Moving Neutral (5 page)

I didn’t wait for him to change his mind. Hoisting my body through the window frame, I landed feet first in the soft grass outside. I picked up the bag and ran down the block, not slowing down until I was out of view of my house. I didn’t look back once as I climbed into the passenger seat of Madison’s car, her face breaking into a smile when I opened the door. I threw my bag into the backseat as she turned the key in the ignition, both of us wanting to get far away from my house, as quickly as we possibly could.

The drive to Manhattan felt like it took no time at all -- after not being able to talk on the phone for longer than three minutes all week, Madison and I had a lot of catching up to do.

I told her about my parents reaction to the accident, including my mother sniffing my breath as if she were some kind of drug-detecting police dog. I had just barely stopped her from calling Matt’s parents and telling them about the entire party.

Madison, in turn, told me mostly about Jason. Together we dissected his every move at the party, from asking her to take a walk outside after my parents had told her I was grounded, to telling her that all the girls at his college had gained the freshman fifteen from too much beer and dining hall food. Apparently, there wasn’t anyone nearly as cute as her in the whole school.

He sounds like a winner, I said with only a little edge of sarcasm.

Yuck, though, Madison responded. I cannot get fat in college if I want to be an actress. For every pound I gain, I’m doing a week of juice fast.

I tried not to smile. Madison talked about doing juice fasts all the time, but as far as I knew, she’d never actually made it through lunch on one. I stared out the window, thinking about how much I’d missed her this past week.

We were over the Triborough bridge and headed down the West Side highway before I thought to change into my actual outfit for the concert. Madison and I had selected it together a month before, and I hadn’t worn it once since I’d bought it, patiently saving it for the show.

It was a black sleeveless dress that ended a few inches above my knees in an asymmetric hem. The dress was cotton with unfinished edges that rolled up a little bit at the neckline, and when I first tried it on, I thought it was the coolest dress I’d ever seen. I’d paired it with black ankle boots with thick, chunky heels, and when I’d tried them on in the mirror the night before, I felt older than just eighteen.

Madison was wearing jeans with a yellow tube top that looked stunning against her blonde hair. She had on a black studded cuff and tall platform heels that she’d taken off for the drive into the city, but were resting on the floor in front of me.

I climbed into the backseat to put on the dress, ordering Madison to warn me if we hit traffic slow enough that anyone could see into the car. She tapped the brakes as a joke, giggling when I shrieked.

I thought of something that was lingering from our conversation the day before, and I decided now was as good a time as any to bring it up. Did you come clean to Matt, about our backstage passes?

She groaned. I couldn’t. Jason was there when I said it and I would have looked like an idiot.

It’s okay, I told her. I had given this some thought the night before, and I figured it really didn’t matter much. He’s way in the front, so it’s not like he’ll see us back in our seats.

Well, Madison hesitated. Don’t you think it would be weird if we watch the show from backstage, and we don’t get any pictures?

I had a feeling I knew where she was heading with this.

No, I said out loud before she could ask the question.

You don’t even know what I’m going to say, she said, sticking out her lower lip in an exaggerated pout.

Yes I do, I countered. You’re going to have some crazy plan to sneak backstage that you haven’t thought through, and I’m saying no, right now.

Okay, Madison said, smiling slightly. Maybe you do know what I’m going to say.

I’ve blown the whole rest of my summer by sneaking out tonight, I reminded her. If we get caught and kicked out of the concert, you still have July and August. I’m going to be back in the file closet with Sylvia the Troll for nine more weeks.

Please, Madison muttered. As if they kick people out of a concert for getting lost on their way to the bathroom.

Really? I said sarcastically, looking at her to see if she was serious. That’s your plan?

She grinned. Of course not. Do you actually want to hear it?

I rolled my window down a crack and didn’t answer, letting air rush into the car. We were almost in Chelsea now, and I could hear music coming from scattered bars and clubs as we drove by.

I spent a lot of time on the internet when I couldn’t talk to you this week, Madison started, apparently taking my silence as acquiescence. One of the things I did was to check out the band’s website, and I found out the name of the PR firm that represents them.

I was only half listening, already firmly convinced that whatever plan Madison had concocted would be a failure. If it were easy to sneak backstage at concerts, wouldn’t everyone do it?

So I went to the agency’s website, and they list all their employees. I found the names of two who work in the New York office, and we’re going to pretend to be them, Madison explained, sounding proud of herself. You’re Jessica Sawyer for the night, and I’m Lindsey Thompson. We’re going to say that April forgot some samples of a product she’s promoting, and we’re delivering them. She gestured to the back seat, waving her hand in the empty space. Look back there.

I glanced back, and saw an economy-sized box of Luna Bars wedged into the corner of the seat. I’d seen them in the backseat when I’d changed into my dress, but I’d just figured they were part of some crazy diet Madison was trying.

So she had put some thought into this plan, at least, but I still couldn’t see how we would get away with it. Even if it wasn’t such a bad idea, we were eighteen and dressed for a concert -- how would anyone believe we were actually working publicists?

I’ll think about it, I said as Madison turned the car into a parking garage, taking a paper ticket from the machine to mark the time we arrived. We got out of the car and she stuffed the box of energy bars into my overnight bag.

Just in case, she winked, throwing her arm around me in excitement. She handed her car keys to the garage attendant and pulled me forward as we walked down the nearly empty street, past a bookstore with a section that served coffee and several bars. We walked down a few more blocks and finally saw the entrance to the concert, already teeming with scalpers and people waiting for their friends before going inside. I was starting to feel as giddy as Madison, and we both giggled with excitement as we walked up to the door.

