I Was Born for This

by Alice Oseman

  I didn’t exactly tell Mum about the nature of the fandom meet-up – that it’s at a pub in the evening – because if I had, she’d have been even more eager to stop me going. But I’m eighteen. I can make my own choices. I’ll be going to uni next month, living my own life.

  And I know Mum still thinks I’m a kid. Most adults see teenagers as confused kids who don’t understand much, while they’re the pillars of knowledge and experience and know exactly what is right at all times.

  I think the truth is that everyone in the entire world is confused and nobody understands much of anything at all.

  Juliet has been deciding what to wear for twenty minutes. Relatable. Thankfully, I planned ahead and only brought a few outfits with me, otherwise I too would have been hurling clothes around the room and groaning at the wardrobe.

  ‘But, it’s not like a party, is it?’ she says.

  ‘No, but we’ll be at Spoon’s.’

  ‘Spoon’s isn’t fancy, though.’

  ‘Definitely not.’

  ‘But it’s not a dress event, is it?’

  ‘Nah. Smart-casual, I reckon.’

  I myself am wearing black mom jeans and a loose stripy top – my go-to outfit for when I think I might come into contact with cool people. And the other Ark fans are people I definitely want to impress.

  ‘Mac’s coming tonight, right?’ I ask her.

  She turns to me, a black-and-white skirt in one hand, and high-waisted shorts in the other. ‘Yeah, of course? Why?’

  I shrug. ‘I dunno. He doesn’t seem like he actually likes The Ark that much.’

  Which is true. There was barely any reaction from him while The Ark were performing last night, while Juliet and I were trying not to scream too loudly or say ‘I love my boys’ too many times. Mac had just sat and watched.

  I’m not going to go as far as to say he’s been lying about liking The Ark just so he can get with Juliet, but …

  That’s exactly what I think.

  ‘Also,’ I continue, ‘he’s very annoying.’

  Juliet snorts, thinking I’m joking. Then she realises I’m not. ‘What! What d’you mean?’

  ‘He just … He tries to make every conversation about him.’

  Juliet frowns. ‘Nah, I think he’s just nervous.’ She flicks her hair, strikes a pose, and raises her eyebrows at me. ‘I mean, who wouldn’t be nervous to meet Juliet Schwartz, am I right?’ She starts to strike several fashion poses in a row, which does kind of make me laugh.

  ‘And,’ she continues, ‘he’s just not as … I don’t know. He’s not as fangirly as we are. He’s not as weird as us.’

  He seems pretty weird in my opinion, but in more of a conventionally attractive way, like the protagonist of an indie movie, which I expect is why Juliet likes him. Being a male fan of obscure old bands is, for some reason, more acceptable than being a female fan of a twenty-first-century boy band.

  There’s a pause, and then I say, ‘Anyway, I cannot believe you brought this many clothes with you! It’s like you’re planning to stay at your nan’s for the next four months!’

  Juliet freezes on the spot and turns to me. She opens her mouth, and for a moment, I feel as though she’s about to say something very serious, but then she just chuckles and says, ‘Yeah, I know right?’

  The only person who seems to have no degree of nervousness about tonight’s event is Mac. Must be easy to socialise when you’re a cute boy with a cool taste in music, I suppose.

  We hop on the tube and arrive at Leicester Square at around 7.30 p.m. – a sensible half-hour later than the start of the event – and The Ark fans are immediately visible. A gathering of at least fifty people of our own age are scattered around one side of the square, sitting or standing in little groups, chattering and laughing and taking selfies.

  I’ve never been to anything like this before. I stayed well away from the kids at school who started cruising the clubs at fifteen, armed with fake IDs and bottles of Archers. I don’t drink. Even if I wanted to go to a club, I don’t think I could face going into a club sober. I’ve never actually been drunk, but from what I’ve seen it does make you a little bit more enthusiastic about entering a dark, sticky, cave-like building and jumping up and down to DJ Snake.

  Doesn’t mean I didn’t socialise. But most of my friends from school were like me – not interested in that scene. And none of them wanted to talk about The Ark with me.

  So, I never really had much to talk about at all.

  ‘Holy shit, are you Angel? @jimmysangels on Twitter?’

