When It Drops

by Alex Dyson

  ‘So, tell me – how long did it take to make the song?’

  ‘A few weeks,’ he said. ‘I actually started it after we last spoke.’

  ‘Wow. You must have worked really hard on it.’

  ‘I guess.’

  ‘You know, I’ve listened to it fifteen times since this morning.’

  ‘Really? Well … I’m glad you like it.’

  Ella giggled. She looked Caleb directly in the eyes.

  ‘I’m sorry – for everything,’ she said.

  Those were the words Caleb had waited years to hear. Words he had envisaged countless times. And it just seemed so natural.

  He took a breath. ‘Ella, I just … how did we get like this?’

  Ella looked like she was thinking about it. She gave him a wry smile. ‘Well … it’s hard to fly when you’re stuck in the sky.’

  Caleb smiled back. Her left hand lifted and brushed his cheek, and then, without warning, she leaned in and pressed her lips against his.

  Caleb was shocked, but kissed her back. His first kiss, gentle, but firmer as it went on. The sounds of their mouths exploring turned him on instantly. They lay down in the grass and he kissed her harder. She gasped, and whispered in his ear, ‘Oh, Caleb. Yes.’

  She was his now.

  ‘Caleb, Caleb … CALEB? HELLO, CALEB?’

  Caleb opened his eyes. Mr Hommelhoff’s grey eyebrows were about an inch from his face.

  ‘The bell’s gone, buddy!’

  Caleb ripped his earbuds out and ‘Turbulence’ finally stopped playing. There was no Ella to be seen.

  ‘Come on, Sleeping Beauty, off you pop,’ said Mr Hommelhoff. ‘I want to get lunch too.’

  Caleb looked around. The few remaining students were laughing behind their hands. Caleb felt flushed, and went to stand, but stopped himself. He couldn’t. Well, technically he could, but that would have meant showing everyone the situation in the front of his pants. The only thing – as it turned out – that was still real from his trip to the land of unconsciousness. So, instead of parading the Leaning Tower of Trouser around, he did the only slightly less embarrassing thing.

  He just sat there.

  ‘Caleb Clifford, this is not funny. Move yourself.’

  He couldn’t do anything. He sat, defiantly ignoring the teacher’s request, hoping to god that he’d simply disappear.

  Mr Hommelhoff stuck his hands on his hips and exhaled. ‘Look, Clifford, if you’ve got an erection, just cover it with your books like a normal teenager. Come on – I want to eat my risotto.’

  There aren’t enough words to describe just how red Caleb’s face turned. Luckily, the blood rushing to his cheeks took it away from … elsewhere, and so, following his teacher’s advice, he picked up his books and carried them in a much more frontal style than usual, past the crowd now practically crying with laughter.

  Later that night, with Caleb’s blood now evenly distributed, there was a knock at his bedroom door.

  ‘What ya doin?’ said Nathaniel from the doorway.

  Caleb quickly minimised his browser and spun round in his chair. ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Hmm. Just staring at your desktop, hey?’ Nat said, Rachel’s picture of Splendour in the Grass staring back at them.

  Caleb had actually been on the Phresh FM website. There was a short blurb about their Phresh Find of the week. They had a stream of ‘Ella’ up. But he didn’t want Nat to know that’s what he’d been looking at.

  ‘So, where were you yesterday?’ Nat asked.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You weren’t at any of your usual loner hiding spots at lunch. I looked.’

  Caleb hadn’t told Nat about their meeting with Jai from TransAtlantic. He was the least trustworthy family member, after all. ‘I wasn’t anywhere. Why do you care?’

  ‘I came to get my ten bucks.’

  Caleb laughed. ‘As if I’m going to give you ten dollars now.’

  ‘But I didn’t say anything!’

  ‘You implied it though.’

  ‘Yeah, but that’s not saying it!’

  ‘Don’t care, you blew it.’

  ‘That’s so unfair, a deal’s a deal.’

  ‘Sorry, Champ.’ Caleb turned back to his computer. He was done with his brother.

  Nathaniel wasn’t done with him, though. ‘So does that mean Ella knows about the song?’

  ‘Look, Nat, you’re not getting your money, so get out.’

  ‘Does she know you want to bone her?’

  Caleb stood up and started pushing Nathaniel towards the door.

  ‘DOES SHE? DOES SHE?’

