Over It (The Kiss Off #2) (11 page)

I turned around and strode toward the path, my flip–flops thwacking my heels with each step. Hamish, Mads, Nikki and Astrid scurried after me as I stepped onto Row A, and merged us into the crowd.

"Wait a sec," Hamish said, "let me just get my shoes-"

“Okay, bye!" I said, and we were gone. Nikki and Mads made sounds of protest but silently agreed it was safer to just come with me.

“Where’d your friends go?” I asked Astrid.

She shrugged like it was no big deal. “Up ahead somewhere. I’ll find them later.”

There was an excited atmosphere to the mob as we followed like sheep down the center driveway past Rows B and C, all the way to the last row, L. I spotted the pre–teen girls from the beach as they dashed out from a tent, yelled goodbye to someone and joined the herd in front of us. I couldn't catch what they were saying, but they giggled and squealed excitedly. The thing I noticed most about them were their Academy of Lies official merch tee shirts. My boyfriend and his bandmates’ tour dates stared at me from the girls’ backs. Wasn’t really surprising, considering they’d recognized me so quickly. One of them looked around at the crowd, her eyes bright with anticipation. They fell on me, and paused a moment. I nervously ran my fingers through my hair and pushed it in my face a little. I adjusted my sunglasses.
Be cool, Poppy
, I thought to myself.
Be. Freaking. Cool
. Her gaze lingered on my dress and then she turned back around to her friends. She didn’t look back again. The hat and glasses seemed to have done their job.

One of the trio said something and they all laughed in such an open, free way that their enthusiasm and sheer joy was infectious.

I couldn't help but smile as they linked arms and started skipping along the gravel driveway toward the festival, singing
The Kiss Off
to themselves at the top of their lungs, like they didn't have a care in the world.

Best trip of their lives. They stole my trip.

I couldn’t begrudge them that, though. I smiled to myself as I watched them. I loved that feeling; the feeling of being with my besties who loved me for the crazy–neurotic–who–thinks–too–much that I am, and not having to hide it or rein it in, not having to pretend I'm mostly sane and normal, because it simply wouldn't be as much fun if I was. I loved that feeling so hard.

I had an itch to grab Mads and Nikki by the crooks of their arms and skip off into the sunshine too, if it wouldn’t have caused so much attention. And they probably both would have resisted. My smile faded to a sad frown as I wished
both
my besties were here. It sucked that Van couldn't have come (or didn't overly want to, as seemed more the case). I couldn’t be mad that she had interests and a whole other life of her own that didn't revolve around me. But I had Nikki instead which was (still a bit shaky but was trying to be) nearly as good. If Mads and Nikki could just get along permanently…

I glanced at each of them, walking either side of me and Astrid and I reminded myself that ‘Project Mads & Nikki Draw a Truce and Discover Each Other's Awesome’ was in early days. It was an infant. Hell, Nikki and
my
re–friendship was still practically newborn.

I just wanted it to work so bad.

"So are you a fan of Academy of Lies?"

I blinked, having pretty much forgotten where I was for a minute, as Astrid tried to make some sort of conversation with the quiet, sullen girls on either side of her.

Nikki and Mads both looked away, putting the secret smiles that broke out on their faces under control. Luckily, Astrid didn’t seem to notice.

"They're okay," I said, walking a little taller, trying to put a carefree spring in my step (which was hard to do in flip–flops). "How about you?"

"Love them," she said. "My brother says they're gay, but he's going through a phase where he's pretty much calling everything gay."

"Ha."

"Their songs are catchy."

"Which one's your favorite?"

"I like
Bittersweet
and
Comic Book Hero
," she said.

No mention of
The Kiss Off
, but I wouldn't hold it against her.

"It'll be so surreal to see them in person," Astrid continued, "not just Academy of Lies, but all these famous people on the different stages, that even
I've
heard of in Podunk, Iowa. To see them for real. In the flesh..." she flicked a glance at me and my friends, then stared at the ground in embarrassment. "I don't know, it just seems surreal, that's all. I mean, there aren't exactly any celebrities where I live."

"Celebrities aren't so different, really," Mads said, flicking a glance in my direction. I stared at her hard behind Astrid’s back, willing her to shut up. I could see where she was going with this. She could have told Astrid that she was having a pretty normal conversation with a semi–celebrity right now. A C–list celebrity, but celebrity nonetheless.

Astrid’s eyes brightened and she looked around at us with too much interest. "Do you know someone famous?"

