BY THE TIME WE reach our lockers it's just five minutes until first bell. I hear Jamie's voice before I see her – she sounds like she's super upset about something.
Jamie's what some people might call a drama queen – literally, because she's the unofficial star of Huntson High's drama club, and figuratively because she's totally OTT and melodramatic.As we near her I see she's wearing a sequined silver cardi over a dress with a photo of the Fable boys printed on it. She mentioned that she did a bit of online shopping just for the concert, and I guess this is it.Her long brunette hair is swept up in a messy bun to show off the shower of oversized golden stars dangling from her ears.It must have taken her hours to get ready this morning.Jamie never does things half-heartedly. Last year when she was getting into character for her role as Dorothy in the school production of The Wizard of Oz, she wore her hair in braids every day for weeks.And a while before that one of her YouTube fans won a contest where they got to choose what color she wore for a month. She wore shades of green every day head-to-toe until Beth Donklin told her she looked like a cucumber.Standing next to Jamie is my other bestie, Grace.Jamie told me that in elementary school the other girls nicknamed Grace "Mouse", because she’s small and quiet, with mousy blonde hair in ringlets down to her shoulders. As usual, she's dressed conservatively (a high collared pale blue dress today) and has a book tucked under her arm.When I first met them, I thought they made an odd pair. I still think that. The Drama Queen and the Book Worm. Somehow though, it just works, and they are closer than sisters in spite of their opposite personalities. Go figure."Oh my god, finally," Jamie practically shrieks as we reach our lockers. "Girls, we have an EMERGENCY on our hands."Grace shakes her head and gives me a look. Here she goes again, is what she's saying."Are you ok Jamie?" Zee asks innocently. "What's wrong?"Jamie swings open her locker door. She reaches into the back where she keeps her spare makeup, knocking aside lip-gloss and a bottle of Miss Dior perfume. She pulls out her black pencil eyeliner and brandishes it like a sword."This is what's wrong," she says, staring intensely at the eyeliner. The nib is nowhere in sight."I tried sharpening it, but it's just making the wood sharper and leaving the nib behind." The way she's moaning and staring at the pencil in horror, you'd think someone had just died.She takes my hand and stares hard at me, her eyes wide and brimming with tears. "Ashling, tell me you have eyeliner. My life depends on it."Besides Jamie, I'm the only one in my group who ever wears makeup – Zee's a total tomboy, and Grace isn't allowed. So I get why Jamie's pinning her hopes on me.Still, I only ever wear eyeliner for a night out, not to school. Jamie collapses against her locker and sinks to the floor as I shake my head."This is beyond lame," she says, hugging her arms around her body. "I feel naked.""I think you're getting a bit carried away," Grace says, pulling Jamie back onto her feet. "It's just for one day."Jamie's face looks even more panicky and her voice actually manages to rise an octave."Just one day? Hellooo! Have you forgotten what's happening today? We're watching Fable tonight. It's literally the biggest day of my life. Of all our lives. I wanted to slay tonight. And it's not like I'll be able to borrow eyeliner at your house when we're getting ready... there's no way your mom would lend me some, even if she had."Grace lives closest to Rose Quarter, tucked away in the heart of the city along the Willamette River, so the others are going to her house after school to get ready for the concert.It was a miracle really that Grace's parents agreed to it at all.They're ultra conservative – anti-makeup, anti-dating, anti-fun. They treat her like she's some sort of delinquent, which is ridiculous, because she's basically a saint. Like if they give her an inch of freedom she'll go off the rails.Jamie says it's got something to do with her older sister, but I don't know the full story."Who cares what you look like at the concert," Grace says. "Everyone will be watching Fable. No one's watching you.""Tell that to my followers," Jamie mutters.Jamie has more than seven-hundred-thousand followers on Instagram and even more than that on YouTube. All she does really is upload photos and videos of her outfits, hair and makeup every day (plus the occasional rant about hipsters) – but she's doing something right. Some of her vlogs have over a million views.She says she doesn't care about being popular – it's all practice living in front of a camera, the perfect preparation for her future career in Hollywood. Personally I think she just likes all the attention."This is the worst possible timing ever,” she says with a pout. “I need my eyeliner. I wanted to take photos every hour today, like a countdown to the concert. It's just not fair. #fableportland is so trending right now and I'm going to miss out." The last part