Chapter Thirty-Four

Where The Lines Overlap

"No one is as lucky as us,
We're not at the end, but oh we already won."

And the winner is...

Jason and his sodding seven-piece, Bon Jovi loving ensemble, who race up to the stage and collect their shared gift vouchers to a local Sports Center like they've won a Grammy.

Then, they each take it in turns to lift up a plastic 1st place gold statue, made by the drama prop students for the local newspaper photographer, before the base falls off and the gold paint stains their hands.

And even though it's not nearly as rock and roll an ending as I'd imagined, I'm not too disappointed. I mean, we all are to some degree, but none of us are majorly surprised.

The competition was tough.

We're just glad we made it through and did not only our song, but months of practice and hard work justice.

"And look on the bright side, Josie, at least we placed higher than Spencer and his stupid football stunts and you get to keep your name," Libby says, as we all filter out from the music hall and onto the small grassy knoll, taking in the warmth of a July night.

"Yeah, I mean technically we did beat Maddie, she didn't even get a mention, but we also didn't win," Mel sighs, raising her arm to catch Linda's attention as she waits by the old smoking shelter for us.

"So the bet's null and void," I nod, turning to loop my arm through Max's.

He hugs it tight. "I think I'll survive without an apology. I mean, I know it sounds awful, but I believe karma's already making amends with Maddie."

"True, and I do like prefer my name just the way it is."

"As it should be," he laughs.

Throwing out her arms to embrace us all in a giant hug, Linda tells us that we were all amazing. "Spectacular, honestly! I wanted an encore! And, personally, though this may make me sound terribly bias, I do think you we're robbed."

Max brushes off his mums fussing over the state of his sweat slicked hair and cheeks, and laughs, "Cheers Mum."

"I know I'm supposed to say it's the taking part that counts, and whilst that's true, I do believe you guys we're the best tonight. I mean, Josie's singing...wow, powerful! And Mel, the bass slayer, what a force!" Linda says, her voice high and excited as she compliments us one by one. "And Libby, blimey! How talented are you young lady?"

"Saving the best till last?" Max jokes, gently nudging her arm. He throws me a quick wink and a cheeky grin.

Linda pauses, pretending like she's trying hard to remember, until she can't anymore. "Oh of course, and Max. I think it's safe to say that you gave those Bon Jovi lads a run for their money up there, shredding away."

A hint of a blush spreads to his cheeks but he smiles, obviously chuffed to hear his mum be so enthusiastic and in awe of him.

And soon, mine approaches, along with my dad whose been duped into carrying her handbag and the free Royal Flush coupons and flyers given out at the start of the show.

She looks like she might cry. "Josie, darling! I am so unbelievably proud of you!"

Dad rubs my back and nods, "Really bloody brilliant. For a moment, I closed my eyes and it was like I was back at the Hammersmith, 1980, watching Blondie tear up the stage."

"Thanks Dad," I say, feeling a familiar blush creep to my cheeks, but one bought about from feeling surprisingly proud of myself for actually stepping onto the stage. A few months ago, in a hallway not far from here, I'd fainted at the thought of having to stand up and talk to a few people. Now I've just performed for a couple hundred.

And finally, the nerves are gone and in it's place is a brand new feeling of overwhelming euphoria. One that makes me feel like anything is possible.

"Hi Mr. Clarke, and Mrs. Clarke," Max says, in his best polite, adult voice, before offering out his hand to my dad.

As he shakes it and offer's his thoughts on how good the rest of the band were, my mum smiles at Linda and says, "You must be Max's mum."

And instead of a friendly wave, Linda takes her in for a big, generous hug.

Behind, Max and I quietly giggle as my mum's cheeks grow rosy and she starts to stutter about how great it is to finally meet her and what a nice, young 'chap' her son is. General small talk continues before my dad offer's out his hand.

"How much do we owe you in rent?" He jokes, tagging onto the end of my mum thanking Linda for having me round so often, as in every day for pretty much the last three months.

Linda laughs and says, "Oh it's not a problem at all having Josie over. It's been great fun listening to these guys jam out, and well, it's nice to see Max and Mel so happy."

"Same," my mum says, nodding over at me.

"So," Mel says, resting her elbow on Max's shoulder. "Post-thank god that's over celebratory pizza and ice cream fest back at ours?"

We all laugh, and my mum shuffles on her feet, looks to my dad whose busy watching Jason thrust up his winning trophy as the rest of his band hold him up like he's crowd surfing at a gig.