  I spin round. Hearing someone say my Twitter and Tumblr username out loud is pretty much a spiritual experience.

  I recognise the girl immediately. She’s a little shorter than I expected, but I’ve seen her in pictures she’s posted on both Twitter and Tumblr – curly hair dyed green, thick-rimmed glasses. Goes by the name of ‘Pops’, username @superowan. Next to her, someone else I recognise – ‘TJ’, @tinyteej – cropped hair and a polo shirt, holding their phone in one hand like it’s got a treasure map on it. Both are pretty big name fans. If I recall correctly, they each have over ten thousand followers on Twitter. Like me.

  I point dramatically at both of them and say, ‘DUDE.’ Then I hold out both my arms. ‘Look at us, meeting in real life!’

  When fans get together, there’s little we actually talk about apart from the thing we’re all fans of. In this case, obviously, it’s our boys.

  When I was at secondary school, I didn’t have any friends who cared about The Ark as much as I did. And dear God, I tried. I talked about The Ark to anyone who would listen, thinking maybe, maybe one day someone would understand why they’re so important.

  No one ever understood, though. So I was alone.

  But here – here is different. People get it. People understand. I keep checking Twitter and seeing a load of tweets tagged #TheArkLondonMeetUp. People putting internet usernames to faces. Meeting their best friends in real life for the first time. I start talking to a girl about the Q & A video Jimmy and Rowan made together three years ago, talking about our favourite moments – the little shoulder nudge, the spontaneous harmonised rendition of an old song, the synchronised laughs. The girl lights up, she talks back to me. She gets it. It’s magical.

  By eight o’clock, most people have moved into Wetherspoon’s and I’m having a great time, but Mac and Juliet, it seems, are not.

  Juliet hasn’t spoken to many people. I think she wants to, but Mac won’t leave her side or stop talking to her, so it’s a bit difficult for her to get involved in any conversations. I keep trying to include her, but somehow Mac keeps dragging her out of the conversation again every single time. Then again, Juliet doesn’t seem to mind talking to him.

  After a while, they just go and sit at a table together, by themselves. Juliet’s showing Mac something on her phone. I’m pissed off at Mac for not letting Juliet have fun and I’m pissed off at Juliet for not seeing how annoying Mac is.

  I didn’t think I could dislike him any more than I already did.

  This was supposed to be my and Juliet’s week. The week where we became real best friends, not just internet best friends.

  I’ve always had friends – people I sit with at school, people I talk to, people I hang out with sometimes. But I’ve never had a best friend. I’ve never had a friend, or anyone, really, who I could talk to about anything and everything, someone who actually cared about the stuff I’m interested in. Someone who didn’t roll their eyes when I got too excited about stuff, someone whose eyes didn’t glaze over when I told a lengthy anecdote. Someone who actually liked me for who I am, not just because I’m easy to talk to and good at filling awkward silences.

  Until I started talking to Juliet.

  ‘Are they your friends, or are you intensely in love with one of them?’ a voice asks in my direction, causing me to spin round on the spot and find myself facing a girl with a big smile on her face holding a glass bottle of J2O.

  ‘Definitely fri
ends,’ I splutter, suddenly imagining ever being in love with either Juliet or Mac. Absolutely laughable.

  The girl chuckles to herself and takes a sip of her drink. She doesn’t actually look like she’s here for the fandom meet-up – she’s wearing an oversized All Time Low T-shirt and a casual pair of jeans. And she just looks older. No, not older – more mature. Someone who doesn’t spend every night of their life watching The Ark videos or reading fanfiction.

  ‘Are you here for the meet-up?’ I ask, genuinely curious.

  She leans onto the bar. ‘Well, sort of. I’m here with a friend who’s a massive Ark fan. I’m not really one myself, but …’ She grins to herself. ‘Well, I wanted to see what it was like. I’ve never been to anything like this.’

  ‘If it makes you feel any better, neither have I!’ I say. ‘But … I am an Ark fan. If you couldn’t already tell.’ I flash my phone at her, which has Jimmy as the lock-screen wallpaper.

  She shrugs. ‘Can’t really tell, can you? Unless you’re literally wearing their tour merch. The Ark fans could be anyone.’

