Chapter Twenty-Four

Girls Just Wanna Have Fun

Friday 5th, June

I'd broken out into a sweat long before I started my quest to find Maddie, due the return of the warm weather, but she doesn't know that.

Nor does she realise that I've been jogging round the whole of college, searching for her before I'm due to help Max, Mel and their mum set up for their annual BBQ.

But of course, Maddie just looks at me like I'm a swamp monster that shouldn't be anywhere near, despite the fact I know more than I should about her unfortunate family situation.

"Please, I just need a few minutes," I plead, hoping to pull her away from a gaggle of girls who were never friendly to me either at high school and who obviously find it bizarre she's giving me the time of day.

"Fine," she huffs. I know she's dying to tell me to fuck off but she can't. She knows I know too much. She has to find it within herself to crack a smile, even if it's killing her.

We walk down the side path by the music block, to a small shelter I know will be clear of any eavesdropping students.

"What do you want Josie?" Maddie says, holding her arms tight across her chest. "I don't have all day."

"Neither do I," I counter, taking a deep breath, ready to rattle off the reason why I've dragged her away.

"Go on then, I'm waiting." She fixes her pointy gaze right on me, unflinching.

"I've been thinking about this talent show bet. I don't want your money."

"Good, because I need it more than ever now, what with my dad freezing my debit cards, the bastard."

Okay. So far so good.

"What I mean is that, instead of your money I'd rather something else, that's if I win."

Maddie's eyebrows rise high and she laughs. "I'm not going to prom with you or being your friend, if that's what you want."

As she pretends to gag, I check over my shoulder that no one is lurking about and I cut through her sarcastic remark. "Not that. Something else."

"Spit it out."

"I want you to apologise to Max."

Her peach pink lips lock into a pout. She squeezes out a sharp, "Excuse me?" and falls back into looking pissed off.

I take a step away. "You heard me. I want you to say sorry, properly, like you mean it for what you did to him and put him through."

"What are you now, his mum? Poor baby," Maddie scoffs.

My face might set alight, but I don't let it derail me off course. I've one goal and that's to get some justice for Max, however small, however forced. "He's not said a word actually."

"Who then?"

"That's besides the point, alright? I just know what you did and it destroyed his confidence for the longest time and his trust. You owe him an apology for that and for running him out of school."

When her gaze sinks low and she's silent for a handful of seconds, I realise that maybe she's been oblivious this whole time about her central role. 

"That's why he left?" She squeaks, as if the words are thorny, hurtful to say. "I just thought his parents pulled him out because of all their drama."

I shake my head. Surely she can't be that delusional?

"No, it's because you we're awful to him."

She swallows hard. "That's a matter of opinion and a bias one at that, obviously."

"Max is my friend."

Maddie drags one sandal over the other, shuffling uncomfortably. "Well, whatever. His problem not mine and it was like, years ago."

My eyes roll back, but I keep firm. "Doesn't matter. If I win, I get an apology for him. I don't want anything else. And if you win, the bet stays the same."

She thinks it over, chewing on the inside of her mouth. "Okay. Your loss. Anyone else would just take the money, but then again I guess you two are together now, so it figures."

I shrug. It's none of her business, even though I know it would rattle her further if I did tell her. But it doesn't matter. I've got her over a barrel already. 

She won't say no to my request.

As she begins to turn, I offer out my hand to shake on it. Maddie takes it limply and drops it just as quick.

"So, the talent show, what are you even doing for it?" She asks as if she can't help herself.

Slowly walking back along the path, I tap the side of my nose and smile, "You'll find out on the day."

Maddie laughs, half mean-spirited, half nervously.

"So, how are things at home now?"

She sighs heavily. "My dad's moved out. My mum's a mess. It sucks still, just not as much."

"Sorry."

"Like you care," she says, tossing her hair.

I take the right side of the split in the path, so I can swing by the media department before I head to Max's. "Wouldn't ask if I didn't."

Maddie's mouth scrunches, like I've said something she's never heard before. She gives me a quick glance before she scurries off back to her friends.

At the end, when she's almost out of sight, she lifts her palm up. It looks like she's blocking the sun from her eyes until she smiles at me, and her hand extends like she's waving a flag at half mast.

As if it's the very least she can do.

And I guess that's a start.

* * *

Mel swaggers into the kitchen and plonks down a fresh bowl of potato salad with extra crisp bacon bits in for her friends gathered round the kitchen island full of snacks and paper plates and who Max and I have been making small talk with for the past half hour. 

The Montgomery's yearly BBQ is in full swing and it's a glorious evening for it. The sun's still up and there's music playing and people milling about, eating sausages and burgers cooked by Max and his lanky cousin, Rick. So far it's been fun.

I've been introduced to an aunt Rita, an Uncle Jack,  Max's mum's old work colleagues and some women from a spin class she once took but has since given up on, and of course thirteen-year old Rick, whose hardly said two words but who seems sweet enough.

