Collision

“Hold on, did you say you can’t cook?” I asked, turning to Gerard and raising an eyebrow.

After a few thrilling battles of Guitar Hero, in which I lost every time, and then an hour or so of trying to find something to do, I’d finally decided that I was bored and hungry. Or perhaps I was hungry because I was bored. I was trying to find something to eat which didn’t take too much work, and something which would last between five people (sometime during the Guitar Hero tournament Bob and Ray had joined us, although there still was no sign of Mikey.)

“I can make... ready-meals?” he offered, from his position sitting on the table (rather than, of course, the seats, because that would be too normal.)

“Aren’t you like, part Italian or something? Surely your ancestors are rolling over in their graves.”

He made face at this. “I’m also part Scottish. Do you know what the Scottish gave us in terms of cooking? Stuffing all the insides of an animal into its stomach, and then eating it. And dessert made out of blood.”

I laughed slightly, along with Frank and Bob, but then shook my head. “Actually, blood pudding, which I gather you’re referring to, is actually a sausage. Made out of blood.”

“My point stands. I can’t cook.” He shrugged.

“How about you guys?” I asked, turning to the others. A lot of head shakes and more shrugs. “God, how do you guys survive?”

“Take-out,” Frank answered promptly, as if it was obvious. “It’s the best invention since sliced... actually, it’s better than sliced bread. Who the hell only wants to eat sliced bread?”

“And catering,” Ray added. “Although, there’s none going on tonight, right? They actually expect us to survive by ourselves.”

I gave up. “Fine, let’s order pizza, then,” I said, taking a seat at the table again, and pushing Gerard off so I could still actually see the others. I couldn't really say no to a delicious takeaway pizza, considering all I'd eaten today was a few stolen bites. Then I considered where we were. “Wait, how do you order a pizza to a tour bus?”

“Watch and learn,” Frank said, standing up and pulling out his mobile — an iPhone. I wrinkled my nose. I hated smartphones. They were so overrated, and especially the iPhone since it had only come out a few months ago. I’d had to suffer through weeks of Alex’s sulking when mother had refused to buy her one.

He dialled a number and held it up to his ear. “What do you guys want?”

“Stuffed crust!”

“Spicy beef!”

“Bacon double-cheeseburger!” I gave Gerard a look for that suggestion — Who the hell eats bacon double-cheeseburger pizzas? Do they even exist? — but he just grinned.

When the order had been sorted out, Frank sat back down again, and I realized he hadn’t even needed to look up the number of the pizza takeaway which he’d phoned, which I found kind of strange. “Hey, did you actually already have the number of a pizza place here memorized?” I asked him. “Because… you just knew it.” Everyone laughed.

“Frank does his research when it comes to food,” Gerard explained. “I’m pretty sure he knows the number for a pizza place in every city we’re going to.”

Frank chuckled. “Almost. I’ve forgotten the one in Leeds.”

I really hoped he was kidding.

Later, after the pizza had been finished, and our bellies were full of cheesy deliciousness — and I’d learned that Frank was a vegetarian (Red would totally be happy to hear that. He was always whining about being surrounded by murderous carnivores) — we were sitting around in the lounge area at the very back of the bus, drinking beer and chatting happily. There was no real structure to our conversations, and everyone was jumping from topic to topic at an insane pace.

I’d attempted to leave about five minutes ago myself, but Frank had complained that I was no fun and that I should stay for another round of drinks. So I’d sat back down on a seat, curling my legs up underneath me to keep my feet warm, and rejoined the conversation. Now, the three guys were debating who would win in a fight: Godzilla or a ninja. I wasn’t sure where that topic of conversation had come from, but it was certainly amusing. Especially to my slightly tipsy state of mind.

“Ninja all the fucking way,” I said, thinking this was a ridiculous debate anyway. Obviously it was ninjas. “Have you seen those guys? They’re all, swoop, NINJA KICK! You’re fuckin’ dead!”

“I’m with Cam!” Bob said, nodding enthusiastically. It was probably the most enthusiastic I'd seen him act. “Those dudes come out of nowhere. They’re like Chuck Norris.”

“Yeah, but Godzilla is huge! He’s bigger than a skyscraper!” That was Frank, who was cradling probably his fourth beer, and he looked a little bleary-eyed now.

“Size doesn’t matter. It’s what you do with it that does.” I giggled at the idea.

“You can’t argue with that.” Ray laughed, taking a sip of his drink. “Hey, what about Batman versus a ninja?”

After we’d decided for sure that Batman would win, even against a ninja, because he’s Batman, I got up to get another few beers from the fridge (apparently the person who did the grocery shopping took into account it was a bus full of guys.)

When I returned, I found Frank reading from a sheet of paper. I learned over his shoulder to see what it was, and when I recognized it as the papers Mallory had handed me earlier, I frowned.

“Hey, that’s private,” I said, trying to take it back. He was too fast though, quickly snatching it away.

“Have you read this yet Cam? It’s hilarious!” he said, grin firmly in place. “Look, at this one: you will be expected to help maintain a clean environment for the bands, as needed. You’re basically our maid if we want!”

“Some of us have to earn our keep the good old fashioned way,” I replied snarkily, and when I went to grab it again this time I succeeded. “I’m not gonna be cleaning up after you. You’re big boys now, I’m sure you can learn how to work a vacuum.”

“No, those things are way too fucking complicated. Hey, you can start by cleaning my bunk if you want,” Frank said.

“What’s this about cleaning bunks?” Gerard asked, as he jumped the last few steps of the staircase and walked into the back of the bus. “You can do mine if you want, Cam.”

