Girl Online: On Tour (11 page)

“The tour’s going to be fun, though. Nights out in different cities, getting drunk, lots of girls,” he says through pursed lips as he continues to roll the cigarette.

“I’m not sure what you’re trying to say, Blake.” I stare at him out of the corner of my eye, but try to remain cool.

“ ‘Blake’ sounds funny when English chicks say it.” He puts the newly rolled cigarette behind his ear and gets up from the sofa to grab another beer from the mini fridge. When he sits back down, he’s so close his leg brushes against mine. “I’m just saying . . . in the dream of being on tour, there’s
one
thing on this bus that none of us ever wanted.”

I’m stunned into silence. I want to come up with something witty to say, but my whole mouth feels numb, like it’s been frozen solid. Mark, the bassist, comes over and picks up the controller from where it’s dropped out of my hands. “Mind if I take over?”

“Go for it,” I manage to say. I get up and walk towards the back of the bus. At the last moment before I enter the area with the beds I look back over my shoulder at Blake. He’s engrossed in the screen.

I put my hand on the door frame to steady myself. It’s only now that I notice how much I’m shaking, but it starts to pass, and I smile as I remember that there is a cure very nearby.

Chapter Fourteen

Noah rolls over and blinks his eyes at the light as I come in through the curtains.

“Hey, my girl.”

“Oh, hey. Did I wake you?” I sit down on the edge of his bunk.

“Nah, couldn’t sleep after all. It’s all too exciting.”

I nod, biting my lip. He sits up and covers my hand with his. “Are you OK? You look a bit pale.”

I shake my head. “Well . . .” I want to tell him about what Blake said, but I also want Noah to think I can get on with his friends. I’m also hyperaware that Blake is his best friend, and I don’t want to force him to have to choose sides between us. “How far back do you and Blake go?”

“Blake and me? He’s one of my oldest friends. We practically grew up together. My parents bought me my first guitar the same year his parents gave him a drum kit. I used to go over to his basement and we would jam. Our first band was called . . .” He hesitates.

“Aw, come on, tell me!” I say, nudging him.

“OK . . . it was called The Wizard Boys. We were kind of obsessed with Harry Potter back then.” He cringes, but it’s adorable.

I laugh. “That’s the greatest!”

“Yeah, Blake even used to pretend his drumsticks were wands and our lyrics were spells!”

“Are you serious?” Somehow I can’t square the image of the grungy guy outside with that of a sweet young boy rocking out in his basement and inventing magic spells.

“You might not have heard of the song ‘House Elves Just Want Some Love,’ but it was destined to be a big hit!” He laughs, but then his tone turns more serious. “When things really started happening for me—like Dean finding me on YouTube and signing me up to his management company, all that stuff—Blake and I sort of had a falling-out. He started hanging out with a different crowd and we had some major arguments. It’s one of the reasons why I completely retreated last year. Shut off from the world. I was ready to quit, throw in the towel. If I was going to lose my closest friends because of all this”—he gestures around the tour bus—“it wasn’t going to be worth it. And then I met you. My Inciting Incident.” He kisses my hand. “You showed me it was possible for me to have it all. You gave me the courage to repair things with Blake. Inviting him on tour is the best thing ever—next to you being here, of course. He’s a bit of a joker, but he’s been there for me from the beginning. And I know you two will get along great once you get to know him.”

My face burns—from the compliment but also because I can’t believe I was about to slag off Noah’s best friend to him. I had no idea how much history they had. If Blake is a
joker, he’s probably just messing with me. I need to learn not to take so much to heart if I’m going to hang out with the band.

“Hey, I was going to wait until we got to the hotel, but I want to give this to you.” He reaches underneath the bed, where his travel bag is, and pulls out a box wrapped in gold paper. “For you. Go on—open it,” he says when I stare at the gold box.

I open it slowly at first, then I rip off the paper. It’s a brand-new smartphone. One of the fancy ones that I would never have been able to afford on my own. “Oh wow, Noah . . .”

“I wanted you to have a new, better phone since your other one was stolen at my concert. You can’t be happy with that old dinosaur Tom gave you. Plus, this one has an amazing camera.”

He’s right—I’m not happy with Tom’s old phone—but I also just want
my
old phone, with Noah’s doodles all over it, back. This fancy new phone can’t compare to that one, but it does help. I stare at it in awe. “You shouldn’t have! This is . . . this is too much.”

“It’s not too much, Penny, I promise. What’s the point of being a rock star if I can’t splurge on you every now and then?”

“Maybe because I can’t splash out back?” I say.

