Seventeen-year old first year college student Josie Clarke would prefer not to blush the colour crimson at every little thing, but Idiopathic Craniofacial Erythema, a chronic facial condition doesn't play fair.
In fact, it's as uncontrollable...
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Libby rests a foot up on the edge of her kit and grins at me, spinning her sticks between her fingers.
I sheepishly grin back and wipe my forehead. I'm sweating and red in the face. In fact, we all are, which is something new.
Turning off one of the many amps dragged into the garage and dodging the mass of tangled leads, Mel matches Libby's silly grin and pats me on the back. "You did good there, Josie."
I turn to Max and he shakes his head up and down, a goofy grin visible once his hair settles. His t-shirt is soaked through and he's got board shorts on, no shoes.
Using my t-shirt to wipe away the sweat I've left on the microphone, I watch as Mel starts to pack up her stuff, ready to head to her afternoon shift at the local supermarket.
"Thank you for coming," I say, catching breath.
"Yeah, cheers big sis. You weren't half bad with that last solo," Max teases, though I know he's happy to have her act as a mediator between him and Libby.
It might be close to a week since we last had practice and since Melissa hitched a ride on our bandwagon, but tensions were still running pretty high at the beginning as we traipsed all our gear from the summer house over to Libby's garage.
Now, I can happily report that after crushing back to back versions of the song, and a few spontaneous ones to break up the repetition, we're sounding better than ever.
Max and Libby haven't hurled an insult for a good half hour and it makes me hopeful that bringing new people on board isn't such a bad idea.
And for all Melissa's teasing, she's made it clear she's got his back, resulting in Libby giving much less lip than last week. If anything, she's been complimentary.
"I need you guys to leave now," Libby says, covering her kit in an old dust sheet.
Good to hear she still lacks tact.
"Sure," Max gathers up the sweaty towel he's been using in between songs and chucks it in his backpack, along with his shoes and socks taken off not even five minutes into practice. "I'd rather not spend a day like this inside for any longer than I have to."
Tossing her hair up into a tight ponytail, Libby scrunches up her face. "Lucky for some. My mum's coming back to work from home this afternoon, so my house arrest continues."
"Who'd you punch?" Mel asks, not caring to tip-toe round her like we usually do.
"I didn't punch anyone."
"What then?"
Pushing the glass sliding door half way, Libby sighs and her shoulders slump. "Some girl at school spread a rumour about me and stole my P.E kit before a lesson, so I put eyedrops in her lunch."
