by Beth Garrod
As the buzz grew, so did our nerves. So for the last bit of the shift, Teeg and I invented a game to pass the time; bag-sketball. Basically throwing rubbish into each other’s bags basketball style. We’d managed forty-nine catches in a row, so when I spotted a half-eaten sausage I ran for it, knowing a last-minute slam-dunk would put a smile back on Tegan’s face.
“She spots an opportunity…” I swooped down. “She grabs her prey!” I snatched it. “She moves like a graceful puma…” I spun back round as Tegan lifted up her bag. “And she shooooooooots.” I hurled the sausage at Tegan’s open bin bag. But my throw was too enthusiastic, and my glove flew off with it, sailing through the air and landing perfectly at someone’s feet. Luckily that someone was facing away from us. But the sausage wanted to be part of the action too and landed slap-bang on top of the bag they were wearing. Like a cherry on a cake. But a half-chewed chipolata on a backpack.
Tegan and I looked at each other in horror. A girl sauntered over to Sausage Bag Boy, all massive hat, perfectly wavy hair, and shorts that were smaller than the pants I was wearing (and I wasn’t even in my big pants). She looked disgusted.
“Babes?!” Her mouth pulled down like she’d just smelt the Portaloos for the first time. “Why is that rrrevolting sausage on your back. Is it some kind of joke??”
His cry of “What?!!!” suggested not.
Oh gosh.
Please no?!
Of all the people sausage-attack could happen to, it had happened to the worst. The wurst.
Could I leave my glove on the floor and flee before they noticed the thrower was me? And I was dressed like a bin-liner?
“Fishy Balls.” No I couldn’t. That’s the problem with high-visibility vests. They are high visibility. “Figures.”
Luke kicked the poor sausage towards me. The sad little thing tumbled across the ground. Literal sausage roll. I’m sorry, sausage. I never meant for this.
What could I say?
“Oh god, it’s YOU.” Wavy-haired girl, aka Ska, spoke to me like I was a tiny annoying pebble in her designer shoe. She looked at me with more disgust than she did the sausage. “Any reason you’re dressed as a rubbish dump?”
Her look – Dolce & Gabbana. Mine – health and safety.
“It was raining.”
Luke was staring me down. “Which is why people have invented a thing called coats?”
I slow nodded. But he hadn’t finished, a smile spreading across his face as he thought of something else to throw at me . “Or were you too distracted by your petition? Good luck with that, by the way. Such a shame they haven’t got back to you. Everyone’s talking about it…” He stressed “everyone” extra hard. “And I hate to be the one to tell you – but someone really should… You do know you have zero chance of it working, right?”
But Ska hadn’t got his “make them feel even more rubbish than they look” memo.
“Oh? I’d heard the band had got booted off?” Whoa. What?! I didn’t know she’d even been following it? Or even cared about anyone but herself?! “Meaning even more stage time for me.”
Oh no. That’s right. She didn’t.
Luke’s fists tightened, but it was too late – Tegan was all over the good news.
“Thanks for the tip-off, Ska. Just shows what people standing up for what’s right can really do.”
Ska looked perplexed. “What? Get my set extended?”
I looked at Luke as I replied to her. “Totally.”
It was one thing being a self-obsessed douchebag. It was another to go out with one too. “Cooool. Yeah. See you guys, later.” Ska lifted her model wrist and waved bye just with her fingers, like a whole hand would be too much effort for people like us.
I lowered my voice and grabbed Tegan’s arm. “Hopefully in at least fifteen years.”
But boosted by Ska’s tip-off, I sass-walked off – which was actually quite tricky with a full bin bag banging against my knee and the others making a swishing sound as I flapped in the wind.
But could Ska be right? Had the reason we hadn’t heard from the festival been because they were going to make it part of their official announcement? It was almost too exciting to think about.
Tegan and I hurried back to ring Rach with the news, but she didn’t pick up. So I used the time to reply to some messages from Adam that he’d sent during our shift.
