Know Your Rights

Sheena Williams’s POV

Wednesday 15th April, 1977. 3:45pm.

“I’m telling you. He was staring at you.” Ivy tried to get her point to me as much as possible.

“Ivyyyyyyyy. This is 1976 and that means we cannot, and I mean cannot, date anyone from this century.” I told her, sternly.

Ivy sulked. “You suck.”

“I’m pretty sure I don’t.” I said back, smirking.

Ivy rolled her eyes but kept on walking. It had been a few months since the ‘incident’ happened. When we had been swallowed into darkness we had woken up a few minutes later into the world of 1976. Yes, this was the truth. No, I am not joking.
“Oh! Guess what I found last night?” Ivy asked me, bouncing up and down.

“What did you find?” I asked her.

“The 100 club!” Ivy grinned, giving me a thumbs up.

I rolled my eyes, “And you’re wanting to go - why?”

“The Clash are supporting The Sex Pistols there because they used to hang out there when they were younger.” Ivy explained to me.

“And you’re expecting that we are allowed to go?” I questioned her.

“Not expecting, we are going. No question about it. This is a concert not to be missed.” Ivy said.

“Fine. Fine. I’ll come along.” I sighed.

“And people would think that you hated The Clash and The Sex Pistols.” Ivy teased me.

“And you’re the one who loves Paul Simonon and Steve Jones.” I teased back.

“Oh, shut it.” Ivy sighed while rolling her eyes and walking away from me.

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6.20pm. The 100 Club.

“It’s busy tonight.” Ivy commented, pushing passed a few scaring looking punks.

They glared at us but we moved forward. It was like what I had seen in the pictures on the internet. The 100 club was a small to medium sized venue with a bar right at the end of the club where some men were drinking beers. Ivy decided to push right past people and go to the front where she was right in front of the stage. While I went to her I muttered a few “sorry’s” to the people who had been pushed away by Ivy and who were now being pushed by me.

“So, who are playing?” I asked Ivy; who seemed to have the knowledge of everything.

“The Clash are supporting The Sex Pistols.” Ivy sighed.

“Is Sid Vicious going to be here?” I asked her, intrigued.

“Probably. He joined in February, remember?” Ivy asked me, raising an eyebrow.

“I can’t remember everything.” I rolled my eyes.

A band suddenly came on to the stage. One of the best bands that I knew. The Clash. I remembered that they weren’t that big at the moment but I sang along anyway. A couple of the guys in The Clash were surprised that I knew their songs but they smiled at me and continued to play. Their set seemed to go on for another twenty minutes or so and then there was a break in which people could go off to get a drink at the bar. Ivy pulled me to the bar and got us both some drinks. Before I even had a chance to talk to Ivy someone else spoke to me,

“Hey, you seem to be a big fan of The Clash.” The voice said.

I turned round to find out who the voice belonged to and I was in the face of none other than Joe Strummer. He just smirked when he saw my shocked expression.

“I’m not that famous, love.” He said.

I shrugged, “I just think you’re talented.”

“I know I’m talented.” Joe smirked again.

“Cocky, much?” I mumbled.

I heard a few chords being twanged and looked back at the stage. I could see four figures quiet clearly: Johnny Rotten, Steve Jones, Paul Cook and Sid Vicious.

“Sid Vicious.” I whispered, looking thoughtfully at him.

It hurt me that I knew what was going to happen to him and that I couldn’t help him in anyway.

“So, it’s only Sid.” Joe shrugged.

“Jealous?” I questioned him, this time it was my turn to smirk.

“Pffft, no.” Joe said. “Sid’s got Nancy, hasn’t he?”

“Yeah, but you wouldn’t really call them the ‘happy couple’” I quoted.

Joe laughed, “No, I wouldn’t describe them like that. That’s for sure.”

I was tugged by a familiar arm. Ivy’s.

“Sorry, gotta go.” I told Joe, getting up off my seat.

“No problem, maybe hang round with me and the guys later?” He questioned me.

“We’ll see.” I smiled at him, and then headed back to where Ivy and I were originally.

This time I wasn’t as conscious of everybody so I started to rock out with Ivy. There were a few glances our way but they quickly subsided. The rawness of the music came into my ears and I couldn’t help myself but to sing along. My body swayed along with the music until it stopped. It felt like an age until it did stop though. This wasn’t a bad thing; I love the Sex Pistols’s music. When it did stop Ivy pulled me to the bar again.

“What was that?” She demanded.

“What was what?” I asked her.

“Don’t start playing dumb with me. You were talking to Joe Strummer.” She informed me.

“Yes, I know that and you were staring at Steve Jones.” I informed her, with a smug smile.

“Who was staring at me?” A familiar voice asked me, cutting out whatever Ivy was about to say.

I turned around to find Steve Jones and the rest of the Sex Pistols grinning at us. I decided to be nice to Ivy and not give her the humiliation.

“Oh, no one.” I said, sweetly.

Johnny scoffed, “Yeah, right. I bet it was you.”

“Yeah, you caught me Johnny.” I winked at him and the guys sniggered.

“Well, look who it is.” Joe’s voice came flooding from the backs of the Sex Pistols.

“Strummer, great show tonight.” Paul congratulated Joe with a manly hug.

“Thanks.” Joe smiled and turned to me. “ Ready to meet the rest of the guys?”

“Look who’s Miss Popular.” Ivy said.

I bent my head so I could see her. “Don’t worry, I’ll save you the Sex Pistols.”

“Bitch.” Ivy mumbled, sticking her tongue out at me.

“Immature.” I said, shaking my head in disapproval.

“You’re boring then.” Ivy concluded.

“Sorry to interrupt ladies but I would like to know if you’re coming or not.” Joe said.

“Sheena can go but I’m staying here.” Ivy told him.

“Told you she would give in to you guys.” I said to the Sex Pistols, earning a slap on my back from Ivy. “Ow, bitch.”

I got down and followed Joe toward one of the greatest bands of all time. The Clash.