by Beth Garrod
“Let’s agree to disagree on that one.” Tegan had admitted to me last night that she thought they were trying to turn Rach against us, although she had no idea why. I wouldn’t go that far, but as much as Rach got on with them, they did always made me feel on edge.
“Well, they’ve been great to me.” It was as close to annoyed as I’d ever heard Rach. “And get this, while you two were sleeping, we ended up sharing a hot dog with –” she scrolled through her photos “– and Bells, brace yourself.” She turned her screen around. “Ruby from Tommy K?!”
Whoa. In front of me was a massive, grinning group selfie of the four of them with the lead singer – the kind that would have totally gone on my wall, if I’d been in it. Or anywhere near it. Not sleeping miles away.
But something about it made me look twice. And I didn’t know what.
I felt uneasy. Why was I trying to catch Rach out?
“Awesome…” I tried to sound impressed, but I saw a flinch on Rach’s face. Did she hear the jealousy I was trying to pretend wasn’t there? Marge sauntered up and put her arm round Rach.
“Big day today…” She knew we didn’t need reminding.
“Too right.” Teeg looked down the path towards where Ross was gathering our group. “But first … we recycle.”
I thumbed my vest out. “Putting the cool into re-cy-cool since the year ’18.” No one laughed. “So, er… we’d better be off.”
And with nothing more to say, we headed off, not even trying to repair the weird atmosphere between us. Which is why, when we finished our final shift and handed in our jackets for the very last time, I had no idea why Lols, Britney T, Marge and Rach were all on their feet clapping as we walked towards our tent.
What had I missed?
Lols was holding a can of Fanta in the air. And staring right at me. Rach was doing raise-the-roof hands.
What was going on?
Tegan and I stopped next to our tent and stared.
“Lads of Party HQ – I propose a toast.” Lols put two fingers to her mouth and whistled.
Were they actually as happy as us that we’d finally finished our shifts. Or… My heart fluttered as an idea popped into my head. Did they know something about our sign-ups that we didn’t?!
“Guys, come on over!” Lols beckoned Tegan and me to the fence. We walked towards it slowly, cautiously. What was this? I looked at Rach, eager for a clue, but she’d turned to Lols. I couldn’t quite hear what she said, but it sounded something like, “Are you sure this is a good idea?”
Lols looked at her like she was crazy. “’Course. It’s a monumental occasion. So…” She raised her voice up again so we could all hear. “Please be upstanding to celebrate this joyous news.”
Britney T whooped. I glanced at Tegan, but she was as quiet as me.
Why had Lols clambered on to her chair?
“Cans in the air,” Lols was shouting. People walking behind her had turned to stare. “C’mon guys, let’s see those hands up?!” I looked at Tegan, and together we lifted our arms nervously. “And let’s go wild, let’s go crazy for…” For what?! “Bella finally losing her V plates to her absolute stone-cold hottie of a boyfriend last night.”
What?! What was happening?! Was this a joke? But I didn’t have a moment to take it in as Rach was whooping. Britney T was yelling “Get it, girl!” and Marge had run up to high-five me through the fence.
I couldn’t move a muscle. What was going on?
“And there I was thinking you were a lost cause.” Marge air-clinked her bottle of Diet Coke towards my hand, which was still dangling in the air, confused. “College is going to be a BLAST.”
Lols turned towards me. “Anything you want to say, Bella?”
And I don’t know if it was the shock.
Or the fact Rachel looked so happy for me.
Or the fact I was already worried about how bad my life at college would be with these girls around, but only one word came out.
“Thanks.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SEVEN
The D’Oh Nut Stand was only two minutes’ walk away.
Which meant less than 120 seconds till we found out if anyone had turned up to prepare for the protest.
The dream was we’d turn the corner and see a crowd already gathered. But today was already not working out at all as planned. And whenever I tried to concentrate on the protest, the drama from earlier thought-photobombed it.
