Bricks

Chapter 4: Ceremony Precedent

It's two days later. I sit on my bed, stomach twisting nervously like churned brick cheese as I stare at the two stiff pieces of paper sitting innocently on the desk. They stare at me with silent paper eyes, asking me. What's my choice. My phone buzzes next to me, and I pick it up. It's a text from Julian.

"Like, are we going?"

I stare at it a moment, my finger hovering conjecturally over the reply button. There seems to be an electric current between my fingertip and the screen, flowing up my body and holding me still. I can't move, can barely breath, and can feel my heart pounding like a war drum in my chest.

Then, my finger touches down on the keyboard and types three little letters.

Y e s

I quickly press send and throw my phone onto my beanbag chair across the room. It lands and stares up at me, like "Come on, why'd you do that?" I grab the closest pillow and scream into it, the sound echoing around the little room and inside my racing head. I really just did that!

I get up and pace around, getting dressed and packing my purse, gently placing the tickets and laminate pass reading BACKSTAGE in the top. I then poke my head out my window to make sure my dad's car hadn't mysteriously returned, and then hustle down the stairs and out into the driveway just as Julian pulls up in a pink corvette. He's still 15, only a few months older than me, but he has a hardship license because both of his parents work all the time.

"I'm proud of you, girlfriend," Julian beams sparkily and fabulously as soon as I climb in the passenger's seat. "For deciding to go."

I laugh. "That's just because you wanted to go."

He grins. "Maybe a little." But then his smile falls, and he resumes a serious pinch of his eyebrows. "Seriously, though. You're 14 years old. It's time you stopped being afraid to do anything fun." I look at him for a moment in surprise. Julian is super smart, no doubt about it, but he also doesn't tend to take things too seriously. I'm a little taken aback by his sincerity and solemness.

"Now let's go see some hot men! Wooooo!!!!!"

And just like that, he's back to normal. Classic Julian.

It's about an hour's drive, so Julian and I talk about One Direction on the way, but I trail off as we get on the interstate. It's so... big. And fast. I've never been outside Pittersfield before, so the size of the road impresses me. Of course, that's nothing compared to the city when I look up. Huge, slick buildings rise out the horizon like cliff faces over the sea, their cold glinting faces and blinking lights like a brick city in the future, the light glinting into my mind's eye and lighting my thoughts on wings, like glittering silver fish flopping spastically across my mind's eye. Entering the city is another surprise. I actually roll down my window and stick my head out to get a better view of the mammoth structures rising on either side of us.

"Downtown," Julian grins fabulously, "pretty cool, eh?"

I draw my head back inside the window. My rosy cheeks are flushed with exhilaration and my honey blonde hair is tousled from the wind. I grin back.

"Yeah, you could say that."

The machine traveled portentously along the disconsolate asphalt. Soon we're pulling into the concert venue: a huge dome like a hundred times the size of our football field. Not that I'd ever played football, of course. With my sense of balance I'd probably end up slamming into the goalpost and ending up splayed out with my butt in the air.

Julian parks and gets out of the car, but I don't move yet, staring up at the dome in stillness with apprehension. Noticing that I haven't moved, The brunette boy comes around the passenger side and opens my door.

"Hey, like, what is it?"

"It's just.... I'm...." I find it difficult to find the words to express what I'm feeling. For so many years, I've looked up to these people, supported their careers, followed their lives. And now I was not only going to see them perform in person, but meet them? And they were right there. In that building. My stomach twists in a baffling mixture of fear, anxiety, excitement, apprehension, and some other stuff I can't really pinpoint but I can assure you is very spicy. Julian looks to see if I'll say more, but when I don't he just takes my hand and nods fabulously.

"I know."

He knows me well, and it's enough to get me moving. I climb out of the car, and look up into the slate cloudy clouds, like the cotton balls in my head. Now's the moment as we head into the concert venue. I freeze when I see all the gathered people, so Julian takes my hand to pull me forward into the line. I have crippling social anxiety, so big crowds make me nervous.

I take a deep breath, slide the slick black backstage pass out of my one direction branded saddle back, and squeeze Julian's warm, platonic hand. Time to go.

__________________________________________________________

Lights. Disco balls. Booming speakers. It's all there. We stumble unsteadily into the concert hall, where Panic! at the Disco is performing the opening number. Brendan Urie swings his hips forward and crows into the microphone with a flaming passion pinched between his luscious eyebrows.

"Had to have high, high hopes for a living, shooting for the stars when I couldn't make a killing."

My body sways involuntarily to the pounding music, my innards sloshing back and forth with the rhythmic pounding of the bass. The concert space is full of thousands of swaying fans, most of them teenage girls. Every time Brendan Urie hits a high note or the end of a phrase, they all lift their mouths in unison and scream in delight, a hysterically excited sound that gets the blood flowing and a cultish sense of glee pumping. Never before this moment have I been able to relate to Lord of the Flies.

Julian and I wind our way through the sections of seating, climbing down further into the dark, pulsing belly of the beast. We finally make our way down to the section surrounding the B-stage, where another black shirted security guard stands with his arms crossed crossly in front of a heavy velvet rope, looking sharply intimidating. We hold out our arms, and the guard holds up a light to them. It must be a black light, because the softly falling beam lifts a ghostly glow from the slick green ink stamped onto our forearms. The rope is lifted, and we move forward into the crowd.

Surging bodies jump like salmon swimming upstream as Julian and I head to the stage, holding hands so we don't get separated. The music pounds with a regular thumping rhythm as we squeeze our way right up next to the catwalk, right as Brendie Urie's voice croons the last note of his opening act. The fans around us let out a hysterical cheer as he stands and waves cheekily, turns, and walks back down the catwalk, so close I could reach and and grope up his purple bedazzled boots if I so chose. (I had half a mind to, but withheld myself).

The lights dim as Urie steps into the shadows like White Shadow. The only remaining lights are whirring about the space like an intoxicating blender, until I am the disco ball.

BWWWWWOOOOOOOOOOOAAAA

The first chords of a guitar strike the quivering air. The lights all point to the very center of the stage, where 5 heads are emerging out of the cool depths of the stage. They rise. A wild cheer rises out of the audience, and I feel my mouth open to join them. It's them!!! Zany, Liam, Niall, and Louis finish emerging from the stage, and in front of them... I feel my heart slow to a tortoise's pace, then speed up to join the hare. Harry Styles. There he is in the front, perfect auburn locks the color of burnished bricks gently tossed like he'd come from running on a beach. He has a cheeky smile and pearly white teeth with dimples bigger than the potholes on Wabash and McCarthy. His eyes had the soft gleaming sparkle of a star, except the star is Santa Claus. He was my beach, my star, not quite my Santa Claus but give him a few years and we'll see.

My vision goes blurry, and the room starts to spin in time with the lights. My ears get fuzzy, and I hear Julian say something as his face begins to warp and go dark.