I scoff with laughter, tossing an arm around her shoulders.
On first glance, one might be able to argue that we look like we belong in a festival environment, with our iridescent face glitter and worn-in trainers. As usual, Hennie looks positively dreamlike, like something from a magazine spread in khaki shorts matched with a puffy white shirt and a decorated corset situation. She’s even paired a tiara with her look, made up of golden vines and decorated with tiny stars.
With my cropped Queen Ego t-shirt and everyday baggy bomber jacket tied around my waist, I look much more ordinary in comparison.
Up until now, Firecrest Festival sat very low on the list of places we imagined visiting together. The state of Hennie’s bank account (which she often complains about as someone struggling to break into the styling industry), and my lack of mental stability means hanging out in bedrooms and living rooms, or cinemas and board game cafes.Notworld-renowned music festivals in the company of tens of thousands of guests.
We approach the minimal crowd starting to build around the Tower Stage to see there’s still plenty of space around the front, just as I hoped. As is part ofThe Plan.
The original title of the The Plan became a little too long to use:Nora’s Plan To See Queen Ego And Survive And Maybe Even Enjoy It A Little Bit. It is, somehow, still going smoothly though. I ignore the tiny, annoying voice claiming thatThe Planwill inevitably crumble any second now and that I’m about to ruin everything.
I try to take a deep breath in but the air fails to reach the deeper part of my lungs where I really want it. Trying to shift my eyesight away from the groups of people heading towards the stage, I focus on the feeling of Hennie’s hand wrapped tightly in mine. The truth of this moment hits me again like a blow to the gut.
Today is the day I’m seeing Queen Ego. My favourite band since I was twelve, and my safety net for the last decade.
It’s been a long time since I attempted to see them live in person, and today I’m not going to be watching them via livestream like I always do. I’ll be there. I’m going to be a part of it.
Their iconic silver crown logo is on display at the back of the stage with a few tiaras and crowns already in the crowd, as a lot of Queen Ego fans like to wear at their shows. Some comedic red velvet crowns, others elaborate and beautifully hand-made. I’m not really one for accessories, so I decided against it. Hennie can represent us both with her tiara.
I enthusiastically shared my love for Queen Ego with Hennie when I first discovered them ten years ago, and Hennie welcomed the band into our friendship immediately. It’s one of the things about her that I treasure the most: caring so deeply about the things that I love without question and with unbridled generosity.
I see her eyes carefully scan the crowd and dart back to me. Her worry is coming off her in waves and I can’t help but feel guilty for it. She’s worked tirelessly to understand my panic and to learn exactly what I need in every situation, every stage of an attack. There are no words for how grateful I am for her.
Not only is Hennie my best friend, but often a presence that feels like it’s keeping me tethered to the earth. Every so often, I feel so lucky to have found her that I feel like all of my luck has been used up, and I will never meet anyone so wonderful or who will love me this much ever again. I squeeze her hand again tightly.
More voices erupt from close behind us and my mind is instantly scrambling, trying not to think about the dozens of people moving around in packs to gather in front of the stage, and how many more there will be when the band starts to play.
I shake the thought out of my head, attempting to erase the mental image of myself in a vast crowd.
After stepping around countless couples and larger groups, we’re standing even closer to the front than we had ever imagined. The barrier is almost within reach, with only two rows of people in front of us. Which means the huge unoccupied space right in front of the stage is just within sight. I release a long breath of relief, ignoring the hot tingling on the back of my neck.
‘Alright, this is good. So I’m pretty sure we’re close enough to the front that we can ask to hop over the barrier and security will just escort us to an exit if we need to get out,’ Hennie says quietly. ‘Feeling okay?’
I force out a shaky breath. ‘This is as good as we could have hoped for.’
‘Exactly,’ she says with a nod. ‘I do reckon you need a tiara though, as the biggest Queen Ego fan of all time.’
She pulls her tiara out of her hair roughly to place it on mine, and I shoot her a grateful smile. Standing at over six foot, I tower over my beloved friend who has historically been compared to a thimble. She admires me with a grin before giving my head a light pat.
‘Feel better?’
‘Not really,’ I admit. ‘But I do feel cooler.’
‘Good. You pull it off,’ she tells me. ‘It’s actually making me want to get to my knees and worship you.’
‘I’ll allow it.’
She barks a laugh and takes my hand in hers again, always steadying me. It stays within her unshakeable grasp as the crowd continues to build up around us. Another intricate hand-made tiara appears close beside me. I slam my eyes shut, attempting to erase the reality of where we are in my mind before opening them again. To my horror, almost every spot around us is filling up with bodies.
Daphne’s voice rings loud and clear in my mind, demanding me to focus on my senses.
The sensations of Hennie’s hand tucked into mine, the sweat dripping down the back of my neck, the scalding sun hitting my scalp.
The smell in the air: smoky, dusty, sweaty. I breathe it all in without complaint, focussing on the way it spills into my chest.
The taste in my mouth: sugar from my various emergency snacks. The unmistakable taste of all-encompassing fear, which I politely ignore.
After what feels like hours of torturous waiting, practically feeling the build-up of the crowd behind us in my bones, we have five minutes until they start.