AARD: Good morning beef! Can’t wait to see you!
He never used exclamation marks. Must be all the excitement of his gig.
AARD: DID YOU KNOW YOU’VE BEEN SELECTED FOR A QUESTIONNAIRE? IF YOU ANSWER CORRECTLY YOU COULD BE ENTERED INTO A PRIZE DRAW! IS WEARING ONE PAIR OF JEANS ALL WEEKEND:
A) #BANDLIFE, OR:
B) .
Entries must be received by midday, and will cost the bill-payer a guaranteed massive snog.
I replied.
ME: A and B. But seeing as I forgot to bring a hairbrush we can be together. Good luck in your exam!!!
He got straight back. He mustn’t have gone into his exam yet.
AARD: Any update from the organisers? Tell me if you hear! How is the fest? How is life? How is you? How is Dave? How am I about to go into my last exam? How How How.
I replied with the update that there was no update and got back to ripping off my bags with Tegan (which we then couldn’t throw away as didn’t have a bin bag for rubbish. Mind. Blown). We then had a vile wet-wipe wash and got changed. It was lame, but I was really looking forward to seeing Adam later.
PUTHHT.
Something hit our tent. Probably just a bit of mud flying up. I carried on wriggling my jeans back on.
PUTHHT.
Tegan looked at me. She’d heard it too.
PUTHHT. PUTHHT.
Was someone throwing something?
Please tell me this wasn’t some kind of pro-Session ambush?
Tegan knee-shuffled her way to the front of the tent. I gave her a supportive nod. Ever so slowly she pulled back the tent flap and peered out.
I held my breath. Was it Luke again?
But unless he’d suddenly become a master of yelling “Teeeegggggaaaaannn” in the happiest voice ever (he hadn’t), I knew exactly who it was and rushed straight out after Tegan, who was already pressed against the wire fence body-press-hugging the other person I most wanted to see. Rach.
She was staggering under the weight of her backpack, every inch of her – and it – covered in glitter. A sparkly cloud showered down whenever she moved.
“I KNEW it was you guys!!! I’ve missed you!!!” It’d been approximately thirty-nine hours since our last face-to-face sighting and one hour since our last messages – so I felt the same. “Tegan’s directions were perf! We’re so close?!” Considering Rach wasn’t allowed in the workers’ field, we were only metres apart.
Tegan shrugged as if nailing everything was no big deal. “Can we give you a hand?”
Rach shook her head. “Don’t think you can get in here. Encouraging shouts will have to do…”
Keen to keep the happy mood up before the drama of the announcement in just over an hour I took her hint. “GO GO, TENT MASTER!!!! QUEEN OF … err … ERECTIONS!”
Rach sniggered, and began pulling out her poles.
But she didn’t need any help. Hers was one of those high-tech ones that you flick and it pops into a ready-made tent. She dragged it as near to the fence as possible and banged the guy ropes and pegs into place using our trusted tin of beans. But despite having no tents – or humans – around her, out of nowhere a guy who looked like a hipster-lumberjack-hair-product-model appeared.
“Wanna hand?” He put his hand on his hip and did some sort of hair toss. “It’s all about the angle.”
“Here – let me…” Another man popped up on the other side. He was so fit he made the original guy look positively ropey. (OMG, imagine if he was called Guy. Guy Ropey.) This was what happened when you looked like Rach. It was like all the fit guys in the world got a group notification when girls like her were in dist
ress. Fit Guy Two bent down to grab one of the pegs. “Should be easy with a bit of strength.”
Rach stood up. Both of them stared at her – then each other – like they were locked in silent battle.
“Thanks…” She lifted the beans back up, before whacking in the last peg. “But that should be me done. Next time I need someone to tent-splain me though, I’ll know where to head.”
I almost choked on my chewy fried egg. Rach threw her bags into the tent and looked at us. “So, we good to go?” Tegan and I both scrambled up. Guy Ropey and Fit Guy Two sloped off as quickly as they’d arrived. “It’s time to find out if we managed to stop The Session.”