"No,” I said quickly. “We don’t. I mean, I wouldn't put it like that. But we've been to concerts before, haven’t we Mads? And I went to Disneyland with my family when I was eleven and saw Ray and Wendell from that warlock and wizard show, just walking around."

"Really?" She beamed at me excitedly. "They were so cute."

"I know."

"Not so much now though."

"No." We both laughed. "That's about the extent of my experience with famous people, though."

I willed Nikki and Mads to be silent, and they were.

That was when Ty called.

I shot a panicked glance at Astrid, hoping she hadn't seen the readout.

"Sorry," I mumbled, holding the screen away from her. "Boyfriend."

I answered the call with a, "Hi, Boyfriend." I didn't need Astrid hearing that the girl she met called Poppy who was mobbed by strangely snap–happy beach–goers had a boyfriend called Ty, and then put two and two together.

Ty laughed. "Hi yourself, Girlfriend."

"What's up?"

"I scored four All–Access Passes for you guys-"

"Four?" I said. "You got one for Hamish?"

"...Is that bad?"

I sighed. "No."

"He's a cool guy."

I gave a non–committal snort.

"Well, they'll be at our merch stand," Ty said.

"Super. Thanks."

He was quiet for a moment. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, it's nothing, I'm fine."

"You can't talk right now, can you."

"Not really."

"What's going on?" he asked, suddenly curious. "Who's there?"

"I said
not really
."

He laughed again. "Okay. Later, then, I guess. We're on the Main Stage at one if you want to watch from the wings and then we can do, I dunno, late lunch. Early dinner. Something food related."

"Sounds good," I said. Mmm. Food. I was going to need to hit that up before long. I couldn’t wait until then. "See you later?"

"Have a good festival."

I ended the call and dropped my cell back into my handbag. We reached the end of the camping ground. In front of us was what must be an empty field 51 weeks out of the year, but had this week been transformed into a festival market with stalls on either side selling a surprisingly large variety of garb, from beach and hippie and emo wear, jewelry, band merchandise, skate stuff, airbrush tattoos, hot dogs, churros, Dutch pancakes, fries and other typical breakfast delicacies, as well as used books, potted plants, and old vinyl records. Past the mob I could see stadium lighting high in the sky, and even a Ferris Wheel. Sweet.

"How come he's not camping with you?" Astrid asked.

"Oh, you know," I said, floundering for a reason. Any reason except the real one. "He says he's allergic."

"To camping?"

"Yeah," I said, rolling my eyes. "Guys, right? He thinks he's this macho guy but heaven forbid you suggest he sleep in the outdoors."

If that had actually been the truth, having woken up in a back–breaking oven this morning, I couldn't totally have blamed him. I slapped a mosquito on my neck. Missed it. Dammit, I forgot the repellent
again
.

I could have told Astrid the truth. About me, and about who my mysterious, hotel–staying Boyfriend was. I thought about it. But no. When people knew I was 'Poppy', I stopped being just ordinary Poppy. And I liked Astrid. I didn’t want to be ‘Poppy’ with her.

"Free stuff, score!" Astrid said as a woman in a white Mt. Franklin Water tee shirt handed her a bottle with a smile.

We grinned at each other.

"I'm down with that," I said. A couple of record labels, carbonated beverage distributors and snack food companies had stalls from which they handed out flyers, magnets, bottle opener key chains and all–important samples. I grabbed a couple – water, gummy bears, candy and a couple of flyers for instrument stores – as the crowd slowly filtered down the center aisle to the ticket scanners. Lots of people stopped to peruse the market, which bottle–necked the crowd in some parts and let us skip a hundred people in others.

We, however, didn't loiter. I wanted in to the festival. I wanted the best spot I could get before My Beach House started and I wanted it now. Our pace crawled to a stop, then crawled, then stopped again as the crowd seemed to have gotten stuck up ahead.

The spread out crowd behind us converged, turning into a mass, all inching forward, pushing (gently, calmly, but still pushing) into each other to keep moving forward, to get into the festival grounds already. Up ahead, at the end of the market was a gate into the next field. There were a couple of long security tables for bag checks, ticket collectors, and a field with stages, lighting and sound set ups and huge semi–trailers parked along the fence line. Promotional trailers with band merch, more food stalls, a first aid station, security and I didn't know what else were dotted around in the distance on the other side of the fence.

“No freaking way,” Mads said and started pushing her way sideways instead of forward. As ticket takers did their thing and security checked bags and chose random people to wave their magic black wand over, I figured I may as well go with Mads. The line wasn’t going anywhere fast.

