Amelia

Amelia’s POV

Sure, I felt left out. I was disappointed that I couldn’t play music and that Jenna’s career will probably kick off before mine. But my happiness doesn’t matter. My whole life, I’ve put Jenna in front of anybody, including myself. She was just so pure that I didn’t want anything to bring her down. I looked after her like a sister. So when I saw her up there, smiling and doing what she did best, I felt like I was succeeding in what I was meant to do. I could see her future, traveling around the world, playing shows in other countries. And all of a sudden, I felt a relief that she had these four amazing guys to help keep her on her feet.

So I smiled with her.

Their first practice soon turned to their 71st and I had been there for most of them, rooting Jenna on. She had a knack for writing music, and I could relate to it. Soon enough, they had their first album planned out with 8 kick-ass songs and some acoustic tracks.

The big deal was how to get a record label if they haven’t even played shows.

So I said I’d set up a gig. Long story short, I had a history with the manager. I had gone to his venue for my very first concert to see Joan Jett & the Blackhearts perform. We kicked it off, and we’d been close ever since. And by close, I’m guessing you know what I mean. So I pulled a few strings and he agreed to let Jenna and the boys perform once there so people could know their name. And by that time, they still didn’t have a name. They were nameless.

And that’s how I ended up here, at the Ogden Theatre, standing front and center in the crowd. I had been to countless concerts at the Ogden, mostly with Jenna, so I knew how things worked. I could have watched from backstage but what’s the fun in that?

I watched my friend walk out to the stage with this stupid smile on. She was nervous, I could tell. The building was completely quiet as they slowly set up their equipment. When they were finished, Jenna spoke.

“Hey, guys. I’m Jenna and these are my boys. I appreciate you guys letting us come out tonight. I hope you like what we have planned.” She looked down at her feet and took the microphone off its stand. She wrapped it around her around and walked to the other side of the stage. “This first song is called ‘Rooftop to the Street.’”

They started playing the song I had heard hundreds of times and the building started warming up to them, obviously liking what they were hearing.

“They’re really good.” The voice caught me off guard, even with the music blasting from the speakers. I looked at the guy who spoke and nodded. “You know them?”

I looked back up at the stage and smiled at Jenna. “Ya. That’s my best friend,” I told him.

He raised an eyebrow. “Lucky girl, you are.” It sounded like he was mocking me and I didn’t think it was funny. So instead of shooting him a witty comment, I instead ignored him. “Hey. It was a joke. Can you not take sarcastic comments well?” He laughed.

I rolled my eyes at him. “Of course, I can. But you don’t know me.”

He pointed at me. “Ah ha! How right you are! But I’d really like to.” He was flirting with me. I wasn’t flirting back. I mean, he was cute. Curly brown hair, blue eyes, an Iron Maiden shirt. He looked way out of place. Plus, he didn’t look like my kind of guy. He looked too nice.

“Do you only come to these things to hook up with girls?” I asked him, a stupid smile on my face.

“Of course not,” he yelled over the music, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

I squinted my eyes at him. “I see what you’re trying to do.” I noticed he was kind of witty, knowing what pisses me off and how to get me to react. “Okay.” I agreed.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked.

As tempting as that sounded…. “I’m underage.”

He laughed. “Me, too.”

This boy was a catch. He made me feel melancholy and happy, which was only something Jenna and music could do to me.

“What’s your name?”

“Amelia. What about you?”

“Callan.”

I turned my ear more towards him. “Kellin?”

“No! Callan!” he yelled in my ear.

I laughed. “Your parents must hate you,” I joked.

“You have no idea,” he said. At first, I thought he was joking, but then I felt his loneliness. He wasn’t joking, but telling me the truth, making it seem like a joke.

“I understand how you feel, Callan,” I told him truthfully. Why was I expressing my feelings to him? Maybe it’s because he’s the only person who knows what my home life is like and it somehow makes me feel closer to him.

All seriousness put aside, the crowd loved the band. They had only played two songs so far and everyone warmed up to the music, on and off the stage.

“This next song goes out to my best friend, who without her, we wouldn’t be here right now. This song is called ‘To Die For’.”

I let out a squeal. “This is my favourite song,” I told Callan. And then the conversations were put aside and the only thing I was paying attention to was the music.

She is dressed to kill, and he is to die for. She knows he would kill just to hold her on the dancefloor.
They played the remaining songs on the album and I was completely focused on my best friend. It was her first show and she blew everybody’s brains out.

I walked Callan outside so he could wait for his ride. It seemed he came alone, and there was a longing in the pit of my stomach. He was something else completely. A lonely boy in high school with the same problems as me. Everyone in this town were normal. They had normal family lives and got good grades. We were the odd ones out.

“Well, you made my experience a good one,” he said once we got outside.

“I’m glad.” I smiled at him, feeling scared. What is he going home to when he leaves tonight? What if his problems are worse than my alcoholic father? “Are you going to be okay?”

He raised an eyebrow at me. “Ya. Why do you care?”

I shrugged. “Because I do. Don’t question it. Just let it happen,” I joked.

A beaten down red Buick pulled up in front of us and the door slammed open. “Come on, Callan.” I assumed it was his mom.

“Well. Bye Amelia.”

“Wait.” I took out a Sharpie from my jacket pocket and grabbed his hand. I wrote my number on the palm before resting my fingers over his and closing his hand. “Call me when you get home.”
The twinkle in his eyes showed that he understood, that he would call me.

I wasn’t like this at all. I wasn’t the kind of girl to hand out my number to any guy I came crossed, even if I come across like that. We were supposed to meet, I thought. Because we were the only different people within miles, and we were in this together.

“Bye, Amelia.”

“Bye, Callan.” I let go of his hand and surveyed him as he got in his car and sped away.

I slowly walked back into the venue to help pack up instruments, and, later, Jenna drove me home.

As I lay in bed that night, I waited impatiently for any sign of Callan. Once my phone buzzed on my nightstand, I grabbed it and read the new message.

Jenna: ((HUGG!))

I smiled.

Me: Night, dork. ((HUGG!))
Soon after, I got another message, I assumed from Jenna again.

I’m home. Stop worrying.

I let out a sigh I didn’t know I was holding.

Me: Well excuse me for caring.
Callan: It’s okay. I like it. I’m not cared about very much.
Me: Don’t make me feel bad. Seriously.
Callan: Sorry. I can practically you see you rolling your eyes. I counted how many times you did it tonight. I stopped at 15.
Me: Liar.
Callan: Haha. You already know me.
Me: Yup. Now shut up and go to bed.

He didn’t message me after that.