Collision
Chapter Fourteen
“There you go,” I said, smiling blithely, as I handed the girl waiting in front of the table her t-shirt and a receipt. She squealed, thanked me, and then promptly pulled the shirt on on top of the t-shirt she was already wearing. I watched this, amused at her reaction — the girl couldn’t have been more the fifteen or sixteen, but she already had several piercings in her lips and eyebrows. Nearly every customer to the merchandise tent I’d been manning had been the same; teenagers, boys and girls alike, with dark eyeliner and dark hair. They’d all been ridiculously polite and excited though, and that made me happy.
Beside me, Chantel handed her own customer her goods, and then sighed. “Oh, thank god it’s nearly over. I hate working merch,” she said, glancing at her watch. “Dammit, I have to get ready to go out soon.”
“I kinda like it...”
“Why?”
“You get to meet people? You make people happy? It’s a good way to pass the time?” I suggested, but her incredulous look didn’t change so I just sighed and gave up on convincing her. “Fine, you don’t like it. I do.” She shook her head at me.
“Whatever, I’m out of here,” she said, waving goodbye and walking off. I had to stay a bit longer – my shift officially ended in about ten minutes, but I knew I’d probably end up staying a lot longer than that since I was now one of only three people left. The others, two girls named Elisha and Tania, had only just started their shifts.
As I turned back to the front to serve the next person, I heard a soft gasp from the person standing in front of me and I saw her eyes were directed over my shoulder. I groaned. Earlier, Frank — still covered in doodles — had almost caused a mini-stampede by turning up (asking where Gerard was, like I was supposed to know) and now, warily, I turned around, hoping it wouldn’t be anyone well-known. It had been bad enough last time, trying to keep the waves of people in control as they basically threw themselves at the surprised rhythm guitarist in a bid for pictures and autographs.
It was only Finley, though, although the site of the lime-haired guy appearing at the back entrance to the tent had caused a few glances and whispers anyway. SAYF had been quite a hit with the festival goers, and I’d noticed lately that they’d started to get recognised by people who’d been completely unaware of their existence before. It was quite awesome, actually, and Alex had been extremely excited when she’d been approached for an autograph when I was walking with her earlier.
“Hey, Fin!” I said, waving him over. He walked over and hopped up onto the table I was folding things in, grinning.
“Wassup, Cam?” He asked.
I thought about being sarcastic but I settled for just shrugging. “Not much, actually.”
“Ah. Interesting, Cam. Well, I just got back from sound-check with Hello, Irony.”
“Yeah, yeah, no need to rub my face in it.” I said, going back to folding a shirt and growling in frustration when it wouldn’t go right. Finley asked if I needed help, but I could hear the amusement in his voice so I just glared at him, and then held up the folded shirt with a proud flourish when I finally managed it. “Hah, take that — ”
“You’re in a band?” The girl who’d gasped asked, interrupting me and smiling at Finley in a way I recognised as an attempt at being flirtatious. I tried not to be annoyed by the fact she completely blanked me, even when I put down the shirt and asked if she wanted to buy anything — instead, I gave Finley a look, arching an eyebrow at the sudden redness to his cheeks.
“Uh, yeah. Susie Ain’t Your Friend.”
The girl’s smile widened. “Oh wow, I remember! You’re the guitarist, right? Finley Evans?”
“Yeah, that’s me...” Finley looked unsure how to deal with her statement — apparently uncomfortable with the attention, or at least nervous — but nodded.
“My name’s Hanna,” she said. “Can I have a picture? Please?”
I giggled at the surprise on Finley’s face as he slowly nodded. “Sure you can. Have you got a camera?”
The Hanna girl nodded, pulling her side-bag around to her front and digging through it until she clasped a small camera and pulled it out, grinning. Finley posed for her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and smiling at the camera when she held it out in front of her, and then quickly pulling a face as she hit the button to take it. She laughed when she saw the picture and shook her head.
“So do you want to buy anything?” I asked — eyeballing the growing lines of customers behind her and the general looks of annoyance being shot at us — once she’d put the camera away in her bag again.
She tilted her head to the side, her brow furrowed, which made her look a lot like a confused parrot (especially with the bright streaks of red and green in her otherwise blonde hair.) “What? Oh, no... I was just waiting for a friend.”
I made a low noise of frustration then, and Fin picked up on it. He grabbed my arm and pushed me away from the table. “Let’s take a break!” He said cheerfully, leading me away — he had a strange ability to notice when I got annoyed to the point of at being risk of causing somebody else physical harm, and was great at dragging me away when that happened. It had stopped a few situations ending very badly.
Still, I frowned at him, not too sure I was really in the mood to be bossed around by a guy seven years my junior. “You haven’t even been working,” I complained, as my phone vibrated and I went to dig it out. Finley, however, didn’t seem to agree with me getting texts, because it snatched it out of my hand and tutted loudly.
“No, break now,” he said, glancing down at the phone to read the screen, “I’m sure Gerard can wait until later.”
“Ugh. What’s it with people and taking my phone today?” I demanded, snatching it out of the guitarist’s hand with perhaps an unnecessary amount of force and use of my fingernails — still, it was his fault for taking it off me in the first place. I grinned in triumph as I opened the text message and read it.
HEY CAM... DO YOU KNOW HOW TO SET UP SKYPE? G (ALSO I FUCKING BROKE THE CAPS. GO ME)’
Yeah I do. Need help?’
YEAH MY LAPTOP HATES ME AND BOB IS IGNORING ME... G’
On my way.
I looked up to see Finley glaring at me. “What?” I asked, as he shoved his hand forward, under my nose.
“You made me bleed!” He said in probably the most pathetic tone he could muster up, his face crumpling into over-the-top anguish with his bottom lip jutting out. I peered down at his hand once he’d done waving it about to get my attention, and eventually I saw a minuscule cut on his palm. It was barely there, but I could spy it because of the small bead of blood welling up. I sighed.
“Awww, Fin... want a kiss to make it better?” I cooed in a sugar-filled voice. He nodded and I shrugged, pushing his hand away. “Well go ask Alex. I’ve got to go.”
“But... but... you’re abandoning me?”
In response, I nodded and walked off in the direction of the majority of the buses. I heard him sigh forlornly and stomp his feet behind my back and I smiled at his dramatics — he wouldn’t really be annoyed, but he was good at pretending to be so (almost to the point of making people truly believe that, especially ones who didn’t know him well. Which could make me seem callous when I completely ignored his fake hurt and others didn’t.)
When I got to the My Chemical Romance bus, still parked next to Hello, Irony’s — both which had become quite a familiar in these few short days — I went to knock on the door, but before I could it was yanked open, and Gerard was standing there, grimacing. “Thank god!” He said, grabbing onto my arm to help me inside, despite the fact I had two perfectly working legs and could walk up the steps without his help. “This technology stuff is way too complicated, Cam.”
“It can’t be that bad,” I said, noticing that the bus was empty, as far as I could tell, except from us. “Did everyone else have stuff to do... or a life, perhaps?” I asked teasingly, looking around at the general messiness of the bus — amazing what they’d managed to do after I’d cleaned it up a load — before walking over to the table where the looking laptop was sat, and sitting down to look at what was on the screen.
“Kind of. Frank, Mikey and Ray are with friends and Bob stormed out a few minutes ago... I think he got annoyed with all the questions I was asking,” he admitted, smiling sheepishly as he walked over to take a seat next to me as well. I shifted over so there was room, and once he was settled he nodded at the laptop. “Skype is so annoying,” he said. “Like, in terms of annoyance, it’s up there with... the Wiggles and... Frank. Or, more often than not, Frank listening to the Wiggles.”
“Wow, it must be pretty annoying then,” I mused, glancing up at him and noticing that the bruise near his eye had already started to fade quite significantly, although it was still remarkably purple. And that he still had slightly orange and blue patches of skin from Frank’s paint prank. I laughed slightly. “I’ve been meaning to ask... have you been the subject of any revenge pranks yet?”
“No, not yet. I’m kind of glad of it. Still, I’m ready. I’ve got a plan.”