“I am not cleaning anyone’s bunk!” I snapped, handing out the beers to the others. They laughed. I took a seat next to Bob and turned to Gerard. “Have you even used yours yet?” Then I thought about the question. “… actually, scratch that, I don’t want to know.”

Gerard chuckled, looking even more amused when I wrinkled my nose up slightly. “It’s okay, it’s better left unsaid. Anyone got any diet coke?” he asked, looking around. Ray nodded and threw a bottle in his general direction, which managed to sail right over his shoulder and hit the ground. “Oh, thanks Ray,” he said sarcastically, turning around to grab it. “I do like my coke explosive.”

“Glad to help,” Ray replied.

“So what have you guys got up to in the five minutes I was away?” Gerard asked, having retrieved the coke. He was holding it rather gingerly, like it would burst open at any moment. I didn’t blame him really, I’d had enough run ins with shaken up coke to be cautious myself.

“We debated whether Batman would be able to beat a ninja,” Bob informed him. “And talked about our plan for the zombie apocalypse.”

“It involves cupcakes and Lightsabers!” I said, laughing as I opened my beer and took a long sip. I didn't even drink much beer, but hey, I was slightly tipsy and having fun.

Gerard looked like he didn’t know whether to laugh or shake his head. “I thought I was meant to be the nerd here. And anyway, how are you gonna fight off zombies with cupcakes? You need rock cakes for that.”

Frank shook his head. “No, we’re gonna kill them with deliciousness,” he said seriously.

“Yeah, it’ll make their heads explode. Wanna be our test subject, Gee?” I asked, smirking. “We need someone without a brain.”

“That’s not very nice. I’m the only reason you’re here, Cam, stealing my friends and drinking my beer.” Gerard poked his tongue out.

I’m pretty sure everyone in this bus had a mental age about half that of their actual age, because there had been an insane about of childish insults and reactions this evening.

“You don’t even drink beer — HEY, Frank, give that back!” I yelled, noticing the guitarist had taken the paper from my lap and was reading through it again.

“Ha, this one is the best one yet!” He said, jumping to his feet and holding it above his head to read it. “If required you must be willing to take on odd jobs, such as merch-selling and running errands. This includes errands for the bands. We can make you fetch coffee! And candy!”

“Oh, goodie. I’m glad you’re so excited of the prospect of making me your slave,” I said flatly, standing up myself and snatching it out of his hands. I was about an inch taller than him, so holding it above his head didn’t do much to prevent me.

“Huh. I do need someone to do my washing,” Gerard mused.

I glared at him. “Hell, here’s a shocking idea... you can do it yourself.”

“Ooh, touchy,” he said with a snort, walking over and holding the coke bottle over Ray’s head as he went to open it. Ray jumped back, knocking it out of Gerard’s hands as he did so, and the bottle went flying again. I burst out laughing at the stormy look on Gerard’s face as he picked it up and threw it at Ray, then stalked through to the kitchen and returned with a fresh one.

Ray was rubbing his shoulder where he’d been hit by the bottle projectile. “That hurt, you dick!”

“Good. Serves you right,” Gerard said, opening his new coke to take a sip.

Ray grumbled under his breath, muttering something about acting childishly, and then his phone started ringing so he pulled it out. “Oh, it’s Christa,” he said, cheering up immensely as he answered it and walked away.

“Who’s Christa?” I asked the group as a whole.

“Girlfriend,” Frank replied.

I frowned. “How is it I’m the only single one in a bus full of people who act like two-year-olds?”

“Because we’re sexy rockstars,” Frank replied, completely deadpan, but his smirk betrayed his true nature.

“That is so not fair,” I replied, shaking my head. I glanced at the clock, and suddenly realised the time. “I should be going, though. It’s getting kind of late and I think Alex would kill me if she knew where I’d been all evening. It was nice hanging out with you guys,” I added, smiling and standing up.

I grabbed my hoodie from where I’d put it down earlier as they said their goodbyes, before I walked off the bus and over to mine. When I knocked on the door, Chantel answered it.

“Where have you been?” she asked, curiously, as I walked past her inside.

“MCR’s bus,” I answered, glancing about. They’d obviously made themselves at home already, judging from the takeaway boxes scattered around and the rumpled blankets on the sofa. Elijah waved at me from the kitchenette, where he had his head stuck in the fridge. I hoped he was searching for something and not just doing that for fun.

“Oh, are they nice?” Chantel asked. I nodded.

“Yeah, they’re all pretty cool. Where’s Genie?”

“She’s in the back with her girlfriend. I’d not go back there if you want to keep your innocence intact.”

“Girlfriend?” I said, turning around and looking at Chantel.

“Yeah, her name’s Karen. She’s really sweet. Works in admin. You know, planning and stuff. They’ve been together for like, two years now.” Chantel pulled her hair back into a ponytail as she spoke, tying it with a band from her wrist. “You want to do something? I hear there’s a party over on the SoundinSpace bus.”

“That’s super cute.” I picked up a half-empty coke from the table and took a sip. “I think I’m gonna have a nap. Grandma Cam needs her beauty sleep.”

~*~

“This is totally not fair, Ant!” I yelled at Chantel’s retreating back, but she didn’t turn around and all I got for my trouble was a flippant middle finger. I was pissed. The next morning, I’d come to check up on her (like a nice person), perhaps offer her some coffee and company, and then she’d told me I got to take over her joyful job of selling merchandise because she was bored and wanted a break. And then she’d said that she was slightly more senior than me and I had to do what she said when I complained that I didn’t want to do it.

