Am I Normal Yet? (9 page)

Amber and I giggled.

“Church halls are totally rock 'n' roll now,” I told her. “It's like, ironic or something…well, that's what Jane said.”

“Or…in translation…Jane's boyfriend's band can't get a gig in a real venue?” Amber suggested.

I giggled again, wonking up my perfect eyeliner cat flick in the process. Sighing, I reached for a tissue. Joel's band was headlining a gig tonight. In a local church hall. It was all Jane had been talking about. And, dutifully, I'd agreed to go to it. With Amber and Lottie as backup, of course. Amber had provided her house as getting-ready headquarters.

“Let me get this straight,” Lottie said, shoving another clump of hair between her GHDs. “Jane asked you to go with her, and yet is now meeting you there?”

I nodded. “Yeah. She said Joel needed her to help set up or something.”

“Do you remember when you were a little kid and your mum used to say, ‘And if so-and-so asked you to jump off a cliff, would you'?”

“If Joel asked Jane to jump off a cliff she'd be vaporized already,” Amber said, waiting patiently for her turn in front of the mirror.

“Yeah. Seagulls would be eating her brain,” said Lottie.

I didn't join in the laughter this time.

“Come on,” I said half-heartedly, “she's not
that
bad.”

My friendship with Jane was the continuing subject of minor conflict in my blossoming relationship with the girls. Quite simply, they didn't like her. They found her devout worship of Joel scornful. Plus, as decent mates, they didn't appreciate how much she blew me out. Though I agreed with pretty much everything they said, I couldn't join in with the bitching. Despite everything, I still felt I owed her…

“What's going on with you and this bloke, Oli, then?” Amber asked, spritzing some vanilla perfume onto her wrists and rubbing them together. I'd told them about his cheekbones…and him of course.

I pulled a face. “Still the same. He's so shy. Which is good, because Ethan wasn't shy and look what happened there. But it's, like, impossible to get him to chat about much. And he's not in college very much. He misses loads of lessons.”

“Really? Why?”

“I dunno. Colds, I guess. It's that germy time of year, isn't it?” Like I didn't know…

After another half-hour of preening, we were ready. None of us knew what to wear to a gig in a church hall so we all chose a little bit of black. Lottie had ironed her hair into harsh vertical lines but softened it with a demure black top. Amber, trying to make herself smaller, wore a black strapless top and black jeans. And I was wearing a black tea dress covered in polka dots. If you squinted, we looked like a gaggle of witches.

We bumped into Amber's demonic little brother on the stairs on our way out.

He took one look at his sister.

“You look like a boy,” he yelled at Amber, a cheeky yet evil grin on his face.

Amber bristled. “At least I'm not adopted.”

His nasty face dropped and went red. “I'M NOT ADOPTED, YOU TAKE THAT BACK.”

“You'll just have to talk it through with your mum and dad.” Amber pushed past him, dragging us with her, and slammed the door shut.

She didn't talk for a bit when we got outside – all of us pretending it wasn't that cold, and it wasn't that awkward.

Lottie broke the ice by producing a bottle of cherry Lambrini from her bag.

“Seriously?” was all I had to say about that.

“Aww, come on, we're going to a gig. In a church. Cheap shite alcohol is needed.”

She untwisted the top of the bottle – always the start of a classy night – and took a slug. “Mmm,” she said. “Tastes like wrong.” She handed the bottle over to me and I took a delicate sip.

“MORE,” Lottie demanded. I sipped again. “MORE.”

“Jeez – peer pressure much?” I handed the bottle to Amber, thinking now wasn't the time to tell them I wasn't supposed to drink much because I was on brain-altering medication.

Amber wrapped her coat round herself about ten times, as if trying to erase who she was. She grabbed the pink bottle and chugged half of it, before wiping her mouth and announcing, “My little brother is such a cock.”

“Families suck,” I said, thinking of my mum. “And he'll always wonder if he's adopted now. It was the ultimate comeback, Amber.”

She put her arms around us and brought us in for a girly hug – always tricky with boobs in the way. “What would I do without you guys?”

I knew how she felt.