“Another lame one?” I asked, as I clicked through the installation dialogs and, for the most part, completely ignored the text in them. I’d installed enough programs in my time (especially since I had a way with laptops which meant that the ones I owned often when kaput within a couple of months — I always made sure to get five year warranty because of that), and I’m pretty sure everyone didn’t read the terms and conditions — waste of time, in my opinion. When it came to the progress bar, I took the chance to turn around and look at Gerard again, who looked slightly insulted by my remark.
“No. My pranks aren’t lame.”
“Totally are.”
“I’m the prank and video game master.”
I was about to reply, sarcastically, and point out the fact that it was me who’d beat him at the racing game last time, except a loud beep from the laptop interrupted me. I turned my attention to look at the screen, which had now had a flashing warning dialog on it. “Oops,” I mumbled, as the laptop beeped again and then the screen went completely black.
“What the fuck did you do?” Gerard asked, prodding the now dead laptop cautiously with his finger as if it was going to bite.
“Umm... I don’t know.”
It took a little bit of careful guesswork to get the laptop working again. I set about running through the check-list of common problems which normally occurred in my laptops, and the (usually roundabout) fixes I’d come up with. Eventually, after a lot more prodding and a quite a few swear words, the laptop booted up normally, and even let me open up the installed Skype program. “Hah, take that!” I said happily when it did, glad I’d actually managed to make it work. “This sucker is no match for my skills, huh?”
“Let’s not forget it only broke when you got your hands on it,” Gerard pointed out, shaking his head slightly but smiling none-the-less. “Thanks, Cam.”
Ray and Frank walked in then, chattering happily. Ray was carrying a mysterious bag, which he dumped on the table before turning to us. “Guys!”
“Hello,” I said happily, glancing at bag now lying on its side on the table. “What’s this?” I asked, curious enough to get up and walk over to prod it before picking it up. I was surprised by how heavy it was, and I almost dropped it back down again.
“Presents,” Frank replied helpfully. “From the fans. I always get skittles — it’s like they think it’s the only thing I eat.”
“Some days it is,” Gerard said as he came over to join me and relieved me of the bag so he could spill the neatly wrapped parcels within all across the table. Then he began to sort through them with a little too much eagerness — his excitement seemed like it would be more fitting on a six-year-old at Christmas. Still, who was I to judge? I loved presents, too. Once he’d made the contents into surprisingly neat piles, he looked over at Frank, curiously. “How did they manage to give you this lot?”
“Um... this merch girl gave it to us when we were walking back here and said it was from her cousin. So, uh, that’s how.” He walked over to pick up the things apparently addressed to him, and then — after making an odd sound like a squeak — started laughing. “Oh my god, there’s candy cane headbands!”
“You sound like a little girl when you squeak like that, Frank,” I said, laughing.
“Who cares? I think you’re missing the point, and that’s that there is candy cane headbands.” He plucked up a pair and then tried to stuff them on my head, and ended up stabbing me in the ear with the end. I winced, then took the headband out of his hands to slide it in myself as he did his and Gerard’s, and handed a pair to Ray as well (who just threw them to the side and glared at the guitarist instead). Frank ignored this, and instead shot all three of us a brilliant grin. “The person who picked those is awesome!” He said, decidedly, and then pointed at me. “Have you got a camera?”
“Yeah, sure... why?” I asked, slightly, suspiciously, as I pulled the digital camera I’d borrowed off Chantel — and forgotten to return — out of my pocket. Frank took it from my hands.
“Group photo, that’s what!” He said, apparently finally noticing Ray hadn’t put his on. “You’re a wet blanket,” he declared, shoving the camera at him. “So you can be the crappy camera guy whilst we are awesome with our awesome headbands.” Then he grabbed hold of both Gerard and I and yanked us towards him so we could all get in the shot. I wasn’t so much posing as trying not to fall over when Ray took the picture, and I’m sure the matching expressions of surprise on the vocalist’s and my face were certainly amusing. Still, Frank seemed content, handing the camera back over to me and making me promise I wouldn’t delete the photo whilst Ray just shook his head and walked off. I was slightly confused over why the hell he even wanted it, but before I could answer it he’d been distracted by the laptop, still sat open on the table, and leaned down to check out what was on the screen.
“Skype? Ugh, that’s so boring,” he declared. “Hey, have you checked out the tour forums yet? Some of the threads on there? They’re hilarious. I got bored and started reading it. It’s actually a real treasure trove for amusing shit.”
“There’s forums? What?”
He gave me a look. “Uh, yeah. Duh. You know, the big link on the website which says forums?” Noticing my confusion, he sighed, and then typed something into the laptop. “Let me show you.”
I walked over, to look over his shoulder at the screen, and then Gerard joined us both. Frank seemed to know exactly what he was doing, since it only took him a few seconds to open up the right page and he grinned triumphantly as it loaded. My eye was caught by the second board on the main page — Chat and Discussion (People) — and I reached over and took control of the touchpad to click on it.
“Hah, you all have threads dedicated to you,” I said, slightly surprised... there must have been about fifty threads on the first page alone, and most — if not all — had titles containing names I recognised as belonging to members of the bands. Frankie Iero, Ellie Moriarty!, Ray Toroooo, Davey Kane (BOXER!!), The Liza York, Juilette Zimmerman... my eyes scanned down the whole list, and then one caught my eye. “The mysterious Cam? No way! That isn’t... that isn’t about me, is it?” I asked, slightly fearfully, looking up at Frank. My eyes widened when he nodded solemnly, and then when I clicked on the thread and read through the first post they widened even more. Even a quick scan showed they had a damn lot of information on me, and the majority of it was stuff I hadn’t ever put on the blog. “How the hell do they know my full name? Or the fact that I lived in Hook?” I demanded.
Frank chuckled. “Ahh, you have a lot to learn about Google and dedicated fans, my dear friend. Trust me, they’re insane. Like information ninjas. They got hold of Gerard’s prom pictures, and they weren’t even ever uploaded anywhere!”
“But — ”
“I said information ninjas.”
I turned to Gerard, and he seemed to agree with Frank because he was smiling and nodding. Then he turned to look back at the laptop, and cocked an eyebrow. “Speaking of pictures...” he trailed off, which instantly put me on edge, and I quickly turned to follow his line of sight.
“Oh my god,” I stated, blandly, looking at the picture on the screen — it had to be at least five years old and my hair was a lot shorter — and dyed black. My eyes were also outlined in thick eyeliner, a la Alex, but it was still recognisably me. I’ll admit, I looked slightly tipsy — and was, too, judging from the bottle in my hands — but I did remember posing for it (and that it had been taken at Jack’s birthday party.) It wasn’t just me in the frame, though: fourteen year old Finley, all fresh-faced and, strangely, brown-haired, was by my side and had his arm around my shoulder, grinning, and Jack was behind us both with his hands on my hips, his head on top of Finley’s arm on my shoulder.
“You were all goth!” Gerard said, surprised. He stepped back, and looked between present me and the picture on the screen several times, then held up his hands in the shape of a photo-frame around me. “Wow. I didn’t think you could, but you totally rock the scary look. Hard to imagine, though...”
“Oh shut up,” I mumbled half-heartedly, about to add more when I was interrupted by Frank grabbing hold of my hands and jumping up and down.
“You must wear red lipstick again, dammit! Red lipstick! I demand red lipstick!”
I glared at him, yanking my hands away from his. “You shut up too!”
“How come you’re all boring and stuff now?” Frank asked, once he’d calmed down.
I sighed, scrolling down the page until the picture had disappeared. “Yeah, well, that was years ago. I grew out of it. Heck, that was when I dated Jack, for heaven’s sake!” Glancing up, and noticing the confused expressions, I explained, “Jack, as in SAYF’s drummer? We only dated for something like two weeks. If that. And the whole dark look lasted only a little longer than that.”
“You’re such a spoilsport,” Frank muttered, now reading the next few posts which had replaced the picture. “Although, I admit this must be kind of creepy. I don’t suppose you expected it...” he trailed off then, and a grin appeared on his face. “Oh, hey, look: you’re dating everyone! Or at least should, according to these posts.”
“What? Everyone?” I leaned forward to see what the hell he was talking about, reading through the posts.
reaperinsideyourcloset
Posts: 4
My friend said he’d heard she’s with Davey from Hello, Irony (and he’s upset with that, LOL)... any confirmation, guys?
Pink’s the Devil’s Color
Posts: 47
nah, he’s single… i dont know... i heard camerons with that guitarist dude from SAYF (finley?) they’ve been spotted together quite a lot.