I sighed, turning to Elijah, who, despite being a tech guy, had also been roped in to sell things to the people walking about. “So what booth are we at?” I asked, resigned to my fate.

“We get to do Hello, Irony! I know, I know, it’s exciting,” he said flatly. He motioned that I should follow him, and then lead me to a white tent which had ’Hello, Irony’ emblazoned on the side in five foot tall letters with their logo. At least it was hard to miss. I followed him through the back, past stacked boxes of products (what ever happened to security?), to the inside. There was already a crowd gathering, despite the fact it was nine in the morning and freezing cold. I’d wrapped up even more than usual today, but it was only just working. I’d seen a girl in shorts earlier and I wondered whether she was insane or if she had a death-wish.

I took my position behind the table, and started serving people. It certainly wasn’t the most thrilling job ever, but Elijah kept me amused enough with his random observations and comments (and they were random: ’I wonder what would happen if you crossed a raptor and a goose? Of course I know raptors are extinct, but hypothetically...’)

And I spent some of my time making paper snowflakes to hang up, since I complained the tent was way too bland and bare. A random girl joined in, along with about five of her mates, and soon we ended up with a hell of a lot of snowflakes. Elijah strung them up, but I didn’t get to help because I had to start serving again. I met a few really nice people though, and by time I took my first break I was feeling a lot better. I ran into Alex when I went outside for a smoke, and quickly hid the pack behind my back, out of her vision.

“Heya!” I said brightly. “Where have you been?”

“Practice,” she said, making a face like it was the worst thing in the world. “I got to talk to Liza, though. She said she’ll watch our set at twelve.”

“Really? That’s pretty cool.” I grinned, sliding the cigarettes back into my back pocket. I didn’t want to encourage her to smoke, which her seeing me doing it certainly would. “D’ya want me to come too?”

“Of course!” She looked at me like I was crazy. “You’re my sister!”

“Just checking it’s not lame or something. You never know with teenagers,” I teased, stuffing my hands in my hoodie. “Anything else exciting?”

“Oh yeah! There’s one other thing,” she said, her grin widening to almost manic proportions. “We got our first review! Look!” She waved a magazine I hadn’t noticed she was holding.

“Woah, seriously? Let me see!” I said, excited, because who wouldn’t be? I’d never thought that SAYF would get big enough to have a music review in a proper magazine. She handed me the rolled up magazine, and I quickly flipped through it to the right page, which had a corner folded down. I read through the review, and raised an eyebrow.

’From all the buzz surrounding newcomers Susie Ain’t Your Friend (a nod, I assume, towards Michael Jackson’s less popular song ’Blood on the Dancefloor’, which includes the lines ’Susie got your number/and Susie ain’t your friend/look who dug you under/seven inches in’) I was expecting great things when I first listened their EP — great, earth-moving things.

And I can’t say I was totally disappointed. Although the oldest member, Jack Grant (drummer), is just twenty-four, and Alex Martinez (vocals) has only broke the age it’s legal to party down and party hard last month, their songs speak of age-old topics — namely: death, love, hate, drugs and vampires. And whilst these are usually cliché songwriting fallbacks, they pull it off well.

Their lead single, You’re Goin’ Down, is a guitar-shredding revenge rock anthem, and it invokes fond memories with its thrillingly-abrasive vocals. The fact that there’s more whimsically-titled songs like Can You See Them Chasing Us Down? Are They Shaking Their Fists? (a title certainly worthy of bands like Fall Out Boy and Panic at the Disco) only serves to enhance the atmosphere of the EP.

The last track on the EP, titled SILENCE (in all upper-case, no less), comes across a feisty punk-rock homage to songs which were most likely in the charts the days the band members were born. It’s not new or ground-breaking and it’s not bringing down any barriers in music, but it’s familiar and it’s well done. Everything seems like the 90’s over again, from the arrangements, production and even songwriting. But then again, supported behind-the-scenes by the guy, Carlos Mallory, who brought us major alternative rockstars the likes of Pretty in Death, CONTRAband and Vaudeville, it’s something you should expect.

So, whilst some may criticize the band for the lack of variety on the raucous, almost-feverish EP (which may leave you feeling exhausted by the end of just six songs), I think that they have a lot of potential and energy ready to burst forth. I may speak so soon, but I believe we have some modern day rockstars in the making here.

I’ll certainly be buying their full album when it comes out. Will you?’

As I finished the review, I smiled, pleased to see that they were getting recognition now. “That’s a pretty nice review.” I handed the magazine back, and she nodded. “Although, it doesn’t even mention Red or Finley.”

“Yeah, and they basically called my songwriting unoriginal,” she said with a sniff. “Still, it’s good, right? And it’s by Nicky Pope. She’s like, the goddess of what to and what not to listen to. Mallory says it’s a great thing for our PR.”

“Well, congratulations,” I said, laughing softly at her reaction. “Still, I have to get back to work. Have fun, lil’ sis.”

“Don’t call me lil’ sis,” she yelled as I turned around and walked back into the tent. “It’s not funny!”

For some reason, her affronted tone made me laugh even harder.

When twelve came around, and I’d spent three hours doing merchandise, I told Elijah I was going to see SAYF perform. He gave me his blessing, saying he was going to get some others to fill in soon so he could go take a break himself. I was slightly sweaty from the amount of lifting and carrying I’d had to do, not to mention the amount of people crowded in the tent — it was actually pretty warm in there are a few hours — but I didn’t have time to change so instead I just pushed my fringe out of my eyes and ran towards the side-stage that had been set up.

