violet skies / michael clifford

"maybe take them backstage?"

2. take her backstage, michael

It has been half an hour, and I'm already having major problems concentrating. No matter how much I try to focus on the song we are rehearsing, my brain keeps going back to the girl from yesterday instead.

Something about her caught my attention, and it wasn't just her skirt flying up and flashing everyone. I mean, I did enjoy that part too. But the way she's her own polar opposite has me intrigued.

She is the strange contradiction of hard and soft; of cute and punk rock. And it is messing with my head. Girls like her don't listen to that stuff - they aren't meant to.

All I see when I close my eyes is her long hair moving in the wind, a bounce in her walk as she blasts gonna kick kick kick me when I'm down.

Her contact is in my phone, I just haven't messaged her yet. I never do, usually the girls come to me.

But she keeps her silence.

The fact that I probably shouldn't text her makes me want to do it even more. Like a forbidden fruit sort of thing. Luke says I can't have her. People want what they can't have.

Girls in cute skirts with pretty hair never showed interest in me. They are innocent and prim and proper – something I can't relate to at all.

But this one, those deer eyes were glued to me as if I was someone. Just a second of eye contact, and she was on the ground. I crave the way she looked at me. I have to see her again.

"Mikey?" Luke says, snapping me out of my thoughts. "Your guitar is out of tune."

I play a chord, and realise he is right.

Luke's garage smells of old petrol and burnt tires. I suppose it works well with the music we were trying to create, but usually, it would just give me headaches.

We're lucky that Luke's parents let us use it as our rehearsal space, although neighbours have complained about us being too loud. I don't blame them for the noise complaints; we really need a lot of work before we are anywhere even close to good. We want to play noisy, grungey punk rock, but at the moment we're just loud.

"We still suck," I say. putting my guitar down in its stand.

Saturday is only days away. If we still haven't got our shit together by then, I'll have to spend the rest of the night drinking to forget another failed gig.

And that's when the perfect plan comes to me. If she's there, the night would be a lot less shit.

I turn to Calum, "Cal, do you reckon I could bring someone to the gig? Maybe take them backstage?"

"I haven't asked the guy about that, but I doubt it. Why?" he looks at me, frowning. "Do you plan on bringing someone?"

"Not sure yet."

"If it's that girl you gave a lift home, don't even think about it," Luke says, taking a mouthful of water from his bottle. "I'm not dealing with that again."

This set will be our first that isn't down at our local pub. People are actually going to show up. Some other bands are playing, too, so I guess not everyone will be there for us. But it's still a big deal.

"I don't care what you say," I say, rolling my eyes at him.

"Good to know getting laid is more important to you than this band."

"It isn't."

"So why don't you put your phone away and listen to the changes we're making to the song, yeah?" Luke says, his voice a lot sharper than usual. "I doubt she's the kind to sleep with you anyway. She looked about twelve."

"What the fuck?" As much as I love him like a brother, the things Luke says sometimes really pisses me off. Maybe I'm looking for that type of girls anymore. "Don't say anything else right now or I'll kick off."

"All I'm saying is she looked way too young, mate." Shrugging, Luke plays a string on his guitar, possibly to easen the mood. It doesn't work too well. "Don't mess with her. She's not that kind of girl," he says again.

"Like what kind of girl?"

"Don't pretend like you don't know what I mean." Luke rolls his eyes. "Like the girls you usually take home."

"I'm not going to mess with her. I just want to get to know her."

"We all know what that means."

"Fuck you."

"Guys, calm down," Calum says, raising his voice to be heard above our argument. "Please let's just get through this rehearsal without any homicides, okay?"

"That would be possible if Luke stopped being a dickhead." I stand up, shoving my guitar into the case and throw it on my back. "I'm leaving," I declare before slamming the garage door behind me.

Walking down the street, I think of her. Her shiny, brown hair and her bright brown eyes. She's like bambi, moving forward on slightly awkward legs.

She's a princess in a wide skirt and in my cut up band shirt I'm probably far from good enough for her. I shouldn't be so struck by her. But I am.

Reaching for the buzzing phone in my pocket, I press the button and wait for whoever to speak.

"Mikey, where are you?" Calum's voice half-shouts through the phone. In the background, Luke is playing his guitar. "We can't continue band practice if you're not here."

"Taking a walk," I say, casually not giving a fuck whether or not they keep going without me.

Right now they could kick me out of the band for all I care. Calum and Luke would never admit it but we suck anyway. Like, really suck. A lot. We don't even have a drummer, and I doubt we'll ever be taken seriously as a band.

"Luke's sorry, okay? He didn't mean what he said. He's just worried about you caring more about some girl than our performance."

"Of course he meant it. If he didn't he wouldn't have said it," I shoot back. "He knows I care for the band, it's the only thing I have."

There's silence and a bit of rustling about before a different voice comes through.

"Look, I'm sorry. I just really don't want a repeat of battle of the bands."

"For some reason I don't believe you," I laugh dryly. "I know you think I'm going to repeat what happened then, but I just want to get to know her."

"Fine. I don't care, as long as your poor judgement won't affect the band."

I drag in a breath in an attempt to compose myself.

"It won't."

Battle of the bands was supposed to be our first performance. I had been busy getting drunk with a girl behind the venue before the show. She was fit and I wanted to look cool.

In the end, Calum and Luke had to drag me backstage. Ever so charmingly, I stumbled up on stage, shouted rude words into the mic and threw up all over myself and the amp. We got booed off before we got to play any of our songs.

Luke is still angry about it.

I kick my shoes off soon as I get through the front door of the apartment Calum and I share. Reaching the bedroom, I tilt the guitar case against the wall covered in posters and stickers and throw myself onto my bed.

There's something itching my fingers - the need to finally contact her. Having sent the message, I feel myself instantly regret it, but there is no going back.

She replies instantly.

michael: hey

jessa: hi