Fan

Kate Ken-ne-dy: n. a certain species of over-obsessive teenage girl. Tom Best: n. her newest victim, and possibly the most serious yet; a seventeen year-old music nerd from the southern outskirts of Sydney; appeared on the 2007 series of Your Star.

 

Fan

 

by Jessica Surman

 

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For Ben, who doesn’t know who I am, but ‘hopefully after this’.

=]

 

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Chapter One

 

The air was thick with the perspiration of months’ worth of crying and weeping and swooning and swaying, for this one boy. He was pretty much the f*****g teenager of the year, elusive and awesome beyond their imaginations, and yet there he was, right there in front of their eyes, and somehow his face was not as perfect, his eyes not quite so mesmerising, and his smile just that little less heart-stopping, without the magic of cameras, screens and kilometres distancing him from them.

But the slight differences did not stop the screaming. Anyone passing by outside would have thought that it was U2 with Bono himself about to perform, not some gangly, pimple-faced seventeen year-old who got kicked off Your Star (a show which, this year, had received its lowest ratings to date) seventh from last and thus qualified to a complete nobody. The very same seventeen year-old who, six months ago, was just another face in a crowd of losers, wannabes and try-hards, even, no, especially, to those girls who now worshipped him as their mothers worshipped the real rock stars of yesteryear.

Caitlin knew, she just knew, that when he ran his hand through the mass of hands stretched out before him, like those of starving beggars towards the Messiah, that he had lingered on hers for a millisecond longer, and that when his eyes had met hers, they had sparkled just a little brighter, and that he couldn’t not have felt the same sensation that she had… as though her entire life had been leading towards this moment, and would be defined from then on, as two lives: one trivial, boring ‘before’ and one longing, aching, yet so much more intense ‘after’. She just knew.

But she only knew this just as Sarah and Marissa behind her did, and Lucy and Christina and Lizzie just behind them, and of course Anna and Maddie over there, and Sophie, Ellie and Hannah… What Tom himself found a little scary was that they all believed they had some sort of special connection to him, and that they themselves were different to every other girl in the room. It was a product of all that self-esteem and self-confidence talk: ‘You are special, you are beautiful just the way you are and don’t ever let them tell you otherwise, and most of all, never give up on what you believe in.’ It was all well and good when he had been Thomas Best, music nerd of Newcastle High, pimpled and scrawny… but now he was ‘Tom The Best’, cute-as-pie shock knock-out of Your Star, with foundation and an entire skin-care regime to hide the pimples, and the sweet boy-next-door, best friend-type labels to cover up the truth that if it wasn’t for the fact that he sang moderately well for two minutes every Sunday night to thousands of pathetic teenage girls, pushed as ‘Australia’, not even said pathetic teenage girls would look twice at him. And it was different. The last thing these girls needed was a self-confidence talk.

So he sang. They screamed. He played piano. They screamed a little less. He announced that he would be singing the song that he would have sung the week after he had got kicked off Your Star and they screamed so loud that he thought his eardrums would burst. He smiled, as, in the quiet between announcing that it would not be ‘My Josephine’ (the one hit from one-hit-wonders Plaid Freedom, that had every female between the ages of ten and sixteen wishing that their name were Josephine) but ‘For Me’ from Olive Rain (which was in fact a much better song and therefore much less well-known in the realm of the typical teenage girl), one of the audience-members – if they could be called an audience… they were much more like a congregation – screamed out “For Me!” three times in a row. And when he smiled, they simply screamed some more.

Afterwards, he would reflect that it was not really how he had always imagined his big break into the music industry. He had thought that if you played real music, and you were a serious musician, your fans would be music-nuts and musos as well. You wouldn’t get the screamers. But he realised now that it was almost too late to be considered a serious musician. Your Star had seen to that. Maybe his naïve, sixteen year-old decision would haunt him forever… He had believed that the show would get him somewhere, get him noticed, a record deal. But singing one short cover a week on TV did not get you the right sort of notice. Sure, he had fans, he had made some great friends, he had had a blast. But there had been no mention of a record deal. He remembered Elliot Newman, heart-throb of the previous year’s Your Star… Murray Willis had promised him, on the night that he was kicked off third from last, that he had knowledge of a deal that would be offered to Elliot that very night, and the spirits of thousands of teenage girls had been lifted just that little bit. But it turned out that Murray had been lying. There had been no such record deal. Elliot had disappeared into oblivion for a year, when he had released one flop of a single that never made it into the Top 40, and promptly disappeared again.