  ‘That’s true …’

  A bartender finally notices I’m waiting and I ask him for another J2O. The girl immediately says, ‘Hey, we’re J2O buddies! Don’t you drink either?’

  ‘Nah, mate. I’m Muslim. I mean, some Muslims drink, but I don’t.’

  ‘Oh cool! I wish I had a mature excuse like that. I just think it tastes like wee.’

  ‘Does it actually taste like wee?’

  ‘Well, I haven’t ever drunk my own wee, so I can’t actually back up that statement.’

  The bartender brings over my J2O just as the girl says this, causing him to give us a frown. When he leaves, we both snort out a laugh.

  ‘Note to self, don’t talk about drinking wee in front of strangers,’ she says.

  ‘Too late. It’s done.’

  ‘Man. Great first impression there.’

  ‘It’s a memorable one, I’ll give you that.’

  She grins at me and asks, ‘What’s your name, then?’

  There’s a momentary malfunction in my brain where I forget whether I’m supposed to be introducing myself as Fereshteh or Angel. But we’re in The Ark fandom right now. The internet in real life. So I go with the latter.

  ‘It’s Angel,’ I say.

  ‘Angel! What a fucking fantastic name,’ she says. ‘I’m Bliss.’

  Bliss is the best person I’ve met tonight.

  It’s rare that I meet someone as talkative as I am, but Bliss is most definitely that. Despite having told me she’s not really an Ark fan, she’s been running around the room with me, speaking to everyone. I introduce her to TJ and Pops and other fans that I know from the internet. I introduce her to Juliet, once I finally find her lurking near the bar, though Juliet doesn’t really seem to know what to say to Bliss, who immediately starts talking about Juliet’s phone case, which has pressed flowers inside it, declaring that she had no idea flowers didn’t just disintegrate within a few weeks of dying, and why were there not just a load of dead flowers lying around in gardens everywhere? Where do the dead flowers go? I just shrug my shoulders exaggeratedly while Juliet widens her eyes at me as if to say, ‘What the fuck is happening, Angel?’

  Bliss doesn’t introduce or even point out the friend that she came with. I start to wonder whether she made them up.

  Eight thirty becomes ten o’clock and I stick with Bliss for the rest of the night. Something about her is different to the other fans. She’s loud and chatty, but when we settle in and start discussing complex Ark issues, Bliss hangs back and just listens. Then she whispers a joke in my ear and I feel like I’ve known her for years.

  ‘I want to work for a charity,’ says Bliss, leaning so far over the table that her cheek is almost pressed against it. ‘To save the world.’

  ‘What bit of the world, though?’

  ‘Location, you mean?’

  ‘Nah, like, what sort of charity? The world’s a bit shit. Can’t save all of it at once.’

  ‘Oh. Greenpeace, I think. I want to help them try to stop climate change before humans destroy the Earth.’

  ‘Wow. Will they be able to do that?’

  ‘Probably not. But it’s worth a shot.’ She looks at me. ‘What do you want to do?’

  ‘Career, you mean?’

  ‘Yeah! Or, like, life, generally.’

  It takes me a moment to remember what my future plans are. I almost just mention Thursday’s Ark concert. My future plans feel very far away right now, like they’re not even real. They’re just in the inevitable After I Meet The Ark.

  There seems to be very little I care about in my life besides The Ark.

  ‘Psychology,’ I say. ‘I’m going to uni in October.’

  ‘Cool,’ says Bliss. ‘I’ll save the nature, you save the humans, and hopefully everything will be all right. Psychologist and climate change warrior save the world.’

  ‘Damn. I’d watch that Netflix show.’

  I learn that Bliss is bisexual. She says it with such extreme confidence that I’m suddenly jealous. Lots of people, especially in The Ark fandom, are like that, though. They know exactly who they are. They put it in their blog ‘about’ page, they put it in their Twitter bio. I never know what to put in my Twitter bio so I usually just put an Ark lyric in there.

  I learn that Bliss’s surname is Lai. Her dad is Chinese and her mum is white. Her parents tried to raise her Christian, she says, but she just couldn’t ever fully believe in God. She asks me a bit about Islam, because, she says, she skipped all her religious education lessons at school. Normally I get a bit annoyed when people treat me like I’m the fountain of all Islamic knowledge – it’s not like every single Muslim has the same opinions and beliefs – but I can’t seem to bring myself to be annoyed at Bliss about anything.