  Nat kept shouting as Caleb forced him out of the doorway, giving him a final shove straight into his sister, who was walking past.

  ‘Woah, watch it!’ said Rachel.

  ‘Does she? Does she? Does she?’ Nat kept repeating. He was doing a dance to accompany his chant, which had somehow turned into a song.

  ‘So, Caleb,’ said Rachel, ignoring their youngest sibling. ‘I’ve been emailing Jai, and he’s organised that photo shoot for tomorrow. I’m going to pick you up from school at eleven. Then – GUESS WHAT – we’ve got an interview on Phresh FM on Friday morning at eight, so we can do that before school.’

  ‘Wait – what’s going on?’ Caleb said.

  ‘Phresh FM wants to interview you about “Ella”. You’re their Phresh Find of the week.’

  Nat seemed to find this hysterical. ‘Oh my god, that’s the best. She’s gunna hear it on the radio! She’s gunna know!’ He began to dance again, up and down the corridor, singing this new version of the song.

  Caleb felt hot inside. ‘Rachel, I don’t think I can do all this.’

  ‘Why not?’

  The grin on Nathaniel’s face – and the enthusiastic way he was now thrusting his hips while singing, ‘She’s gunna know’ – was all Caleb needed to make his point.

  Rachel rolled her eyes. ‘Caleb, the idea of being an artist is that as many people as possible know about your work. It will make my job really hard if the person I’m meant to be marketing to the world doesn’t want anyone to know about him. Chin up, and don’t worry about Nat. Now, you guys, off to bed. Just because Mum isn’t here, doesn’t mean you can stay up forever.’

  ‘SHE’S GUNNA KNOWWW, SHE’S GUNNA KNOWWWW!’

  Rachel took one last look at the scene before heading off to her bedroom, leaving Caleb alone in the corridor with his little brother, who was now on the carpet trying to do the worm. Frustrated, Caleb retreated to his own room, flopping down onto the bed. The stress began to build up inside him. Photo shoots? Interviews? It was too much to take in. He hoped Rachel knew what she was doing. He hoped his skin magically decided to clear up before tomorrow. And above all, he hoped to god he didn’t get ‘She’s Gunna Know’ stuck in his head.

  3. Dick & Balls graffiti per square centimetre.

  CHAPTER 8

  Hoping didn’t work.

  The next morning, just seeing Nat’s face as they got into Rachel’s car was enough to have his brother’s hit single blaring in Caleb’s head. He hated to admit it, but it was catchy. Maybe Nat would end up releasing songs as well. Get signed by Jai. He could call himself MVLLET.

  Caleb had declined Rachel’s offer of driving and was once again zoning out in the back seat. It was photo shoot day, and he was nervous. Not just because his pimples retained their tight-knit community on his face, but because Rachel had said she’d had discussions with Jai about a deal and it was close. This was a lot for a sixteen-year-old to keep bottled up.

  He almost blurted out everything to his mum that morning when she staggered out of her room on the way to the toilet, but her messy hair and exhausted face stopped him from laying the big news on her. She didn’t seem like she could process it yet. Besides, nightshift week would be over soon. Then he could sit her down and explain everything.

  ‘Hey, Rach?’ Nat said loudly.

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘If someone promises to give y
ou money, then they go back on that promise, what should you do?’ He looked over his shoulder at Caleb.

  ‘It depends,’ said Rachel. ‘What happened?’

  ‘Aw, nothing – Caleb just said he’d give me ten dollars if I didn’t tell anyone about his love song, and I didn’t, but now he’s refusing to pay up.’

  ‘You did, though!’ said Caleb, incensed. ‘You were there, Rachel!’

  ‘I’m staying out of this one,’ said Rachel, who already seemed over it. Caleb could relate.

  ‘Have a good day, boys!’ Rachel said with forced excitement as they got out of the car. She’d put up with their arguing for the whole trip. ‘Meet you back here at eleven, Caleb.’

  ‘So you’re a liar then,’ said Nat, continuing their pointless conversation as Rachel drove off.

  ‘I’m not! You broke the deal!’

  ‘Oh, so the deal’s off? I can tell anyone I want?’

  ‘Fine,’ Caleb said. He was definitely over it.

  ‘Fine,’ said Nat, whipping on his backpack. Something flew out of the front pocket and landed at Caleb’s feet.

