Face the Music

by Marianne Levy

  To Shelley

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  ACCIDENTAL SUPERSTAR

  So there I was, standing in the wings, ready to do my first major concert. I mean, seriously major, with masses of people watching and goodness knows how many more online.

  Even though I’d practised and practised, I was shaking so badly I could barely hold my guitar. My hands were dripping sweat, and there was a fair chance that when I opened my mouth I’d barf all over the stage.

  It was no use telling myself that everyone gets nervous. Because this was no ordinary concert.

  I was about to sing live to twelve and a half thousand people.

  And each and every one of them wanted to kill me.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Let’s rewind.

  So basically, I recorded a song in my bedroom. A song called ‘Just Me’. I’ve always written songs, ever since I can remember, and sat in my bedroom and sung them. Like using up all the hot water and leaving my homework on the bus, writing songs is just something that I do. And this song wasn’t especially different from the others.

  Except that my friend Jaz put it on YouTube.

  And it went a bit viral.

  OK, a lot viral.

  It started with everyone at school and then went sort of crazy. Like, being-played-on-Radio-1-level crazy. Lacey said that her aunt went to Thailand and ‘Just Me’ was coming out of the speakers there. It’s kind of upsetting that my song gets to go to Thailand when I’ve never managed to get any further than Plymouth.

  Anyway, I ended up getting signed to a record label called Top Music, which I still can’t really believe, because this is me we’re talking about. Katie Cox, pizza lover, boy band hater and possessor of the World’s Wonkiest Fringe.

  Being signed to Top Music meant all sorts of things. It meant I had my song go to number two in the charts. It meant that I was supposed to be writing music for a concert and an album. And it meant that I was with the same record label as the annoying boy band Karamel.

  This last point wasn’t particularly significant, except that, in a moment of extreme foolishness, I’d promised my classmate Savannah that I would get her tickets to go and see them, and she would not let me forget it. Seriously, the girl was obsessed.

  ‘Katie, you know those Karamel tickets . . . ?’

  and

  ‘You did promise me, Katie.’

  and

  ‘It’s, like, completely fine and everything but they are touring at the moment and you made me a promise and if you don’t keep it I will tell the entire internet about the time at my birthday party when you fell into my cake. I have pictures, Katie.’

  We were at school, sitting in the scrubby bit behind the back of the labs. You’d think that a number-two-selling pop star would, perhaps, have more glamorous places to be.

  In fact, a month on and I hadn’t seen any money from my mega hit, and even if it did ever turn up, Mum assured me that there was no way I was allowed to spend it on starting a new life in Hollywood. And, actually, for all my pleading, I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to live alone in a mansion made of gold. At least not until after the end-of-term disco.

  ‘All right, FINE,’ I said.

  ‘Really?’ Savannah’s face was shining like I’d opened up her head and stuck a tea light in her mouth. ‘Babes, you are rocking my world. Backstage passes, yes, yes?’

  You would also think that being a number-two-selling pop star would elevate me into a position at least slightly above Savannah, even if she was the richest and prettiest girl in my form.

  Oh well.

  I started texting the head of Top Music. ‘I’m asking.’

  Hi Tony, I was wondering if my friend could have a ticket and backstage pass to see Karamel when they come to London? Thanks, Katie.

  ‘OK?’ I held it up to show her.

  ‘Eew!’ said Savannah, who has seen far too many American high school movies. ‘You cannot seriously expect me to go on my own.’

  ‘I seriously can.’

  At which point Savannah went grey, which is quite hard to do when you’re slathered in spray tan. ‘Katie. You are asking me to meet my future boyfriend while looking . . .’ She paused, her mouth making funny little shapes as she tried to bend her lips around the word ‘unpopular’.

  Now, there is a big difference between looking unpopular and being unpopular and, unlike Savannah, I have experienced both. So even though, really, I think Savannah would probably benefit from a dose of unpopularity, I softened enough to say:

  ‘All right. I’ll ask for two tickets.’

  Sofie and Paige pinged upright, and Savannah’s head swivelled from one to the other. In the space of ten seconds she’d gone from wounded possum to queen cobra.

  ‘Pleeeease can I come?’ said Sofie. ‘I will give you anything you want, Savannah.’

  ‘I’ll give you double,’ said Paige. ‘My fake Gucci purse, even. Anything.’

  ‘But that’s not fair!’ cried Sofie. ‘I don’t have a fake Gucci purse to give!’

  I am not one to mess with a friendship as beautiful as the Sofie-Savannah-Paige triangle, although I have to say, I did consider it. But the fallout would have been too great, both for the world and its fake Gucci leatherwear.

  ‘Three tickets,’ I said. ‘I will ask for three tickets.’

  ‘Thanks, Katie.’

  ‘Thank you!’

  ‘Can you make it four?’

  Now, this was a surprise.

  Because the words had come from my best friend, Lacey.

  Lacey, who had always agreed with me that boy bands are an insult to music. And that the worst and most insulting boy band of all is Karamel.