Selenia
Posts: 56
Is it a sin to be just friends now? I have loads of male friends who I’m, strangely, not dating. Whoopty doo dah.
reaperinsideyourcloset
Posts: 5
True, just wanted to see if anybody knew the truth tbh.
theSwordandtheFaith
Posts: 18
Agreed. We’re here for the music not the drama. Even if the drama is a nice bonus ;) And anyway she’s been spotted with loads of the band members — that’s her job after all! I’m still holding out for some Zacky/Cameron love though. Or at least Davey/Cameron, if not Davey/Liza (they’d be amazing together so don’t deny it). But yeah bring on the Zameron/Davron!<3
HELL-o-Irony
Posts: 27
Zacky Piestewa? He was dating a guy called Marc last time I heard. Although I did hear they broke up.... no official word yet. But anyway I’m all for Jack Grant/Cam.. Jam anyone? That’s an awesome couple name if I’ve ever heard one. It’s not that farfetched either since she’s the lead singer’s sister, right? So they probably know each other already. Same with Red/Cameron.....
Oh and Davey/Liza is my OTP. You can tell they like each other a little more than friends from interviews. The way he looks at her.. And they even live in the same house already apparently… IT’S ONLY A MATTER OF TIME ;D
“Oh dear lord...” I said in response, pressing my hand to my mouth to hide the fact I was about to burst into giggles. Apparently this conversation had been going on a while, and even if I hadn’t read the other posts I could gather they were all in the same vein. It was amusing to me, that anyone would find me interesting enough to discuss in the first place; let alone wonder about my love life (or, at the moment, lack thereof.) “I like that Selenia one. But other than that... well, putting it nicely, they’re quite inventive, huh?”
“I don’t see why we haven’t been paired together,” Frank said, frowning slightly, and apparently too caught up on his lack of mention to reply to me. “Everyone but me. It’s always everyone and me. Especially with guys. What gives? Why do they leave me out this time, when it’s a girl? Oh, don’t give me that look... we’d be a hot couple. You know we would.”
I shook my head, moving away and holding up my hands in an exaggerated display of rejection. “No. No no no no. Stick with Jamia, Frank,” I said with a sigh. “You know our love never can and never will be.”
“Fine. I suppose I should stick with my lovely girlfriend... she is the love of my life, after all.” He paused and looked thoughtful for few seconds, until breaking out into a huge grin. “At least, until Gerard stops exploring Narnia with Lucy and the gang. Then, we shall elope and have babies, somehow, because we’d have awesome kids who could beat up everyone else’s kids. Alicia and Mikey can be our kid’s godparents.”
“You’ve put a lot of thought into that, haven’t you?” I mused, and the guitarist nodded. I found it quite funny. However, his mini-speech earned a glare from Gerard.
“No. Stop it. Don’t encourage them,” he said, looking distinctly pained.
“Encourage them?” I said, slightly incredulously. “You’re the one who gropes him publicly.”
“And enjoys it,” Frank added with a wink.
Gerard laughed, albeit slightly resignedly. “Only a little...”
“I honestly don’t know whether you guys are kidding or not sometimes,” I said, shaking my head and walking past to the kitchenette area if only to get away from them both. Once I got there, though, I paused, wondering whether it would be weird to actually get something to eat. I knew, somewhere, there must be some kind of snack tucked away — and my brain was most definitely craving unhealthy snacks, which really wasn’t all that different from normal. I shrugged and then started searching the cupboards, and quickly stumbled upon gold — donuts! “Yes!” I exclaimed as I happily gathered the packet up and then walked back to them again. “Anyone up for—”
I stopped dead and stared at Frank, who was brandishing something which looked all too familiar. “Is that lipstick?” I asked suspiciously.
He nodded and bounded forward. “Yes, it is. Hold still, I wanna see you with red lipstick again.”
“Why do you even have lipstick?” I demanded, ignoring his instructions in favour of ducking away and staring at him, wide-eyed.
“I dunno. I think it’s Jamia’s... or Gerard’s, perhaps,” he said with a small smirk, and then he gave me a pleading look. “C’mon, don’t ruin the fun. I’ll put some on if you do.” He laughed and I hesitated for a moment longer, then I relented with a sigh, letting him lean forward and apply the lipstick. I rolled my eyes to the side at the brilliant grin that lit up his face, landing on an amused looking Gerard standing nearby. When I tried to pull a face at him Frank tutted and poked my cheek. “Stay still, moron.”
“You’re so rude,” I complained, as he nodded in approval and then turned to Gerard, proudly.
“What do you think?”
“I think you’re way too good at putting on lipstick, Frank,” he replied dryly. “Although I really shouldn’t be surprised by now, I know.”
“What, no clown comments? At least a baby hooker one?” I demanded with a slight pout. “No, of course not. It’s all Frank Frank Frank in this bus.”
“Aw, I’m sorry,” Gerard replied sarcastically, zeroing on the things I was now holding and smiling widely. “Hand over the donuts and I’ll worship the ground you walk on, how’s that?”
I sighed and handed him the donuts, and watched him um and ah over which one to pick before turning back to Frank and pointing at the lipstick he was still holding. “You have to put some on now, because you promised,” I said, and he grinned, apparently not finding the prospect all that bad. I didn’t even have to threaten him with violence (except glare at him when he used the lipstick to put two red streaks on his cheeks, a la war paint) and he soon had cherry red lips to match my own.
Gerard was distracted by the treats, still, since he didn’t notice this until I called his name. He glanced up, and his eyes went wide when he took in Frank and me, and then he started laughing. Hard. “Okay, now I get to make a clown comment, because that’s what you look like Frankie,” he managed to say after he’d stifled his laughter enough. “Seriously? I hope you’re not planning on going outside with that shit on.”
Frank pulled a face. “Maybe I am, maybe I’m not,” he declared.
~*~
Later that day, I found myself on SAYF’s bus enjoying pizza — or at least trying to. Finley seemed to have made it his sole objective to annoy everyone that day, and it was working. Red had already walked out, muttering something about murder under his breath, and Jack hadn’t even turned up yet, so there was only Finley, Alex and me left. Finley had found a pack of cards from somewhere, and was having a half-hearted game of Go Fish with Alex, who was too busy trying to watch the TV — set on some music channel — at the same time to pay attention.
“Have you got any threes?” Finley asked for about the fifth time, snapping his fingers in Alex’s face when she didn’t respond, which made her jump. At her blank expression, he sighed. “Oh, fuck you. I win. By default.”
“Amazing victory there, Fin,” I teased, going to take the last slice of pizza. He beat me to it, snatching it from right under my fingers and giving me a triumphant grin as he stuffed the whole thing in his mouth.
“I am the master of Go Fish,” he said, speaking around the slice of pizza. I flinched back from the spittle flying from his mouth. “And Alex is...”
“Careful,” Alex said in warning, holding up a finger. “Don’t make me hurt you.”
“... Alex is a black hole,” he finished. Noticing our confused looks, he sighed once more, apparently annoyed himself that we didn’t seem to understand his wit. “She sucks,” he clarified.
“Oh.”
Alex glared at him, and then threw the cards she was holding in his face and stood up. “I’m going to bed. Screw you, Fin.”
I laughed, watching her stalk off, and then turned to the guitarist. He didn’t look that put out, calmly picking up the cards from the floor and putting them back into neat stacks. When that was done, he got to his feet to and headed into the tiny kitchenette area, taking our plates and the empty pizza box with him.
“Oi, Fin!” I said, suddenly, looking intently at the TV, where a pretty blonde, clutching a microphone, was walking around a space I recognised as the field which had been transformed into the backstage area of the Whiteout tour’s stop in Glasgow. I remembered something that Finley had mentioned earlier about SAYF’s first interview set to air tonight — the whole reason we were actually really on this TV channel to start with. “Is this that interview you were talking about?”
He walked back over, and then nodded. “Yup. I think we got interviewed after... SoundinSpace, I think. Or perhaps Asthma Chimp.”
I raised an eyebrow at the second band’s name — Asthma Chimp? Seriously? — but I was too distracted by the fact that I’d just spied a familiar head of black and red hair to care. “Hey, that’s Alex!” I said, pointing at the screen.
