The Almost Summer

Chapter 11: Of course I am♥

My arms are aching from the various items I’m carrying for my brother, who swans off through the crowds ahead like some sort of fabulous war general while his pack horse – me – stumbles along behind him.

It’s only ten o clock, but already the place is heaving. This competition is like X Factor crash landed in a small town. Seemingly anyone could’ve signed up, as long as there is some instrument-playing involved. So far it seems mostly excited teens mixed in with a few harassed looking adults, who I’m guessing are in charge yet actually look anything but.

“Hurry up,” Charlie yells over his shoulder, from where he stands with Lucas and Matty. Matty looks relaxed, swirling his drumsticks in between his fingers while Lucas hops around with what I assume is nervous energy. I try to walk a bit quicker, lugging the case of his bass guitar behind me. Finally reaching them, I shoot Charlie my worst look and shove the case into his hands.

“What did your last slave die of?” I grumble.

“Nothing. You’re still alive.” He grins, slinging his arm around my shoulders. “So now what do we do?” This he addresses to the other two members of his ‘band’.

“How should I know? I just turn up when I’m told to.” Matty shrugs, losing control of the drumstick and dropping it on Lucas’s foot. He bends down to pick it up, and rises sheepishly. “Think we’re just supposed to wait.”

“Wait for what?” I ask, looking around the crowded hall where this is taking place. It’s rectangular, and the walls are painted a cool grey colour. Natural light streams in through the windows running along the top of the parallel wall. At the opposite end from us a raised platform serves as a stage, and three men in black t-shirts are setting up amps. In front of the stage is a table where I’m guessing the judges will sit. Behind that rows of blue plastic chairs face the stage, and already some people are sat alternatively glancing around the room and looking at the competition.

I’m so busy taking it in that I don’t notice the man who appears seemingly out of thin air beside us. He’s shorter than Lucas but taller than me, with blonde hair and a ginger beard. I wonder if he dyed his hair blonde, and if he did why didn’t he do his beard to match. And then I wonder if you can even dye beards.

“Are you one of the bands?” He asks, pointing his pen at us as if we don’t know we’re who he’s addressing.

“Yeah, do you know what we’re supposed to be doing?” Matty asks. I’d forgotten Matty could sometimes be sensible. Ginger beard just starts waving his clipboard around as well as his pen, and I have to duck out the way as his gesturing becomes a bit overzealous.

“Well you need to sign in,” He starts, but Charlie interjects with an impatient: “Yeah we’ve already done that.” Patience isn’t a value Charlie aspires to have.

The bearded man looks slightly put out, as he quits brandishing his clipboard, but he still carries on with the pen as if he’s conducting an invisible orchestra. “Right, well then you need to get your number and wait to be called up.” With that he peels off a green sticker and slaps it on Lucas’s shoulder, who looks stunned. “When you hear your number called head over to John (he points at one of the guys on stage) and he’ll help you set up. Then they judges will tell you if you make it through. If you do, stay and wait until the end and then they’ll decide the five bands that actually do go through. If you don’t, then get lost. Until then, try not to cause any trouble.” He says, before hurrying off to the next group.

We decide to take some seats near the back of the room. I’ve barely sat down when Matty starts.

“So Autumn…. Will you just sit here and wait while we’re onstage?” Matty asks, tapping out a rhythm on the back of the unoccupied chair in front of him.