Madison handed over our tickets, and I felt a tinge of relief that no one searched our bags. I’d been to other shows where you couldn’t bring in outside food or drinks, and her box of Luna bars would have been gone in a flash. I didn’t really believe the plan would work, but we couldn’t even try it if she didn’t get the bars into the show.

The light was just starting to fade outside, but when we passed through the doors into the concert, the entry area was dark and crowded. There were only a few lit areas where roadies were selling the band’s merchandise, stacks of black and grey tshirts between piles of CDs and posters. I grasped Madison’s hand as we made our way through the room, worried that we’d get separated in the crowd. At the far end, a bouncer was checking IDs and giving out bright pink wristbands. We walked past him, not bothering to try our fake IDs and risk getting kicked out over a couple of beers.

As we made our way through the entrance into the arena where the concert would take place, the opening band was already in the middle of their set -- we had arrived just in time.

Walking back to our row was depressing. Sixteen rows was pretty far, and even though the seats we walked past were only about half full, I could barely see the stage on my tiptoes. When the arena was completely filled, I’d be stuck watching the video screens that broadcasted the performance from the sides of the stage.

It wasn’t so bad, I tried to tell myself. The point of being here was the music, and all I really needed to do was listen.

But Blake, a little voice in my head whispered. I won’t even be able to see him. It’s not going to be any different from watching them on television.

Madison looked at me with a disappointed expression, and I could tell she was thinking the same thing. Shrugging, she sat down and rested one foot on a seat in the row in front of us. Wrapping her hands around her knee, she looked up at me as if to say, now are you ready to try my plan?

I shook my head. This was the last fun event I’d get to go to until college. I was determined to enjoy it, mediocre seats or not. I bounced in place a few times, trying to get into the song the opening band was playing. Madison scanned the rest of the arena with her eyes, then stood up again.

Just tell me if you see Matt, she muttered. Probably better that no one will notice us back here anyways.

By the time Moving Neutral came on, we had both mostly gotten over our irritation about the seats. We sang along with every song, dancing in place and placing bets after each song ended on what the next one would be. The first ten or so rows rushed to the foot of the stage, and we watched with envy as they waved their hands above their heads, one lucky guy catching April’s bandana as she threw it into the crowd.

Watching on the screen wasn’t even that bad, I told myself. We were still having fun. I snapped a picture with the camera I’d brought, and then looked down to check it in the viewing window.

I sighed. Blake was in the photo, but he looked like a little dot of army green on a giant stage. Also, half the picture was cut off by the head of the woman in front of me.

Madison took a look at the photo and then pulled my ear to her mouth so I could hear her.

They’re already an hour into their set, she yelled over the music. They’ve probably only got a couple of songs left, including the encore. If we’re going to try it, we need to go now.

I looked up at the video screen, which was zoomed in on Sophie, the drummer. I could see the top of Blake’s guitar to the side of her drum set, fuzzy and dimly lit on the screen.

I threw my head back, staring at the rows of spotlights on the ceiling of the arena.

This was the last time I would have fun all summer. I had nothing to look forward to, which meant there wasn’t really anything left to lose.

Fine, I yelled to Madison. Let’s do it.

She jumped up, grinning at me and adjusting her tube top in the same movement. Picking up my overnight bag with one hand, she pushed us past the rest of our row, calling excuse me over her shoulder as she led me out to the aisle. The song was ending, and as Madison pulled me back through an arch leading out of the concert, I heard the first few chords of the next song echo behind us.

It’s okay, she told me, the music softer now that we were back out in the entryway. We kept walking. I could hear April singing, and even though I knew the words to every song by heart, I couldn’t make them out from here.

Madison didn’t seem to notice, pulling the box of bars from my bag and striding down the room to a hallway at the far end -- the only one that didn’t obviously lead back out into the arena.

I thought we were in luck, because there wasn’t a bouncer at the doorway, and we stepped into the dark hall without anyone stopping us.

Maybe it really is this easy, I thought to myself, trying not to smile.

Madison was walking ahead of me and I could hear her heels clicking on the tile floor as we went further into the hallway and away from the arena, April’s voice now completely indistinguishable from the music. As the hallway stretched on, a painted black door came into view at the other end, the outlines visible in the darkness about ten feet ahead of us. Gripping the handle, Madison tried to open it. The door didn’t budge.

I looked at her, wondering what to do next. She nudged me into place behind her and handed me the cardboard box of Luna bars. I opened the lid like some kind of model in a game show, holding the box out in front of me.

Madison knocked on the door.

I wondered if they could hear us over the music. I wondered if anyone was even inside. The thought occurred to me that we could be waiting anxiously outside a closet full of janitorial supplies.

I was about to drag Madison back to our seats when the door opened. The man standing behind it looked about how I imagined a bouncer to look -- huge, angry and terrifying. He was dressed entirely in black, with a multicolored tattoo on his neck and a shaved head. I felt the box of Luna bars shaking in my hands.

Madison smiled sheepishly at him, as if he was her math teacher and she was turning in late homework. I could hear the music again, coming from his side of the doorway, and I guessed we had found the right place.

Hi, I’m Lindsey from Contact Public Relations, she said, sounding completely unphased. Flipping her blonde hair over one shoulder, she peered around the bouncer. I’m such an idiot, but I was supposed to get these to April before the show. She gestured to me and the box, standing behind her. I squeezed my lips awkwardly into a smile, hoping to back up what she was saying.

What’s your name? The bouncer asked, his voice flat and bored, looking down at a clipboard next to the door.