“Well, no duh,” Finley replied, sitting down on the seats next to me. “She is kind of a part of the band, after all.”
On screen Alex had just grabbed hold of Red and dragged him, forcibly, into view of the camera, at least judging by her grip on his jacket and his sullen expression, and Jack had just appeared by her side too. The blonde interviewer was saying something, but then a yell interrupted her and Finley came flying into the frame as he flung himself at Alex, grinning. I turned to Finley sat next to me.
“Really, Fin? Really?”
He just grinned, eerily alike to the expression his on screen version was sporting, and I turned my full attention back to the interview. For it being their first interview, especially with a camera, it was with surprising calmness that they reacted to the questions. Alex answered the majority of them, and Red seemed to be trying to blend into the background — he’d never been very comfortable around cameras — and when the interviewer turned to him for input, he mumbled something vaguely related under his breath, whilst Finley — still looking as excited as hell, like normal — laughed and repeated it.
“So, guys... the name... can you explain it for our viewers?” The interviewer asked, now off camera.
“Um...” Alex looked to Jack, and then to Finley, with a small shrug. “I suppose you should ask Fin. He came up with it.”
“It’s a Michael Jackson song,” Finley answered promptly when the microphone was handed to him. “I am definitely a huge fan and this song came on the radio when I was brainstorming name ideas — back when it was just Alex and I — and the line just stuck out to me. And there was this really evil manipulative girl called Susie at my school, so that’s also a reason.”
“Oh, and there’s the acronym,” Alex added, laughing. “We used to joke, if we got ever got big, our fansite would have to be called Susie Ain’t Your Friend United, ’cus the letters spell out SAYFU.”
“Yeah, I remember that,” Jack said, shaking his head. “I joined after they decided on the name, when they wanted a drummer, and it just stuck.”
“Right. Well, I must say, it’s a bit of a mouthful. Do you call yourselves anything else?”
“We call ourselves awesome,” Finley said, cutting off Alex.
She sighed before she answered, flicking his shoulder with her index finger. “That, or SAYF. Or Susie.”
“Okay. Whilst I have you’re all here, can you confirm a release date for the follow-up to your EP? It’s caused quite a stir in the music world, so far,” the interview said after a small pause. No doubt she’d been hoping for something a bit more gossip-worthy in the interview — I could hear in the way she said the question she was bored. I refrained from sticking my tongue out at the screen, as much as I wanted to, instead delving a hand into the bowl of sweets I’d only just noticed Finley had brought back and popping a few into my mouth.
“Mhm, we were thinking around 2020,” Jack replied with a sarcastic little smirk.
Alex elbowed him in the ribs, twisting slightly to do so because he’d moved backwards since he’d joined the little group and was now standing next to the still-sulking Red. “Don’t be an idiot, Jack,” she said, rolling her eyes half-heartedly. “We were actually thinking around July.”
“Awesome! I have a few questions from — ” The interviewer was cut off by a yell and a sudden blur of black and orange, when Liza ran into view and threw herself at Finley, bringing them both to the ground with a thud. I winced, noticing Finley’s now shocked and pained expression, turning to the real-life Finley for explanation. He pressed a finger to his lips and pointed at the screen, and then grabbed another handful of the sweets.
“What the fuck?!” Alex yelled in response to the events, her eyes wide as she took in the sight of her friend with the orange-haired singer on top of him on the ground. I heard laughing from off-camera which seemed strangely familiar, and then Frank — the source of the laughter, of course he was — walked over and helped Liza to her feet, leaving Finley laying on the grass, glaring up at the both of them.
“Thanks, Liza,” Frank said. “And Finley, that was payback by the way.”
“Payback for what?” He demanded, scrambling to his feet and brushing down his skinny black jeans.
“Daring Liza to flatten me before,” Frank replied, sticking his tongue out in a distinctly childish fashion, before turning to face the camera. Guessing from his sudden surprised expression he obviously hadn’t realized that they were being filmed. He cocked an eyebrow and looked around the group. “Did I interrupt something?” He asked.
“Yes,” Alex said sharply, sounding distinctly pissed. “You did.”
The interviewer, on the other hand, sounded delighted. “Frank Iero! This is a surprise,” she said, shoving a microphone in his direction. “Can I ask you how the tour’s been so far?”
I couldn’t help but think that the alarmed, wide-eyed look which came onto Frank’s face was as funny as hell, but then, as he opened his mouth to answer the question he stopped and grinned, brilliantly. He walked forward, out of the view of the camera, and I heard somebody shout “Not cool, man!” before he was back, with Gerard in tow being dragged unwillingly with him.
“How about you ask my friend Gerard here,” he suggested, looking relieved. “He’s much more interesting to listen to.” He nodded, then turned and quickly walked off, leaving the bemused looking Gerard staring at the interviewer, with the members of SAYF staring at him in turn.
“Um... well...” Finley said finally, alternating looking between the camera and the singer. “Hi, Gerard?”
The awkwardness was quickly added to when Liza, who’d sort of disappeared into the background up to that point, apparently got tired of being ignored, because she threw her arms around Gerard and laid her head on his shoulder. “Gee, honey! Whatcha doin’ here?” She demanded.
He turned to look at the singer now clinging to him, and shrugged. “I was getting coffee...” he explained, sounding confused. “And then... well, um, now I’ve been kidnapped, apparently? I guess Frank really didn’t want to get interviewed...”
When the interviewer seemed to realise her luck, turning her whole attention to the much more famous Liza York and Gerard Way and starting to interview them instead, I got to my feet. Noticing this, Finley shot me a curious look. “I’m just going to the bathroom,” I explained with a teasing smile. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna abandon you, too.”
I headed to the bathroom in question, which was right at the end of the bus, and found that the bathroom door was closed. I was about to turn and walk back when I heard a noise which made me pause. It sounded a lot like somebody retching. Worried, I knocked on the door. It could only be Alex in there, since everyone else was either in the front, in Finley’s case, or out. “Hey, sis, you okay?” I called through the door.
There was a small groan from inside, and then the sound of Alex getting to her feet and flushing the toilet. “I’m fine,” she replied. I wasn’t too convinced, considering how weak-sounding her voice came out.
“Sure?” I asked. “Do you need anything?”
“I’m fine,” she repeated, stressing the last word. A few seconds later she unlocked the door and opened it, pushing her hair back behind her ears. I looked her up and down, frowning slightly. She didn’t look that bad, but her skin was paler than usual and she had a small grimace on her face.
“You know, it sounded a lot like you just threw up,” I said finally, “which makes me think you’re not okay at all.”
She smiled reassuringly, which didn’t look right on her paler than normal face. “It’s just a stupid stomach bug,” she explained. “I’ve been a bit woosy all day but I think the pizza just pushed it over the edge.”
“Oh.” I thought back — she hadn’t really eaten that much pizza, only a slice, and the explanation of feeling sick fit. She hadn’t been looking all too peppy lately. “If you keep feeling sick, you need to go see a doctor or something,” I warned, following her as she walked back to her bunk.
She turned around and I saw the look of disgust appear on her face. I knew already, from experience, that she hated doctors, and that was why she was suddenly frowning. “No, I don’t,” she replied.
“I know you don’t like ’em, but, sis, it’s not good if you’re sick. You can’t perform if you’re in bed, can you?” I gave her a hard look, trying to smile calmingly at the same time — and probably failing, categorically. “Promise me you’ll go if you feel any worse?”
She sighed, reluctantly. “Only if I feel really bad,” she agreed.
“Good.”
She leant down and grabbed a suitcase from under her bunk, hauling it onto her mattress before unzipping it and quickly drawing her t-shirt off and throwing it into the corner of the bunk. I pulled a face at this, despite the fact she was wearing a vest underneath, and then she plucked an old, ratty-looking The Sounds shirt, which I recognised as one of the ones she wore to bed, out of the bag and slid it on. Noticing her look, she stuck her tongue out at me, and I sighed, turning to go back to the bathroom. Then I paused and swivelled around and look at her again. I’d just realised I had the perfect opportunity to tease her, so who was I to pass it up?
“Hey, Alex,” I said, lightly. She looked up and I grinned devilishly. “You didn’t get knocked up, did ya?”