Already the crowds were forming, but as crew I had the "privilege" of staying under the gazebo-type tent that had been set up next to the stage, where the bands could hang about. Only a few people were there already, although nobody I recognized, so I took a drink from the table to quench my thirst, and then found an empty folding chair to sit on.

I could see Alex nearby, and gave her my thumbs up — in return I got a shaky smile. Finley seemed to have made it his job to calm her down, since he was laughing and talking to her at a speed of about one hundred miles per hour.

“Boo!” Somebody yelled behind me, which startled me so much I nearly fell off my seat. I frowned, turning around, and glaring at Gerard, who was standing behind me, doing his best to look nonchalant and chewing gum. Liza was next to him, a cap jammed on her head which for the most part hid her bright hair. Apparently they’d made up after their little spat yesterday.

“Dick,” I muttered, acidly. “You really need to stop trying to make me have a heart attack.” I stood up, putting my finished drink to the side. “How’re you both?”

Liza shrugged in response. “Good. Kind of pissed with Zacky though after this morning. He thought it would be funny to hide my hair gel.” She motioned at her covered hair. “So I haven’t been able to style my hair at all.”

“Ah. Zacky being?”

“Hello, Irony’s guitarist. You really don’t get out much do you, Cam?” Gerard teased.

Liza pulled a face. “Yeah, Zachary Piestewa is our guitarist. The little immature bastard.”

“Piestwhat?” I tried to say, confused.

Gerard laughed, and Liza grinned even more. “Piestewa. He’s got, like, some Native American blood or something. Don’t ask me!” She threw up her hands. “So you’re Alex’s sister, right?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Is she still bugging you?”

“Nah, it’s cool. She’s really nice. And apparently really talented, according to Gerard here.” She reached over and took a drink for herself, and then turned to the stage. “Oh, look, they’re going on now!”

I turned back around, going to stand next to Gerard where I could see the stage the best. She was right, I could see the instruments all set up and Jack and Red and Finley all in their spots. And then Alex ran on, and I couldn’t help but laugh at how she introduced them (’Hey y’all, we’re Susie Ain’t Your Friend... and we’re here to steal your fucking souls!’) before they launched into their first song.

When I heard quiet giggles in a break between songs I turned my head to the side. There were a couple of teenagers gathered, beyond the fence. One girl, grinning wildly, had a camera out, and was holding it up and pointing it in our direction. “You’re being filmed,” I said to Gerard and Liza, and nodded that way.

Gerard turned around, looking straight at the girl (who quickly tried to look innocent) and waved enthusiastically in her direction. “So we are,” he said, elbowing Liza. “Don’t be rude, say hi.” He laughed.

Liza smirked slightly, one corner of her lips turning up. “Okay!”

I expected her to turn around and wave like Gerard had, but of course that would be too predictable. She walked over to the fence, and jumped up onto a table so she could lean over. “Oi, you!” She yelled at the teenagers. The girl filming looked freaked out, as if she was not sure whether to stay or bolt. “Gee told me to come say hi,” Liza continued. She paused, and then waved. “Hi!”

They started laughing. The filming girl moved forward. It was hard to hear the rest of their exchange from where I was, since the girl was speaking so quietly, but I saw Liza nod and say something else, and then a few minutes later she hopped down off the fence and sauntered back over.

“Her name is Lacey,” she informed us. She looked at me. “She said to say hello and that she really likes your hair.”

“Uh, thanks?”

There was a pause, and then SAYF started to play once more.

When I glanced over, I saw Gerard grinning. “Hey, that’s one of our songs!”

“What?” Then I realized he was listening carefully to the song SAYF had started playing, and I cocked my head to the side, listening hard myself. “Oh my god! It is!” I couldn’t remember the name, but I knew the tune from the concert I’d gone to. “What’s that one called?”

“It’s Give ’Em Hell, Kid,” Liza answered as Alex looked over at us and winked.

“This one is dedicated to my friends,” she yelled. “Let’s give ’em hell, guys.”

Then she launched into the first verse. She was playing up for the crowd, obviously having fun — and Finley, like usual, was having fun himself, getting too close to her and pulling faces behind her back when he had a free hand, even though Red kept giving him hard ’quit-it’ stares. Alex seemed to have clued in to what he was doing, though, because the next time he came up behind her she kicked his leg and he spent a few seconds hopping around, trying not to lose time in the song.

“She’s not half-bad,” Gerard said, mirroring my thoughts, as we watched Alex bounce around the stage with her stupid amount of energy. At this point, she’d managed to climb some of the support scaffolding, and was hanging off the side with one arm to sing. “Obviously, not as good as me. I’m the master. But, hey, for a girl.”

I half-laughed, half-giggled at the way he scrunched up his face. “Jealous?” I questioned, nudging his side with my elbow.

“Noooo, never,” he replied. “You have a really bony elbow.”

“Well, it is a bone. I’d be kind of worried if my elbow wasn’t bony, honestly.”

“She’s got a point,” Liza said, swaying side-to-side, which I wasn’t sure whether she realized she was doing, and miming along with the words. “It’s kinda necessary for bones to be bony.”

“Are you two going to gang up on me all the time?” he asked, looking alternately between us. I nodded.

“Pretty much. Sisters before misters, and all that.”

Liza nodded adamantly. “I like that.” She leaned over and held up a hand, which I promptly high-fived. I had a feeling I was gonna get one really well with Liza. She had the same slightly rude but well-meaning humour as me.

“I’m feeling slightly left out here,” Gerard said, with a little frown. I smiled, grabbing another drink from the table and turned back to watch the stage, as they finished the last song.