  ‘It’s not really that different from Christianity, is it?’ says Bliss, after I’ve answered her questions. ‘My boyfriend’s best friend is a really committed Christian.’

  ‘There’s loads of similarities, yeah.’

  ‘I really wish I could believe in God and all that stuff.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Just gives you something to believe in and cling on to, doesn’t it? Even when everything else turns to shit.’

  I nod at her. She’s right. ‘What do you do when everything turns to shit, then?’

  ‘I dunno. Cry?’

  ‘Well, believing in God doesn’t stop you crying every now and then.’

  ‘It’s a bit like all this, isn’t it?’ she says, gesturing around her. ‘The fandom stuff. It feels like we’re part of a big religion.’

  I’ve never really thought of it like that.

  I laugh. ‘Yeah. Man. We’d better go find something to pray to in the hope that Jimmy and Rowan will bless us with another on-stage hug.’

  Bliss laughs at me, and I wonder, for a moment, if she feels sorry for me, for all of us.

  ‘You guys really like the idea of Jimmy and Rowan together, don’t you?’

  I shrug. ‘They make me feel like love exists.’

  That something good exists. That the world shouldn’t just disintegrate, right now. That there’s something worth me sticking around for.

  ‘Wouldn’t you otherwise?’

  I try to think of another pair of people that make me believe in love, but nothing comes to mind. I think about my parents snapping at each other. A school friend dumped after she finally had sex with her boyfriend. A couple sitting in silence at a restaurant table.

  ‘Probably not,’ I say.

  When I next return from the bathroom, Bliss is on the phone, standing a little away from the crowds of fans. Gone is the bright, confident expression – she looks like she might be arguing with someone, actually.

  As I approach, I hear her say, ‘Well, it’s not really any of your business what I do or where I go,’ and then she hangs up and drops her phone onto the table.

  The name on the phone screen is ‘Rowan’. />
  Which is kind of ironic.

  ‘Everything okay?’ I ask, sitting down next to her. She whips her head up at me, startled, then shoots me a beaming grin as if nothing had happened.

  ‘Yeah, yeah, all’s good!’ she says. ‘Just my mum calling. She doesn’t like me staying out late.’

  ‘Ah,’ I say, trying to sound convincing, but I think it’s highly unlikely her mum’s name is Rowan.

  ‘I should go,’ she says, and pockets her phone. She gives me a big smile. ‘It was nice to meet you!’

  And then she’s gone. Before I have the chance to say anything. I feel a bit like I’ve maybe just met a ghost.

  After a few more chats and another J2O, I decide it’s time I reunited with Muliet, but Juliet is nowhere to be found. Mac, on the other hand, is sitting alone in a booth with a pint of beer in front of him, looking slightly like a cheated lover who’s come to the pub to drown his sorrows and write some poetry.

  ‘Who was that you were hanging out with, then?’ says Mac, after I’ve sat down opposite him with a fresh glass of J2O. He appears to be on at least his third beer.

  He looks a little bit lonely, sitting in a booth by himself, and I kind of feel sorry for him.

  ‘I dunno. Some girl I just met.’

  ‘You just met her? Looked like you were BFFs.’

  I shrugged. ‘We got along, I guess.’

  There’s an awkward pause.

  ‘Well, I didn’t realise you were some sort of fandom celebrity,’ he says with the fakest smile I’ve ever seen.

  I laugh at him. ‘That’s a massive overstatement.’

  He raises an eyebrow. ‘You joking? Literally everyone here knows who you are. People keep coming up to you to take selfies.’

  I shrug. ‘It’s just the internet.’

  ‘Just the internet.’ Mac laughs. ‘Sometimes I think the internet is more real than the real world.’

  I realise suddenly that Mac is not in a good mood.

  What a shame.

  ‘Where’s Juliet got to?’ I ask. ‘You not hanging with her?’

  The mention of Juliet seems to marginally cheer him up. ‘Yeah! Yeah, she’s just gone to the loo.’