Chapter Thirty-Three

Waiting

Friday 14th, July

"Is this the last of everything?" Linda calls out, holding the car boot open.

Max swings his guitar case over one shoulder and nods. "That's all of it, yeah."

Linda shuts the boot and jangles her keys. "I've got to go get on with some work, but I'll be back this afternoon."

"You'd better be! We've reserved seats for you so you can watch when we're crowned winners!" Mel says, dragging a mini amp over to the curb as we gather all our gear out the front of the college entrance.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," Linda replies, casting her gaze over to me. "Are you're parent's coming Josie?"

"Yes"

"Well, I look forward to meeting them," she says, winking over at Max, whose begun to walk away with leads wrapped round is arms like coiled black snakes. "And good luck, all of you! Rock on!"

Mel buries her head in her hands and acts embarrassed whilst Libby reaches out and catches Linda's enthusiastic high five.

"Come on guys, let's get this show on the road."

I follow behind and wave Linda off, thanking her for the lift over and lending us her six-seater to cram all our equipment into for today's show, though I hope she doesn't notice just how shaky my hand is.

All morning and all the way here I've hoped that no one has, which is highly unlikely. Unfortunately, but as expected the nerves about this big day have their claws in deep and won't let up. Not even for a minute.

"Where do we need to take all this stuff?" Mel asks Max as we navigate empty college halls because not only is it D-day, talent show wise, it's also the last day here for all students at Southbrook.

The summer break starts now, and I should be as excited as the few students still milling about near the cafeteria, throwing jelly beans and binning old mock exam papers and sketchbooks, but I can't. Not when I'm this nervous.

With one hand, Max gestures for Mel and Libby to continue following him and I pull back the doors of the main music room where we've been instructed to store all of our gear before the show.

There's no turning back now.

"I was kind of hoping that we'd be the only band..." Libby says dryly, as we take in the room and all the students huddled into every corner. Most are too busy setting up drum kits and tuning guitars to notice that we've come to join the party.

I watch as Max casts his eyes to the furthest corner and a wall lined with shiny, expensive guitars and amps.

Mel begins to cast her own judgements about the rest of the competition as she rests her arms on top of her bass case. "I wouldn't be too worried if I were you."

As a group of drama and dance students glide past with colourful ribbon's waved inches from our faces, Libby groans and starts to kick shuffle her kit over to a clear corner near where Mr. Cockburn and one of the college's admin assistants are locked deep in conversation and tapping their clipboards like they're discussing the terms and conditions of world peace.

Wedging my backpack and microphone stand close to the wall, I nudge Max's arm and give him a small smile.

"How you feeling?" He asks, though I think he soon realises this is a silly question. The sweat and red cheeks and jittery movements say it all.

Gently, he hugs my side and gives me small, whispered encouragement that helps me forget for about three seconds that in a handful of hours, I'll be up on stage next door in the big music hall, in front of hundreds of judging faces, who'll no doubt be judging mine and my voice, and I start to wish that someone would open a window or the double doors, let some air in, because I can barely breathe.

"When are we up?" Libby asks, as a printed schedule is handed round by Mr. Simon's, the music tech supervisor.

I scan the sheet with my finger until it almost trails off the page. "Last."

"Last?" Max says, echoing my reply with surprise. "As in, last on?"

"Yup. And if that wasn't enough, we're on after Maddie Parish."

Mel shrugs and continues to unzip her case, like it's no big deal. "At least it means people will be thanking us for saving their sanity after it's likely to be stolen by whatever hot mess Maddie's got in store for them. Being last isn't such a bad thing."

"We'll see."

Max looks over to me, and at my hands and at my eyes, how they've widened in terror at having to wait until the very end to get up on stage. I'd been praying that we'd be on in the first half. I don't think I've got it in me to sit back and watch the majority of the show with all the nerves bubbling up and expanding.

"I can't believe we don't get a chance to properly set up before hand," Libby says as she turns to watch a group of leather jacket glad music students start to jam out unplugged. The sound of their twangy, guitars plucked with plastic picks echoes round the room and we all wince.

Unfortunately, sound check has been scrapped because this is a college charity talent show and not Wembley Arena, or so Mr. Simon's had muttered when passing the schedule round.

"We'll be fine," Max says, his voice surprisingly calm. "We've got this. We've practiced as much as we could, literally, until our fingers bled."

Mel tugs at the plaster wrapped round her thumb, half listening because she's busy side-eyeing the arrival of another band in ripped heavy metal t-shirts, their hair gelled into mini spikes.

"So, there's nothing more we can do, but get out there and play," Max says, confidently.

"Thanks for the pep talk dude," Libby laughs, patting him on the shoulder.