  ‘Ha ha ha,’ I said. ‘You’re funny, Lace.’

  She wasn’t laughing back. ‘Yes or no?’

  ‘Lacey, you cannot actually be suggesting that you want to spend an evening watching Karamel.’

  ‘It’s either that or watch telly with Mum,’ said Lacey, who, to be fair, does have quite a scary mum.

  ‘But—’

  ‘I want to go,’ said Lacey. ‘It’ll be fun.’

  ‘Four tickets,’ I said. And then I hit send.

  ‘Aren’t you coming?’ said Lacey.

  ‘I am not,’ I said. ‘On account of Karamel being literally the worst boy band in the whole universe. Also, I have tons of other things to do. I am so busy right now.’

  ‘Whoah, have you still not written your song?’ said Lacey. ‘What’s the hold-up?’

  ‘There’s no hold-up. It’s going great,’ I said quickly, and then looked hard at my phone until everyone started talking about something else.

  This is the difficulty with having a song do well on the internet. It starts out all ex
citing and brilliant and everyone says well done and sends the link to their cousin in Australia and maybe you even get a record deal and end up on the front page of the Harltree Gazette.

  And then, just as you’re getting used to everything being sort of awesome, it happens. Someone says:

  ‘So, what’s next?’

  And once one person’s said it, they all do. It’s not enough that there’s a song out there, a song you’re really proud of, that everyone’s been clicking on and singing at you in newsagents. Nope.

  They want more.

  Have you written the next one yet?

  When’s it out?

  We can’t wait!

  In fact, I had some potential next ones. More than some; loads and loads. Hundreds, really, because I’ve been writing songs since I was tiny.

  Only, somehow, even though I had notebook after notebook full of lyrics, most of them didn’t seem quite right. For example, last night I found one I’d started a while back, about spaghetti hoops, and in my memory it was really funny. But when I sat down and actually sang it, it was just this weird unfinished thing about spaghetti hoops. I mean, spaghetti hoops are nice, and all, but I’m not sure they merit their own song.

  I still had plenty of decent ones to play Tony, though. And, as I said to myself, over and over and over again, it’s only natural to have the jitters – absolutely nothing to worry about.

  ‘Actually,’ I said, interrupting a conversation about Karamel’s latest album artwork, ‘I’m going into Top Music tomorrow to play them some stuff. And I’m sort of feeling a bit anxious about it.’

  ‘I’m not surprised,’ said Lacey. ‘If I were you I’d be really worried.’

  ‘Would you?’ This seemed remarkably insensitive, coming from my BF. ‘Huh.’

  ‘Why isn’t he replying?’ said Savannah, who was more interested in my phone than my creative process. ‘Didn’t you make it clear that this is important?’

  ‘Savannah, I texted the head of one of the country’s biggest music labels. I’m not sure that arranging your concert tickets is right up there on his list of priorities.’

  ‘So you didn’t make it clear that it was important. Honestly, Katie, becoming a celebrity has made you so self-centred.’

  My phone flashed.

  Everyone leaned in, Savannah’s fingers doing this sort of grabby motion, like one of those claw machines you get at the seaside that always pick up the teddy and then drop it at the very last second, making you spend your entire allowance on a stuffed toy you don’t even want when you actually needed the money for fish and chips.

  ‘It’s a yes,’ I said. ‘Next Thursday, four front-row VIP tickets will be waiting at the box office, plus wristbands for the backstage party afterwards. All sorted, any problems just speak to security. Oh. Next Thursday is July the ninth. That’s—’

  I stopped talking because the screaming had got so loud and so high that no one would have heard me. It was like someone had stomped on a box of bats.

  ‘Oh my God, I am going to meet Karamel!’

  ‘They are so beautiful!’

  ‘This is it. This is the best thing to ever happen to me.’

  ‘I am going to marry him. This is where it begins. Me and Kurt. Forever!’

  ‘No, I’m going to marry him.’

  ‘No, I am.’

  The squeaks paused for the tiniest second, and I opened my mouth.

  ‘Can we all just calm down a minute here and—’

  At which point Savannah said, ‘WHAT AM I GOING TO WEAR?’

  And after that I could have said anything at all, to be honest, because no one would have heard me.

  So I tried to meet Lacey’s eye, with my Wow, these three are being crazy right now face.

  Only, she wasn’t looking at me. She was looking at Paige, and saying:

  ‘Do you think Kristian will talk to me? We could double-date . . .’

  And I did wonder whether me and my best friend were ever so slightly growing apart.

  Just a bit.

  ‘Katie, babes, are you OK? Because you are making the most ugly face right now.’

  ‘Thanks for letting me know, Savannah.’

  ‘No problem.’

  ‘Actually,’ I went on, ‘I am a bit upset. Because July the ninth is—’

  Only, the bell was ringing, and Savannah and Paige and Sofie and Lacey were swinging off across the car park, chanting ‘WE’RE GOING TO SEE KARAMEL’ at the top of their voices.

  I sighed, and said, ‘July the ninth is my birthday.’

  But they were too far away to hear.

