ON THE WAY OUT I stop to say goodbye to Jade.
Jade looks up from the latte he's making."What are your plans for the rest of the night?" He asks."Home. YouTube. Dinner," I answer. What I don't mention is that by YouTube I mean I'll be lounging around in my pjs crying over Fable music videos. And by dinner I mean pistachio ice cream. Probably a whole tub.With mom and dad working in the kitchens until late every Friday, I basically have free reign."Sounds fun. That reminds me though..." he leans across the counter, tucking a loose strand of sandy blonde hair behind his ear. "Why didn't you go with your friends to the concert? I thought you loved Fable. Like, a die-hard super fan."There's no sarcasm in his voice.One of the things I admire most about Jade is how he's so accepting, and he actually makes an effort to see from other people's point of view. I doubt he listens to Fable – he told me once that he mostly listens to old retro stuff from the 80s – but he's never once mocked me for listening to them.Compared to Alix, he's basically Prince Charming."I do love them. I really wanted to go..." I don't know how to say it without sounding like a neurotic wreck. "It's complicated. Crowds, screaming."His face suddenly changes. Jade knows the whole story. My parents told him. "Of course. I forgot. Sorry.""It's ok," I try to reassure him, feeling extremely stupid. Jamie's right. I really am ruining my own life."Anyway, I'll head off then.""Sure, see you next Friday." Jade winks at me.I turn around to pick up my guitar where I've leaned it against the counter. It's gone.I look up and see that the guy with the dark sunglasses from earlier is standing right next to me, holding my guitar, his face hidden in the shadows of his hoodie."Excuse me, but why are–" I begin, before he cuts me off."Just follow me. Don't make a scene," he says, and strides out the door with my guitar before I can protest. I look across the counter but Jade missed it – he's already left his spot and is delivering a latte to a table on the opposite side of the cafe.I have no choice but to follow the guitar-thief outside and get my property back myself.The guy is waiting outside the front door when I walk out.What's the hell is he doing?I'm losing my patience quickly. For a moment, seething anger eclipses my natural timidity, and I forget to be shy."Give it back," I say, practically spitting out the words. I can feel my whole body shaking – whether it's from fear or rage, I don't know, and I don't care. He has no clue what this guitar means to me. I'm not going to let him take it without a fight.I squint my eyes in the gathering twilight, trying to make out his features. It's not easy, with his face hidden in the shadows of his hoodie.There are a couple of people walking down the street, so if he tries to run away with the guitar I'll yell. He's tall and could probably easily overpower me, but he's just standing dead still, staying put. Staring at me through those dark shades of his.Scary.The handle of my guitar case is still firmly clenched in his hand. His head is cocked slightly to the side, like he's trying to figure something out. Trying to decide on something. For a moment I'm reminded of a cat watching its prey, and I can feel my heartbeat speed up ever so slightly. Danger.Then he turns away and holds his free hand up in a half wave, looking down the road. A signal. Oh my god. He's part of a gang. He's calling his friends."Give it back," I say, stepping forward and getting ready to fling myself at him. "Now.""Why?" He asks. "You don't need it. Not where we're going."The words sink in. He's going to take me somewhere. Him and his gang. He intends to kidnap me. My body tenses, but before I can spring into action and sprint away, I remember that he's still got my guitar. I swallow down my fear, trying to hide the shakiness creeping into my voice."Look, just give me back my guitar, " I say between clenched teeth, still trying to make out his features in the shadows. I can't figure out how old he is – he could be anywhere from his late teens to early twenties."No," he says.He's looking down the road in the direction he signaled. I have to get my guitar back now."Give it back, or I'll scream," I say.His quiet laughter sounds almost mocking. "Go ahead. It's not going to change the situation. Your guitar is coming with me, and so are you."He's taller than me, and I know it's hopeless, but I lunge at him. He dodges me so quickly that I don't realize he's grabbed my wrist and pinned my back against him until I hear his cold, bored voice right next to my ear."Fine. Have it your way then," he says. "It's not like I need the trouble."He releases my wrist roughly, and I swipe my hand up at his face as I stumble backwards and land on the sidewalk.I managed to knock his shades off, and they clatter onto the concrete next to me.He bends down to pick them up, inspecting them for a moment while I scramble up on to my feet. He mutters a few words that sound like "disgusting" and "ruined", before tossing the shades into the bushes that line the front of the Night Owl. His eyes flash angrily in my direction.Without the glasses, I can see his eyes. Cold, dark hazel eyes glinting with disdain.He pushes back his hoodie.I find myself looking into a face I know better than my own reflection.Oh my god. It's Felix Lockhart.FOR A GOOD TEN seconds, all I can do is stare. This can't be happening.Finally I feel my lips move. "Felix... Lockhart?""In the flesh," he says.I take in the familiar features, looking for some difference which would prove he's just some lookalike having a laugh.I take in the beautiful, perfect face, vampire-pale skin, high cheekbones framed by dark hair. It's his eyes however that banish any doubts – they're recognizable anywhere.Intense hazel green with a ring of brown around the pupil, with a few gold flecks near the rim. Cold and cat-like, predatory even – but somehow too beautiful to be real. I've always wondered if they're actually contacts, but up close I can see his eyes are perfectly clear.No contacts. No Photoshop."They're real," I murmur. "Wow"."What's real?" He asks.I just stare.Felix Lockhart is here, standing right in front of me. The real deal, totally legit. Living, breathing, not just in the mag