"Max is right," I say, finally speaking up though my voice is quiet in comparison and barely audible over the noise of drums and guitars, and dance students pressing play and pause on their loud performance music. "We've got this. We can do it."

Mel shoots me back a wide grin, ignoring the obvious shake in my voice. "One way or another we're going to give all these wannabes a surprise. No one's expecting us."

"You're definitely right about that," Libby says slowly, her eyes trailing to the door. Mine follow and we all fall silent.

Maddie steps in with a small duffle bag by her side, her eyes cast down like she's been pushed into a lion's den. And she pauses for a moment, her chest rising and falling from taking in a deep breath she sighs out before looking up at the room.

A weird hush descends, followed cupped hands to ears and whispers, which only increases when Spencer, Bev and Jess emerge from behind her and split off, ignoring her completely.

Chucking his bag down, Spencer pulls out a football and starts to show off for Bev and Jess, and anyone watching about how impressive it's supposed to be that he's able to bounce it up and down on his knees and head.

Loudly and gruffly, he tells the room that we might as well pack up and go home, because the real talent's arrived and it's pointless to get our hopes up about winning.

Maddie, meanwhile stands rooted to the spot. Her feet frozen on the vinyl floor. And I wonder if she wishes for it to swallow her up.

I wonder just what's happened for her to be shunned by those who used to be glued to her side.

Why her nostrils flare at the sound of Spencer's over inflated egotistical announcement, and why she looks disgusted by him and repulsed, like he's a really bad smell.

And I know Mel and Libby have their game faces on - jaw tense and defiant, and that Max has gone back to pretending like she's not even there by attending to the dodgy string on his guitar, but I break ranks.

I wave and offer a smile, because I know how it feels to walk into a room and feel alone and judged.

Maddie slowly lifts her hand, as if it's filled with lead, and after a pause, she waves back.

And for the first time all day I feel like everything's going to be okay, no matter the outcome, no matter what happens. The nerves are still there, as is the always present threat of lighting up like a beacon, tomato red, but I feel like I can weather it better than before.

Turning back to Mel and Libby, and Max, I smile.

We can do this.

We've got this.

We've got each other.

* * *

From the side of the stage, I rest an arm on Max's shoulder and watch as another band come to the end of Living On A Prayer.

The big lights above burn hot and the audience, a mix of mums and dads, brothers and sisters, and students past and present eat it up.

Mel rolls her eyes and adjusts the strap of her bass, completely done with hearing Bon Jovi for the third time in an hour.

Cheers erupt and the band finishes.

A microphone is dropped. Drumsticks are thrown out from the stage and seven, sweat drenched guys who I couldn't pick out from a line up, but who I've probably passed a hundred times in college charge down the little makeshift steps and give each other hard, high fives.

When the last passes Max, he slows and gives him a curt nod.

"Jason," Max says, nodding back.

"Good luck mate."

"We don't need that," Libby says, eyeing him up and down as she sits on a wooden prop box used by Ryan, a student who'd trained his miniature poodle to howl along to a Frank Sinatra song. "We've got talent."

The pointed and confident tone of her voice makes me laugh, and Jason can only shrug and hurry away to re-join his band as they take their seats at the back of the music hall along with all the other performers.

Peeking out through the thick, black out stage curtains to watch the talent show's announcer and sponsor - Richard Brown from Royal Flush Plumbers fills in until the next act's due up before we close out the night, I see my mum and dad in the audience.

They're sat a few rows from the back, to the left. Dad's got his camera round his neck and mum's already badgering him about turning the flash off.

For a moment seeing supportive, familiar faces eases my nerves about their being a handful of minutes left before we're called up.

However, when a hand gently taps my back and I turn over my shoulder to see Maddie dressed in a leotard, stood behind me the nerves shoot back through my veins lightening fast.

"Hey," she says in a whisper.

Libby immediately stands. Mel stops sarcastically copying all of Richard Brown's mannerisms. They both eye Maddie and myself up, like a pack of dogs ready to defend.

I silently mouth that it's okay.

"Hi," I reply back, feeling Max's hand tense against mine.

Maddie leans in. "I just wanted to tell you, before I go on that I'm sorry about Becky's party."

I swallow hard and Libby steps closer to us, her drum sticks wedged between her fingers like knives. "Oh, right, yeah, well me too."

She shakes her head and then lowers it. "No, it was me. I accused you of something I didn't have any real proof of and well, it turns out that it was Spencer all along."

"Spencer?" I frown, thinking about how awful his ten minute football skills showcase had been, how bored everyone looked, how much we all yawned and sighed relief once he'd finished.

Maddie looks past me at Max. "Yeah. I found out he's been reading all the messages on my phone and on my computer, like emails sent to my grandparents about going to Greece this summer. He told Bev and Jess and half the college before I ever realised. And he saw us, that day coming out from the girls toilets."

