It Could've Been Worse

Chapter Four

As it turned out, the next day was a snow day. Funny thing about Colorado. It gets really cold here. Like, really cold. But I like it. You can ski and build snowmen and stuff. I spent the day catching up on my AP work, watching the reruns of old Christmas movies on the Hallmark channel (do not tell Leah—I would never live it down) and drinking my mom's amazing hot cocoa. I'm betting on a white Christmas.

On Friday, things at school were a little crazy. The teachers, I think, were all expecting there not to be school again, so they barely had lesson plans. All the girls were freaking out about the concert, so I mostly spent the day on Facebook while listening to music. We got let out early because of a blizzard warning.

I went home and crashed for awhile until it was time to get ready to waste a couple hours watching dudes sing stupid songs. I showered and pulled on a pair of faded jeans, a cute dusty purple top, and a sweater, since Leah had outlawed my black hoodie. And no one wants to look weird at a concert.

Anyway, Leah shows up, giddy and wearing a 1D t-shirt. “Really?” I asked. "You're wearing a shirt? That's so fangirl, it's not even funny.”

 She just gives me this huge grin. “Come on! We gotta go!”

She grabbed my hand and pulled me out the door. “Bye Mom! I'm going to a concert! I'll call you!” I yelled as I shut the door.

We pulled out of the driveway in Leah's bright yellow VW Bug, which is actually pretty cool and vintage hipster. Leah plugged her phone into the stereo and said, “Real, normal American teenager culture lesson. The music you are about to hear comes from the both musically and physically hottest British boy band in the world. They're kinda the biggest thing in the country.”

As soon as I heard the words “best song ever,” I groaned. “They're like twenty. Why are they singing such stupid songs? I can write better songs than this! I'm not even musical or whatever!”

“But it's their voices,” Leah gushed. “They're just so perfect.”

“Whatever,” I said.

For some reason, Leah seemed really angry. She turned down the music. “Okay. Eva. Look. I know you don't like One Direction. You've said they're stupid like thirty times in the past three days. But tonight happens to be probably the best night of my life, so please don't ruin it for me, okay? Plus, I wouldn't have brought you if I didn't think you'd like it. So please, Eva, as your best friend, try to enjoy yourself.”

I muttered okay and then genuinely asked her to play her favorite songs and tell me the random facts about the guys that girls seem to care about. So she did, and I listened. Leah seemed to be giddy again, so I let her be.

We got to the concert, and Leah skipped around like Dorothy on the Yellow Brick Road. Actually, everyone there—mostly twelve-to-twenty year old who dragged someone along—skipped. Even though we were an hour early, it was still pretty busy. In the huge lobby, there were lifesize cardboard cutouts, albums and t-shirts and whatever else they could stick a logo on for sale and (One Direction, obviously) music playing over the sound system. It actually got my adrenaline pumping.

“Whoa. This. Is. So. Cool!” Leah screeched.

“You know what,” I said, “it really is.”

In the craziness of the moment, Leah gave me this huge hug. “Oh my gosh, Eva. Thanks so much for coming with me. This is going to be so much fun!”

After I got over the why-is-she-touching-me thing, I hugged her back.

“Here are the tickets. C'mon. I want to go in!”

We stood in line for about twenty minutes, waiting for the guy with his little laser thingy to scan the barcode on our tickets. We got up to the front, and the laser didn't beep. The scanner-dude knit his eyebrows. “Huh. That's weird. Let me try that again.”

Nothing.

“Girls, are these your tickets?”

“Yes.”

“And you paid for them?”

We nodded.

The guy sighed. “I'm sorry, ladies. These tickets are counterfeit. Looks like you're not going to be able to watch One Direction perform.”

And...cue the climatic music.