But how could it not? Rach was being off with me. And the look Tegan had given me at the time had been the worst – she was disappointed I hadn’t been strong enough to tell them the truth.
I had tried to go back on myself, tell Marge, Britney T and Lols they’d got it wrong, but they wouldn’t let me get a word in, too busy speculating on all the details. It was like they enjoyed seeing me flustered. Enjoyed me finding out that it was Rach who had told them I was a virgin.
Her sharing my secrets with them hurt. Why was it even their business?
Eurgh. I couldn’t stop myself being mad about it. Mad at myself. How stupid had I been sticking the Polaroid of us in my bra for good luck vibes today?
I was too grumpy to talk and judging by our silent walk down the hill, Rach felt the same. I was cross she didn’t seem convinced it was me telling the truth that nothing had happened. And she was cross I kept asking where they’d got the info from, refusing to drop it. I think she felt I wasn’t being honest with her about last night. I said they were weirdly obsessed with my love life. She said they were just being friendly and it was me who had the problem.
EURGH. I had no idea what was going on with them.
At least this time tomorrow they’d be out of my life, hopefully for ever, but at worst until college. All I had to do now was stop them making any more trouble. Which was hard, as Rach had already let slip that on their first night out together, Lols had tried to talk her out of the protest, because they thought it was a “lame idea that would never work”.
I was fuming. Mainly at them, but also a bit at her. Why couldn’t she see straight through them? That the only thing they seemed to care about was causing trouble – mainly at my expense.
But was this it now, or did they have anything else up their sleeve? After this morning, I had to keep them away from Adam at all costs. I just didn’t trust them.
“Guys.” Tegan had her gymnastics-teaching voice on. “I’m not sure what was going on back there, but is there any way we could all agree that we’re tired and there’s been a mix-up? We can absolutely come back to it and sort it out properly, but for now we HAVE to deal with what’s happening. Meeting all the people for the protest. To work together to stop The Session. Remember?” She rubbed her face with both hands as if this was all a bad dream she could wake up from. “It’s the three of us … we can do anything.”
Normally her team talks worked a treat, but this time all she got were grunts.
But this semi-truce would have to do, because it was time to turn the corner to the D’Oh Nut Stand.
Find out if anyone had turned up to prepare for the protest.
Pessimistic me decided not to look in case there was no one there.
Optimistic me thought I’d spotted a group of people already gathered.
Realistic me decided I needed to know one way or the other. So, with my heart thudding so hard it made my breath wobble, I scanned the area.
And…
Couldn’t see anyone.
“Maybe they’re round the back?” My voice was all high. “Or the side?”
But as we walked nearer, one thing became clear. Our supporters weren’t at the back. Or the side.
They just weren’t here. The only person who was here was Brenda, who had traffic-cone cordoned off an area for us. A big empty area. And the only people that were walking towards it were ones who were trying to get round it to buy doughnuts.
After all this, nobody was coming.
Fifteen minutes of sitting on our own later, and Tegan had run out of terri
ble excuses (we’d forgotten to put all of our clocks forward for BST and had only just realized/there was a second doughnut stand we didn’t know about where loads of people were probably waiting for us/ The Session had already pulled out and there was no need for a protest).
“I might have one idea.” Rach was looking at her phone. “You know everyone who commented to say they were coming?” There had been at least twenty. “Some dude has spent the morning messaging them saying the prep session was cancelled.”
I checked over her shoulder – she was right. We’d been so busy bickering we hadn’t been checking our accounts, or keeping everyone updated as normal.
It was a low move by someone, but it was our fault for dropping the ball when we should have been on it the most. I looked around. All the boxes of stuff we’d collected around us. All the effort we’d put in.
All for nothing.
Should we pack up and put this whole plan out of its misery?
As soon as I thought of it, I knew the answer. Failing sucked. But failing because we’d stopped working together sucked even more.
I had to do something.
