Kaleidoscope Eyes

Isabella knew that it was optimistic to be wearing jeans on the first day of the job.

By lunch she was so close to the brink of fainting that David had to run to the kitchen crew bus and bring her a pair of shorts and a loose tank top. His brotherly instinct kicking in already, and they hadn’t even made it to dinner on the first day yet.

After having changed into the shorts and tank top, Isabella felt pounds lighter and was able to carry on dishing out the stir-fry without further complications. Everything was fine so long as you kept moving and didn’t stop to think about how sleepy you were or how exhausted you were feeling. Her legs were already aching from running between stations to pick up chopped vegetables and the like, but she refused to sit down. She had learned from experience that the minute you sat down you wouldn’t be able to get back up again.

So instead during her break she jumped off the kitchen trailer and took a walk around the arena with a litre bottle of water. She enjoyed seeing all the musicians get ready to hit the stage. She could feel their nervous energy, she felt the same way before big dinner parties: thrilled at the prospect of what could happen but also nervous of making a big mistake.

She liked how at Warped there was never a moment of calm, there was always something going on. Whether it was bands moving on or off stage, or merch crews setting tables up, as well as the constant mill of teenagers, and occasionally parents, who wormed their way between stands in the search for their favourite band to ask for pictures and present them with presents.

Isabella was about to make her way back to the kitchen when a tall ginger haired boy jumped in front of her.

“You’re the girl who served me my lunch!” He shouted animatedly and beamed down at her.

Isabella looked up at him with confusion that she hoped translated through the lenses of her sunglasses. It was very optimistic of the boy to say that she served him lunch, she severed many males their lunch seeing as Warped was just one of those male dominated areas in life.

“I serve a lot of guys their lunch,” Isabella said carefully as she tried to place him.

“Oh come on but how many of them are gingers?” He said excitedly, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Travis we need to go!” a voice somewhere behind Isabella shouted and the ginger in front of her looked slightly dejected, but nonetheless he managed to draw up another blinding smile for her.

‘I’ll see you tonight for dinner then,” he grinned before bouncing off to follow the voice that had called him.

Isabella shook her head and smiled. Situations like this weren’t uncommon for her especially at large functions such as dinner parties. She didn’t consider herself very pretty; in fact she always classified herself as average. She had to exercise to have her desired body shape and her wavy LA sun bleached hair always need more work than anyone else’s. But at dinners where there was a lot of wine and a lot of desperate married men she always got attention, something that Mark had always resented her for deeply.

At the thought of Mark she had to suppress a shudder. Walking quicker now she headed back towards the kitchen. She had to get her mind fixed on work again before her thoughts got carried away again.

David picked up on her mood the minute she tied her apron around her waist and moved to an outside row of counters under a make shift shade to start chopping up a large head of salad.

He was at her side like a shot.

“What’s wrong?” He asked putting a hand under her elbow in a brotherly support way.

Isabella just smiled up at him with patience.

“Nothing I guess I’m just tired. I forgot how demanding cooking on a large scale was.”

David didn’t buy the line but he knew better than to provoke Isabella right now or doubt her. She needed time and space, time to heal and have a whole new life to herself.

“Bells, you know if there’s ever anything wrong you can always talk to me. Always.”

“I know I can,” her smile was soft and warm but it spoke volumes of the time when she hadn’t shared that smile for a very long time.

With a small sigh David turned back to his slab of tofu and kept his grumbling and tumultuous thoughts to himself. Now wasn’t the time for this, it wouldn’t do her any good. He would do what he had always done: support her in every way possible and keep her from harm. He owed her that much after everything.

The rest of the afternoon was far calmer than the breakfast rush. Once the bands started playing then there was no so much commotion around the kitchen as after their sets had finished, the band members would hang around their merch stands, go to signings, watch other bands play and sometimes join them on stage. They would occasionally come to the canteen to claim packed lunches or a cup of coffee, but if Warped was near a city that day they would often venture into town rather than seek out the canteen.

Isabella was grateful for the lull in activity. She could calmly wash the salad heads and chop them up ready for the dinner that evening. She and the other volunteers worked quietly and efficiently pre cooking pasta sauces and grilled vegetables with tofu for the vegetarians.

David kept shooting Isabella precarious looks when he thought she wasn’t watching. It was a relief when he saw her small smile gracing her face. It was a subconscious smile: one that wasn’t put on as a mask to persuade people that she was happy. It was a real smile. She was happy here.

The lull in hungry musicians however, was short lived. Once the gate had been shut and the teenagers sent home, the musicians, crew members, girlfriends and tech crews all poured into the cafeteria, scanning their meal cards and waiting patiently to grab their food.

Isabella was just dishing out another spaghetti Bolognese when she heard a chipper and familiar voice in front of her.

“See I told you I’d see you again at dinner!”

It was the tall boy with the ginger hair, whom she assumed was called Travis after her deductions. He had an infectious smile and seemed to be one of those people that was the life and soul of every party.

Isabella just smiled and held out a plate of spaghetti out to Travis. She wasn’t always so comfortable with strangers, especially boys who seemed to have a keen interest in her. It was an old fear in her that reared its ugly head.

She knew that David was staring holes into her back and the expression on Travis’ face confirmed this. He looked a little uneasily over Isabella’s shoulder to where David was in all likelihood standing, watching the scene in front of him enfold.

“Are you coming to the party tonight?” Travis asked holding up the queue.

“Maybe…” Isabella said slowly as she piled more pasta on a plate. “Parties aren’t really my thing.”

“But it’s the first night of Warped party you have to come!” Travis mocked wailed.

Isabella just shook her head with a smile and sent an apologetic look at the person next to Travis who was growing visibly impatient.

“I might do, sorry Travis but there’s a lot of hungry people stood behind you.”

He seemed to snap out of it and sent Isabella a smile.

“Ok well I’ll keep an eye out for you in case you do decide to show,” he said with a grin before walking away holding his plate of food carefully.

That night after the cafeteria was closed down and the kitchen packed up and ready to be driven to the next new city in the morning, Isabella somehow managed to crawl onto the kitchen crew bus. Her every limb was already aching, and the only thing she could think of doing was to have a shower and collapse on the couch with her duvet and book. She needed a homely comfort.

As Isabella settled down on the sofa after a steaming shower with a thick romance novel in her hands, she questioned in earnest how on earth she was going to survive until August twenty-third.