Luckily Max has been by my side throughout. Helpfully pulling me away from getting stuck in monotonous conversation with adults who just want to patronise and say that we don't know how good we've got it, as if they grew up during the great depression. 

"So, little bro," Mel says, sticking a fork into a roll away mayo drenched potato, "when do we need to set up?"

Max's arm next to mine goes all tense and he looks away, shrugs. "I dunno. Ask mum, she's the one that wanted us to."

"She's busy."

"Ask her when she's not then."

This back and forth goes on for a frustrating few minutes as Mel's friends in their ripped band t-shirts and studded jewellery stand back and quietly laugh at the sibling stand-off about what, I've still no idea.

All I do know is that it makes Max's cheeks flare fiery red and I know it must kill him inside for it to show to so many people, all at once in a confined space.

"Fine," Mel groans, playfully flicking little stubs of crispy bacon at him from her plate. "Just let me know before I drink too many of those." She points at the bottled beer soaking in an ice bath in the sink.

I side eye Max, and say, "What are you two going on about?"

Mel side eyes her friends and me and then Max. "You didn't tell her?"

"Mum only told me like ten minutes ago," he protests as Mel laughs and sighs simultaneously.

I can tell by his voice that whatever it is, it's not something I'm going to be pleased about. "Told you what?"

Taking a beer from the sink and popping the cap with the end of a spoon, Mel half smiles like I've said something funny. "Our mum asked us earlier if we'd play some music. She thought it might be cool to you know, actually play to real people before the talent show..."

"Mum said that she's heard us practice and thinks we're great," Max adds in, obviously sensing my cheeks turn a similar colourful and temperature to his. "And she said she knows it might be nerve-wracking but hopefully everyone will be drunk enough soon to not heckle us."

When he starts to nervously laugh, I feel as if the ground might give out below me, because for all our practising and determination to kick arse and take names at the show in a few weeks, the reality of it hasn't fully sunk in.

We've been safe in Libby's garage and the summer house, playing for ourselves and each other and no one else.

Removing the plastic cup of lemonade from my hand, Mel slips an ice cold wet beer into it and says, "You look like you could do with one of these."

I want to object but I know I can't hide away forever. If I want to beat Maddie, if I want her to finally give Max the apology he's deserved for years, then I have to suck up my nerves and agree to the impromptu performance in the back of the Montgomery's garden, in front of a few dozen strangers.

"But what about Libby? We can't play without her."

Mel's arms fail to her sides. "She's MIA right now but I'm sure we can manage without her, if we have too, right?" She glances at Max and he shrugs.

"I guess so."

"Where is she?" I ask, stalling, dragging my feet.

"Fucked if I know," Mel laughs, clinking her beer against her friends. "Maybe she's grounded again?"

With my phone upstairs on charge and both Montgomery siblings staring at me for the magic word for the go ahead, I let it and my inhibitions go.

I sink a mouthful of beer and Mel cheers me on as Max tells her she's not helping.

"Course I am dummy!" She says, hand on her hip. "Dutch courage!"

Soon, Mel's found a stash of mini neon shot glasses and we all crowd round as she sloppily pours a few and passes them round whilst the adults continue on outside unaware or simply not caring. 

Max watches as I give in and lift up the neon green sour shot to my lips.

"Cheers to peer pressure," he drawls sarcastically, wincing when he finally takes his shot. I knock mine back with surprising ease as another's slid across.

It doesn't take long for it to sink in.

My body feels warm, as if coated in rays of sunlight. My eyesight feels fuzzy too, like I really have been outside staring at the sun.

Everyone and everything is funny. Mel makes us all laugh with her impressions of boyfriend's past and  I quickly forget about having to sing and I let Max spin me round by the tip of my fingers to the music.

When the sours run out, Mel leads an exodus to a wonky trellis table set up with leftover BBQ food and we stuff ourselves full with charred chicken wings and plastic cheese slices.

"Got to line the stomach," Mel says with a wink. She knocks into my plate and I sway unsteady. Any balance I had left in the bottom of the last shot glass.

"You okay?" Max asks, his green eyes glazed.

I stroke his face and run my fingers through his hair, laughing. "Never been better!" And it's the truth. It's maybe the best I've felt since half term and since my first kiss with Max.

I feel confident. I don't care if my cheeks are hot. I could conquer the world. Do anything right now.

And even though Libby is still missing and all the lights in her house are off, Mel and Max set up half-out, half-in the summer house and manage to convince little cousin Rick to pick up sticks, though he's only ever played the bongos once.

"Give it another five," Mel says reluctantly, "just to see if Libby decides to grace us with her presence."

Max checks his phone again - no reply to his text message. He carries on tuning his guitar as the BBQ guests continue to drink and chat loudly.

"So, what should we play?" He asks when we're set up, ready to go. There's thirty-seconds, maybe less before we cease hope of Libby appearing. "Blondie?"

Mel adjusts the strap on her bass, wobbling on her feet. "Nah. I'm sick of it."

"Same," he mumbles back. "What about Cherry Bomb?"