INSIDE, THE LIMO IS cool and softly lit. I slide across the leather seat until I'm sitting opposite Felix.There's a cold, fluttery feeling in the pit of my stomach.Felix places the guitar case on the floor between us. He stretches back, crossing his long legs out in front of him at the ankle.I notice he's wearing the same outfit (a dark top, black jeans and navy blue converse sneakers) he was wearing in one of Lyall's Instagram updates from earlier in the day.It's all just so surreal.I look down at my own outfit and realize we're wearing practically the same thing. I didn't change after school, so I'm still in my skinny jeans, converse and a red hoodie.I'd give anything to be wearing a pretty dress right now. Or some killer lipstick or even just eyeliner. I can see Jamie's logic in wearing makeup 24/7 now.But there's no way when I was rushing to get dressed this morning I could have known I'd be going to the concert, escorted by none other t
AS WE PULL INTO the stadium parking lot, I realize that the screaming is coming from a huge crowd of girls hanging around outside.Zee, Grace, Jamie and everyone else who has a ticket will be inside by now.These are the fans who didn't get concert tickets in time.Most of them are standing around waving signs that read "FABLE FOREVER" OR "ENFABLER4LIFE", singing, screaming, showing their support even though they won't get to see the actual show.When Fable first started getting popular, their fans were mostly teenaged girls. The press were quick to label them as a boy band, even though they play their own instruments, and their sound is closer to rock than pop. As they started winning awards and earning respect, the press changed their tune. They were the band that "brought rock back". The cherry on top was when David Bowie, dressed head-to-toe in his Jareth costume from Labyrinth, joined the boys onstage during a performance of Déjà Vu at Central
"THIS WAY," TODD SAYS, walking down the corridor at a fast pace.As I follow the security guard past several sets of frosted glass doors, I remember Beth boasting that her dad got her a suite.If she was telling the truth, it means she and the other Bs are probably somewhere nearby on the same level of the arena.I might even run into them.Oh hell no.Although even if that were to happen, it’s no big deal. Nothing could ruin my good mood. This is shaping up to be officially the most amazeballs night EVER, and it’s only going to get better. I still can't believe I'm going to meet the rest of the band after the show.I'm not too nervous about meeting Lyall or Elliot, because everyone knows that Lyall's a total sweetie and Elliot's super nice. Ben has a bit of a "hothead" image going on but he's really fun, and Alastair is... Alastaire.I have no clue what I'm going to say to them.Todd finally stops in front of a brightly lit room w
THE MOMENT THAT KITTY leaves the suite, the three angels swoop down on me.I shrink back from the cloying semi-circle of bleached blonde hair, fake tan and too-sweet perfume.They look a few years older than me, possibly seniors at another school.I was so worried about running into the Three Bs, and instead I've ended up with another (possibly worse) trio of angels.Unfortunately it's not as coincidental as one might think.Alastaire's fans always seem to travel in packs. All Enfablers are like a big family, a sisterhood that spans the globe – but the angels take it to the extreme.Angels stick together with one goal in mind. Their sole aim is to get chosen. To get noticed by their idol, and to have the honor of being one of the special angels that "Alastaire takes up to heaven" after each concert.That's what the rumors online say, and it looks like there might be some truth to them.The girl in the sparkly gold top is smiling
I TAKE A SEAT AS far away from the angels as possible, at the far end of the row.The view really is incredible, and I sit for a while just looking down at the crowd. Somewhere in the mass of bodies, Grace, Zee and Jamie are singing, dancing, probably crying (tears of joy, of course).I'd love to spot them, but I know the chances are slim.As I think of my friends, it dawns on me that since getting into the limo with Felix, I haven't messaged them even once. They have no idea that I'm even at the concert.I try calling Zee first. Her phone rings for ages, and eventually I get through to her voice mail. When she doesn't pick up I try Jamie, with no luck.It must be so noisy on the floor that they aren't hearing their ringtones.Calling Grace isn't an option – she doesn't even have a phone.Her parents think that cell phones equal sexting, which equals underage sex, which equals teen pregnancy, dropping out of school and a life turning tricks o
KITTY COMES BACK BEFORE the end of the show, this time holding a sparkly silver purse instead of a clipboard.She's changed out of the playsuit and is wearing an elegant black cocktail dress with a plunging neckline.If only I'd put on a pretty dress today. FML."This way, ladies," she says gesturing out the door.The Alastair's Angels push in front of me as we walk to the door.Kitty leads us through a labyrinth of corridors and elevators, all the way to the backstage area on the ground floor.We're ushered into a small, brightly lit dressing room, with several leather sofas and racks of clothes.The walls are covered in mirrors, and the angels quickly whip out their makeup.We haven't been in the room more than ten seconds before they're inspecting their reflections, puckering their lips and adding that all-important final coat of lip gloss.I don't have any makeup or even a hairbrush with me, and there's no way in hell I'd ask
"What the hell were you doing to her?" Felix says, his voice practically a growl.He's looming over the angels as they huddle in the corner of the room. He's lost the top hat, but he's still dressed in the vampiric black ensemble he wore on stage, adding to the air of menace. Even though he's standing casually, almost relaxed as he addresses them, at any moment I could imagine him lashing out and grabbing one of them in a chokehold."Explain," he says. "Immediately.""Did they hurt you?" Alastaire whispers to me, his mouth right next to my ear. He pulls me to my feet and steadies me in his arms. I feel faint."No. I'm ok," I say.I'm not totally sure that I'm telling the truth. The curly-haired girl seems to have blood dripping from one of her hands.Did they stab me with the scissors?My body hurts all over and my mouth tastes like salt and metal. I think I might be sick.The girl in the sparkly gold top bursts into tears whil