The look which made its way onto her face at my words was priceless, and I really wished I had my camera with me. A horrified grimace with her eyes widened dramatically. “No! I didn’t!” She snapped, picking up a pillow from her bed and throwing it at my head. I ducked away and it hit me on the arm instead. “You’re a bitch, Cam!”
“Takes one to know one,” I shouted back as I finally ducked into the bathroom.
Beside me, Chantel handed her own customer her goods, and then sighed. “Oh, thank god it’s nearly over. I hate working merch,” she said, glancing at her watch. “Dammit, I have to get ready to go out soon.”
“I kinda like it...”
“Why?”
“You get to meet people? You make people happy? It’s a good way to pass the time?” I suggested, but her incredulous look didn’t change so I just sighed and gave up on convincing her. “Fine, you don’t like it. I do.” She shook her head at me.
“Whatever, I’m out of here,” she said, waving goodbye and walking off. I had to stay a bit longer – my shift officially ended in about ten minutes, but I knew I’d probably end up staying a lot longer than that since I was now one of only three people left. The others, two girls named Elisha and Tania, had only just started their shifts.
As I turned back to the front to serve the next person, I heard a soft gasp from the person standing in front of me and I saw her eyes were directed over my shoulder. I groaned. Earlier, Frank — still covered in doodles — had almost caused a mini-stampede by turning up (asking where Gerard was, like I was supposed to know) and now, warily, I turned around, hoping it wouldn’t be anyone well-known. It had been bad enough last time, trying to keep the waves of people in control as they basically threw themselves at the surprised rhythm guitarist in a bid for pictures and autographs.
It was only Finley, though, although the site of the lime-haired guy appearing at the back entrance to the tent had caused a few glances and whispers anyway. SAYF had been quite a hit with the festival goers, and I’d noticed lately that they’d started to get recognised by people who’d been completely unaware of their existence before. It was quite awesome, actually, and Alex had been extremely excited when she’d been approached for an autograph when I was walking with her earlier.
“Hey, Fin!” I said, waving him over. He walked over and hopped up onto the table I was folding things in, grinning.
“Wassup, Cam?” He asked.
I thought about being sarcastic but I settled for just shrugging. “Not much, actually.”
“Ah. Interesting, Cam. Well, I just got back from sound-check with Hello, Irony.”
“Yeah, yeah, no need to rub my face in it.” I said, going back to folding a shirt and growling in frustration when it wouldn’t go right. Finley asked if I needed help, but I could hear the amusement in his voice so I just glared at him, and then held up the folded shirt with a proud flourish when I finally managed it. “Hah, take that — ”
“You’re in a band?” The girl who’d gasped asked, interrupting me and smiling at Finley in a way I recognised as an attempt at being flirtatious. I tried not to be annoyed by the fact she completely blanked me, even when I put down the shirt and asked if she wanted to buy anything — instead, I gave Finley a look, arching an eyebrow at the sudden redness to his cheeks.
“Uh, yeah. Susie Ain’t Your Friend.”
The girl’s smile widened. “Oh wow, I remember! You’re the guitarist, right? Finley Evans?”
“Yeah, that’s me...” Finley looked unsure how to deal with her statement — apparently uncomfortable with the attention, or at least nervous — but nodded.
“My name’s Hanna,” she said. “Can I have a picture? Please?”
I giggled at the surprise on Finley’s face as he slowly nodded. “Sure you can. Have you got a camera?”
The Hanna girl nodded, pulling her side-bag around to her front and digging through it until she clasped a small camera and pulled it out, grinning. Finley posed for her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and smiling at the camera when she held it out in front of her, and then quickly pulling a face as she hit the button to take it. She laughed when she saw the picture and shook her head.
“So do you want to buy anything?” I asked — eyeballing the growing lines of customers behind her and the general looks of annoyance being shot at us — once she’d put the camera away in her bag again.
She tilted her head to the side, her brow furrowed, which made her look a lot like a confused parrot (especially with the bright streaks of red and green in her otherwise blonde hair.) “What? Oh, no... I was just waiting for a friend.”
I made a low noise of frustration then, and Fin picked up on it. He grabbed my arm and pushed me away from the table. “Let’s take a break!” He said cheerfully, leading me away — he had a strange ability to notice when I got annoyed to the point of at being risk of causing somebody else physical harm, and was great at dragging me away when that happened. It had stopped a few situations ending very badly.
Still, I frowned at him, not too sure I was really in the mood to be bossed around by a guy seven years my junior. “You haven’t even been working,” I complained, as my phone vibrated and I went to dig it out. Finley, however, didn’t seem to agree with me getting texts, because it snatched it out of my hand and tutted loudly.
“No, break now,” he said, glancing down at the phone to read the screen, “I’m sure Gerard can wait until later.”
“Ugh. What’s it with people and taking my phone today?” I demanded, snatching it out of the guitarist’s hand with perhaps an unnecessary amount of force and use of my fingernails — still, it was his fault for taking it off me in the first place. I grinned in triumph as I opened the text message and read it.
HEY CAM... DO YOU KNOW HOW TO SET UP SKYPE? G (ALSO I FUCKING BROKE THE CAPS. GO ME)’
Yeah I do. Need help?’
YEAH MY LAPTOP HATES ME AND BOB IS IGNORING ME... G’
On my way.
I looked up to see Finley glaring at me. “What?” I asked, as he shoved his hand forward, under my nose.
“You made me bleed!” He said in probably the most pathetic tone he could muster up, his face crumpling into over-the-top anguish with his bottom lip jutting out. I peered down at his hand once he’d done waving it about to get my attention, and eventually I saw a minuscule cut on his palm. It was barely there, but I could spy it because of the small bead of blood welling up. I sighed.
“Awww, Fin... want a kiss to make it better?” I cooed in a sugar-filled voice. He nodded and I shrugged, pushing his hand away. “Well go ask Alex. I’ve got to go.”
“But... but... you’re abandoning me?”
In response, I nodded and walked off in the direction of the majority of the buses. I heard him sigh forlornly and stomp his feet behind my back and I smiled at his dramatics — he wouldn’t really be annoyed, but he was good at pretending to be so (almost to the point of making people truly believe that, especially ones who didn’t know him well. Which could make me seem callous when I completely ignored his fake hurt and others didn’t.)
When I got to the My Chemical Romance bus, still parked next to Hello, Irony’s — both which had become quite a familiar in these few short days — I went to knock on the door, but before I could it was yanked open, and Gerard was standing there, grimacing. “Thank god!” He said, grabbing onto my arm to help me inside, despite the fact I had two perfectly working legs and could walk up the steps without his help. “This technology stuff is way too complicated, Cam.”
“It can’t be that bad,” I said, noticing that the bus was empty, as far as I could tell, except from us. “Did everyone else have stuff to do... or a life, perhaps?” I asked teasingly, looking around at the general messiness of the bus — amazing what they’d managed to do after I’d cleaned it up a load — before walking over to the table where the looking laptop was sat, and sitting down to look at what was on the screen.
“Kind of. Frank, Mikey and Ray are with friends and Bob stormed out a few minutes ago... I think he got annoyed with all the questions I was asking,” he admitted, smiling sheepishly as he walked over to take a seat next to me as well. I shifted over so there was room, and once he was settled he nodded at the laptop. “Skype is so annoying,” he said. “Like, in terms of annoyance, it’s up there with... the Wiggles and... Frank. Or, more often than not, Frank listening to the Wiggles.”
“Wow, it must be pretty annoying then,” I mused, glancing up at him and noticing that the bruise near his eye had already started to fade quite significantly, although it was still remarkably purple. And that he still had slightly orange and blue patches of skin from Frank’s paint prank. I laughed slightly. “I’ve been meaning to ask... have you been the subject of any revenge pranks yet?”
“No, not yet. I’m kind of glad of it. Still, I’m ready. I’ve got a plan.”
“Another lame one?” I asked, as I clicked through the installation dialogs and, for the most part, completely ignored the text in them. I’d installed enough programs in my time (especially since I had a way with laptops which meant that the ones I owned often when kaput within a couple of months — I always made sure to get five year warranty because of that), and I’m pretty sure everyone didn’t read the terms and conditions — waste of time, in my opinion. When it came to the progress bar, I took the chance to turn around and look at Gerard again, who looked slightly insulted by my remark.
“No. My pranks aren’t lame.”