“Don’t think that way.” He kisses me on the cheek. “You’re my official anxiety monitor, remember? That’s got to be worth
thousands
. Come on—should we go back out and join the fray?” He edges to the front of the bunk, his hand outstretched.

“Sure,” I say. Noah’s given me more confidence. Maybe I do just have to give Blake a chance. If Noah likes him so much, he can’t be that bad.

When we emerge from the back of the bus, it’s to hoots and cheers. Noah puts both his hands up in defeat. “OK, OK, guys, settle down.” I feel my face flush red—why do boys have such dirty minds? I wish there was another girl around to help offset some of the testosterone.

Blake is back by the beer fridge. “You want one, man?” He offers a bottle to Noah, who looks at me, then back at Blake.

“It’s early, dude. How many of these have you already had? You smell like it’s three a.m. and you’ve just left a bar.”

“Geez, Noah, lighten up a bit. This is supposed to be fun! You’re starting to sound like Dean.”

Noah takes the beer bottle and cracks it open using the corner of the table.

“Cheers to us!” Blake clinks his bottle on Noah’s and smiles at me.

“Do you want a Coke, Penny?” Noah offers me a can from the fridge.

“Yeah, thanks.” I glance out of the window and am treated to the sight of a giant gate with massive pillars and four horses on the top. It’s huge and majestic and just what I expected from Berlin. I let out a little squeal of excitement. “Wow, look at that! Is that the Brandenburg Gate?”

As the others turn to look out of the window, I lower my voice so that only Noah can hear. “I’m so excited for Magical Mystery Day!”

“Me too,” says Noah, squeezing my hand.

“Elliot texted me earlier with a long list of amazing places
we need to check out. There’s a structure that’s over three hundred and fifty metres tall and—”

Blake interrupts me with a snigger. “A what now? Magical what?” He looks at Noah and me.

I feel a wave of embarrassment as I think about how childish it must sound to Blake. But Noah jumps right in to defend us.

“Lay off, man . . . You wouldn’t know romance if it bit you in the ass!”

In typical boy style, Blake threatens to moon us, and instantly the tension is released.

Luckily, Larry shouts from the front of the bus that we’ve arrived—just before Blake’s pants can come down. Perfect timing. Dean claps his hands together and everyone’s attention focuses on him. “Guys, I have some amazing news!” His eyes are sparkling like he’s won the lottery. “You’ll never guess who’s going to be joining The Sketch onstage tonight.” He pauses for a moment, letting the anticipation build. “Leah Brown! It’s a total secret for now, but the crowd will be absolutely buzzing! How awesome is that, guys?”

Everyone around me is jumping and high-fiving—this is a huge coup for the tour, and will raise the publicity levels through the roof. But, when I wished for another girl to be here, Noah’s not-really-ex-girlfriend was
not
who I meant. If I think Blake is making this tour difficult, I’m almost certain the arrival of Leah Brown means it’s about to get a whole lot worse.

Chapter Fifteen

The venue in Berlin feels twice as big as the Brighton Centre, and our footsteps echo across the stage as Noah prepares to do his soundcheck. There are people all around us, but having driven straight from the airport to the hotel to the concert hall in the tour bus, I don’t feel like I’ve seen anything of the city yet. We could be anywhere. The only indication this is Germany is the bright red signs saying
AUSGANG
instead of
EXIT
.

I walk right up to the front of the stage, staring out at the sea of empty seats that will soon be filled with screaming fans. Even though the place is empty, I still get a little shiver down my spine.

At least I won’t have to be out in the crowd this time. I have my backstage pass hanging round my neck and I look so attached to it that Noah joked I might take it to bed with me. I just might. I don’t want to risk another incident like what happened in Brighton. I won’t have any friends here who will be looking out for me.

I lift up my camera and take a picture of the empty stalls.
I have a vision that I can layer images of the crowd on top of the empty seats and make some kind of statement on the nature of the relationship between performance and audience. Miss Mills would like that for my alternative-perspectives project.
Is it still a performance if no one is there to listen?
I wonder.

I step back from the front of the stage, edging towards the shadows. Noah is standing in a pool of light in the middle of the stage, dressed in a maroon Harvard hoodie and black jeans, singing the first few bars of “Elements.” I snap a picture of that too: the performer before the performance, the many hours of rehearsal and hard work that the fans almost never get to see. This is turning out to be perfect for my A-levels project.

I’m lost in the image of Noah losing himself in his music, until Blake smashes the cymbals on his drum kit behind me, making me jump. I stumble backwards, tripping over a bundle of cords on the floor. I’m so concerned with preserving my camera that I don’t reach out to break my fall and I crash against a stack of speakers. The smallest speaker at the top wobbles precariously from the force of my impact.