I just stare at her, frozen in time. One hand grips the neck of my guitar like it’s the only thing keeping me upright, the other hanging useless by my side.
I can handle a large group of people from a distance…like being on stage, but being up close and personal? Fans and parents paying actual money for a meet and greet with some artist they probably don’t even know? That is nightmare fuel.
I hate surprises, and this would have to go down in history as the worst so far.
"What?" she asks, a puzzled look on her face.
Does she expect me to jump for joy while drowning in the deep end?
I’m not sure I know how.
The people-pleaser in me just wanted to hear that I did a great job for my first show in front of an enormous crowd. But Josie has already used up her one and only compliment of the tour.
I don’t think I’m asking for much. Just a simple, "Good job, Olive," or "Great first show!" Three words, and I hate the way the disappointment washes over me when I don’t hear them.
But that’s a reflection of me, not her.
I don’texpecta compliment, it would just be nice to know I didn’t suck out there, that’s all. But it’s show one.
Maybe when the tour is over, she’ll pat me on the back or something.
Ah, screw it.
"Did I do okay?" I prompt, my voice weak, overused, and somehow afraid, like she’s going to tell me I was terrible and should go back to teaching.
She watches me for a long moment, her expression softening as I swallow hard. "You did great."
Her eyes narrow as she takes me in, her head tilted. She reaches out to offer a comforting brush of her hand, and it automatically lessens my heightened sense of anxious discomfort. "But seriously, it’s game time. You thought what you did out there was daunting, but that’s nothingcompared to what you’re about to go through." She presses her lips together. Half smile, half warning.
I swallow the lump in my throat preemptively. "How many people?"
I already know I’ll hate the answer no matter what she says.
"Just under one hundred."That’s not so bad,I can deal with that many people.
But when we walk around the corner backstage of the stadium, I’m suddenly shocked at the sheer number of people in front of me. I almost forgot how big a group of one hundred people really is.
"Shit," I mutter under my breath, hoping I hid the fear in my voice.
"They’re all here for you. Paid big bucks to secure this exclusive meet and greet." Her smile is wide, her blonde hair even neater than it was for soundcheck, and her dark eyes glimmering under the bright light. "Your only job is to smile and look pretty. Say ‘thank you’ to anybody who compliments you, but don’t let the conversations linger. Akira is on in forty-five minutes, and everyone here wants to see her, too." She nudges me with her shoulder, almost forcing me to lose my balance, but I catch myself before I fall.
Smile and be polite.Got it.
I nod and hurry to the front where the line of people begins, barricaded by red velvet ropes that keep them away and keep me safe.
Josie gives a brief speech, making sure everybody knows what’s allowed and what isn’t. Before I know it, I’ve signed my first t-shirt.
The line moves too quickly for my mind to process. I hoped I would remember as many names and faces as possible, but it seems my brain doesn’t have the capacity to do a lot more than greet them, sign whatever they have in their hands, and smile for the camera.
I used to be able to remember everything about everyone I came into contact with, but the fog inside my skull feels like it’s enveloping my brain, making almost everything a distant memory, if a memory at all.
"Hi!" A girl shouts, loud enough for her voice to collide and echo against the concrete walls surrounding us. "I’m NoelleJones, and this is my best friend, Leah St Claire." The way she says her best friend’s name is so matter-of-fact, like I should know who the two of them are, but I don’t. Her smile lights up her entire face, and I smile back—my first, genuine one of the night.
It’s hard not to; her grin is infectious, and it changes my feelings towards the entire situation I find myself in. It’s…nice.
"Hi," I reply. "I’m Olive. Nice to meet you." It’s the most I’ve said since this meet and greet started, because it does feel nice to meet her. Noelle fiddles with the ends of her tight ringlets. Shades of gold shine through the natural chocolate tone of her hair, framing the sides of her soft, brown cheeks. Her eyes are the most perfect shade of blue I’ve ever seen.
"I know! Of course I know! I think I’m your biggest fan. Sorry, I’m a mess, and I know we need to make this quick because of Akira. Not that we’re here to see Akira. Actually, my brother only came to see you." She’s rambling with her best friend smiling beside her, but it’s endearing. She doesn’t seem that much younger than me, but I get it. If I were to ever come into contact with my favorite musician, I think I would die on the spot.
