Daylight

Pet’s POV

We were awakened the next morning with a loud, “Good morning, ladies!” from our formerly missing manager.
I rolled over and looked at my stupid little travel alarm. Jesus, it was like 8 am!
“Shoshi,” I groaned, “what’re you doing here so early? And why are you so damn cheerful?”
My privacy curtain was suddenly whipped open, and Shoshi’s bright eyes, curly dark hair and huge smile instantly filled my vision.
“Why, baby, aren’t you glad to see me? I’m glad to see you!” she practically hollered in my face.
I groaned again. “Only if you’re not really trying to wake the dead.”
“Sorry,” she said at a slightly lower decibel level, “I’m just so psyched to be here with you all. What’s all the shit on the internet about your rehearsal, anyway?”
I almost hit my head trying to bolt upright. “There’s video? Who took it?”
Our manager’s curls bounced as she shook her head at me. I could hear the rest of the band starting to wake up with all the commotion.
“No idea,” Shoshi was saying, “but I saw the split jump Sal made. Un-be-liev-able.”
“All done without wires,” Sal chimed in with a yawn from the bottom bunk. “That cheerleader camp really paid off.”
Shoshi giggled. “Well done,” she said admiringly. “Now, if you all could rouse your sweet little butts, I’ve brought you breakfast. But if you snooze, you lose. So move it. I’ll expect you all in the kitchen area in five.”

A few minutes later, Tia, Mo, Sal and I were hunched over the tiny table, gratefully drinking the lattes and eating the donuts Shoshi had provided for us.

Once again, we went over the schedule for the day, and gloated over how many of our favorite bands were on our stage: The Swingin’ Neck Breakers; the Gaslight Anthem; and the crowning glory of our first Warped: the Bouncing Souls.
After we’d finished eating, Mo leaned back against her seat and let fly a truly amazing belch, almost frightening in volume, in proportion to what had caused it. The rest of us dissolved in laughter.

Shoshi shook her head, making her curls spring again. “You’re something else, Maureen,” she began, “not that I’d know what to compare you to….”
“…A guy?” Tia suggested.
“Possibly,” our manager muttered.
“I can totally be a guy,” Mo enthused. She grabbed a sock and stuffed it down the front of her shorts, jumping up to scratch her belly and other less appropriate places in front of us. Then she belched again for effect.
“Somebody get me a beer,” she growled in a low voice.

We shook our heads at her, still laughing, and went to get dressed. The first day of Warped was upon us.

Joe’s POV

After a late morning, following another late night spent practising in the back of our bus (and makin’ sure we used our beer rations), we staggered out to the fences to watch the fans arrivin’.
Alright, so they weren’t all our fans, but it was great to imagine. We curled our fingers through the chain links and leant against the steel barricades.
Sure enough, a couple o’ females caught sight of the mighty Madmen and made a dash for the four of us. We signed our names a few dozen times and made sure they knew what time we’d be onstage.
We also learnt that video’d been shot of ourselves rehearsin’—and of the young ladies that preceded us—but we were assured by more than a few birds that we were clearly superior, and that they’d be pullin’ for us, and couldn’t wait to see us play.

Bryan had a snog with a few ladies through the fence, and then it was time to have a late lunch and get ready.

Viv’s POV

The buzz in the AP trailer had risen to a pitch so high, pretty soon only dogs would’ve been able to hear it.
Bobby and Steph, just two of our many interns, alternately rushed around and stole a few moments together in whatever dim corner they could find. I’d had no idea that one even knew the other was alive, but there you go.

If power was the ultimate aphrodisiac, I was guessing that rock music was a close second.

Bobby finally came up to me without his lips being attached to Steph’s.
“Hey, Viv, what’s up?” he said as casually as possible.
I rolled my eyes and settled my gaze below his belt. “I could ask you the same thing,” I offered.
He made to adjust himself, then saw I was only joking. “Damn, Viv, don’t do that! I wouldn’t want anyone to see…you know….”
“Well then, don’t you know every chance you get, dude,” I reminded him, laughing.
He sighed with an almost-dreamy look on his face. “Steph’s amazing, Viv. I can’t stay away from her.”
I shrugged. “She seems pretty nice, but I’m assuming you’re not talking about her personality.”
Bobby actually blushed. “Hey, don’t be like that. Steph and I are both students at Columbia, with a journalism major….”
“…Like half the people in this trailer,” I finished for him. Then I smiled. “I just don’t want either of you to get hurt. Or both of you.”
“Thanks, Viv, but I can handle it—or rather, we can handle it,” Bobby responded, as Steph walked past him with a huge smile. “And shouldn’t you be getting outside to cover Day One?”
I displayed my “Natural Redhead: Do Not Expose to Sunlight” t-shirt. “I’m waiting till the last possible moment so I don’t get skin cancer.” I waved my extra tube of sunblock. “Now all I need’s a lifeguard.”
“Not gonna find one around here. Just punk rock kids and skaters,” Bobby muttered.
I looked around the trailer one last time before heading into the unforgiving Southern sun.
“Don’t I know it, baby,” I answered, “but those are the people who keep us employed.” I pulled my baseball cap down low over my eyes. “Well, see you on the other side.”
“Rock on,” Bobby said, bumping fists with me.

Pet’s POV

The butterflies started about 4 pm.

We were due on stage at 6:30.

I wasn’t puking yet, but I felt like I was close.

Sal was sitting beside me, trying to make me feel better. She was talking, talking, talking; finally Mo told her to “shut the fuck up,” and she did.
I sighed in relief, but my stomach still hurt.

Just before we took the stage, Shoshi gathered us together. She bowed her head.
Mo eyed her suspiciously. “This isn’t the part where you make us pray, is it?” she asked with some fear.
“No, darling Maureen,” our manager answered, giving Mo a withering glance, “this is where I pray for you. Now shut the hell up already.”
We linked hands and closed our eyes.
Shoshi started murmuring in what I figured must be Hebrew. Tia, Mo and Sal all shifted uneasily as the rough music of Shoshi’s words wrapped itself around us.

Finally she was finished, and capped it off with an “Amen,” which we all reflexively murmured after her.
I saw a tear dripping from Mo’s eye. “Damn, Shoshi, that was freaking beautiful,” she choked out. “What was it?”
Our manager shrugged. “Sabbath prayer,” she answered. “The blessing before the meal, if you wanna be technical about it.”
Sal gasped. “Will it help?”
Shoshi shrugged. “Hey, it can’t make things worse.”

Then we looked over and it was time: the stage manager was gesturing frantically at us.

We finished with our usual pre-show huddle.
“What do we want?” I shouted.
“We want the world!” we all yelled back.
“When do we want it?”
“We want it NOW!”

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer boomed, “Warped Tour is proud to present…The Daylight Bathers!”

As we finally took the stage, I realized something: my stomach didn’t hurt.