Alex grinned, looking sweaty, tired and entirely blissed-out. Her hair was plastered to her forehead, and she had one arm wrapped around Finley, her head laid on his shoulder. “Thanks guys, you’ve been great! My name is Alex, and these sexy beasts are Finley, Red and Jack.” She pointed at them each in turn. “Come check us out at our booth later today.” She did a little mock-bow, then Finley grabbed her hand and pulled her off stage with him. They came running towards us, after Finley had carefully handed off his guitar to a waiting stage tech.

“Awesome show,” I said, hugging her and trying not to make a face at how sweaty she was.

She rolled her eyes. “Please, you lot were too busy arguing to pay much attention.”

“Well I liked our song,” Gerard said from beside me.

She could barely meet his eyes, which I found amusing. “Thanks,” she muttered. “I was so sure I was gonna screw it up.” Then she paused and narrowed her eyes, looking wary. “You’re not gonna sue us or anything, right?”

Gerard looked thoughtful, bringing his thumb up to his mouth. “Maybe for a couple of dollars. I really want a candy bar.”

“Oh, me too!” Finley said, jumping up and down in which I assumed was excitement at the prospect of yet more sugar for him to consume. I raised an eyebrow. He tried to copy me, but failed, settling for raising both at the same time. “Oh damn you lot and your magic eyebrows,” he muttered crossly. “How come it’s hard to do that but you guys wriggle them all the time?”

“Practice, my friend,” I said, nodding. “You guys make me raise my eyebrows way more than is normal.”

Liza, looking at Alex, frowned. “Hey, how come you didn’t do a Hello, Irony song if you did one from their shit band? I feel left out!”

Noticing the blush that decorated my sister’s normally pale cheeks, I realised quite quickly what her reasoning was. She was still in the stage of being absolutely, completely, irrevocably in love with the orange haired singer in an entirely platonic but none-the-less ridiculous way. “She’s too scared she’ll mess it up and you’ll hate her. Or something neurotic like that. Right Alex?”

“Pretty much,” she admitted, looking away quickly. I still noticed her mouth turn up in a half-smile. “Anyone up for those candy bars then?”

“Chocolate bar,” I corrected my sister, as normal. “You’re in England, doll.”

She rolled her eyes yet again, but said nothing as she tucked her fringe behind her multiple pierced and stretched ears. After a few seconds of thought, and several noises of agreement from the others at the thought of chocolate, I looked at Gerard. “Put this on,” I said, taking off my hoodie and handing it to him. “I don’t want to be chased by rabid fangirls if we’re going out there.”

“Eww, girl germs,” he said with a sniff, holding the hoodie away from his body in a two-finger grip. I sighed. Then, he slowly moved it closer. “It smells like cinnamon!” He exclaimed, looking happier. “I like cinnamon!” He grinned as he slid it on, and then looked surprised at the fact it actually fit. I wasn’t — it was one of the biggest ones I owned, and had actually been Red’s at one time. Before I’d stolen it.

“Very fetching,” Liza said, nodding, and pulled her cap down a little further to hide her hair even more, and her eyes too. It did quite a good job of disguising her.

Gerard flipped the hoodie up over his hair, pushing his fringe forward slightly to cover his eyes. “How do I look?” he asked, with a little twirl.

“Girly,” Finley offered, head titled slightly to the side.

“No, sexy,” Alex said, elbowing Finley hard in the ribs. I coughed, shooting her a warning look. Maybe it was overprotective of me, but she was eighteen and I wasn't gonna let her get her heart broken.

“Sexy and girly. Huh. I can rock that.” He nodded and turned to me. “Won’t you be cold now?”

“No, I got Fin,” I explained as I looped an arm around the guitarist’s waist, and Jack and Red finally walked over. Once I explained we were going to get some food, they both happily said they would join us.

Together, we walked back into the actual festival. It wasn’t as bad as I’d expected, since there were so many people it was easy to just blend in. A few curious glances were all we got, and one girl who stared for a long time, looking puzzled, before her friends dragged her off.

Apparently forgetting what we’d first gone looking for, Liza saw a shirt she liked and dragged our group over there (I wasn’t sure how it had happened, but apparently we were all linked together now, through various arms and hands and grips on wrists.) Alex was giving a hoodie a loving glance, so Finley bought that for her too. It was sweet, especially when she flipped out, squealed, and started dancing around Finley in circles.

Eventually we drifted towards the food section, and found a picnic table near trucks offering various sweets, candy, chocolate and hot food for sale. I stuck with a hot dog and sat on top of the table (with my feet on the seats) to enjoy it — despite Finley’s attempts to stuff cotton candy in my mouth (which, instead, ended up in my hair, and I yelled at him and hit him on the head with a ketchup bottle in revenge.)

Jack soon joined me in the hot food front, sitting down next to me at the table with his chips, whilst the others found various perches and shared the mini-army worth of sweets they’d bought.

Gerard came under siege from Finley’s cotton candy attacks next, and futilely he tried to dodge and run away. He also tried to use Liza as a human shield, but she simply ducked away and Alex went to grab hold of him to help Finley out.

And then Red joined in, and chased after Gerard as he sprinted over and dived under the table Jack and I were sitting on.

I looked down at him through the slats, now sitting to the side of me underneath the table. “Dude, you’re thirty. Why the hell are you hiding under a table from a nineteen-year-old?” I asked, unable to keep the unbelieving tone out of my voice.

“He’s scary!” He said in defence of himself, glaring slightly at me. “And they were ganging up on me!”

