Beautiful Trouble

Chapter Three

The ritual was pretty much the same as any other when I got home from school. My bag would get dumped on the work surface in the kitchen, and then I'd rush upstairs and slam my bedroom door. Antisocial, right? No - simply avoiding situations; "How's your day been, love?" "What did you learn?" "What do you mean you only got a B?" Admittedly, the last one would be my Dad. He hates seeing me 'underperform', and although I don't think he means to do it, he puts pressure on me. So that's why I leave.

Today was different. Today I rushed home from school, and without even taking my bag from off my shoulders, I rushed upstairs to Dad's office. Mum wouldn't be home from work yet, and I wondered how Dad would take the news that his little girl had broken her wrist and got tickets to see Gary, Markie, Howard and the other two at Lexington Avenue in two days time.

" Hi Dad!" I opened his office door, and sure enough, there he was, sitting with a cup of tea in one hand and his newspaper in the other. "Hi love!" He nonchalantly nodded in my direction, barely lifting his eyes from the black and white print. "How was your day?" He still hadn't looked at me, but I sat down at the computer chair and started to tell him the whole story... Ok, maybe not the whole story, I missed out the fact that I should have been studying the periodic table for two hours instead of watching part of a concert, passing out and then ending up in a first aid room with the band!

I finished my story, and Dad put his paper down on the desk, folded his glasses and placed them next to it. "And they want you to go? How many tickets do you have?" I swung my bag from my shoulder and opened up the zip compartment. There it is, I thought. It's still there, as perfect as it was when Markie handed it to me. My golden tickets. "Two" I smiled, handing Dad the envelope, "They told me I had two tickets to go and see them because I missed most of the concert." Inside, my emotions were divided. The larger part of me was excited that Dad would find it in his heart to let his underage daughter go to a nightclub to watch them perform, and the tiniest, darkest corner of me was nervous, nervous that he'd say no.

"Do you have anyone to go with you?" He smiled, handing me the tickets back and folding his arms. Dad knew as well as I did that I didn't have many friends. "No" was my simple reply. I bowed my head. That's a definite no, I thought. "Well," Dad smiled thoughtfully, "Why don't you ask your cousin, Kendall? In fact, I'll do it for you. Here, pass me the phone?"

I knew better than to argue with Dad, but the last time I had contact with Kendall was when we were toddlers... I highly doubted she would remember me, let alone be interested about going to a concert with me. Oh yeah, not to mention the fact that she was three years older than me. I quietly padded out of Dad's office, frankly still surprised that he was considering letting me go to Lexington Avenue, and closed the door, loitering outside.

"Hello?" "Yeah it's only me..." "Yeah, how's the family?" "How's Kendall fixed for Friday night, around seven?" "Fantastic!" "Yes..." "See you later." And the phone slammed down. "I know you're out there, I didn't hear you walk down the stairs!" Dad chuckled, opening the door to find me standing there, my ear pressed against the wall. "She said she'd love to come!" I could have jumped up and down, screamed and hugged Dad all at the same time. Instead, I stumbled out a "Thanks!" He took his wallet from the back pocket of his trousers, opened it, and gave me fifty pounds. Fifty pounds! "You'd better go into town and find yourself something nice to wear... don't tell your mother!" We laughed, and without further adieu, I ran down the stairs, threw on my old, decrepit Converse and bolted out of the front door. Friday was going to be the best. The absolute best. Ever.

Friday came, and I couldn't wait for the day to be over. I threw on my uniform, and looked at my wardrobe. There, hanging up in all their glory were my brand new dress, shoes and handbag. I skipped breakfast. All I could think about were those boys, the tickets named them Take That, but in particular, I was thinking about one of them. Gary, especially the way he hugged me. All day long, instead of listening to the teachers, I would be day dreaming about Friday night, being at the front with Carly singing to the songs (after they'd sung the first chorus of course, once we knew the words we'd be able to join in). I kept replaying being squashed against Gary's chest, the way he picked my hand up and stroked it, the way he laughed, the way he smiled. I'd never gushed about a boy before. I'd never been such a gooey, silly mess before. Every time I looked down at my hand I had a reminder of Wednesday. I never, ever want to take this off. I thought, stroking my thumb over his signature. I cant wait to see you again.