"You're all more than welcome to come for a drink, it's a perfect evening for it," Linda offers.

"It gives her an excuse to put out all the pretty cushions she's been buying," Mel grumbles, side eyeing Max who agrees.

"Don't forget the new fairy lights."

Linda plays the role of ditsy, proud mum to perfection and says, "Oh don't listen to them. But you're both still welcome to join, that's if you can stand to put up with these two, heaven only knows how I do."

My mum mimics the light-hearted laughter and thanks her like she's been presented with the holy grail, but ultimately, she turns it down. "We would love to, but we've got a dinner reservation at that little Italian in town. We've actually booked a seat for Josie too, but it's completely up to her if she wants to join or not."

"That's fine, maybe another time?"

"Yes, that would be lovely."

"Can I go back with Max?" I ask my mum, because I don't want this night to end and I certainly don't want to go back to that weird, little Italian restaurant with the starey, male staff.

She nods, "Like I said, it's completely up to you."

I low five Max's hand behind his back. "Pizza and ice cream party here I come."

"We'll have to stop off at the shops before we get home," Mel yawns, leaning on Libby for support.

Whilst my mum compliments Linda on her colourful summer blouse and my dad looks up at the nights sky, probably thinking about the football highlights he's got back home on record, I twist my hand into Max's and gently pull him aside.

"What's up?" He says, all dimples.

I duck to pick up my backpack and I slowly slide out a small paper bag. "I just wanted to give you a little something."

"You do?"

I pause, holding onto the way his eyes widen, how they reflect the flashing light escaping outside from the stage. And then I reach in and pull out a gold, plastic statue.

"I know it's not as fancy as the main trophy," I laugh, looking over at Jason and his band. "But at least you won't be forever stained by toxic paint, or have to share."

Max cups his hands and turns them over. When I place the World's Best Guitarist/Boyfriend/Best Friend into his palms, the strength of his smile almost knocks me back.

"No further prizes for guessing where I got the idea from..."

"This is amazing," he says, chuckling and turning it to examine the small, hand written sticker. "And, are you kidding? This is hands down better. I'm actually kind of speechless."

"Yeah, you'd never tell! And now we both have one."

Holding on to it tight, Max's other hand brushes mine and he quickly checks to see if parent's are looking, and when he's sure they're not, he kisses the pinks of my cheeks.

"I freaking love it."

"I've got one for Mel and Libby too."

He grins, "Good shout. You know what they'd be like if you ever left them out!"

Tracing patterns into the check of his flannel shirt, I agree, "I'm just gutted I didn't think of - Mel, the bass slayer myself. That would have made an awesome trophy caption."

"It would have and, warning - Parents, incoming," Max whispers, breaking away.

"Darling, we're going to shoot off now," my mum announces, giving me another hug. "Are you going to be alright?"

I glance at Max, still smiling and revelling in his trophy, which he proudly shows off to Linda, and over towards Mel and Libby. I find the answer rolls off easily. "I will be."

"I'll drive her home Mrs. Clarke, don't worry."

Later, after I've said goodbye to my parents, and Linda's parted ways to make a start on loading the rest of our gear into her car, Max brushes against my side and tickles my neck with the warmth of his breath.

"I got a bit caught up in this," he says, holding up the statuette, "But I wanted to say how amazing you were tonight Josie," Max's words send a shiver down my back and a blush to my cheeks.

"I mean, you're always amazing. I never doubted you'd absolutely smash it, but, you really did take my breath away up on that stage, singing your heart out like nothing in the whole, wide world could ever stop you from doing so."

"Stop it, you'll make me blush! But, thank you. I'm just so happy I got to do this with you," I reply, fighting through the hard lump in my throat to hear him say all of that so earnestly. "And we actually pulled it off! We might not have won, but in a way we have, it's what bought us both together."

"Who would have thought a bully, a bet, and a highly, misunderstood cronic facial condition would've done that, right?"

"It's weird how things work out," I say, with a deep kiss full of excitement for the future, but thanks for the past and also the present, for us, no matter how pink in the cheeks it can get sometimes. "But how very lucky we are that they did."

And when Mel and Libby come to huddle in and reminisce about the show, I spread out my arms and I squeeze each side of them tight, with Max opposite, our eyes locked together, and our cheeks red from the heat of a starry, July night, and from laughter, and from love.

The End

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