  Spaghetti Hoops

  They’re orange

  And they float in soups

  They’re pasta

  And they’re shaped like hoops

  Something something spaghetti

  Something something

  Confetti

  Yeti

  no

  argh!

  CHAPTER TWO

  ‘Hang on,’ said my big sister Amanda, who had been scrolling through the latest celeb gossip on Pop Trash, but now put her phone down in order to gape at my stupidity. ‘You offered half your form free tickets and backstage passes to see the biggest boy band on the planet, and you’re upset because they said yes?’

  Mands has a very annoying way of seeing things, sometimes.

  ‘They should know better,’ I said. ‘Well, not Savannah’s lot. But Lacey should.’

  ‘Why?’

  Honestly. ‘Because LACEY HATES KARAMEL.’

  Amanda raised one of her eyebrows. ‘Does she? Or do you?’

  And then she did the big-sister thing she does where she attempts to look really, really wise.

  I couldn’t even tell her to go back to her own room. Back in the spring Mum and her new boyfriend Adrian had teamed up to buy the world’s most useless house and we’d all moved in together.

  You wouldn’t think that a house could be useless, as all it really needs to do is to stand there without falling down. But our house wasn’t even managing to do that. There were cracks in the walls and the garage roof had collapsed and when they finally got a surveyor to come round he said that one side of the house had subsidence and needed underpinning as a matter of urgency.

  Which is a fancy way of saying that it might fall down.

  So now the half of the house with the most cracks in it was strictly out of bounds. Which meant that Amanda’s room was out of action. Which meant that she’d had to move in with me.

  I’d been trying to look on the bright side of things. It was much easier to borrow her stuff when it was sitting in the same wardrobe as mine.

  And . . . Actually, that was pretty much the only positive.

  I mean, she’s my sister and everything, but is it really necessary for her to fold her pants? Or to make my bed? Or to make me listen to every last track released by Friends of Noom or the Zits or whatever weird and unknown band she’s currently into?

  ‘We both hate Karamel,’ I told her. ‘Boy band? More like boy bland.’ I waited for some acknowledgement of what had been quite a clever thing to say, but Amanda’s face wasn’t moving, so I carried on. ‘Lacey and I have always been extremely clear on the matter. They are the three most annoying boys on the face of the earth and they have stupid hair. Their names all begin with a K. Even Kolin. I mean, come on. Kolin! And they can’t sing.’

  ‘Kurt is a very accomplished singer and a terrific guitarist,’ said Mands. ‘How much Karamel have you actually heard?’

  ‘I try not to listen to them!’ Now I was really getting quite worked up.

  ‘So you agree that you could be wrong?’

  By this time I was seriously considering taking up residence in Amanda’s old room. Yeah, there was every chance it would crumble and kill me, but if I stayed in the presence of my older sister for very much longer then I was going to kill her.

  ‘I think I might go out for a bit,’ I said.

  ‘Don’t you have a history essay to do?’ said Ms
Annoying. ‘And a song to write?’

  ‘Yeah, well,’ I said.

  ‘And aren’t you going in to see Top Music tomorrow?’

  ‘Yes. And . . .’

  ‘Katie, do you have anything to play them? Anything at all?’

  ‘There’s a song about spaghetti hoops,’ I said. ‘It’s . . . it’s not very good.’ I threw myself face down on to my bed, which had a bowl of cornflake mush on the pillow, which I didn’t notice until it had gone everywhere. ‘Uuuurgh.’

  ‘Well, if you will leave food there . . .’

  ‘I can’t write, Manda. I’ve forgotten how to do it! I sit down and I stare at the page and nothing seems to come out and I don’t understand. And now I have cereal gunge in my nostrils.’

  She got down on her haunches beside me, and handed me a T-shirt to mop up the mess. And actually, when I looked up and saw her expression of genuine concern, I felt a proper little shiver of fear.

  ‘Katie, of course you know how to do it. You just need to start believing in yourself again.’

  ‘I do believe in myself! I know I can write songs. What I don’t know is why I can’t seem to write them at the moment.’

  ‘Uh,’ said Amanda, which seemed to sum it up.

  ‘I’m going out for some fresh air,’ I said.

  So out I went, off down the lane, doing my usual pause at the corner before the bus stop in case my fellow classmate and all-round nutcase Mad Jaz was there. Not that I was avoiding her or anything; it’s just useful to have a bit of a warning before you see Mad Jaz, because of her being so mad.

  Like, a few months ago, this young teaching assistant guy gave her a telling-off for wearing non-regulation tights. No one knows how she did it, but the next day when he came into school, all his hair had fallen out. Even his eyebrows.

  Or how she’s apparently been banned from every single branch of Lidl. Not just in Harltree. Not even just in Essex. She’s been banned from every branch in the WORLD.

  The bus stop appeared. And, phew. She wasn’t there.

  I carried on, down towards the main road, half thinking I should go back. That’s the problem with walks. You have to have a plan before you set off or they feel a bit pointless.

  Then my phone started to go.