The church hall was rammed, like Midnight Mass, but with more eyeliner and pierced lips. We even had to queue to get in, which was pretty funny as everyone else there was about thirteen so we towered above them.

“So what's the name of their band again?” Lottie asked in the line.

“Erm…Bone Road? They used to be called Road of Pain, but it was patented by some guys in America.”

Lottie's face creased up as she struggled not to take the piss. “And Bone Road means?”

“Er…” I tried to remember Jane's explanation. “Something to do with capitalism is killing us all slowly, and soon all that will be left of our souls is a road of bones?”

That seemed about right.

The crowd surged and Amber, who'd got split from us in the queue, rode the wave crest of people back over to us, like King Poseidon or something. I had at least twelve pairs of elbows jabbing into my body and kept trying to twist away from them. If a church hall event was this crowded on a Saturday night, there was something seriously wrong with this town. We definitely needed a Nando's.

“But souls don't have bones,” she objected.

“Jane said that's the point.”

“The point of what?”

“The name. It's existential, apparently.”

Lottie sighed. “There better be a bar.”

Using our fully-matured elbows, we barged to the front, paid our three quid, got our hands stamped and bought some drinks from the makeshift bar. A warm-up band was already playing in the hall on a dusty stage. A crowd stood below the stage, half-listening to the screaming…sorry…I mean music. The hall ceiling was so high that – even with the huge turnout – it felt they were playing to nobody. A pink helium balloon stuck in the rafters, emblazoned with “Happy 5th Birthday” did nothing to improve the rock 'n' roll feel.

Jane appeared – wearing a mini dress so revealing I could see the frilly edge of her pants. “You guys! You made it! They've had to stop letting people in, isn't that amazing? Fire hazard.”

Within seconds, Joel was at her side, snaking his hands around her waist.

“All right?” He nodded at us, then kissed the top of Jane's head.

“All right?” we chorused back.

“It's mad in here,” I yelled at him over the music, in an attempt to make polite conversation. “You guys excited?”

Joel shrugged. “It's a good crowd.”

“Yeah, isn't it?”

Joel didn't reply as he was kissing all the way up Jane's arm. Amber rolled her eyes at Lottie, just as a pair of hands covered my eyes.

“Guess who?” a gruff voice growled in my ear.

I pulled the hands off and whipped round. Guy was there, grinning at me.

“Guy?”

“All right, trouble? Brought your nympho boyfriend with you?” He held a beer and, from the way he was inanely grinning, it wasn't his first.

“No. He's in a recovery clinic,” I deadpanned. More inane grinning. Guy banged bottles with Joel.

“You ready, man?” he asked.

Joel removed Jane from his person and they smooshed their knuckles in that boy way. “Mate, I was born ready.”

Jane, not sure what to do with herself, wrapped her arms around her exposed chest and rocked on her feet.

“What song you guys starting with?” she asked.

“‘Die Bitch Die',” they both said. With no trace of humour on their faces.

Amber spat out half the warm wine she'd been drinking from a plastic cup. They all turned but Lottie covered while Amber choked behind her.

“Wow. Powerful title,” she said. “Is it based on any real-life experience?”

Joel didn't notice the sarcasm. “I wrote it about my ex-girlfriend after we broke up.”

Lottie widened her eyes and nodded. “Wow, Jane better not piss you off.”

“That's what happens if you fall in love with a musician.”

Jane simpered and curled herself back round him, like Joel had said something romantic, rather than creepy and sinister.

I looked around the hall to try and stem my inner laughter. The lead singer of the support band was wailing now, grasping his microphone to his lips so close you could hear his spittle echo about the speakers. A few of their friends, obviously there for moral support, stood near the front, nodding their heads, punching the air. The usual stuff. My ears already buzzed from the noise, which wasn't helped when Guy leaned over and yelled right into my face.

“What are you looking at?”

I turned away from his mouth to protect my eardrum. “I know you're onstage, and so you see it from a different angle,” I said. “But don't people ‘appreciating' music look odd to you?”

“What do you mean?”