I stood up and picked up a box of the pens, card and flags we’d collected over the last few days. “Right then.” I plonked it on top of the picnic bench between us. “We haven’t got all day.” Rachel and Tegan looked at me, confused. Failing was one thing. To not see it through would be even worse. “Let’s get making. I for one am not going to let The Session get away with all those sexist slogans. And what they said about Rach and all their fans.” It was my subtle attempt at clearing the air. “It’s not like a there’s a minimum number for a protest, right?” I mean, there was a minimum number for a successful protest, but the goalposts had changed. They were now wider than a pitch, and I was not going to let one stupid argument be bigger than the three of us.
Rach lifted another box and opened it up. “Resistance takes persistence, that’s what you always say, Tegan?”
Tegan nodded, and with a quiet determination the three of us opened everything up, getting out everything we’d collected, a team again. With Rach at one end, I started to unroll the massive plain fabric banner she’d blagged. But as I did, a black-and-white furry paw grabbed the end.
“Sorry we’re late!” Mikey doubled over the bench, totally out of breath. “Jay got his pincer stuck in a cash machine. Four people had to help yank him out. It was not pretty.”
The Leemster didn’t seem to have noticed that the three of us were very much on our own. Or if they did, they weren’t making a thing out of it.
“So what’s first?” Mikey peered at the boxes. “Banners, flags, what?”
And he didn’t know it, but single-handedly he’d just made everything seem less hopeless. A protest of five didn’t seem so bad. Sure, it wasn’t going to be enough to stop The Session – or even make them notice we were there – but at least we could finish what we’d started.
I weighted down the ends of the banner.
“So for this we decided to go with ‘Stages Aren’t for Sexists’ right?”
Everyone nodded except Mikey.
“I still vote for ‘Make Music, not Spew-sic’ but I’ve been outvoted.”
I ignored him. He ignored me ignoring him. “And for the flags we’ve got ‘The Session Need a Lesson’, ‘People = Equal’ ‘Girls Aren’t Up for Grabs’ and ‘People Aren’t Property’.”
Someone flicked my ear. “I could do a killer design for those if you wanted?”
My sister.
“You’re here?” Which, considering I could see her, was a weird thing to say.
“I’ve seen your art coursework, Bells – I couldn’t let the family name get tarnished.” Jo put her hand out. “You’ve got glitter on your chin, by the way.” She licked her finger and rubbed it off. “Now show me where the pens are and I’ll get started.”
If there’s one thing I’d say about my sister, it’s that she’s really annoying. But if there were two, I’d add that she’s amazing at design, and was more than happy to have her skills right now. We might not have quantity of items, but we were going to have quality.
I handed the pens to her, saying a massive thank you. Well, I was going to, but didn’t want to sound too cheesy, so actually said, “Don’t mess it up.”
“Oh, and I brought some help too … if that’s OK?” A group of six people standing at the edge of the area all waved. (One of them I totally recognized as her dancing friend, although she looked very different when standing still and not doing a chicken impersonation.) Our protest had officially hit double figures!
“Nice one, you guys!” Tegan beckoned them over. “Grab a seat. More pens and card and stuff are there. Help yourself to whatever you need.”
Brenda shouted from behind the counter. “And include drinks and doughnuts in that too.” She raised her fist. “What you lot are doing is bloomin’ brilliant. Talking of which…” She nodded behind my right shoulder. I turned around – it was the T-shirt printing man from next door who had told us he couldn’t help.
“Brenda told me what you lot are up to and turns out I had some spare stock after all…” He stumbled on his words as he noticed a lemur and lobster slaving over some lettering. “So if you, er, wanna head round here, I might be able to help.”
Rach picked up the paper with the slogans on. “I’ve got this.” She walked over to T-shirt man. “Let’s go raise hell!” He looked alarmed. “Aka print some T-shirts.”
