You Don't Know Me

Seminal Leotards

550, 620, 901. . .

I've never told anyone about the kiss behind the speaker stacks at the festival last summer. I'd noticed George looking at me a bit, but then I'd been staring too. He's six foot tall and plays football for the country Under-18s team. He is definitely not the ugliest boy in his class.

His girlfriend, Michelle, was off buying him beer at the time. I asked him what time one of the gigs was starting and we got talking. He seemed very friendly and yes, there was a kiss. I was too shocked to stop him.

Pretty quickly though, he remembered where he was, and who I was - or rather, who I wasn't - and brushed past me as if nothing had happened. I tried to forget the whole thing, although I have to admit i haven't done a very good job of it. Even when I was in Vegas for that whole summer, with Dad, I still couldn't get the kiss out of my mind. Every time we sing of 'Sunglasses', I think of George. Now we're about to be in his house. 

Why did he ask us? Was it purely coincidence, or was it something to do with me? Was he connected to my phone disappearing? I have such a bad feeling about this.

Rehearsals are a disaster. We've never actually rehearsed before. We've just been dressing up, or doing makeup tutorials, or playing computer games, and ended up accidentally singing. And we always end up singing whatever Jodie happened to be playing, because it didn't really matter. And Jodie always happened to be playing something poppy and preferably cheesy, because she has, as Rose says, no musical AT ALL, but nobody minded.

Now it matters. Now we mind.

Well, Nell doen't mind. Nell will sing anything, and looks gorgeous doing so, and sound it. Nell's real passion is animal husbandry (which I always used to tease her was marrying animals, but so isn't), and if it's anything to do with ethical treatment of animals she'll argue you to death, but if it's music, she doen't really care. However, Rose's real passion is music, and she cares a lot. If we're going to do this all, she wants us to did properly. 

Jodie wants Abba; Rose wants Alicia Keys. Jodie wants Britney; Rose wants Amy Winehouse. Jodie refuses to do anything by her because her life was 'so so tragic'. I don't know what I want - only that I don't want this stress. The whole point of the band was to relax, and this is definitely not relaxing. 

In the end we pick song titles out of a hat. I don't know how she did it, but all the choices are Jodie's anyway.

Turns out that's the least of out troubles.

Nell's dad delivers us to the house a couple of hours before the party. When we meet George, his eyes hold mine for a split second longer than the others. He's remembering, I know he was. For a moment, he seems wary, but then he switches into a different mode: cold, distant and polite. He flicks his eyes past me, as if I hardly exist. I wish, suddenly, that I had told somebody about him, because then I could explain how crushed I feel. Which is crazy - because I wanted him to pretend it never happened, same as me. Even so, the crushed feelings persists.

I wait with dread for the others to notice my downbeat mood and ask me about it, but as George shows us where we'll be playing and changing, nobody does. Slowly I realize, for their different reasons, they're all feeling worse. Nell's terrified she'll forget the words. Jodie's has turned to pure fear, and even though Rose couldn't sing a bum note if she tried, her shyness is making her physically shake with the effort of imagining a hundred people packed into the barn at the end of George's garden, all watching and listening to every note.

 I made a mistake of thinking about it too. In two hours, a hundred cool six-formers will arrive, cool sixth-formers who could kill us on Interface with a single well-armed putdown. And all we have between us and them are three glitter belts, a silver waistcoat and couple of moth-eaten hats. We are crazy.