Chapter 3
Dear Britney,
Maybe if you were here, you would be as furious as I am. I wake up when my mother shakes me from my sweet slumber. I look up at her, seeing her half asleep in front of me, blocking the light in my room. My head throbs like someone shrank me into a tiny miniature, put me in a box, and shook me until I got dizzy.
“Your friends are here. You have to take a bath now.” she informs me.
“Mom, I’m not feeling well. Please don’t make me go there.” I say. My voice sounds like a groggy monster.
“Stop acting. Go to the bathroom now.” Mom insists.
I stand and head to the door. Then I see the two witches — Arya and Zara — talking in the living room with their bags. My eyes catch the wall clock, and I realize it’s only 3:30 a.m. I walk toward them and get a clear view of what they’re wearing: Arya wears a maroon miniskirt and a sky-blue off-shoulder shirt, while Zara wears a crop top and ripped jeans.
“It’s too early, and I have a headache.” I say.
“We have to catch the 5:00 a.m. bus.” is the only answer from my good friend Arya.
“Stop making excuses, E.” Zara says.
I ignore them and go to the bathroom. I love my friends and really want to be happy for them, but I’m not feeling well. Or maybe they’re right—I’m just making excuses not to go. I can literally feel my head aching, but of course none of them believe me. Even my mother tells me to go. I feel like I have no choice but to go with them.
Today is Tuesday, and tomorrow is my birthday. I don’t know if this will be a special one since I’ll be around people I barely know, except Arya and Zara. I try to be a snail, but when I open the bathroom door and make a puddle of water from my dripping body, Arya and Zara are still sitting on the sofa holding hot chocolate where I left them—but this time they’re sitting next to my mother.
Mom sees me and gives me a sandwich and a cup of hot chocolate. I put on the clothes my mother prepared for me last night. The bus station is an hour away, so we have to catch the 5:00 a.m. bus for the 7:00 a.m. call time at the music camp. We arrive on time, and as soon as we settle on our seats, the bus immediately leaves.
The camp coordinator limits the tickets to 30 campers, but there are only 28 people on the bus. I guess these kids are either fans of the band or music lovers because the tickets are expensive and require talent. This isn’t just a music camp but also a talent camp. One of my friends tells me there will be a winner, and the winner will get a one-year contract with the management. My friends tell me this camp will help me gain some confidence since they know I lack it. I don’t think I need it. I don’t want to be famous.
I look out the window thinking, you’re here. You’re the only person who knows I’m writing a song, but I never show it because I lack confidence. I’m not like you, Brit. You used to be the light of the party. Every time I listen to music, I miss you. You love music so much, which is why you were so enthusiastic when I told you I’m writing a song.
My silence alarms Zara, who sits next to me.
“What’re you thinking, E?” she asks.
I’m startled.
“Oh, nothing,” I say.
Arya, next to Zara, speaks with her eyes shut.
“She’s not feeling well, Z.”
I have no idea where we’re heading. Arya tells me all the details about the camp, but I’m not interested, so I don’t pay much attention. I don’t notice that I’ve fallen asleep.
I wake up when the bus stops in the middle of traffic. I turn on my iPod and listen to music for a while, deciding to drown the noise in my head with some music.
The bus stops again. I think we’ve reached our destination, but we’re told we only have thirty minutes to eat lunch. We’re five hours away from the city, and I have no idea if we’re heading south or north. Zara and Arya said they packed food for us, so we look for an empty table.
“So, how long will the drive take?” I ask, not really interested but trying to start a conversation after being so silent on the ride.
“It’ll take six hours in total. From here, I’m not actually sure.” Zara says with her mouth full.
The Pedal band leaves their tour bus and goes to the line to buy food. The girls in front of the line give way for them, but just to make the front cover on the news tomorrow morning and flood tweets about their ‘niceness,’ they take the end of the line. Wow, absolutely good at making a scene as if it’s true, I think to myself.
The girls ask Harry and the other guys to take a picture with them. He finger-combs his shady curly ugly hair and smiles at the camera. The other kids don’t bother to ask for a picture. Good thing. Maybe they think they’ll see these four guys again in seven days, not counting today. But every now and then, the campers—especially the girls—look at them.
“We’re so glad you’re here with us!” Arya squeals.
“Try to act like a fan girl.” Zara says with a wink.
“Besides, you have a good voice. Try to use it; maybe you’ll be the new Taylor Swift.” Arya says.
“Yeah, that’s why we invited you.” Zara says, looking at me.
I nod at them now and then, focusing on the food they packed while hating the words they’re saying. I can’t eat much because of my headache; I’m afraid I’ll vomit everything I eat, so I try to eat enough.
Arya and Zara have been friends for a long time. They met when they were just seven years old in a singing contest. Imagine all the television competitions they’ve been on. I can’t imagine how brave they are. They’re famous at our school because of exposure on TV shows and have gained many suitors. Though Arya doesn’t pay much attention to guys. Zara, on the other hand, just came from a breakup.
“But you know I’m not a fan of those guys.” I say, rolling my eyes.
“Shhh… don’t say that. You’re on the same ground where the feet of The Pedals are.” Arya whispers, putting one finger to her lips.
“You’ll like it. Try to sing for a lot of people, not just in your bedroom.” Zara says.
“Yeah,” Arya points her fork at me. “God gave you a good voice,” she adds.