I gestured towards the group I'd been analysing. “Like that lot. Why can't everyone just stand round quietly and listen? Why does pushing each other, or chucking half-filled bottles of beer in the air, or flicking your long greasy hair over each other, or making that devil worship sign with your fingers…why does that mean you enjoy the music? If I was in a band, I would want everyone to listen quietly and concentrate.”

Again Guy laughed. I always seemed to make him laugh. He pushed his dark hair off his face and shoved a sweaty arm around me.

“You don't really understand metal, do you?”

“I understand that Joel got dumped and needed to get over it by calling the girl a bitch in a song…which kinda makes him a dickhead. Is that metal?”

He laughed again. “Nah, that's just Joel. I didn't think we should open on that song anyway.”

“So why are you agreeing, you're the lead singer, aren't you?”

“Because it's got a kickass bassline.”

I nodded to the side. “Oh, okay. That makes me feel so much better about some poor girl being publicly called a bitch in a song, just so Joel can make his willy feel bigger.”

“You're really something? You know that?”

I was? He didn't say it in the nicest way. There was a bit of awe in his voice…but a bit of disdain too. “Anyway, you going to watch me from the front?” He puffed his chest out.

“No. I don't like touching too many other people. I'll stand at the back, and if you see me standing real still, and concentrating, it means I'm enjoying ‘Die Bitch Die' in my own special way.”

I disentangled myself from his sweaty armpit and joined the girls on a last-minute dash to the toilets.

We squeezed back into the hall just as the support act finished. Personal space wasn't an option anywhere and my chest tightened as I tried not to think of how much germy breath was exhaling into the stuffy atmosphere. Jane found us and pulled us through the crowd.

“Guys,” she yelled. “Over here. I've got us a spot.”

“That's odd,” Amber said. “Joel's gone and she's suddenly all friendly.”

“Shhhhh.”

We crammed into her tiny gap. Bits of my body touched all different parts of other people's bodies. I took a deep breath and concentrated on my ribcage going up and down to distract myself. Jane rambled on about the band's chances of a record deal to an unimpressed Amber and Lottie. Everyone pushed to the front of the stage, causing tidal crowd surges to disturb the rest of us. An out-of-place looking bunch of lads stood to our left. They were smartly dressed and drinking the most expensive bottles of beer the pop-up bar provided. They stood out more than us. Not just 'cause they were our age, but they were blatantly posh too.

“I'm so excited,” Jane stage-whispered to me. “I've never seen him play live before.” She grabbed my hand and I studied her face. It was filled with utter adoration. Her eyes were distant and dewy, her cheeks pink, her smile was practically tattooed on. Despite everything, I gave myself a moment to feel happy for her. My best friend was in love – I had to be glad for that much at least.

BAD THOUGHT

Even if no one will ever love me…

The lights dimmed and Joel, Guy and the others shuffled onto the stage and the screams from the audience began. Guy kicked over the microphone stand whilst simultaneously grabbing the mike out of it. He clutched it right over his mouth and stood with his leg up on Joel's guitar amp.

“This,” he said, in a voice much gruffer than usual, “…is ‘Die Bitch Die'.”

I was engulfed with noise. What can only be described as “a din” blurted through my eardrums, ripping holes through them, filling my brain with “oww”. The crowd surged forward but I stood firm against the tide, grinding my heels into the dusty wooden floor.

“Let's go closer to the front,” Jane yelled.

I crossed my arms and shook my head.

“Why not?”

“No. Just no.”

She looked to Amber and Lottie for support, but they looked as bemused by the whole gig as me. Amber's arms were also crossed, a puzzled look on her pale face. Whereas Lottie was just sort of…sneering.

“You gotta die now…DIE…DIE. DIIIIIIIEEEEEEEE!” Guy's voice took on a monstrous quality. Like the Gruffalo was hidden in his ribcage holding a spare mike. However, everyone else seemed to love it, and it spurred the mob on. We held our own against the crush and were somehow shoehorned to the back. That was perfectly fine with me.

Gangs of girls screamed whenever Guy opened his mouth. He did look kind of sexy up there, I guess. What with the sweat, and the cockiness, and the attention. He caught my eye briefly and winked and my knees went a bit funny. But then he launched into their next song – the opening line of which went: “
I hate you so much for breathing. I wish I could make you stop.
”