I Was Born for This(57)

‘Are you … okay?’

I laugh at him again.

Alex is redoing my hair. He’s not trying to talk to me, which I appreciate. I’m now wearing a different black hoodie – a plain one, without any pictures or text on it.

I keep thinking about the girl who helped me.

Angel.

Don’t remember her last name.

But her name was Angel.

Makes me feel like she was some sort of sign from God.

That’s silly, though.

I mean, it’s too obvious.

Is she going to tell anyone about what happened? Probably, if she’s a fan. It’s probably going round Twitter already.

Who cares?

What more can they do to me?

At least when this is all over I will be able to buy a house in the Lake District, far away from anybody else, and stay there, and nobody will know where I am, nobody will talk to me, nobody will touch me. I can sit on my doorstep and play the guitar and there will be nothing but the sound of the music and the birds. Maybe I’ll meet a farmer my age, or maybe someone working on nature preservation, and he’ll have no idea who I am because he doesn’t own a television and there’s no internet in the forest, and I’ll serenade him with some songs I wrote especially for him and then we’ll fall in love and live in a tiny stone cottage with the deer and the rabbits and the birds until we’re old men.

‘You’d better go and get your microphone set up, Jimmy,’ says Alex. He pats me on the shoulder and gives it a little squeeze. I realise I’ve just been sitting in the chair for a good few minutes, lost in thought.

I stand up and say, ‘Yeah.’

‘You gonna be all right, tonight? You had another panic attack, didn’t you?’

‘Doesn’t matter,’ I say.

‘You’ve been having a lot of those lately.’

‘I know.’

‘What’s going on with you boys? You seem a bit –’ Alex makes a gesture with his hands – ‘disjointed.’

I just shrug and say, ‘Yeah.’





The show is still on. Or at least, I assume so. There’ve been no announcements saying it’s cancelled. Nothing has been said about the incident at the meet-and-greet. But everyone knows of course. It’s being passed from fan to fan and it’s trending on Twitter. Photos and videos of the crush are plastered all over the internet. A photo of Rowan, blood-stained and terrified, is posted again and again and again. I see someone being carried out of the O2 on a stretcher. There are whispers of broken ribs. Everyone’s saying they saw Jimmy cry.

But the show is still on.

I feel sick and empty.

I don’t feel excited any more.

I walk around the O2 for several minutes before realising that I could just call Juliet. Once I’ve made it to the arena entrance, I sit down on the floor and fish my phone out of my pocket, and call her.

She doesn’t answer on the first ring, but she does on the second.

‘Hello?’

‘Hey, it’s Angel,’ I say. ‘Are you okay? Where are you?’

There’s a pause.

‘I’m fine. I’m good.’

I can hear the murmur of voices. People around her? Or is she talking to someone?

‘Where are you?’ I ask again. She must not have heard me.

There’s another pause.

‘I think I’m gonna go home,’ she says.

Home? What?

‘What?’ I say. ‘Why?’

‘I … that was all a bit … insane … I’m just not feeling it. I just want to go home—’

‘But it’s still on! They haven’t cancelled it!’

‘No, I know, but—’

‘Why do you want to go home?’

‘I just do.’

We both stop talking. She wants to go home? And miss The Ark?

We’ve been waiting for this for a year.

This was the entire point of me coming to stay with her.

‘Look, Mac’s going too,’ she says.

‘Well, we both know Mac doesn’t want to see The Ark, don’t we?’ I snap without thinking. And who cares what he wants? He’s the one who lied just to get to meet Juliet in real life. That’s not something a friend does. Or a boyfriend. Or whatever their relationship is. I don’t give a shit.

‘Yeah, I know. I get it. I’m sorry, all right?’

I suddenly feel kind of bad. ‘Don’t be sorry—’

‘Well, you clearly think this is my fault. You’ve had a problem with him for the whole week.’ There’s a pause. ‘And me, as well.’

‘What?’

‘From the moment you met me in real life and I didn’t live up to your expectations. Well, I’m sorry I don’t want to talk about The Ark all the time. I’m sorry I actually wanted us to get to know each other as people, not just Ark fans.’

‘I at least thought you’d be excited to see The Ark but I guess you’re not.’

‘There are more important things going on than a boy band.’

‘Like what?’ I shout, and several people close to me turn round to look.

‘Er, I don’t know, like friendships and relationships and actually making real human connections!?’