‘That is . . . correct!’ The box office man handed over the tickets. ‘Next!’
Olivia was shivering with nerves. Sophia had spent all day helping her study, but what if they asked something she didn’t know? Come to think of it, Olivia wasn’t sure she could remember anything!
She stared blankly at the back of the head of the person in front of her as the bearded man asked, ‘What is the lead singer’s cat’s name?’
Olivia felt like someone had shaken her brain and erased it like an etch-o-sketch.
‘Zombie Gray!’ answered the girl, who was wearing fishnet stockings and knee-high boots. She took her tickets and waved them around.
It was Olivia’s turn. She shuffled forwards as if on autopilot.
‘Name?’ the man asked, scratching at his beard and looking bored.
Olivia squared her shoulders. ‘Ivy Vega.’
He rifled through his list of winners. ‘Vega, Vega . . . Ah, here you are.’ He looked from the picture to Olivia and back at the picture again. Olivia held her breath. ‘Right,’ he continued. ‘Your question is: What is the third line in the second song on the first album?’
Say what?! This was definitely not something they had studied. Olivia felt herself go whiter than the shade of Pale Beauty make-up she was wearing. How was she going to wing this?
Eyes wide, she looked over at Brendan and Sophia, who had already begun performing a ridiculous game of charades. Olivia squinted. She knew they were trying to tell her the answer, but what on earth were they miming?
Sophia was furiously tapping her chest with one hand and pointing at Brendan with the other, while Brendan had brought his fingertips together in a sharp point and was making swift prodding motions into the air.
Chest? No. Heart? Love . . . thumping . . . pointy thing . . . crying?
Olivia shook her head, turning back to the man at the box office, who was now reading the sports pages, waiting for Olivia to respond. Might as well give it a try, she thought.
‘This love is like a stake in the heart ?’ she said.
He peeled his eyes away from the newspaper to read the answer sheet. ‘Here you go,’ he said, sliding three tickets towards her. Olivia snatched them. Seriously? I did it? She wanted to jump for joy, but she was pretty sure goths weren’t allowed to show that much enthusiasm about anything. Instead, she walked coolly over to Brendan and Sophia, wondering: Who would listen to a song about love and stakes?
Half an hour later, Olivia was busy avoiding getting her toes crushed beneath combat boots in a sea of goth girls and guys, who were all so ghostly pale it almost looked as if they’d drained the colour from the usually vibrant park. The three of them scoped out a spot on the grass and spread a blanket among the other concertgoers, who all sat in clusters, waiting for the gig to start.
‘This –’ Sophia stared up at the blazing spotlights – ‘is killer.’ They were sprawled out in the Winner’s Enclosure right beneath the stage and even Olivia had to admit, it was pretty cool. She had never seen a live band playing this close up.
‘You ready to hear your new favourite song?’ Brendan nudged Olivia playfully.
She dropped her chin. ‘Any song that compares love to being staked will not be gracing my iPod!’
The lights dimmed and a roaring cheer rose from the crowd. Brendan pulled Olivia to her feet just before the crowd surged forwards. The place was a madhouse! She clung to Brendan’s hand so as not to be crushed. Pall Bearer fans are rabid.
‘Brendan!’ Olivia yelled, still clutching on to him. His hand was scalding hot, like he had a 110 degree fever. ‘Are you OK?’ she asked.
‘Yeah, yeah,’ he said, letting go. ‘I’m fine.’
Olivia peered up at Ivy’s boyfriend. She couldn’t put her finger on why, but she didn’t think Brendan was telling the truth. He looked hot and flustered. Something’s definitely wrong. Before she could ask any more questions, music blasted from the speakers and amps situated at the end of the stage. How could vampires stand this? They had super-sensitive hearing, but Olivia could barely handle it, and she was human! It was the single loudest noise she had ever heard. She would have plugged her ears if only her arms weren’t pinned to her sides in the crowd crush. Now all she could do was cringe. She felt like her parents: Turn the music down!
Sophia bounced next to her, pumping her fist to the pounding drum beat. A red light illuminated the stage, revealing The Pall Bearers, dressed in skinny jeans and ripped T-shirts. The lead guitarist jammed on the strings of his instrument and what came out was a tuneless, rhythmless mess.
Fright Night, nocturnal delight
Turn out the light and
Scream with all your might . . .
Olivia had nothing against goths, but they had terrible taste in music. This could not possibly get any worse . . . Or at least that was what Olivia thought before the dancing started. If it could even be called ‘dancing’. First, the crowd surged one way and then the other, like an angry, writhing snake, and Olivia was wrenched along in the current.
‘Ouch!’ Someone stomped on her toe. ‘Oof!’ An elbow jabbed into her back and she lurched forwards. When she regained her balance, she tried standing on tiptoes so that she could just see over the shoulders of the people directly in front. There was a little clearing within the mass of people, in which a bunch of rowdy boys were shoving and kicking each other, yelling, ‘Mosh, mosh, mosh, mosh!’ And this is supposed to be fun? Olivia thought.
There was a brief lull between the first and second songs and Olivia jumped at the opportunity to talk to Sophia. ‘Mind if I head out now?’ She tugged at the sleeve of Sophia’s faded Pall Bearers T-shirt. ‘I’m not sure I feel like being deaf tomorrow.’ Her ears were ringing already.
Sophia wrapped Olivia in a tight hug. ‘Thank you so, so much for coming through for us. I was beyond excited for this concert. You have no idea.’
Despite her full-body discomfort, Olivia couldn’t help but smile. So what if she had to suffer a few bruised ribs and a little hearing loss? Totally worth it. If only Ivy could be here . . .