Sell Out

I had never been to a concert before.

Alright, so that was a lie. I had been to plenty of concerts before. But they were all jazz music, and not many other seventeen-year-old girls I knew of liked jazz. I wanted to expand my horizon.

The kind of concert I had never been to before, and most wanted to go to, was a rock concert.

My cousin, Amanda, was determined to help me see this goal through. She lived for music, reveled in the entire culture, and could name more bands than I even knew. As a late birthday present, she bought us tickets to go and see Warped Tour, telling me that punk rock was a good place to start. Though I couldn’t name a single band on the tour, Amanda gave me dozens of burned CDs to listen to.

And I did listen to them. And I liked most of them, too.

Sure, I had barely scratched the surface of the bands that would be playing, but at least I could confidently attend a couple shows and be able to sing along.

I began to count down the days to Warped, crossing each passing one off my calendar in excitement.

The day before, my cell phone rang. When I looked at who was calling, I was excited to see that Amanda was the person trying to reach me. I expected her to prattle off last minute information, but what I got was entirely different.

“I don’t think I can go to Warped tomorrow,” she said somberly.

“What? How come?” I exclaimed, gripping the phone closely to my ear.

“I snuck out to a party last night, and my mom caught me. I’m grounded for the next week.” I sighed in frustration. “I’m really sorry! But why don’t you invite one of your friends? I’ll give them my ticket.”

“I don’t know who I’d invite… a lot of my friends are still gone for the summer.”

“So just go alone then. Don’t not go, because you’re gonna regret it. You’ll make friends there, I promise.”

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To say I felt awkward walking around Warped Tour by myself would have been an understatement. But within the first hour I had already seen This Providence play, and they were one of the better bands Amanda showed me. So I guess it wasn’t too bad.

I scanned the This Providence merchandise, wondering how I should best spend my sixty dollars. I could probably get about three shirts, but I decided against that. I didn’t want three shirts – I wanted to make my dollar stretch a little further than that. Regardless, I wanted at least one, and bought myself a colorful This Providence band shirt.

I got into a few more shows, occasionally singing along to songs but finding that my crash course really didn’t teach me much at all. Besides that, I had yet to talk to a single person. I considered calling Amanda, but I didn’t want to make her feel any guiltier than she already did.

Noticing my growing fatigue, I allowed myself one more show before returning home. I had been at Warped for multiple hours, and felt that this was a sufficient amount of time. Deciding on All Time Low (a band that Amanda loved, but I wasn't completely into – a small tribute to my absent cousin, perhaps) I made my way towards their stage.

Much to my surprise, I was really into their set. They were funny, entertaining, and actually quite good. Not long after they began, I found myself singing along to the songs they were playing – not many of them, but I was still proud of myself, and was having quite the time.

When the show was over, I immediately made my way over to the merchandise table. I had a really great time listening to them, so I figured I would solidify my experience by buying a poster.

The poster in hand, I turned towards the gates with a cheerful smile on my face. “Excuse me?” A voice called out, and I stopped. “Yeah, you!” I slowly turned around, finding myself face to face with a group of girls who I recognized as standing near me during the All Time Low. Excitement bubbled inside of me – perhaps I had made friends without even knowing it?

“Are you a big All Time Low fan?” One of the four girls asked, and I didn’t know what to say. Part of me wanted to be honest – that I had only heard of them a few weeks ago. But I didn’t want them to turn away from me because I didn’t know much by them.

“Yeah,” I replied as evenly as I could. “I like them a lot.”

One of the girls snorted. “Yeah, right,” she said sarcastically.

“You only knew, like, four songs,” another interjected.

“And they were all from Nothing Personal.”

I had no idea what to say. Should I try to defend myself? Argue back? Or just turn and run towards my car?

“Seriously, you’re the kind of person that makes All Time Low look like they’re selling out,” the first girl snapped. The other three voiced their agreement.

“I bet you can’t even name their first two albums.”

“I – I,” I stuttered pathetically, not knowing what to say.

“What a waste,” one of them scoffed. “I –“

“Hey ladies,” a voice said, and someone suddenly draped their arms over two of the girls’ shoulders. The girls all gasped, which soon turned into girlish squeals.

“Hi, Alex,” one of them said sweetly, as if the past conversation suddenly never happened. I considered walking away – obviously I was no longer needed and could finally go home. Except Alex – wait; was he the singer of All Time Low? – was staring straight at me.

“So were you all at the show?” The girls all said ‘yes’ in their own way, while I just nodded dumbly. “Did you like it?”

“You were so great,” one of them said confidently, and Alex just chuckled.

“Well,” he said, reaching out and suddenly grabbing my arm. I was too surprised to do anything about it. “I’m going to take my cousin here back to our bus.”

“Wait, you’re cousins?” Questioned one of the four girls. Alex nodded.

“Can’t you see the family resemblance?” He questioned, pulling me in close by wrapping his arm around my waist. “Anyways, your boyfriend’s looking for you.” I was way too confused to even bother arguing.

“Who’s your boyfriend?” One of the girls asked sweetly.

“Zack Merrick,” Alex responded confidently, beginning to walk backwards. One of the girls audibly gasped. Nevertheless, Alex quickly turned his back while still gripping my arm, which ended the conversation quickly. “I hate people like that,” he muttered darkly, letting my arm go when we were far enough away.

“Like what?” I asked, struggling to keep up with his aggravated pace. “And why did you say those things back there?”

Alex turned towards me immediately. “Didn’t you hear what those girls were saying to you!?” He asked incredulously. “They were being terrible to you!” I shrugged slightly, and Alex sighed. “I lied in front of them because I hate it when fans get all ‘holier-than-thou’ just because they know more songs than other kids.” I didn’t respond, instead turning and continuing to walk with him. “So what’s your name?” He asked.

“Emma,” I replied quietly, and he nodded.

“Did you have fun at the shows?” Alex wondered, clearly trying to make small talk.

“Yeah,” I responded. “I was originally supposed to come with my cousin, but she couldn’t come at the last minute.”

“Sucks,” murmured Alex as we slowly made our way towards the bands’ buses.

“She really love your music,” I added. “Not that I don’t, but I’ve only been listening to your band for a few weeks. She’s been listening for years.”

“Did she get you into us?”

“Yep,” I said. “She got me into all the bands at Warped a few weeks ago.”

“So you really don’t know much, do you?” Teased Alex, and I chuckled.

“I don’t know anything.” Finally we stopped in front of one of the buses, and while Alex opened the door with ease, I wasn’t so sure if I was invited on or not.

“What’re you doing?” He asked, staring at me from on the bus. “Get up here.” My eyes opened wide, but I climbed the stairs quickly anyways. The inside of the bus wasn’t as dirty as I thought it would be, though it wasn’t exactly spick-and-span either. Alex immediately began rummaging through a cabinet, pulling out what I saw to be different CDs. “Here,” he muttered, handing me five. I scanned the labels briefly. I had never heard of any of these bands. He handed me a couple more, before opening a different set of doors. “And you should listen to these two, also,” he added with a smirk. I could see on the covers that they were All Time Low CDs.

“I – I can’t take these,” I muttered, but Alex just waved away my concerns. Still, he handed me nine CDs! “How will I give them back to you?”

“You won’t,” he said easily. “Consider it my gift to you. Music education.”

I smiled softly, leaning forward with the stack of CDs in my hand, to plant a small kiss on Alex’s cheek. “Don’t listen to anyone else, Alex. You’re no sell out.”