She stopped at a booth packed with an eclectic variety of clothes; from bell bottom jeans with sunflowers stitched into the ankles to a wedding dress to a rather sophisticated beige and navy plaid coat, not to mention scarves, gloves, shoes and a variety of headwear (including a very fetching–looking top hat). The vintage–loving fashionista inside Mads – not to mention her entrepreneurial side – salivated at all the hidden potential.

“Look at this stuff,” she said, running her fingers along a pair of red corduroy pants. “Oh my gosh, check that out.” She pored over a collection of rings thrown haphazardly in a box on the table and picked up a silver one with a 3D Pomeranian dog sitting at attention.

“Yeah, wow,” I said. It was hideous. “Look at that.”

“How much is it?” Mads asked the middle–aged lady manning the booth.

I blinked at her. “Seriously?”

“We’re not a shop,” the woman said. She motioned to the stall’s sign which read, ‘Swap, don’t shop! The Exchange.’ “The Exchange doesn’t deal in currency, it deals in clothes. You can have whatever you want as long as you trade in an item of your own.”

“SHUT. UP,” Mads said, wide–eyed. “Really?” She leaned closer to me and muttered under her breath, her lips unmoving. “Some of this stuff is worth an int–may.”

Nice. Dollar sign–induced pig latin.

She pulled off the beaded necklace she wore around her neck and slapped it into the woman’s hand. “I’ll take this,” she said, before holding out the obedient Pomeranian to show the woman. The woman smiled encouragingly and Mads slid the ring onto her finger. At least she’d make some decent defensive wounds if someone attacked her while she was wearing that thing. It looked like it weighed a ton.

“Hey you two, come on!” Nikki called from the crowd. She and Astrid had moved several feet forward, only a couple of people away from the bag check table.

“You go,” Mads said, hangers screeching against metal as she flipped through items, studying the apparel with a critical eye. “I’ll be fine here.” She tilted her head to the side and pulled out her earrings, then slid off her shoes. She looked like she was contemplating what else she could lose without sacrificing her dignity.

It seemed best to leave her to it. “Okay,” I said, “text when you want to find us.”

The crowd cheered; they stomped, clapped and hollered their appreciation as My Beach House finished their set. Astrid and I spent a minute gushing, talking over the top of each other in excitement at how good the band had been. What a rush. What an epic start to the festival.

I stepped back a little from the crush of bodies in front of me for some air, fanning my sweaty face, throat and chest with my hat. There had been a cool breeze blowing in from the ocean until now and I hadn't realized just how hot the sun had become. And how hot my skin had become. Looking down at my shoulders, chest and arms, I discovered they weren't my usual color, but were turning a bright pink, on its way to red.

Oh crap, I was getting burnt.

"Hey, do you have any sun block?" I asked Astrid.

She winced, taking in my rosy chest and limbs. "Sorry, I used some this morning and then left it in my tent," she said.

As I looked around for Nikki, who I’d lost track of three songs back, I bumped into a guy behind me with a girl sitting on his shoulders, punching him so excitedly in the shoulders that he was trying to wriggle away, as if his awkward flailing was an attempted signal to make the pain stop. She wasn't getting the hint.

I jerked away from them, aware that any second he was going to reach the wriggle–point in which he threw her off his shoulders entirely and I was likely to be in the fall zone. I spotted Nikki in the crowd, squeezing her way through to me.

"Nik!" I yelled, but she didn't hear me.

I tapped Astrid on her arm and motioned toward Nikki in the throng.

Nikki waved, cell phone in hand, and grimaced as a guy in a sweat–soaked band tee shirt stepped backward into her. Urgh. All part of the festival experience I guess. One I would happily pass up, mind you.

She reached us with an exhausted sigh, then straightened her back and declared, "Smile!"

Nikki held her cell out in front of her and I quickly leaned in toward Astrid and put on my biggest, happiest smile.

"Where did you go? You were here one second and then you were gone," I said.

“I could say the same about you,” she said, “this crowd is insane." She peered up at the band as they touched a few outstretched arms on their way to the side of the stage. "Did they just finish? Damn it. Who's on next?"

"No one on this stage," I said, pulling out my crumpled schedule. "Justina Farthing's starting over on Three soon, and then Academy of Lies on One. How did you even find us?"

She held up her cell and jiggled it at me. "The Bay Fest Facebook page."

"What?"

"And Twitter."

"What do you mean?" I grabbed her by the arm, smiled awkwardly at Astrid and pulled Nikki away a couple of feet.

