The Lighter That Shone Like A Star (Story of The South) (3 page)

“Freddie?” she managed.

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” he whispered back.

The couple embraced and Freddie could feel the wetness of Lornea’s tears on his cheeks, yet still he refused to cry in front of his sweetheart; he needed to be strong enough for both of them. In two weeks the pair would no longer be able to be together, miles apart, separated by a vast ocean. Freddie could not accept this information. He could not even begin to imagine his life without Lornea. Delicately wiping away the tears from Lornea’s face, he placed his thumb under Lornea’s chin, tilting her head up towards his. Their lips met, softly.

“Let’s go,” he whispered, grasping her hand. “We still have some time to waste.”

It was the earliest they had arrived home all week but still they were exhausted. Haze headed straight for his bedroom to change into his comfy grey joggers and purple hoody; a much better combination than the dark-grey skinny jeans and white shirt he had been told to wear that morning.

He slumped on the end of his oversized bed and picked up his ScribblePad. As always, he had hundreds of Scribbles waiting for him from fans, all of them hoping he would reply and acknowledge their existence.

Haze scrolled through the most recent, each asking him either to scribble to them, to subscribe to them, or to wish them a happy birthday. Every so often he would stumble across a hateful or offensive message but he had mastered the difficult art of ignoring them.

The young man scribbled a short message, ‘Back home with the boys, busy week! Thank you all for your support I love you x’ and the little blue flashing light at the top of his device immediately started to alert him that he had new Scribbles. He placed his ScribblePad face down on his bed and sauntered back to the living room to join his band mates.

The other four boys were each sprawled across chairs and sofas, too tired to move or hold a conversation. It had undoubtedly been one of the busiest weeks of their career so far. They had not long released their second single and were required to appear on every radio and television chat show in The South to promote their music and themselves. This meant that they were under constant surveillance by the media, the paparazzi, and their fans.

Each appearance included an interview and most demanded a live acoustic performance of their song. Initially, the boys were immensely excited and keen to get
started but after a week of travelling back and forth all over the lands, being ushered around by security to avoid being mobbed by screaming fans, and singing the same song around ten times a day, the boys were ready to sleep for the next week.

They knew this would not be possible, though, because the following week would be their final stretch of tour rehearsals.

Haze looked at his four best friends. Their dream had come true, but at that moment it felt like they were living in a distorted nightmare.

“Boys,” Haze started, “Shall we just order pizza tonight?” They all mumbled in agreement, so Haze dragged himself back to his bedroom to retrieve his ScribblePad whose blue light was still flashing at him. He searched for the nearest pizza delivery restaurant’s Scribbler page and pressed the call button.

The boys used to scribble to restaurants whenever they wanted food but their fans, seeing the Scribbles, soon began to gather outside the restaurants and follow the delivery drivers.

Unable to cope with a group of screaming girls outside their hotel and wanting to keep their home address as private as possible, whenever they wanted a takeaway they had stopped scribbling. Funnily, not long after, a ScribblePad update became available which meant Haze could use the device to call the pizzeria and order their five usual pizzas with five bottles of sweet cyder.

Upon re-entering the living room, the young man saw that the others were now on their ScribblePads too, scrolling through their day’s Scribbles. At the beginning, the boys used to try and reply to as many people as possible because they felt like they owed their fans a lot; without them, they would not have become famous. Now, that was an impossible task.

Just over a year had passed since their lives had changed.

Light on the Landing’s success started when they had been touring small venues around Hurburt in an attempt to become more well-known, mainly singing covers as well as a few songs that they had written.

They had managed to travel to as many as fifteen different towns and watched their ScribblePads in awe as their numbers of subscribers steadily rose from hundreds to thousands each.

Much of their time every day had been dedicated to scribbling back to their fans and they had even subscribed to some of them. When asked, the boys would say it was done
randomly, but it was clear that their prettiest fans got most of the attention. The band considered this one of the many perks of their job.

After finishing the last show of their first tour, a group of the most dedicated fans had collaborated on Scribbler and decided that as the band’s final gig finished, they would all scribble about how much they loved Light on the Landing.

Within minutes, the band’s name was all over everyone’s ScribblePads and they were suddenly on display all over The South.

People all over the lands saw how many people were scribbling about them and so began to research videos of the band and their music on
Scribblescene.

The following morning, each member of Light on the Landing had more than trebled their number of subscribers and over the coming weeks they received phone calls from some rather big names in the music industry.

That year was the best of their lives. They had travelled throughout The South meeting fans, recording some of their own music, meeting other famous musicians, and attending parties all over the four Southern lands.

The best thing about the whole experience, though, was that the five band members had become as close as brothers. If ever one of the boys missed home, felt stressed, or simply had a bad day, he had four brothers there to support him.

However, things had begun to change recently. All five band members were constantly stressed and missed home more and more with each passing day. They knew it would change soon and that the hard work would pay off but at that moment there was too much pressure: pressure from their management, pressure from their fans, and most of all pressure from themselves.

The only people that did not seem to put pressure on the five members of Light on the Landing were their families. The families they had not seen for an excruciating length of time.

Haze looked up at his brothers, all still fixed to their ScribblePads and beginning to reply to a random selection of fans. Haze knew that he would be tomorrow’s least popular member because he would not scribble back to anyone tonight, but it had recently ceased to bother him so much.

Jimmie looked up from his ScribblePad at Haze.

“Are you okay, Tommy?” That was Haze’s first name.

“Yeah, I was just thinking about the old days, y’know,” he replied.

“Hmm.” Jimmie put down his ScribblePad. “It seems like hard work now, but in a few weeks we’ll be touring and the fun will begin again. Once we’ve done this tour, we’ll be household names and we can have a long break over summer.”