I quietly rack my brain, trying to remember which songs we've added into practice so we don't end up committing Hari Kari, singing and playing the same song over and over.

"How about Girls Just Wanna Have Fun?" I suggest, since we've been working on a punchier and punkier version for the past couple of weeks.

"Cyndi Lauper, yeah?"

I nod and Mel shoves a plastic pick between her teeth, and signals it's a go with a wide grin. Rick doesn't look so enthused. He says he doesn't know the song. Max pats him on the back and tells him to freestyle it. Do whatever.

We're all too drunk too care.

Tapping the end of the microphone hard with her fist, Mel clears her throat and steps in front of me to cut-out the chit cat. "Attention, everyone!"

She reels off some quick spiel about this being our first ever performance and she hams up the fact we don't have our "normal drummer" and so to"please bear with us, if we screw it up."

When she's done, she steps back and the microphone is mine again.

Static rings round the summer house and Linda claps her hands enthusiastically at the front of those waiting, watching. Clearly judging our poor organisation as Max's amp cuts in and out and I fumble with the microphone stand. Gripping it for support.

As Max beings to quietly pluck out the first notes, to count us in without Libby, a hand raised up high swims through the crowd like a sharks fin.

Libby stumbles up onto the summer house porch. "Why are you guys playing without me?" Her breathy gasps force a pause.

"You've not replied to any of our messages," Mel angrily whispers out the corner of her mouth, aware that everyone's watching.

"Phone ran out of battery. Been out all day celebrating my Dad's birthday, I did tell you this."

Max and I both limply shrug.

"Probably just as well," she says, giving me a pointed look which softens as she brushes past me to shoo Rick away from the small drum kit she'd lugged round since her mum told us that we couldn't use the garage everyday. "I sent you a message Josie, but it's too late now."

"What? Why?" My questions are drowned out by the sound of Libby's sticks raised high, counting us in. 

"One, two, three, FOUR!"

Max's riff and Mel's bass come in and I bob my head in time to the beat, feeling my heart land in my throat as the seconds slip by.

My voice starts off shaky but simmering liquid confidence soon wraps it's self round and I sing out loud, proud. Rising with the inflections and the punkier delivery of an 80's classic that the aunts and uncles and old work colleagues seem to be pleasantly surprised to hear.

With Mel backing me up on the chorus in a raspy tone and Max shredding it on the guitar, my shoulders sway and my hands click to the rhythm, loving every second.

Then I see her.

But not before Max does.

We're about to hit the last verse, before the rousing repeat of the last chorus and I should be taking in breath but I can't when I'm following his distracted gaze.

It's as if a spotlights been shone down from the heavens, illuminating only her and I swallow back the last shot bubbling in my tummy and the urge to crush the microphone in my hand.

Sophia stands near the back, hands into her short pockets. I've no doubt it's her. If the snowy white hair, up high in a ponytail didn't already give it away, then Max surely does as he hits a duff note and spirals into playing all the wrong ones.

My stomach twists into tight knots. My head goes fuzzy. Lyrics that I've been singing for the past few minutes disappear.

It's hard not to mumble. Hard to focus on anything when Max is looking at her and completely falling apart, like he's never played guitar in his life.

I pull the lead out of the microphone before I can weigh up if it's the right thing to do, not just unhinged and I pretend to tap it.

"Stopped working," I mouth silently with a shrug.

Max mimics my shoulders and stops playing.

Mel shouts out, "Technical difficulty guys, sorry! But happens to the best of them, right?" And she nervously laughs, whilst shooting daggers at him.

I turn my head and Libby's spinning her sticks, frowning at me. She knows I sabotaged our first live performance.

"Check your phone," she mouths when Max hastily unplugs his guitar and says, "Well that sucks."

It really does.

"I'm going to get a drink. Splash my face with water." His face really is sweating, glowing red. "Maybe we've got another microphone inside?"

"Okay."

I watch helplessly as quickly darts from the summer house and Sophia moves in, a few feet from him.

Max's mum passes and gives her a double-take. Politely she smiles, then up at Mel who looks pissed, in both senses of the word.

Linda grimaces when Mel's bass knocks the amp and almost deafens the guests already back to sipping drinks and talking.

"That was... great," she says warmly. Lying through her teeth. "I, for one really enjoyed it."

"Save it mum," Mel says, sticking out her tongue. "We sucked, ain't that right?"

I don't say anything. I'm too busy watching Max enter the kitchen and pour himself as drink a Sophia slinks in from the other door and round the kitchen island, which makes him push his back against the sink like he's seen a ghost.

Their exchange is wordless, at least it is to anyone not in the kitchen, but still, I think of all the things they might be saying to each other. 

And soon, Linda's kind words about my singing fade out. I feel my face heat up hotter than ever.

And my legs wobble more than before, like the world's slipping off it's axis and I'm going down with it.

"Mel, sweetie, she doesn't look so good..."

"Mum, quick! Hold her!"

And then I slip away.