But Tom was convinced that he would not let that happen to him. He wanted to put Your Star behind him and make it just like everybody else. He would start small, like this little gig near where he lived on a Sunday afternoon, and work his way up.

What he hadn’t counted on were the screamers. They irritated him to no end. Sure, adults and non-screamers encouraged him, but they didn’t take him seriously. He was just a kid. In ten years he’d probably be working in an office somewhere, completely forgotten. It was an annoying reality that the only fans he had who actually believed in him were those who he most wanted to be rid of.

He finished singing and they screamed again. He thanked them for being a great audience and left the stage. His first solo gig was over, and somehow he felt disappointed. In his singing? He didn’t think so… he had sung as well as ever. In his fans? He guessed so… but, really, who had he been kidding? He had always known that he would get the screamers. In his expectations? He supposed that was it. He shouldn’t have expected anything more. That’s what he was disappointed in.

But the screamers weren’t disappointed. They gushed to each other about how he had “looked right at me!”

“He sang the entire verse of ‘Fallen’ right to me!”

“He held my hand for two whole seconds!”

“I touched his arm!”

“I touched his jeans!”

“I breathed his air!”

One girl, standing by the stage long after the others had retreated to the back of the hall, stared wistfully at the stool he had sat on at the piano. There was something strange and intense about her gaze, Tom thought, as he watched them from the little window at the side of the hall. He watched her as she called another girl over and said something to her, and then both of them, as they left the hall. Well, that was two less he’d have to deal with. His mother tapped him on the shoulder.

“Tom, they’re waiting,” she said. “Just get it over with and we can get out of here. I’ll start helping the guys put the gear in the car.”

He sighed, and walked towards the door into the hall. He put his hand on the handle, smiled as best he could, and pushed.

“TOM!”

 

 

Kate and Steph snuck along the little path towards the stairs. Kate’s heart beat faster, her whole being was alive with excitement and anticipation. They crept up the stairs and turned onto another little path, behind the building. They found the way easily enough. They couldn’t miss the big white building, even from the back. There were two doors. One was open, presumably leading onto the stage. Mrs. Best, Tom’s mother, was standing there, directing a couple of guys carrying amplifiers and the like to her car. Kate had to stop herself from squealing. That was his mother! His mother!

They hid in the open hallway of a little building, with a window at the end. They could see both the doors from there, and the car in the carpark. Kate took a photo of it.

“Tom’s car,” she said. Steph laughed, and wished she had thought of it first.

“And now we wait,” Steph said.

Kate nodded. “As long as it takes.”

 

 

“Okay guys, it’s been great meeting you all, but I really need to go now.”

“NO!”

He laughed. “Yes, actually. Goodbye! Goodbye!”

He blew them kisses and waved, and then disappeared out the door. The hall erupted with screams and squeals as they began relating their various experiences to each other (already a little exaggerated), each of them trying to make themselves heard above the others.

His mother caught his eye and smiled. He felt his ears growing hot.

“Oh, be quiet,” he said to her, smiling slightly. Really… extremely immature of her.

“I didn’t say anything,” she laughed, throwing her hands up defensively. “Come on, let’s go.”

She opened the door, and Tom Best stepped out into the sunlight.

 

 

Kate saw the other door open. It was dark inside. She couldn’t make out who was coming out. And then –

“Oh my god! It’s him! It’s Tom! He’s coming!”

“What?!?” Steph jumped up. “Oh my god!”

They grabbed their bags and sprinted around the side of the little building.

And then… he was there. Right there! Walking along drinking a bottle of Sprite, laughing with his mother and a girl Kate knew to be his friend, Aimee. Kate and Steph stopped and watched him. Time traipsed by in slow motion. Could this actually be happening?

“Ben!” Kate called out. He turned and saw them, waved, and kept walking. Kate frowned. This was something of an anti-climax. No. He was not getting away that easily. She watched as he lifted the Sprite bottle to his lips.

“Can we have a photo?” she blurted out.

S**t.

It was now to late to add a polite “please?”. Steph rolled her eyes. Tom heard, laughed, and promptly started choking on his Sprite. He spat it out. Kate’s heart stopped.

“Oh, f**k, f**k, NO! I’ve killed Tom Best!”

But then he straightened up, gave his bag and the evil Sprite to his mum, and motioned them over. Kate nearly burst. Tom Best… wanted her… to go to him! She could have screamed, but she didn’t, remembering that Tom didn’t like the screamers. They skipped happily over to him and Aimee. To their absolute delight, he hugged them both. He joined in with their excitement, and then Aimee took the photo.