Tegan looked stern. “You ready?”
I nodded.
It wasn’t technically lying if I didn’t use words, right?
CHAPTER
THIRTEEN
It was one thing needing an emergency wee in times of stress. It was quite another trying to achieve that at a festival. The music hadn’t even started but every Portaloo had a queue at least fifteen people long. And when I finally dived into one, it had a faulty lock, so instead of being empty, it contained a semi-naked man, lunging towards me in startled panic. It was fair to say that me, and the other 50+ pairs of eyes that were staring, would never forget what we saw.
By the time I got back to the main stage to find Rach and Tegan it was unrecognizable to the place I’d left just twenty minutes earlier. There were people everywhere.
Rach messaged to say meet by the flag with “PUGS NOT DRUGS” on. Sadly she hadn’t noticed there were at least twenty of them scattered across the crowd of thousands. I have never said so many awkward “’Scuse-me-sorry-just-trying-to-find-my-friends”s as I did in that five minutes. But I really needed to find them. I was petrified about the announcement, and my nerves were getting worse. Why was every person I pushed past giving me a funny look? Was it because Rach had put a massive handprint of glitter on my face? Or did they recognize me after Brian’s stupid stunt?
I swerved anyone in a Session T-shirt just in case.
When the organizers came on stage, everyone’s hands went up. A man in a T-shirt, baseball cap and an ironic moustache slinked towards the mic. So he was the main RebelRocks dude? The only things I could really see were the tops of people’s heads and the backs of the people in front (I was desperately trying not to be squashed face first into the massive sweat patch of one guy) but I did have a good view of the huge screens that were broadcasting everything. As the man went to speak, the crowd locked in place. I had to accept reality – the chances of finding my friends was zero. I was going to have to deal with this announcement on my own.
“WELCOME TO THE FIRST EVER REBBBBBBBELROCKS!!!!!” A huge roar erupted that didn’t die down for thirty seconds. All I could do was nervously clap. One of the girls next to me clambered up on to her mates’ shoulders to get a better view, meaning I had an even worse one. Why thank you. I tried to lean out of the potential fall zone of this wobbling human totem pole.
“CONGRATULATIONS FOR HAVING SUCH EXCELLENT TASTE AND BEING PART OF THE INAUGURAL REBELROCKS FESTIVAL! WITH A SELL-OUT CROWD!”
Even more cheering. But I felt sick. A mixture of nerves and being part of this thousand person sandwich.
“THE MUSIC IS KICKING OFF ANY SECOND.” He stepped back, enjoying the “Ooooh” from the crowd. “So, it’s time to give you what you all came here for…” Please please please let this be the moment he confirmed Ska’s hunch about The Session. “Stage times and final line-up!”
He gestured up to the screens and clicked his fingers. “Friday!” Phones around me started filming as the times and names for the New Bands Tent, Dance Dance Dance Tent, Speakers’ Circular Corner and the Main Stage flashed up. I’d have to check for clashes later. Right now I was only concerned with Sunday. Was he going to say anything? My face was on fire. I felt like everyone around me knew who I was – and what I was waiting to find out.
A message from Rach popped up – a pic of her and Teeg looking as anxious as I felt.
RACH: Here goes everything
Quickly followed by a:
RACH: AND IF YOU SEE EVIL B [That’s what she now called Brian.] PERMISSION TO THROW ANYTHING YOU CAN FIND.
I looked back up just in time to see The Wet Donald Project’s name on screen. Saturday at 5 p.m. An AMAZING slot?! I gave an extra-loud clap, but was too tense to yell “That’s my boyfriend” like I wanted, so made do with taking a quick picture for Adam.
The organizer went through the rest of Saturday’s line-up, then waited for the cheering to die down.
“Before we unveil the final day’s line-up – let’s talk about the elephant in the room.” He took his baseball cap off and ruffled his hair before putting it back on.
