, grabbing my foot. But all that happened was my trainer came off in her hand, and with a thump I splatted on to the ground right in front of MGC’s faces, socked foot waving in the air.

  Blue Hair slow clapped. “That was quite something.”

  Choker Girl and their mate in a retro Britney Spears T-shirt laughed. I hoped with me, not at me.

  I waved feebly from the ground. “Er, hello.” This was our chance to impress them. Befriend them. But how? Teeg helped me back up. At least one of the three of us was a competent human. Rach was still crouching behind her tent in shock – staying totally rigid as Blue Hair started stepping backwards towards her.

  “Soz, mate.” Blue Hair spotted Rach milliseconds before treading on her. “I’ll leave you in peace.” She smirked. “Pee being the operative word.”

  Rach gasped, mortified
.

  “I’m not peeing??” she shouted. “I’m just, er…” What, Rach? Hiding behind this tent while you try and deal with the fact you’re basically living with the girls we’re obsessed with? “Tying my shoe.”

  Impressive lie. Until I realized Blue Hair was peering at Rach’s feet. Which were very much in slip-on trainers. But she didn’t pull Rach up on it.

  “Are they the Alexa Chung ones?”

  Rach nodded. Her dad had picked them up in Japan. “Sweet.”

  Rach blinked like she couldn’t believe she was the one impressing Blue Hair. Maybe befriending hopes weren’t lost after all?! Go shoes!

  Blue Hair stuck her hand out. “I’m Marge.”

  “And the rest…” Britney T heckled as she walked round to check out Rach’s shoes.

  Marge shook her head. “Seriously? Every time?”

  Britney T nodded.

  “Fine?! I’m Marge … last name Simpson. And yes – the irony of my blue hair has NOT been lost on me.”

  Rach was giving Marge the same look of adoration she used to give Mumbles when she was a puppy. The same look I try not to give Adam 24/7.

  “I’m Rach … and these –” she pointed at Tegan and me “– are my best mates, Tegan and Bella.” We both waved.

  Choker Girl looked at Tegan and me as if trying to work something out.

  “I know you, don’t I?”

  Marge flipped open a can of beer, spraying Rach’s tent. “It’s that girl with the loo roll from Tesco, right?”

  I mean, she was technically right although I did have other descriptions I preferred. But it meant they remembered us. Remembered me!

  “That’s me.” I waved. Again. How many times was it OK to wave at people before it became weird? Choker Girl’s face suggested the sweet spot was probably one.

  “So why aren’t you with your mate?” Choker Girl looked at Rach like she was a lost dog. Albeit a lost dog with great shoes.

  Tegan replied for us. “We can’t camp together. This is as near as we can get, because we have to stay in the workers’ bit.” She lifted up her wristband. They looked impressed. I lifted mine up too, keen to get in on the action, but they’d moved on, so I quickly pretended to be doing a stretch instead.