“I’m shaking!” Kate squealed in simultaneous horror and delight. “How embarrassing!”

But she really didn’t care in the slightest, because Tom Best had his arm around her. And it was possibly the best moment of her life.

And then the photo was taken. Tom didn’t show any sign of leaving.

“So, where are you guys from?” he asked.

“Sydney,” they chorused.

“Really? So how did you get here?”

“We had to get the bus,” Kate said, “Because the train lines are, like…”

“Oh yeah, there’s track work or something,” he said, “That sucks.”

Kate was ecstatic. She didn’t even care that they were talking about public transport. He was talking, directly to her! Which meant that he, the very same boy that she had spent the last three months dreaming about, was acknowledging her existence!

“Yeah, and we have School Certificate tomorrow!” He had to know exactly how much they had put at stake to come and see him. “And I haven’t studied…”

“Really?” He laughed. “Aww…”

“But we don’t care,” Steph chipped in, “Because we had to come to see you.”

He smiled, and Aimee laughed.

“You were amazing today,” Kate said, “Mad World was just… awesome. And I knew that you would sing ‘For Me’ and not ‘My Josephine’… And I was the only one who said it!”

He smiled. So it was her.

“It was so weird though,” he tested, “They all knew the words to my original!”

The taller girl’s eyes lit up.

“I did! I know all the words. I love it so much.”

He laughed. “Thanks, I guess. So, who do you guys want to win Your Star?”

“Duncan!”

“No-one! I wanted you to win!”

He chose to ignore the taller one’s response. “Duncan? He’s great, but I love Camilla. She’s so gorgeous. I was there the night that she flew down the flying fox…”

“That was so good,” the taller one agreed. “She is pretty good, I guess.”

Did she just agree with everything he said?

“Did you see me last week with my sign?” asked the shorter one. “I had a sign that said ‘Tom is My Star’!”

“Oh, I wasn’t there last week…”

“Oh, but…” she trailed off. He looked at her questioningly, but the taller one had more to say.

“Oh my gosh, I almost forgot… I have the same birthday as you!”

Did she never shut up?

“Really? That’s so cool! October 7?”

Kate nodded, grinning.

“Oh, that’s awesome! It’s the best day!”

“I know!” she squealed. She stared at him. He really was right there, before her eyes… and he was talking to her! And now she had so many things to ask him, and say to him, and –

“Tom,” said Aimee, “We have to go.”

“What?” Steph and Kate gasped. No!

“Oh, I’m sorry, guys… I’ll see you around, okay?”

“Wait!” Kate said, “Can we get your autograph?”

She produced a pen and pad from her bag.

“Oh, alright,” he said, “Quickly!”

He took the pen, and signed quickly. Kate watched his practised hand forming each letter almost of its own accord. Her hand shook.

“Hold it!” he said. “You guys get the best one, because this is a good pen.”

Kate beamed. It wasn’t until later that she would realise the full significance of that statement.

And then he had finished signing. He hugged them both again (Kate nearly fainted) and then he was saying goodbye.

“See you guys around!”

“YES! Yes, bye Tom!”

“Oh my gosh, goodbye!”

Kate and Steph skipped to the other side of the carpark, where they promptly started jumping around, screaming and hitting each other.

“OH MY GOD! WE MET TOM BEST!” Kate shrieked, hitting Steph on the arm.

“I KNOW! OH MY GOSH, I LOVE US!” screamed Steph, punching her back.

They looked back at Tom, who was standing staring at them with his mouth open. They feel about laughing and squealed some more, and when they looked back, he was gone.

 

 

They ran through the near-empty streets, yelling, laughing and screaming.

“WE MET TOM BEST!”

“WE MET TOM THE BEST!”

“OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD! WE REALLY DID!”

“WE MET HIM!”

“I LOVE US!”

A group of elderly people sitting in a café watched them, chortling. Two tragic teenagers, overly excited about something called ‘Tonpest’.

“Probably the new Pokemon game,” one of the women said knowledgeably to one of her companions.

Author's Note

The dedication is made in full seriousness. If it's not dedicated to you, you most probably will not understand. You have been forewarned.

Reviews

[SquinklaPsyOps]

I really like the article so far.

The story caught me right from the very beginning.

Your writing style brings it all together very nicely.

Will definitely read it again.