“Totally are.”
“I’m the prank and video game master.”
I was about to reply, sarcastically, and point out the fact that it was me who’d beat him at the racing game last time, except a loud beep from the laptop interrupted me. I turned my attention to look at the screen, which had now had a flashing warning dialog on it. “Oops,” I mumbled, as the laptop beeped again and then the screen went completely black.
“What the fuck did you do?” Gerard asked, prodding the now dead laptop cautiously with his finger as if it was going to bite.
“Umm... I don’t know.”
It took a little bit of careful guesswork to get the laptop working again. I set about running through the check-list of common problems which normally occurred in my laptops, and the (usually roundabout) fixes I’d come up with. Eventually, after a lot more prodding and a quite a few swear words, the laptop booted up normally, and even let me open up the installed Skype program. “Hah, take that!” I said happily when it did, glad I’d actually managed to make it work. “This sucker is no match for my skills, huh?”
“Let’s not forget it only broke when you got your hands on it,” Gerard pointed out, shaking his head slightly but smiling none-the-less. “Thanks, Cam.”
Ray and Frank walked in then, chattering happily. Ray was carrying a mysterious bag, which he dumped on the table before turning to us. “Guys!”
“Hello,” I said happily, glancing at bag now lying on its side on the table. “What’s this?” I asked, curious enough to get up and walk over to prod it before picking it up. I was surprised by how heavy it was, and I almost dropped it back down again.
“Presents,” Frank replied helpfully. “From the fans. I always get skittles — it’s like they think it’s the only thing I eat.”
“Some days it is,” Gerard said as he came over to join me and relieved me of the bag so he could spill the neatly wrapped parcels within all across the table. Then he began to sort through them with a little too much eagerness — his excitement seemed like it would be more fitting on a six-year-old at Christmas. Still, who was I to judge? I loved presents, too. Once he’d made the contents into surprisingly neat piles, he looked over at Frank, curiously. “How did they manage to give you this lot?”
“Um... this merch girl gave it to us when we were walking back here and said it was from her cousin. So, uh, that’s how.” He walked over to pick up the things apparently addressed to him, and then — after making an odd sound like a squeak — started laughing. “Oh my god, there’s candy cane headbands!”
“You sound like a little girl when you squeak like that, Frank,” I said, laughing.
“Who cares? I think you’re missing the point, and that’s that there is candy cane headbands.” He plucked up a pair and then tried to stuff them on my head, and ended up stabbing me in the ear with the end. I winced, then took the headband out of his hands to slide it in myself as he did his and Gerard’s, and handed a pair to Ray as well (who just threw them to the side and glared at the guitarist instead). Frank ignored this, and instead shot all three of us a brilliant grin. “The person who picked those is awesome!” He said, decidedly, and then pointed at me. “Have you got a camera?”
“Yeah, sure... why?” I asked, slightly, suspiciously, as I pulled the digital camera I’d borrowed off Chantel — and forgotten to return — out of my pocket. Frank took it from my hands.
“Group photo, that’s what!” He said, apparently finally noticing Ray hadn’t put his on. “You’re a wet blanket,” he declared, shoving the camera at him. “So you can be the crappy camera guy whilst we are awesome with our awesome headbands.” Then he grabbed hold of both Gerard and I and yanked us towards him so we could all get in the shot. I wasn’t so much posing as trying not to fall over when Ray took the picture, and I’m sure the matching expressions of surprise on the vocalist’s and my face were certainly amusing. Still, Frank seemed content, handing the camera back over to me and making me promise I wouldn’t delete the photo whilst Ray just shook his head and walked off. I was slightly confused over why the hell he even wanted it, but before I could answer it he’d been distracted by the laptop, still sat open on the table, and leaned down to check out what was on the screen.
“Skype? Ugh, that’s so boring,” he declared. “Hey, have you checked out the tour forums yet? Some of the threads on there? They’re hilarious. I got bored and started reading it. It’s actually a real treasure trove for amusing shit.”
“There’s forums? What?”
He gave me a look. “Uh, yeah. Duh. You know, the big link on the website which says forums?” Noticing my confusion, he sighed, and then typed something into the laptop. “Let me show you.”
I walked over, to look over his shoulder at the screen, and then Gerard joined us both. Frank seemed to know exactly what he was doing, since it only took him a few seconds to open up the right page and he grinned triumphantly as it loaded. My eye was caught by the second board on the main page — Chat and Discussion (People) — and I reached over and took control of the touchpad to click on it.
“Hah, you all have threads dedicated to you,” I said, slightly surprised... there must have been about fifty threads on the first page alone, and most — if not all — had titles containing names I recognised as belonging to members of the bands. Frankie Iero, Ellie Moriarty!, Ray Toroooo, Davey Kane (BOXER!!), The Liza York, Juilette Zimmerman... my eyes scanned down the whole list, and then one caught my eye. “The mysterious Cam? No way! That isn’t... that isn’t about me, is it?” I asked, slightly fearfully, looking up at Frank. My eyes widened when he nodded solemnly, and then when I clicked on the thread and read through the first post they widened even more. Even a quick scan showed they had a damn lot of information on me, and the majority of it was stuff I hadn’t ever put on the blog. “How the hell do they know my full name? Or the fact that I lived in Hook?” I demanded.
Frank chuckled. “Ahh, you have a lot to learn about Google and dedicated fans, my dear friend. Trust me, they’re insane. Like information ninjas. They got hold of Gerard’s prom pictures, and they weren’t even ever uploaded anywhere!”
“But — ”
“I said information ninjas.”
I turned to Gerard, and he seemed to agree with Frank because he was smiling and nodding. Then he turned to look back at the laptop, and cocked an eyebrow. “Speaking of pictures...” he trailed off, which instantly put me on edge, and I quickly turned to follow his line of sight.
“Oh my god,” I stated, blandly, looking at the picture on the screen — it had to be at least five years old and my hair was a lot shorter — and dyed black. My eyes were also outlined in thick eyeliner, a la Alex, but it was still recognisably me. I’ll admit, I looked slightly tipsy — and was, too, judging from the bottle in my hands — but I did remember posing for it (and that it had been taken at Jack’s birthday party.) It wasn’t just me in the frame, though: fourteen year old Finley, all fresh-faced and, strangely, brown-haired, was by my side and had his arm around my shoulder, grinning, and Jack was behind us both with his hands on my hips, his head on top of Finley’s arm on my shoulder.
“You were all goth!” Gerard said, surprised. He stepped back, and looked between present me and the picture on the screen several times, then held up his hands in the shape of a photo-frame around me. “Wow. I didn’t think you could, but you totally rock the scary look. Hard to imagine, though...”
“Oh shut up,” I mumbled half-heartedly, about to add more when I was interrupted by Frank grabbing hold of my hands and jumping up and down.
“You must wear red lipstick again, dammit! Red lipstick! I demand red lipstick!”
I glared at him, yanking my hands away from his. “You shut up too!”
“How come you’re all boring and stuff now?” Frank asked, once he’d calmed down.
I sighed, scrolling down the page until the picture had disappeared. “Yeah, well, that was years ago. I grew out of it. Heck, that was when I dated Jack, for heaven’s sake!” Glancing up, and noticing the confused expressions, I explained, “Jack, as in SAYF’s drummer? We only dated for something like two weeks. If that. And the whole dark look lasted only a little longer than that.”
“You’re such a spoilsport,” Frank muttered, now reading the next few posts which had replaced the picture. “Although, I admit this must be kind of creepy. I don’t suppose you expected it...” he trailed off then, and a grin appeared on his face. “Oh, hey, look: you’re dating everyone! Or at least should, according to these posts.”
“What? Everyone?” I leaned forward to see what the hell he was talking about, reading through the posts.
reaperinsideyourcloset
Posts: 4
My friend said he’d heard she’s with Davey from Hello, Irony (and he’s upset with that, LOL)... any confirmation, guys?
Pink’s the Devil’s Color
Posts: 47
nah, he’s single… i dont know... i heard camerons with that guitarist dude from SAYF (finley?) they’ve been spotted together quite a lot.