Nikki opened her cell’s browser to Facebook and handed me her phone.

In a photo album about celebs spotted in attendance at Bay Fest was a captioned photo: 'YouTube Celebrity/Songwriter Poppy Douglas enjoying the sounds of My Beach House'. There I was, arms out, wrists curled awkwardly, looking like I was pretending to be a Tyrannosaurus Rex. Was that what I really looked like when I danced? I glanced around self–consciously at all the faces surrounding me; clearly my shades, floppy hat and maxi dress combo were no match for eagle–eyed celebrity spotters. I studied the photo. Next to Poppy ‘T–Rex’ Douglas was a guy in an orange tee shirt. I glanced up. A couple of people away from me was a guy in an orange tee shirt. The same guy. Great.

I gave Nikki a withering, unimpressed look and slapped the phone back into her palm.

"Don’t shoot the messenger,” she said, “I didn't take it.” She raised her hands in surrender. “And it helped me find you, didn't it?"

There wasn't a photographer in sight. There were, however, about eleventy–billion smart phone owners. It was enough to make a girl paranoid. How did famous people even leave their house?

"I don't care," I announced. I lacked a certain level of conviction to make it even remotely believable, but I put the thought out into the universe anyway.

I.

Don't.

Care.

Best trip ever.

Best trip ever.

Best trip ever.

As there was nothing more to see over here for the next hour and a half, and the sounds of music still playing over at the other stages wafted on the breeze, the crowd started to disperse, leaving room to breathe.

"Um, Poppy…" Nikki said, looking at me carefully, "you're like, really red."

Thank you, Captain Obvious. "Did you bring the sun block?" I asked. I had become acutely aware of the way the sun's rays beat down on me. Beat down on me hard.

"Sorry. That friend of yours took it off me when I was done this morning."

I ignored the jab at Mads. How come sun block was something everyone else just magically remembered to put on this morning? I had to get out of the sun ASAP, or at least get some block, though I had the feeling the damage was probably already done. Just perfect.

“Let’s get you in the shade,” Astrid said.

Following the sounds of some quick–fingered piano–ing over the speakers, we shuffled into the crowd, moving at an agonisingly slow pace, making our way down the promoters’ row.

As we reached the, for lack of a better word, main concourse, Nikki looked around, peered behind us, and scanned the crowd. "The freakazoid didn’t find you?”

I sighed. “Okay, I
want
to believe you’re talking about Hamish, but for some reason I just don’t.”

“That’s astute of you,” Nikki said with a smile that bordered on bitchy.

“You and Mads aren’t friends, then?” Astrid said.

Nikki snorted, but didn’t say anything. It was answer enough, really.

“No, they’re working on it though, aren’t you, Nikki?” I said pointedly. “Working through their differences. It’s fine, Mads’ll find us later.”

I wasn’t worried about her. It was a big festival, she could be at any stage. But I figured Mads was completely absorbed in The Exchange, and though she loved live music as much as the rest of us, she had most likely completely forgotten she had come to Tallulah Bay for anything other than vintage clothes.

“First Aid Station ahoy!” Astrid said. She pointed at the red tent ahead of us.

Oh thank God.

The First Aid Station was half a dozen stalls ahead of us, but the crowd came to a frustrating standstill as something happened up ahead. Someone stopped walking, lost. Or answered their phone and forgot how to walk and talk at the same time, or did something else equally as inane and frustrating and disruptive to the several hundred people behind them.

I watched a lady in a Red Cross tee shirt standing by the stall, looking bored. She inspected her nails and laughed at something a guy at the booth beside her said. Even without my sunglasses tinting my vision, she was darker than us out here, standing there under the shade of the marquee. As my bare shoulders and back prickled and burned under the scorching sun, I stared longingly at the marquee.

Enough of this shit.

"Coming through!" I yelled. I clapped my hands together between the couple in front of me and started moving, making a bee–line for the First Aid station and shade and some After Sun aloe vera gel or something to nip this burn in the bud before it started hurting too bad. I had to get out of the sun and I had to get out of it now.

There were some grumbles and muttered curses but I ignored them and pressed forward, Nikki and Astrid in my wake.

The Red Cross woman squinted at me, shielding her eyes from the sun as I approached. "Damn, girl," she said, ushering me under the blissful shade of the tent. The temperature dropped twenty degrees.

“Are you a mirage?" I asked. She patted a seat for me then held out a bottled water with one hand as she grabbed an ice pack with the other.