  ‘Give it here!’ said Nat as Caleb retrieved the packet of cigarettes from the ground. It had a photo of a skinny man on a hospital bed with tubes coming out of him. Natsnatched at it, but Caleb was too fast. He held the box up above his head.

  ‘What’s the magic word?’ he said.

  ‘Don’t be a dick, just give me the smokes.’

  ‘Why? Do you actually even like them? Or do you just like the idea of them?’

  Nathaniel stared at him. ‘You’re such an arsehole.’

  ‘Oh, I’m an arsehole? Seriously – how do you think Dad would feel about you smoking?’

  ‘Yeah, well, he didn’t smoke, and look how that turned out!’

  Wrong answer, thought Caleb. He saw a bin to his right so, in an act of defiance/older brother tough love, he threw the packet in its direction. Amazingly, in contrast to his usual un-coordination, it was a swish.

  Nat gave him the finger as he went to fish them out, his mullet bouncing the whole way.

  ‘Bin scab!’ yelled Caleb, walking in the other direction. He wasn’t proud of his immaturity, but sometimes you had to fight fire with fire.

  Only two classes to get through before his photo shoot.

  *FLASH*

  Caleb hated graffiti. *FLASH* *FLASH* It reminded him of the Riverview bathrooms. *FLASH* The whole school was covered in it, but the bathrooms had to be the *FLASH* most affected. *FLASH* *FLASH* *FLASH* Now, standing in front of the tagged wall while the camera flashed at his front, the sight of all the scrawl gave Caleb a flashback. Flashbacks weren’t uncommon for him, but having your portrait taken wasn’t the ideal time to be thinking about the worst moment of your life.

  ‘Come on, Caleb! You look distracted.’ Rachel was watching from next to the car. She could obviously see Caleb was uncomfortable. He veered his hovercraft of thoughts back towards dry land and attempted a smile for the camera.

  Rachel and Jai had picked Caleb up in Jai’s Audi and driven to this grungy and dilapidated industrial estate, where old warehouses were surrounded by concrete and weeds. It was here that they met the photographer, Fawkner, who was bearded and had eight or nine necklaces draped around his neck. Fawkner was barking instructions at Caleb right now.

  ‘No, no, that scowl’s no good. Let’s go back to the distracted trance look. I liked that. It’s very spiritual. Keep feeling that.’ Fawkner’s voice sounded like activated almonds.

  Caleb did as he was told, which was the same as he had been doing. He couldn’t help but think this whole thing was a waste of time. There’s no way a brand would ask him to be the face of their product, so why should he be the face of his own?

  ‘That’s it!’

  Plus, he’d never graffitied anything in his life. It didn’t make sense that he was being photographed in front of it.

  ‘Good, keep that daze going!’

  It was only a matter of time until someone realised he was a fraud.

  ‘Okay, a bit less sad.’

  He smiled.

  ‘Okay, sad was better. Let’s go back to that.’

  He tried.

  ‘Nup, I’ve lost it. Let’s take five.’ Fawkner walked to the side and stared off into the middle distance, patting his camera like a cat and muttering to himself.

  Caleb stood there blankly.

  Jai looked up from his phone and wandered over. ‘How ya feeling, mate?’

  ‘Yeah, okay. It’s a bit um … different.’

  ‘But it’s looking great. Seriously. I still think you’ve got some money shots in you, but honestly, it’s looking just great.’

  ‘He’s right, Caleb,’ Rachel added. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look this cool!’

  Caleb wasn’t sure whether to take that as a compliment.

  Fawkner suddenly lifted his hands to the sky. ‘I’ve got it!’ he yelled, making Caleb jump. ‘When were you born?’ he said, turning and looking at Caleb intently.

  ‘February?’

  ‘I KNEW it! You’re an Aquarius. I could feel the water energy coming off you.’

  ‘Um, I –’

  ‘Jai, hand me that water bottle.’ Jai obliged. Fawkner began explaining his artistic vision with large, expressive hand movements. ‘We need something with a wow factor. Something that pulls at their heart and at their groin!’

  ‘He’s in year ten,’ said Rachel uncertainly.

  ‘Irrelevant!’ Fawkner snapped. ‘Okay, let’s try something. Caleb, bite your shirt.’

  ‘Bite it?’

  ‘Exactly – sink your teeth into it!’