WAS SOMETHING ABOUT TO HAPPEN? I wish wish wish I was with the others.
“Or should I say, petition in the field.”
An icy wave of nerves shot through me.
This was actually happening.
A couple of laughs went up. Some whistles. Some general claps from people.
Please let him say we’d done it.
All those thousands of people that had signed up were counting on us.
“It’s time to let you know what’s been happening behind the scenes…”
An “Ooooh” went up at the same time a group of girls yelled, “Never stop The Session!!” Ouch.
“As you guys all know, RebelRocks is about standing up for what you believe in.” I was fully up on my tiptoes. “To do what’s right – not what is easy…”
My stomach knotted. Did this sound promising?
BLAM.
A hand slapped me on the back. “BELLS!!! WE FOUND YOU!”
Rach! I’d never been so relieved to see her face.
“He HAS to say they’re off.” Tegan was out of breath. “He HAS to.”
She spoke loudly, her words ringing out across the uneasy silence that had settled on the crowd. Totem-pole girl turned round and smiled down at Teeg. “100%.”
It would have felt good to know we had some support, but as she turned back, someone else shouted, “No chance, special snowflake!” right at her. Unbothered, she flicked them Vs.
It must be easier to feel less bothered when it wasn’t your name, your face, that everyone knew was responsible.
Baseball Cap Man stepped back to the mic, giving a quick smile to the side of stage before turning back to the crowd.
“So … here’s the line-up.” The graphic flashed up. I scanned it as quickly as I could. But as my eyes landed on the headline slot, his voice boomed out. “Complete with The Session.”
OOF.
We’d failed.
Boos and cheers rose up all around us.
I was grateful I’d borrowed Rach’s spare sunglasses as tears of frustration sprang into my eyes.
Tegan was silent – trying to process what she was hearing but Rach yelled, “What the hell?!”
I wasn’t sure if Baseball Cap Man had somehow heard, or just happened to be looking in our direction. “We know it’s not what some of you want to hear, but the cheers show it’s good news to a helluva lot of you. Most importantly … we think it’s the right decision. And if we can all agree one thing, it’s that it’s important to stand up for what you believe in.”
So that was that. No explanation. Nothing from the band. Just business as normal.
Had we been completely deluded to believe we could have them kicked off?
And as Baseball Cap Man left the stage, and the music started back up, the three of us stood in silence. The crowd moved around us, even the people who’d been booing, slipping straight back into having a great time with their friends. Had this just been a bit of fun to them?
I felt like we had nowhere to go.
Rach was the first to break the silence. It was weird to see someone so covered in glitter look so sad. She showed us Brian’s latest Insta Story. Him filming Baseball Cap Man from the side of stage, everyone backstage cheerin
g as The Session’s set was announced. That’s who hat man had been smiling at. Brian had even yelled, “See all you non-losers there!”
Rach forced a smile. “At least we tried … right?”
I needed to follow her lead. We couldn’t change it now.
“Just ’cos we didn’t win, doesn’t mean we didn’t make them think twice. Get everyone talking about how gross they are.” Even I knew how lame that sounded. “I mean, they had to make an official announcement about it. That’s something, isn’t it?”
“Something, but not enough, is it?” Tegan’s voice was quiet but strong. “All those people – those names … they were counting on us.”
I tried to think of something else to say but I was stumped. My brain had already done three hours’ overtime by waking up so early, and it was in no mood to help.
Tegan carried on. “The festival organizers banged on about standing up for what’s right, but they HAVE to know what they’re doing isn’t…” She sighed. Like all the fight was finally escaping her. “Why do idiots always get to win?”
“Teeg – they don’t always.” The words came out before I even thought of them. “Guess just maybe this time they did.”
And if things couldn’t get any worse: my sister arrived.
Just what I didn’t need.
We’d agreed to pretend each other didn’t exist, but she barged straight into our convo. And also straight into my shoulder, making me wonder if she was pretending I didn’t exist so much, she’d stopped physically seeing me.