I snorted as Jack nudged him with his foot. “Well, don’t look now, but you’re being aimed at.” I nodded towards Finley, who was indeed taking aim with his gob-stopper missile. Gerard’s eyes widened and he scrambled out, hiding behind Jack and me instead.

“Oh right, good idea, Gerard. Use us as shields,” Jack muttered into his half-eaten chips.

“Don’t mind if I do!” He replied, grabbing hold of me and pulling me up. I tried to wriggle away, but he was a lot stronger — and slightly taller too.

“Hey!” I yelled, as I was pelted by bubblegum pieces by Finley and Alex when I gave up struggling. “Totally not fair!”

“All’s fair in love and war,” he said, laughing and releasing me so he could run away again. After a few more minutes of tactical hiding, he eventually bent down and grabbed handfuls of the candy which had been thrown in his direction.

I quickly joined in, to try and even out the numbers, and helping him gather ammunition. Liza and Jack did too, and we ended up as two teams: Gerard, Jack and me, and Finley, Alex and Liza. Red watched from the sidelines, laughing, and snacking on the leftover sweets.

Halfway through I got hit right between the eyes by a bubblegum and I shrieked.

“You got owned!” Finley said, taking aim again. I glared at him, picking up a handful of sweets and dodging his next throw, then advancing on him. When I was about two feet from him, I stopped, and pulled back my arm. “You wouldn’t dare!” He squealed, trying to hide but finding he was right out in the open.

“Ohh, I would,” I said, throwing the handful with all my might, and feeling satisfied as they smashed right into his face. I burst into laughter at the shock on his face, his mouth open in an ’o’ shape of shock and distress, and then turned and sprinted away. Something hard hit me in the back, making me stumble and almost fall down, except somebody grabbed hold of me and kept me upright.

“Careful there,” Gerard said, letting go of my waist to throw his own ammunition right back at them.

We won, by means of ambushing our three opponents and tackling them to the ground, refusing to get up until they all admitted defeat. I was kind of glad Gerard choose Liza to attack and not Alex, since I’m sure him straddling my younger sister would never end well. Even if it meant Jack got Alex. (I watched him carefully, but he didn’t seem to put his hands anywhere too unsavoury, so I let him be.)

Afterwards, as punishment for losing, we made Alex, Finley and Liza get up on the table and do the chicken dance, something which I’m sure a few people recorded with mobile phones when they realized it was Liza York — she lost her cap in the impromptu fight (or rather our little ambush which ended it), but didn’t look embarrassed at all by the amount of attention they gathered with their little dance number. I think she was actually enjoying the crowd.

Soon, though, we all had to go our separate ways — SAYF was due for a signing, apparently, which Jack and Finley were pretty excited with the idea of, and the others had important rockstar stuff to do... like sleep. It really seemed all they did except from sound check and, obviously, the actual shows.

Just as I was about to walk away, I remembered something, and spun around again. “Hey, Gerard!” I yelled to get the attention of the quickly retreating singer. He turned around.

“What?”

“I totally forgot to tell you. You know that poll?” He nodded. “You guys, MCR, came out on top by like... two percent over Combatant.”

“Oh.” He grinned. “I knew we would, anyway. You can come over later when we’re all back and get a mini-interview, I’m sure. I’ll talk to the others.”

“Cool!” I said, grinning myself. “Kinda glad it’s not Combatant... I have no clue what those guys are like.”

“They’re not that bad,” he said, shaking his head at the face I pulled. “We toured with them ages back.”

“And yet, despite that, you can’t even remember their names,” I teased, waving at him before turning back around and running back to my bus at full sprint. I knocked on the door (I really needed to get my hands on a key) and then flopped down across all three seats on one side when I got inside. Genie gave me a look.

“What? Sweet fights are tiring!” I said, in defence. I looked around and then noticed the other two girls standing there for the first time. “Oh, hi!” I said, waving lazily without moving from my positon.

Genie tutted, loudly, like a mother hen, but her expression of frustration changed into a fond smile when she looked over at the strangers. “This is Yasmine and Karen,” she said, pointing between them. “Guys, meet Cameron. She’s the other bus resident.”

The first girl, introduced as Karen, was a tiny, waif-like thing with thick, shiny brown hair. She raised a hand and waved. “Hi,” she said, in almost a whisper. Wow, she was obviously painfully shy. Did I really look that threatening enough to earn the terrified look she had on her face? I hoped not.

Then the other one, Yasmine, strode forward to shake my hand. It was kind of awkward, laying down and shaking someone’s hand, but it felt rude to refuse. “I’m Yasmine!” She said, redundantly. I laughed, then noticed her eyes — they weren’t a normal colour, like blue or brown, but a bright, piercing violet. She obviously noticed me checking them out, because she swept a piece of her blonde hair behind her ear and grinned proudly. “They’re my new contacts. Like ’em?”

“Uhm, they’re certainly something,” I said, nodding. It was hard to concentrate on them. They were unnervingly bright and I felt a bit like she could stare right into my mind.

“I prefer the blue ones,” Genie said. “At least they look semi-normal.”

Yasmine laughed. “Since when have I ever been normal?” she asked, turning to look at the red-head.

After a few minutes of chatting and getting to know each other (well, between Yasmine and I; Genie and Karen didn’t do much talking) the four of us sat down to watch a DVD Genie picked out — it turned out to be this cheesy romance movie, and I spent the most part of it scoffing and rolling my eyes with Yasmine and scribbling down questions which I could use for the interview later.