Haze noticed how much Jimmie sounded like Graham, their
tour manager. “I guess,” he replied. “I’m just a bit fed up.”

Zaak threw his ScribblePad on the sofa on which he was reclined, stood up, and walked over to Haze. He sat next to him and placed his arm comfortingly around his shoulders.

“We all are, mate,” he said. “But Jimmie’s right. Not long until the fun starts. And we get to go home soon!”

That did make Haze smile. Graham had promised the band that they would begin their tour in Pipton, as a sort of homecoming. The band doubted that he would grant them such a treat, but they were proved wrong and were ecstatic to be kicking
off  the tour on home turf. The musicians had not been home for months and each of them missed their families and old school friends.

Jacob, Nathaniel and Zackary had barely known each other at school. They were often in the same lessons as each other but would spend their lunchtimes with friends from other classes. The first time they spoke to each other was during a music lesson.

Mrs. Pittaway had asked the class to get into groups of people with whom they would like to perform. Jacob, Nathaniel and Zackary all stood by quietly as the class arranged themselves into different groups with guitarists, drummers, violinists, cellists, pianists, and singers, until their plump teacher approached them and asked why they were yet to form a group.

After explaining that none of them really got on with their classmates, Mrs. Pittaway led them into a separate practice room where she asked them each to play their instruments. Delighted after hearing Zackary on drums and the other two boys demonstrate their guitar skills, she told them that they should perform together. Along with their teacher they spent the rest of the lesson choosing a piece of music that they all liked.

In their next music lesson, Mrs. Pittaway introduced two new boys to the trio. Jamie was a tall, brown-haired boy from the year above and was the only person in his class who played bass guitar. Tommy Haze was an obnoxious, cocky boy from the year below who had already fallen out with his group of singers.

The five boys were told that they would form a new group.

In the beginning, things did not go well. They could not agree on a song, Tommy had managed to annoy all four of his new band mates, and Zackary did not feel confident enough to perform in front of an audience.

With only three days remaining until the big performance, Mrs. Pittaway took control. She chose a popular rock song, arranged each boy’s parts, and helped them practise at rest-times and after school. The boys put their differences aside and even grew to enjoy each other’s company.

Swiftly, swifter than they had hoped, the night of the talent show arrived and the
fivesome walked nervously, apart from Tommy who oozed confidence, out onto the stage to play in front of the entire school.

It was the most fun they had ever had and when they finished, the whole auditorium were stood, applauding and whooping and stomping their feet.

After the show, the boys decided that they did not want to stop performing together so they agreed to meet up every day after school to learn new songs and practise routines. Each boy had only a small house except for Tommy, who had a long landing at the top of his stairs. Zaak set up his drum kit in the spare room while the other four played on the cramped landing.

As it grew dark, Tommy’s stepdad, Graham, would turn on the landing light and tell his stepson’s friends that it was time to go home. When the boys wanted to start putting on shows in Pipton, they needed a name. Jamie was the one who came up with Light on the Landing.

When Tommy had finally reached sixteen and thus all five boys were men, they decided to travel around Hurburt with the little money they had saved from their part-time jobs. Graham had offered to accompany them as a ‘tour manager’, and so the five boys and Tommy’s stepdad waved goodbye to Pipton and began their road trip. After six weeks of negotiating their way into playing small venues and staying in cheap motels, they returned home.

Not long after, they were scouted. It was all thanks to Mrs. Pittaway, Graham,
their rapidly growing network of fans, ScribblePads, and some kind of miracle.

They stayed in Pipton for a while, speaking with various music producers and record labels via their ScribblePads, until eventually they signed contracts with one of
Hurburt’s biggest record companies. They were offered more money from companies of the other three lands but they wanted to stick to their roots.

Graham suggested that while this was a good idea, they needed to be more appealable to the other, magical lands. The following day, they assigned themselves new names and met with stylists.

When they travelled the three magical lands of The South, supporting some big names in even bigger venues, they introduced themselves as Jayke, Naithian, Zaak, Jimmie and Haze. Girls claimed they were the most handsome men they had ever laid eyes on.

The five friends were now huddled together on one sofa, Haze squished in the middle.

“Tomorrow we should do something fun,” Jimmie said.

“Yeah, we should,” Jayke agreed.
“Any ideas?”

“We could go to the beach,” Zaak suggested.

“Good idea! I’ll drive us to the beach and we can just chill in the sun,” Naithian exclaimed.

Haze smiled for what felt like the first time that week. “We could go skinny dipping,” he joked. “Give the paparazzi a treat.”

“Give the fans a heart attack,” Jimmie corrected.

“Give Haze a…” Naithain winked, made a vulgar action with his hands, and roared at his own hilarity.

The group laughed so loudly that they almost did not hear the doorbell. Jayke picked up his wallet and made to pay the delivery driver. Haze remained on the sofa and glanced at his ScribblePad, whose flashing light had turned green meaning he had received a private message from someone to whom he had subscribed. He assumed it was one of his fans but he opened it anyway, just in case. It was their manager.

“Boys,” Haze exclaimed. “Graham sent me a message. There’s been some problem with the Rysked dates and the tickets haven’t gone on sale yet.
Buuuuut…” He paused for effect. “The tickets for Terexe and Salmont all sold out within a few hours! He reckons when our Hurburt tickets go on sale, they’ll all be gone in an hour.”

The other boys all joined him in his excitement, elated that their ticket sales had gone so well.

Haze scrolled down the message, seeing the list of tour dates each with
sold out
written in big letters in place of the ticket prices. As he reached the bottom of the list, Haze noticed another message was waiting for him. Curiously, it was from a Scribbler to whom he was not subscribed.