Selenia
Posts: 56
Is it a sin to be just friends now? I have loads of male friends who I’m, strangely, not dating. Whoopty doo dah.
reaperinsideyourcloset
Posts: 5
True, just wanted to see if anybody knew the truth tbh.
theSwordandtheFaith
Posts: 18
Agreed. We’re here for the music not the drama. Even if the drama is a nice bonus ;) And anyway she’s been spotted with loads of the band members — that’s her job after all! I’m still holding out for some Zacky/Cameron love though. Or at least Davey/Cameron, if not Davey/Liza (they’d be amazing together so don’t deny it). But yeah bring on the Zameron/Davron!<3
HELL-o-Irony
Posts: 27
Zacky Piestewa? He was dating a guy called Marc last time I heard. Although I did hear they broke up.... no official word yet. But anyway I’m all for Jack Grant/Cam.. Jam anyone? That’s an awesome couple name if I’ve ever heard one. It’s not that farfetched either since she’s the lead singer’s sister, right? So they probably know each other already. Same with Red/Cameron.....
Oh and Davey/Liza is my OTP. You can tell they like each other a little more than friends from interviews. The way he looks at her.. And they even live in the same house already apparently… IT’S ONLY A MATTER OF TIME ;D
“Oh dear lord...” I said in response, pressing my hand to my mouth to hide the fact I was about to burst into giggles. Apparently this conversation had been going on a while, and even if I hadn’t read the other posts I could gather they were all in the same vein. It was amusing to me, that anyone would find me interesting enough to discuss in the first place; let alone wonder about my love life (or, at the moment, lack thereof.) “I like that Selenia one. But other than that... well, putting it nicely, they’re quite inventive, huh?”
“I don’t see why we haven’t been paired together,” Frank said, frowning slightly, and apparently too caught up on his lack of mention to reply to me. “Everyone but me. It’s always everyone and me. Especially with guys. What gives? Why do they leave me out this time, when it’s a girl? Oh, don’t give me that look... we’d be a hot couple. You know we would.”
I shook my head, moving away and holding up my hands in an exaggerated display of rejection. “No. No no no no. Stick with Jamia, Frank,” I said with a sigh. “You know our love never can and never will be.”
“Fine. I suppose I should stick with my lovely girlfriend... she is the love of my life, after all.” He paused and looked thoughtful for few seconds, until breaking out into a huge grin. “At least, until Gerard stops exploring Narnia with Lucy and the gang. Then, we shall elope and have babies, somehow, because we’d have awesome kids who could beat up everyone else’s kids. Alicia and Mikey can be our kid’s godparents.”
“You’ve put a lot of thought into that, haven’t you?” I mused, and the guitarist nodded. I found it quite funny. However, his mini-speech earned a glare from Gerard.
“No. Stop it. Don’t encourage them,” he said, looking distinctly pained.
“Encourage them?” I said, slightly incredulously. “You’re the one who gropes him publicly.”
“And enjoys it,” Frank added with a wink.
Gerard laughed, albeit slightly resignedly. “Only a little...”
“I honestly don’t know whether you guys are kidding or not sometimes,” I said, shaking my head and walking past to the kitchenette area if only to get away from them both. Once I got there, though, I paused, wondering whether it would be weird to actually get something to eat. I knew, somewhere, there must be some kind of snack tucked away — and my brain was most definitely craving unhealthy snacks, which really wasn’t all that different from normal. I shrugged and then started searching the cupboards, and quickly stumbled upon gold — donuts! “Yes!” I exclaimed as I happily gathered the packet up and then walked back to them again. “Anyone up for—”
I stopped dead and stared at Frank, who was brandishing something which looked all too familiar. “Is that lipstick?” I asked suspiciously.
He nodded and bounded forward. “Yes, it is. Hold still, I wanna see you with red lipstick again.”
“Why do you even have lipstick?” I demanded, ignoring his instructions in favour of ducking away and staring at him, wide-eyed.
“I dunno. I think it’s Jamia’s... or Gerard’s, perhaps,” he said with a small smirk, and then he gave me a pleading look. “C’mon, don’t ruin the fun. I’ll put some on if you do.” He laughed and I hesitated for a moment longer, then I relented with a sigh, letting him lean forward and apply the lipstick. I rolled my eyes to the side at the brilliant grin that lit up his face, landing on an amused looking Gerard standing nearby. When I tried to pull a face at him Frank tutted and poked my cheek. “Stay still, moron.”
“You’re so rude,” I complained, as he nodded in approval and then turned to Gerard, proudly.
“What do you think?”
“I think you’re way too good at putting on lipstick, Frank,” he replied dryly. “Although I really shouldn’t be surprised by now, I know.”
“What, no clown comments? At least a baby hooker one?” I demanded with a slight pout. “No, of course not. It’s all Frank Frank Frank in this bus.”
“Aw, I’m sorry,” Gerard replied sarcastically, zeroing on the things I was now holding and smiling widely. “Hand over the donuts and I’ll worship the ground you walk on, how’s that?”
I sighed and handed him the donuts, and watched him um and ah over which one to pick before turning back to Frank and pointing at the lipstick he was still holding. “You have to put some on now, because you promised,” I said, and he grinned, apparently not finding the prospect all that bad. I didn’t even have to threaten him with violence (except glare at him when he used the lipstick to put two red streaks on his cheeks, a la war paint) and he soon had cherry red lips to match my own.
Gerard was distracted by the treats, still, since he didn’t notice this until I called his name. He glanced up, and his eyes went wide when he took in Frank and me, and then he started laughing. Hard. “Okay, now I get to make a clown comment, because that’s what you look like Frankie,” he managed to say after he’d stifled his laughter enough. “Seriously? I hope you’re not planning on going outside with that shit on.”
Frank pulled a face. “Maybe I am, maybe I’m not,” he declared.
~*~
Later that day, I found myself on SAYF’s bus enjoying pizza — or at least trying to. Finley seemed to have made it his sole objective to annoy everyone that day, and it was working. Red had already walked out, muttering something about murder under his breath, and Jack hadn’t even turned up yet, so there was only Finley, Alex and me left. Finley had found a pack of cards from somewhere, and was having a half-hearted game of Go Fish with Alex, who was too busy trying to watch the TV — set on some music channel — at the same time to pay attention.
“Have you got any threes?” Finley asked for about the fifth time, snapping his fingers in Alex’s face when she didn’t respond, which made her jump. At her blank expression, he sighed. “Oh, fuck you. I win. By default.”
“Amazing victory there, Fin,” I teased, going to take the last slice of pizza. He beat me to it, snatching it from right under my fingers and giving me a triumphant grin as he stuffed the whole thing in his mouth.
“I am the master of Go Fish,” he said, speaking around the slice of pizza. I flinched back from the spittle flying from his mouth. “And Alex is...”
“Careful,” Alex said in warning, holding up a finger. “Don’t make me hurt you.”
“... Alex is a black hole,” he finished. Noticing our confused looks, he sighed once more, apparently annoyed himself that we didn’t seem to understand his wit. “She sucks,” he clarified.
“Oh.”
Alex glared at him, and then threw the cards she was holding in his face and stood up. “I’m going to bed. Screw you, Fin.”
I laughed, watching her stalk off, and then turned to the guitarist. He didn’t look that put out, calmly picking up the cards from the floor and putting them back into neat stacks. When that was done, he got to his feet to and headed into the tiny kitchenette area, taking our plates and the empty pizza box with him.
“Oi, Fin!” I said, suddenly, looking intently at the TV, where a pretty blonde, clutching a microphone, was walking around a space I recognised as the field which had been transformed into the backstage area of the Whiteout tour’s stop in Glasgow. I remembered something that Finley had mentioned earlier about SAYF’s first interview set to air tonight — the whole reason we were actually really on this TV channel to start with. “Is this that interview you were talking about?”
He walked back over, and then nodded. “Yup. I think we got interviewed after... SoundinSpace, I think. Or perhaps Asthma Chimp.”
I raised an eyebrow at the second band’s name — Asthma Chimp? Seriously? — but I was too distracted by the fact that I’d just spied a familiar head of black and red hair to care. “Hey, that’s Alex!” I said, pointing at the screen.
“Well, no duh,” Finley replied, sitting down on the seats next to me. “She is kind of a part of the band, after all.”
On screen Alex had just grabbed hold of Red and dragged him, forcibly, into view of the camera, at least judging by her grip on his jacket and his sullen expression, and Jack had just appeared by her side too. The blonde interviewer was saying something, but then a yell interrupted her and Finley came flying into the frame as he flung himself at Alex, grinning. I turned to Finley sat next to me.