“Oh god, it’s so obvious what’s gonna happen next,” Yasmine said with a groan towards the end. “She finds out he’s actually working for the enemy, despite the fact he’s really fallen in love with her, they break up, and then he spends the rest of the movie trying to get her back until they fall into each — ”

“Shh, guys!” Karen cut in, which was probably the most noise I’d heard her make in ages. Genie and her were curled up on the floor, sharing a duvet, and leaving Yasmine and I sitting on the seats above them.

I turned to Yasmine. “Fancy wandering down to catering? Get some dinner or something?” I asked. Yasmine agreed, muttering ’anything to get away from this movie’, and then grabbed her shoes and jacket as I checked I had my crew pass around my neck and slung my bag on.

Once we were both ready we walked outside, and I surprised to find it was actually warmer now it was dark than when it was morning — how the hell did that work? As we made our way over to the big catering tent, Yasmine stopped, and then grinned as a tall, blond-haired guy walked over.

“Hey!” She said brightly, hugging and then kissing him on the cheek. They looked very similar, both with pale skin, blonde hair and light eyes, but she had a more heart-shaped face than him. When she turned back to me, I gave her a curious look. “Oh, sorry. This is Klaus, my boyfriend. Klaus, meet Cameron.”

I waved and he smiled. “Nice to meet you, Cameron,” he said. Then he gave Yasmine an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, Yas, I have to run. Coltyn is insisting we do another practice, and then we’ve got the show at eight.”

She frowned. “What, seriously?” She said, pursing her lips in obvious displeasure. “God, you need a break. Come hang out with Cam and me, we’re going to grab some food.”

“I wish I could, but I can’t,” he said, shrugging. He ducked down kissed her quickly, then turned and ran off.

Yasmine looked slightly pissed — more than slightly, actually, as she watched him walk away with narrowed eyes. “Ugh, Coltyn and his stupid practices. I seriously think he’s a dictator. Being the lead singer doesn’t make you the boss.”

“What band is he in?” I asked, curiously. “Are they any good?”

“Oh, Combatant. He’s the bass guitarist. I’m not a huge fan of them, but I like their music. And, of course, as a girlfriend of a band member, I’m obliged to tell you they fucking rock.”

“Wow, seriously?” I stared at her, not sure how to process that little bit of information. At least he hadn’t seemed too mean – quite nice, actually. “They’re really good! Or, at least, Alex says so...”

She grinned. “They are. But I don’t like Diego or Coltyn, and that’s two fifths of the band. That kind of makes it hard to be a fan. So, shall we go get that food, then?”

I nodded and led the way to the brightly lit catering area, noting the number of people hanging around. Apparently food was great for luring people from their warm buses and vans and into the cold evening. But who was I to argue with that — food was my reason, after all.

As we walked inside I spotted Alex and the others sitting at a table nearby, and waved. Then I dragged Yasmine over. “This is my sister,” I said, after introducing Yasmine. “And that’s Finley, Red and Jack.” Jack smiled at her, and I recognized the look in his eyes. “She has a boyfriend,” I warned him, quietly, but he kept smiling.

“Oh, I know you guys!” Yasmine said happily. “I caught the end of your set earlier. You were good.”

Alex looked pleased. “Thanks,” she said, poking the chips sitting on the plate in front of her with her fork. They didn’t look very touched, despite the fact the others all already had empty plates. Perhaps she was having another one of her ’off’ days — I didn’t get it, since she was so much skinnier than me, but apparently her self-worth and mood was inherently tied in with how much she weighed that morning. Sometimes it worried me, but I tried not to be the overbearing older sister all the time.

After a few minutes of small talk Yasmine pulled me over to join the queue gathering so we could get ourselves some food, the whole point we were actually here. I almost ran into Bob and Frank, thanks to her overeager pulling, and they followed us to the queue.

“How’re you guys?” I asked, loudly, over the other talking people. They both shrugged at the same time, then Frank grinned.

“Congrats on your win with the sweets,” he said. “Gerard’s being bragging about it for about an hour now. We sort of came here to get away.”

“Ohh, trust him,” I said with a sigh. “Did he mention the whole interview thing?”

Bob nodded. “Sort of. He said we were doing it. And nobody messes with Gerard.” He laughed and shook his head, as if reconsidering what he'd said. “Well, that’s a lie. But he likes to think that, and who are we to crush his dreams?”

“So it’s okay?” I asked. They both nodded.

“Only Mikey, he might be a bit... you know,” Frank said, his eyebrows dipping down in either annoyance or confusion; it was hard to tell. Then he was apparently distracted by the nearness of the food and jumped forward, in front of both Yasmine and I. Already knowing better than to argue, I just kicked his shin lightly and took a place next to him.

Chantel was nowhere to be seen at the front when we finally got there which made me slightly sad. I’d already come to like that girl. At the counter I admired the sheer amount of unhealthy food presented before me, and then followed in Frank’s footsteps and grabbed a veggie burger. I didn’t like the look of that pizza.

We shuffled out of the food area and back towards the tables and I paused, unsure of where to go. I glanced over and saw Gerard and the others, and he waved at me. I waved back, but I decided I should stay with my sister, so I said goodbye to Frank and Bob, then walked over to their table with Yasmine.

They’d been joined by another three people I didn’t recognise, but they seemed to know — it was quite amazing how many people I was meeting tonight, I thought, as I walked over and set down my plate next to Finley and he introduced the newcomers.

“This is Antagonism Enmity,” he said, and then pointed at the people in turn. “Eloise Moriarty, the lead singer—”

“Call me Ellie,” interrupted the tanned (something which was a bit of an anomaly in this place) and dark-haired girl, her eyes surrounded by so much black eyeliner I was sure she could have two black eyes and nobody would know.