Rach winked at Teeg and me before swishing her long hair over her shoulder and striding off with him. I loved that this was happening. But, even more, I loved that we were beginning to feel like us again. Jo stood up. “I’ll go help with the Photoshop, get them started. Back in a sec.”
And that’s when our first bunch of complete strangers turned up. They’d overslept but rushed over with a cry of, “Better late than never.” Apparently, they’d had some friends who were going to come along too, but after seeing all the abuse Brian had given me, Rach and Tegan, they’d decided to stay away.
I couldn’t hate him more. And while we might not be able to stop him, I knew one thing. Our protest wasn’t a disaster. Whatever happened now, we’d proved that putting an idea out there could bring people together. And soon we had three picnic tables full of people all working away. Some I recognized from our litter-picking crew, some from my talk yesterday, and some were people who’d been in touch on social and had been wise enough to ignore the lies about it being cancelled.
Out of all the things they could be doing at the festival right now, they’d all chosen to be here, doing this.
It was awesome.
I got my camera out and took photos of everyone in action. As I snapped an arm went round my waist, a voice whispering in my ear.
“Well, THIS is pretty amazing.”
What was Adam doing here?!
“Aren’t you meant to be at that walkthrough thingy?”
“I maaaaay have played at least one song double speed.” He shrugged innocently. “A drummer’s got to do what a drummer’s got to do. But I had to come and say good luck!”
He was in black jeans rolled up at the ankle, white classic Adidas, and an oversized plain black T-shirt. He called it his “band look”. I called it his “intensely extra-fit look that made me do a silent gulp it was so overwhelmingly hot” (I only called it that inside my own head/once on Messenger to my sister but that was an accident ’cos I thought she was Rach).
I gave him the biggest hug. “You know you’re officially the best, right?” Getting an up-close smell of his hair, his neck, made me feel all wobbly on the inside. He was like a human bacon sandwich.
He leant back, luckily unaware I was comparing him to a breakfast item. “Says the person who’s made all this happen.”
“It was a group effort,” I corrected him. Right now Tegan was with Mikey, showing a group of strangers the list of slogans we’d written up on Brenda’s chalkboard, and Rach was next door with my sister at the printer.
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“And Beefy, you are in that group! So what can I do? I’ve got …” He looked at his watch. “… about five minutes before they officially notice that I’ve disappeared, so use me wisely.”
Well, that was a phrase he should never utter around me and expect a coherent response back.
I picked up some paper to buy time to stop my mind thinking things not appropriate for this time of the day.
“First up, you can tell me how this walkthrough thing went.”
He wrinkled his nose.
“Two words. Imposter syndrome. And that’s when no one was watching, they were just walking past eating baguettes. Can’t imagine what it will feel like tonight when people are actually watching? Well, when I hope they’re watching…”
“Shush, you. ’Course they will. And I’ve asked one of my litter-picking buddies to film every second, so I can recreate the entire thing when we get home. Although don’t tell Mum, as she’ll probably join in and tell us some horrif story of her ‘wild festival days’. Actual shudder.”
Adam grinned. It was dazzling. He’d had his braces off a couple of months ago, and now his teeth were Netflix teen drama perfect. “Talking of shudder, guess who I saw backstage?”
“Ska?”
“Worse.”
“Mrs Hitchman.” Adam rolled his eyes in despair.
“Not sure what your old headmistress would be doing here, but no.”
Then it hit me.
“The Session?”
“I can’t be sure, but it looked like Brian deliberately threw a coffee down one of his assistants.” He nodded slowly as I took it in. “I know, right?”
“So he’s not just a massive sexist idiot, he’s also an all-round bad human?”
“From what I saw, the actual worst. Wish I’d managed to get pics. Have some proof. The rest of the band were sitting around, letting it all happen, playing some quiz game on one of their phones.”
“Shattering my backstage rock-and-roll illusions there.”
“Maybe they were just trying to hide their nerves ’cos they know you’re up to something?!” I laughed, appreciating his blatant optimism. “Soooo, what can I do?”