“Really, Fin? Really?”
He just grinned, eerily alike to the expression his on screen version was sporting, and I turned my full attention back to the interview. For it being their first interview, especially with a camera, it was with surprising calmness that they reacted to the questions. Alex answered the majority of them, and Red seemed to be trying to blend into the background — he’d never been very comfortable around cameras — and when the interviewer turned to him for input, he mumbled something vaguely related under his breath, whilst Finley — still looking as excited as hell, like normal — laughed and repeated it.
“So, guys... the name... can you explain it for our viewers?” The interviewer asked, now off camera.
“Um...” Alex looked to Jack, and then to Finley, with a small shrug. “I suppose you should ask Fin. He came up with it.”
“It’s a Michael Jackson song,” Finley answered promptly when the microphone was handed to him. “I am definitely a huge fan and this song came on the radio when I was brainstorming name ideas — back when it was just Alex and I — and the line just stuck out to me. And there was this really evil manipulative girl called Susie at my school, so that’s also a reason.”
“Oh, and there’s the acronym,” Alex added, laughing. “We used to joke, if we got ever got big, our fansite would have to be called Susie Ain’t Your Friend United, ’cus the letters spell out SAYFU.”
“Yeah, I remember that,” Jack said, shaking his head. “I joined after they decided on the name, when they wanted a drummer, and it just stuck.”
“Right. Well, I must say, it’s a bit of a mouthful. Do you call yourselves anything else?”
“We call ourselves awesome,” Finley said, cutting off Alex.
She sighed before she answered, flicking his shoulder with her index finger. “That, or SAYF. Or Susie.”
“Okay. Whilst I have you’re all here, can you confirm a release date for the follow-up to your EP? It’s caused quite a stir in the music world, so far,” the interview said after a small pause. No doubt she’d been hoping for something a bit more gossip-worthy in the interview — I could hear in the way she said the question she was bored. I refrained from sticking my tongue out at the screen, as much as I wanted to, instead delving a hand into the bowl of sweets I’d only just noticed Finley had brought back and popping a few into my mouth.
“Mhm, we were thinking around 2020,” Jack replied with a sarcastic little smirk.
Alex elbowed him in the ribs, twisting slightly to do so because he’d moved backwards since he’d joined the little group and was now standing next to the still-sulking Red. “Don’t be an idiot, Jack,” she said, rolling her eyes half-heartedly. “We were actually thinking around July.”
“Awesome! I have a few questions from — ” The interviewer was cut off by a yell and a sudden blur of black and orange, when Liza ran into view and threw herself at Finley, bringing them both to the ground with a thud. I winced, noticing Finley’s now shocked and pained expression, turning to the real-life Finley for explanation. He pressed a finger to his lips and pointed at the screen, and then grabbed another handful of the sweets.
“What the fuck?!” Alex yelled in response to the events, her eyes wide as she took in the sight of her friend with the orange-haired singer on top of him on the ground. I heard laughing from off-camera which seemed strangely familiar, and then Frank — the source of the laughter, of course he was — walked over and helped Liza to her feet, leaving Finley laying on the grass, glaring up at the both of them.
“Thanks, Liza,” Frank said. “And Finley, that was payback by the way.”
“Payback for what?” He demanded, scrambling to his feet and brushing down his skinny black jeans.
“Daring Liza to flatten me before,” Frank replied, sticking his tongue out in a distinctly childish fashion, before turning to face the camera. Guessing from his sudden surprised expression he obviously hadn’t realized that they were being filmed. He cocked an eyebrow and looked around the group. “Did I interrupt something?” He asked.
“Yes,” Alex said sharply, sounding distinctly pissed. “You did.”
The interviewer, on the other hand, sounded delighted. “Frank Iero! This is a surprise,” she said, shoving a microphone in his direction. “Can I ask you how the tour’s been so far?”
I couldn’t help but think that the alarmed, wide-eyed look which came onto Frank’s face was as funny as hell, but then, as he opened his mouth to answer the question he stopped and grinned, brilliantly. He walked forward, out of the view of the camera, and I heard somebody shout “Not cool, man!” before he was back, with Gerard in tow being dragged unwillingly with him.
“How about you ask my friend Gerard here,” he suggested, looking relieved. “He’s much more interesting to listen to.” He nodded, then turned and quickly walked off, leaving the bemused looking Gerard staring at the interviewer, with the members of SAYF staring at him in turn.
“Um... well...” Finley said finally, alternating looking between the camera and the singer. “Hi, Gerard?”
The awkwardness was quickly added to when Liza, who’d sort of disappeared into the background up to that point, apparently got tired of being ignored, because she threw her arms around Gerard and laid her head on his shoulder. “Gee, honey! Whatcha doin’ here?” She demanded.
He turned to look at the singer now clinging to him, and shrugged. “I was getting coffee...” he explained, sounding confused. “And then... well, um, now I’ve been kidnapped, apparently? I guess Frank really didn’t want to get interviewed...”
When the interviewer seemed to realise her luck, turning her whole attention to the much more famous Liza York and Gerard Way and starting to interview them instead, I got to my feet. Noticing this, Finley shot me a curious look. “I’m just going to the bathroom,” I explained with a teasing smile. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna abandon you, too.”
I headed to the bathroom in question, which was right at the end of the bus, and found that the bathroom door was closed. I was about to turn and walk back when I heard a noise which made me pause. It sounded a lot like somebody retching. Worried, I knocked on the door. It could only be Alex in there, since everyone else was either in the front, in Finley’s case, or out. “Hey, sis, you okay?” I called through the door.
There was a small groan from inside, and then the sound of Alex getting to her feet and flushing the toilet. “I’m fine,” she replied. I wasn’t too convinced, considering how weak-sounding her voice came out.
“Sure?” I asked. “Do you need anything?”
“I’m fine,” she repeated, stressing the last word. A few seconds later she unlocked the door and opened it, pushing her hair back behind her ears. I looked her up and down, frowning slightly. She didn’t look that bad, but her skin was paler than usual and she had a small grimace on her face.
“You know, it sounded a lot like you just threw up,” I said finally, “which makes me think you’re not okay at all.”
She smiled reassuringly, which didn’t look right on her paler than normal face. “It’s just a stupid stomach bug,” she explained. “I’ve been a bit woosy all day but I think the pizza just pushed it over the edge.”
“Oh.” I thought back — she hadn’t really eaten that much pizza, only a slice, and the explanation of feeling sick fit. She hadn’t been looking all too peppy lately. “If you keep feeling sick, you need to go see a doctor or something,” I warned, following her as she walked back to her bunk.
She turned around and I saw the look of disgust appear on her face. I knew already, from experience, that she hated doctors, and that was why she was suddenly frowning. “No, I don’t,” she replied.
“I know you don’t like ’em, but, sis, it’s not good if you’re sick. You can’t perform if you’re in bed, can you?” I gave her a hard look, trying to smile calmingly at the same time — and probably failing, categorically. “Promise me you’ll go if you feel any worse?”
She sighed, reluctantly. “Only if I feel really bad,” she agreed.
“Good.”
She leant down and grabbed a suitcase from under her bunk, hauling it onto her mattress before unzipping it and quickly drawing her t-shirt off and throwing it into the corner of the bunk. I pulled a face at this, despite the fact she was wearing a vest underneath, and then she plucked an old, ratty-looking The Sounds shirt, which I recognised as one of the ones she wore to bed, out of the bag and slid it on. Noticing her look, she stuck her tongue out at me, and I sighed, turning to go back to the bathroom. Then I paused and swivelled around and look at her again. I’d just realised I had the perfect opportunity to tease her, so who was I to pass it up?
“Hey, Alex,” I said, lightly. She looked up and I grinned devilishly. “You didn’t get knocked up, did ya?”
The look which made its way onto her face at my words was priceless, and I really wished I had my camera with me. A horrified grimace with her eyes widened dramatically. “No! I didn’t!” She snapped, picking up a pillow from her bed and throwing it at my head. I ducked away and it hit me on the arm instead. “You’re a bitch, Cam!”
“Takes one to know one,” I shouted back as I finally ducked into the bathroom.