"This has got to be a record. It's only two – save some sun for the rest of us," she said as I peeled off my floppy hat. I squealed at the shock of cold as she lay the ice pack on the back of my shoulders, moving it slowly along my back, down my arms and around and onto my chest.

"Gladly," I said. "Take the sun. You can have it all."

"You are kinda burnt, huh," Nikki said, fingers tapping on her phone.

"Just notice that, did you?"

"How are you feeling?" Astrid asked.

The first aid lady rubbed a cool gel over my shoulders that made my eyes flutter closed with relief. Aah. Sweet, sweet, aloe vera. I must have made some sort of noise of pleasure because Astrid didn't need an answer. She just smiled.

"Drink that up, hon," she said, motioning to the water bottle in my hand. "You don’t want to be all dehydrated out here."

I unscrewed the lid with a crack and took a big gulp.

"It's good you got some smarts, at least," the woman said.

"How's that?" Nikki asked.

"If your friend here stayed out in the sun another hour she would have gotten nice and crispy. You got some aloe?"

"Not yet."

"Go get yourself some aloe – actually, take this bottle, baby, and stay out of the sun or at least keep yourself covered and you might be lucky and this might turn into nothing more than a really good tan."

Right, that settled it: I was making a trip in to town. I chose really good tan over the stinging agony of a burn. My tan lines were going to be insane. Thanks to my hat, I would have a white face and neck with brown shoulders, chest and arms. Maybe I'd wear tee shirts for the rest of the festival.

A phone beeped and Astrid pulled her cell from her pocket. Then another phone beeped: Nikki’s.

"Finally," Astrid said, shaking her head at the screen. "How about that, my friends are wondering where I am."

"Where are
they
?" I asked.

"Stage Three: Justina Farthing."

"I'll come with you," Nikki said curtly, her eyes narrowed.

“Wait a second,” I said cautiously, “what just happened? Who texted you?”

Nikki slapped her cell into my palm.

There was a close up photo on the screen of Hamish and Mads with a crowd and stage behind them. Hamish was wearing a fake handlebar moustache, and Mads had a platinum blond bob wig on with a hot pink sweat band around her head. The text said, ‘Wish you were here!’

That was nice if it was from Hamish, but I had a feeling it was probably from Mads. Smart ass.

The phone vibrated in my hand and Nikki looked over my shoulder as I opened the next message. Now Hamish was wearing the pink sweat band, Mads had the handlebar moustache and was kissing him on the cheek. It looked like it tickled.

Nikki called Mads a name I would rather not repeat.

She waved her hands at me and my masseuse. "You'll be a while, won't you, Pops?"

“Nikki…”

"What stage is Steve Mondango on?"

"Come on," I said, “don’t.”

"What?"

"You know what. I know what you're doing," I said.

"What am I doing? I'm not doing anything," she said.

She wasn't fooling anyone.

"She is gonna be awhile, yeah," the first aid lady said. She'd finished slathering aloe all over my shoulders. The gel had quickly turned to liquid as my burning skin melted the gel within seconds. She started wrapping a blood pressure cuff around my upper arm. I watched warily as it covered my red, angry skin. Wow, was this going to hurt.

“You coming to Stage Three or not?” Nikki said to Astrid.

There was no stopping her; she was already by the edge of the marquee. Astrid looked at me uncertainly.

"Go on,” I said, waving her off. “That’ll be way more fun than being here.”

“I have
no
idea what’s going on,” Astrid said.

All of a sudden
my
cell rang and when I spotted it was Ty, I couldn’t help but flick a glance at Astrid. It was stupid, really, there was no way she could have seen the screen from the other side of the tent, even if her head hadn’t been tilted down toward her own phone’s screen as her fingers swiped across the glass.

I held the phone to my ear. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Have you picked up your passes yet?” No pleasantries for us this time, it seemed.

“Not yet,” I said, “why?”

“Can you go pick them up and come over to Stage One?” he said. “Now?”

“Not right this second I can’t,” I said.

He heaved a sigh. “How soon do you think?”

“I don’t-”

Astrid waved at me and pointed her thumb out toward the crowd, like she was about to leave. She whispered, “I’m gonna go…”

Nikki scurried to her side.

“Hold on,” I said to Ty, then turned a warning gaze to my friend. “Nikki.”

“Hope the burn’s okay. You guys have heard about the barbecue down on the foreshore tonight, right?” Astrid said.

“No…”

“Yeah. Starts at six. It sounds kind of amazing,” she said. I liked bonfires and all, but how amazing could one be, exactly? “Make sure you come!”