sounds like a squeal.Zee squeezes her arm. "Don't worry Jamie. None of that matters. We're all going to have an amazing time at the conc-"She catches my eye even though I'm trying to look nonchalant."Sorry Ashling. I keep forgetting," she says quietly. We're all silent for a moment."It's ok. I'll be fine," I say, not feeling like I'll be fine at all. I'm determined not to feel sorry for myself though, and I hate the thought of my friends worrying about me."Seriously, I'll be ok," I say."Of course you'll be ok," Jamie says. "It was your decision not to come tonight. And besides, you'll get to spend time with Jade. Tell him I say hi".Jade works for my parents. He's super hot, super nice and also super unavailable.Grace cocks her eyebrow. "You're dreaming Jamie. He’s twenty-one," she says."Whatever. He's sooo into me." Jamie says."That's irrelevant. You're underage. It’s wrong, and he'd never risk it," Grace says matter-of-factly."Quit being such a prude. Five years is nothing," Jamie says. "Anyway, lets get back to real issues – like my eyeliner.""I have a sharpie in my bag," I offer."I might actually try-" Jamie stops mid-sentence and sighs."We have company.""HEY GHOST." A FAMILIAR voice pipes up just behind me.I steel myself for a moment. I'm so tempted to ignore her, to just close my locker and walk away.I turn around already knowing who I'll see. Beth, Bailey and Becca – or the Three Bs, as they're known at Huntson High. Beth is the Queen Bee, and Bailey and Becca are sort of like the worker bees. They do everything for her; they even carry her bag and her phone.Jamie says the reason people call them the Three Bs isn't because their names all start with B, but actually because they’re all "Blonde Brainless Bitches". She's wrong though – Bailey gets good grades and she’s sort of nice, and Beth and Becca aren't really blonde.They only started dying their hair blonde last year after they became obsessed with Fable and Alastaire said in a TV interview that he only dates blondes. Alastaire's elite fans, or “Alastaire’s Angels” as the media calls them, are like a
THE REST OF THE MORNING goes by excruciatingly slowly. My first three periods are the worst. Chem, math and physics. The deadly trio.The fact that I'm still feeling down about the concert doesn't help matters.My next class is art, which I actually like. Plus it's one of the few classes I have with Jamie, Grace and Zee.We usually meet up at our lockers before walking out to the arts building together, so I'm not surprised when I hear Jamie's voice as I'm about to turn the corner by our lockers. She sounds upset.I stop dead in my tracks when I hear her say my name.I'm not totally sure what it is that makes me press my back against the wall and stand listening, concealed around the corner where they can't see me. I'm only a few feet from them, and they could leave the lockers and turn the corner at any time, and this would be very weird to try and explain to them.I don't usually randomly eavesdrop on my friends. But there's something in Jamie's voice
AFTER SCHOOL I WALK to The Night Owl. Most Fridays the girls come with me. Everything's on the house for us – the Night Owl, along with the restaurant upstairs, is owned and managed by my parents.Ever since they met and fell in love at chef school in Seattle (pretty romantic I guess), they dreamed about starting a business together.The only complication was that my dad wanted a haute cuisine restaurant and my mom wanted a cozy little coffeehouse.So when my gran offered to put money down on a building, they decided on a compromise. Fine dining restaurant upstairs, coffeehouse downstairs.When they first moved in eleven years ago, the building had been abandoned for ages. I was only five years old, so I don't remember much – but whenever I look at it now I can still see the blanket of moss and ivy growing all over the facade so thickly you could barely see the walls.Today a small group of tourists in flannels and hiking gear are standing outsid
UPSTAIRS IT'S CHAOS AS usual. Biblio only officially opens at six for dinner, but the preparations start in the early afternoon. There's inventory to take, plates to wash, stock to prepare, gelato to freeze.Every time I walk into Biblio's entrance I love to imagine the first impression diners get of it.It's massive – a double vaulted ceiling with chandeliers illuminating tapestries and old paintings. Oak bookshelves crowded with books bought in second hand stores line most of the walls.The cleaner is changing the roses and candles on each table, while a waiter stacks menus on the bookshelf at the entrance. The menus are inside old book covers to keep with the library theme.I consider going into the kitchen to say hi to mom and dad, but I know they have their hands full.So I spend the rest of the afternoon in the back room working on my school assignments.Even though I have a couple of solid hours uninterrupted, I still only manage to finish
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
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