  He had the camera poised. Caleb looked at Rachel, who shrugged. Jai gave him the thumbs up. Caleb lifted the bottom of his T-shirt and put it in his mouth.

  ‘That’s it. Chew on it!’

  Caleb tried his best to gnaw on the shirt Rachel had bought for him. The cool breeze chilled his now exposed belly. The camera kept flashing.

  ‘Great – now rip at it!’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Rip the shirt! Tear it!’

  ‘But, um, it’s new –’

  ‘Exactly! Use your strength, your energy!’

  Caleb started pulling the corners of his shirt, but the shirt wasn’t budging.

  ‘That’s it!’ the photographer said, as if something was it. ‘Now, don’t move!’

  Getting a bottle of water tipped over your head isn’t the nicest feeling. Freezing liquid trickled down Caleb’s bare spine, making him tighten every muscle in his body.

  With his free hand, the photographer kept snapping. ‘NO MOVING!’ Fawkner shrieked. Caleb did his best not to. ‘Yes, gooooood. Okay, calmer now. That’s it. Gooooood.’

  Caleb tensed every muscle and stayed as still as he could. He wondered whether these photos would ever turn into posters like the ones on his wall; whether a kid would one day look up at it and wish he could be just like BVTTON, not realising just how much Caleb wished he wasn’t just like Caleb right now.

  It must have looked funny from the outside too because, through the water in his eyes, Caleb could see Jai and Rachel trying to stifle their laughter.

  ‘Okay, I think I got it. Great job, Khalid.’ The photographer packed up his equipment, jumped into his old Holden Kingswood, and drove away.

  Caleb remained in front of the graffitied wall, bewildered, begrudging, and dripping wet.

  What the hell had just happened?!

  ‘Nice work, mate,’ said Jai. ‘Ah – I think I’ve got a towel someplace …’

  ‘So how was that?’

  Rachel turned to look at Caleb from the passenger seat of Jai’s parked Audi. Caleb was mopping his hair with a towel Jai had grabbed from the boot. Caleb glared back at her.

  ‘All dry?’ said Jai. Caleb nodded.

  ‘Yeah, sorry about that, mate. Old Fawkner Lante is a bit of a strange one, but he’s the best. I’m sure we’ll get some good shots out of it. Anyway, Rachel and I have
discussed the terms of the deal, and we think we’ve got something.’

  ‘Okay …?’ Caleb said.

  ‘Basically, TransAtlantic wants to put you on a development deal,’ Rachel said. ‘With an option to extend after that. So that’s pretty exciting!’ She looked to Jai for affirmation, and he nodded.

  ‘What that means is TransAtlantic Records will basically give you help for whatever you want to do musically,’ Jai said. ‘Like an EP or an album or whatever. They’ll organise and promote everything, then you’ll split the profits. Basically, we want to harness this momentum with “Ella”, but not lump a bunch of pressure on you, given you’ve still got school and everything.’ He flashed a smile at Rachel, which Rachel returned. ‘And while chatting with your talented manager, we came up with this option that would cover us both.’ Jai reached across and opened the glove compartment, bringing out a stapled stack of papers. ‘Seriously, mate, we all think you’ve got a bright future, so if you’re up for it, why don’t you pop your signature right here, and we can start making you a star?’

  This was it. The moment Caleb had dreamed of. Although, usually in the dream he was in some sort of office building in LA, with people in suits next to a potted fern. Not in the back seat of a car wearing a soggy T-shirt. The pen was a simple biro as well. He’d always envisaged something a bit fancier. Not a quill or anything. That would be overkill. But something less average –

  ‘Caleb?’ Rachel said, breaking the awkward silence.

  ‘Wow,’ was all Caleb could say.

  ‘Tell him about the advance as well,’ said Jai.

  ‘Advance? What’s an advance?’

  ‘Well, that’s how much money the record label will give you in advance,’ said Rachel. ‘How does ten thousand dollars sound?’

  Caleb was gobsmacked. His gob had been smacked. ‘Um. That sounds good,’ he said.

  Jai smiled and handed him the contract.

  It was quite a fat stack of paper. Clauses. Pertaining to. Legalities. There was a lot of stuff he wasn’t sure about, and he remembered what his mum had told him about signing things he hadn’t read. Jai handed him the pen, but Caleb hesitated.