I squeeze Max's hand tight behind my back.

I should have never doubted him.

"I'm sorry he did that to you," I offer, knowing that from her sad expression it's been a shock to her too, "and that he lied about it."

"Yeah well, I should have known he'd run his big mouth the moment he found out. I swear, he's the biggest gossip I know."

"Biggest twat," Mel adds, cutting into the conversation and then slipping out to focus her attention back on Richard Clark as he tells another unfunny toilet joke.

Maddie laughs and sighs, "He really is, but he's not my problem anymore. It's over."

I'm not sure if I'm supposed to offer out anymore condolences, but I do. I can't help it.

I may not be the biggest person, not when Maddie's got on five inch heels, but I feel like I am, deep down inside.

Pinching the top of her tight ponytail, Maddie thanks me for being nice and she steps forwards, ready for her moment in the spot light.

"Good luck," I whisper as the white light falls to deep red and Richard Clark shuffles back to his side line announcers podium.

"Yeah, break a leg," Libby chuckles, loud enough for me to hear but thankfully not Maddie, whose hands have begun to shake and whose legs wobble as she points one foot in front of the other and sucks in a deep breath.

And then, her music starts and it's like a switch inside is turned on.

Maddie dances and leaps and shimmy's across the stage in perfect time to a soft beat that pulses and races like my heart, as I watch in awe and count down the minutes, then seconds until she bows and the audience claps and claps and Richard reappears.

Exiting from the other side and accepting a small towel from one of the talent show volunteer's, Maddie twists to look over her shoulder and she gives me a quick thumbs up before she disappears to take a seat.

"Here we go," Mel says, huddling us forwards.

Max gently let's go of my hand, but keeps close. "You ready Josie?"

My heart feels like it's leapfrogged into my throat. I nod but I can't speak. Looking out to the stage I watch as Richard apologises and asks for the audience for a moment of patience.

Quickly he darts to the side and peers down at us. His cheeks are glowing as he huffs and puffs.

"What's the name of your act again?" He asks, shuffling through his cue cards and tossing them when he can't find the information he needs.

"Band," Libby corrects.

As Max's eyes widen and Mel's too, it dawns on me that we've never actually agreed on a name, at least not officially.

On the schedule handed round we'd been billed as Josie and Max. Talent: Music.

Putting our heads together as Richard waits, Libby says, "We need something cool."

Next to me, Max holds his head back up and looks towards the light rig and music hall ceiling. "I'm though with trying to be cool."

Mel's hands fly up and she scrunches them into balls. "I've got it!"

Richard leans forwards and pops a finger behind his ear. "Go on then, what is it?"

"Through Being Cool."

"Through Being Cool?" He repeats back, slowly, obviously unsure.

Max's eyes narrow as Mel flashes a grin. "I don't get it."

"It's ironic, duh," she laughs, patting his back. "Think about it - you just said you're through with trying to be something you're not, which is cool. It's about not having to feel like you want to fit in, which, no offence but none of us do."

"Speak for yourself!" Libby chimes in lightly.

"We're literally a band of weirdos. And I through with pretending like we're not. Embrace it!"

I start to nod. And I tell Richard to write it down. He hunts for a pen and blank cue card in his jacket pocket but comes up empty.

"Don't worry, we can announce ourselves," Mel says, to his relief.

Hurrying back to the center of the stage, Richard thanks everyone for being patient and promises that the last act has been worth the wait.

And then he says, "Without further a do, please welcome to the stage and give a big round of applause to our very last act of the night... "

Richard gives us the cue and Mel taps my arm, leading the charge into the waiting red light.

Max follows behind, with Libby to his side. I move to the small painted X on the stage floor and adjust the microphone so it's lowered and tilted just like I'm used to.

I close my eyes as the audience falls silent and Max and Mel plug in.

My ears tingle at the sound of Libby's snare vibrating as she get's comfortable and picks up her sticks, rests her foot gently on the pedal.

Finally, when I feel like I can, I open my eyes wide and take it all in.

You can do this, I tell myself, breathing in and out, away from the microphone whilst Libby raises her drumsticks up high and my hands settle.

I hear the taps and the count in, and Max's first strum blast out from the amp, and Mel's bass kick in and shake the floor.

And I know that it's my turn next.

"I'm Josie," I say, turning to watch Mel lean into her microphone.

"I'm Mel."

"I'm Libby," she says, hard into the microphone next to the drum kit.

I turn to watch him grin and lean in too, "I'm Max."

Facing the audience again, I suck in a breath and let the music and the moment wash over me.

"And we're, Through Being Cool."

This is us.

We're ready.

"Let's do this"