“Hazel Jersey, the guitarist,” Finley continued, without missing a beat, pointing at a girl with short, platinum blond hair and bright red lipstick. “And Jerey Blake, the drummer,” he finished, motioning towards the only guy, who also had black hair like Ellie but was about as pale as everyone else.

“You’re the ones sharing the bus with these lot?” I asked, remembering what Finley had told me earlier. Several nods. “Well, hi. It’s nice to meet you all.” I smiled, and they all said hi themselves. “My name’s Cameron, and this is Yasmine. We’re both awesome behind the scenes people.”

The two of us both took a seat, and I joined in the animated chatter, trying to eat my meal between words. Yasmine had a lot of fun, joking about, and I noticed Alex was a lot more subdued. “You okay?” I questioned her, half way through the meal, and received a mute nod in response. Well that was obviously a lie, then. I paused, trying to think of a way to cheer her up. Then I remembered my plans for later. “Hey, Ally,” I said, getting her attention (if only so she could glare at me.)

“Don’t call me that,” she snapped.

I laughed. “Okay, Ally. Just wanted to know if you were up for going over to MCR’s bus later and helping me interview the guys for my blog. No doubt it’ll be an experience and a half.”

Her eyeliner-ringed eyes widened slightly. “Seriously? You have to ask?”

“Not really,” I admitted. “How about after we finish this?”

She agreed, already looking a bit happier already. I turned back to the conversation the rest of the table was having, talking about the other bands which had played today. Apparently Antagonism Enmity, Yasmine, Finley and Jack were making plans to go see Combatant later.

Red looked tired, and a few minutes later, he stood up and said goodbye. I watched him go, and raised an eyebrow when I noticed Ellie’s eyes following him too.

I couldn’t help but grin. I turned to Finley and whispered, “She seems nice. She is legal, though, right?”

Finley laughed, nodding. “She’s older than Alex by, like, five months, so yeah. Just about.”

“Good. Don’t need your bass guitarist thrown in jail this early in your world-domination plans.” I finished the last of my veggie burger, and then gathered up all the empty plates and nodded at Alex. “Come on, let’s go,” I said, and she jumped to her feet eagerly, smoothing down her ruffled black-and-blue hair. Her roots were getting quite obvious, and the blue had faded considerably, and I knew what that meant — I’d be roped in to help her redye it soon.

She helped me take the plates over to the trolley they were being dumped on by everyone else, scraping her food into the bin, and then followed me as I walked over to the table MCR were sat at, chatting to Liza and what I gathered were the rest of Hello, Irony (Alex went even paler, confirming that thought.)

“Hey guys!” I said brightly. They all waved, even Mikey. “Sorry for interrupting, but just wondered whether it would be okay if Alex helped me later. You know, for writing and stuff.” I grinned and when Gerard gave me a curious look I mouthed ’She’s moping. Just go along with it’.

He smiled widely at Alex. “Sure, no problem. We’re about finished here.” He looked around at the others, and received a few nods.

Frank even got up and hugged me and Alex, one after another. “I’m bored,” he declared, turning back to the others. “Let’s go now! Come on!”

There were few grumblings and sighs, especially from Ray who still had half of a pizza slice on his plate, but soon enough everyone got to their feet. Alex was chatting to Liza as they got ready, looking a lot more star-struck than normal — probably because of the three others there, too. I moved over to her side and asked who the guy looking at her was, and when she noticed his stare she blushed. “That’s Zacky,” she said quietly to me.

“Oh, the guitarist. Cool. I think he’s checking you out, Allydoll.” I giggled at her glare, moving away again, and watched as she approached the guy and began talking to him. At least he was kind of cute, in a too much eyeliner and hair dye kind of way. When I asked, Gerard named the others for me, too, as Davey (’or Boxer’, he added as an afterthought, and I remembered him talking about him earlier), and Taylor, the bass guitarist.

Finally, getting sick of standing there, I tore Alex away from her discussion with Zacky, despite the death glares she sent me, and then reminded her that she was getting to interview MCR which perked her up a bit.

Together, the seven of us walked out of the tent as a group, and I linked arms with Alex. “Alejandra Piestewa... that’s a real culture clash, eh? But Alex Piestewa as a certain ring to it,” I said cheerfully, earning myself an elbow to my stomach from Alex. “Hey Gee!” I yelled. Gerard turned around. “Does that Zacky dude have a girlfriend?”

“Not that I know. He used to go out with... oh, what’s her name? Something Reynolds. But that was years ago. Why?” He asked, looking at me quizzically. “He’s a bit young for you, Cam,” he added. “He’s only twenty. I always found that kind of weird, since the others are all like twenty-seven.”

I laughed. “Not me. Alex and him were flirting. Didn’t you see?”

He looked surprised “Really? He doesn’t flirt with many girls. Tell Alex she better get her wedding dress ready.” He chuckled and turned back to the conversation he was having with Ray and Mikey, and I nudged Alex.

“See, even Gerard thinks you better start planning. Can I be your maid of honour?”

“Oh shut up, Cam,” she said, but she was grinning.

“Or, wait, no, hold on... Alex Evans, that sounds good too.”

“No way! I am not marrying Finley!” She said, hitting my arm this time.

“Damn! No need to be so violent about it!” I said, shaking my head. “I still think you guys would be awesome together. Can you imagine your kids? They’d come out high on sugar and with hair already dyed strange colours. And the musical genes! They’d have ’em all! How many instruments can you play between you?”

It took her a moment to count, and as she answered she smiled. “I think... seven? Does the harmonica count?” I nodded in response. That was the best instrument, of course. “I guess that would be pretty awesome.”