Katie Cox vs. the Boy Band by Marianne Levy

Author:Marianne Levy
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sourcebooks
Published: 2018-04-04T16:00:00+00:00

Everyone at the O2 seemed to know who I was without me having to tell them. I was swept down hallways, passed from one person to another like a human relay baton, from offices to dressing rooms, then around a corner and into a tunnel, until I was standing in the hot darkness behind a curtain along the edge of the stage, with little flutters of something in my stomach.

Nerves? Well, that made no sense, since there was nothing to be nervous about.

Probably just leftover angst from yesterday, I told myself, feeling the heat of the many, many, many people out in the crowd. I couldn’t see them, but then, I didn’t have to. I could hear them singing and chanting and feel their happiness, their excitement, and their sheer energy. And as much as I wanted to find it pathetic, there was something a tiny bit infectious about all that joy. In fact—

“Katie, hi, hi.”

“Hi, Chris.” Beside me, Dad was looking expectant. “Dad, this is Chris. He’s a journalist. He’s going to put me on the ten o’clock news.”

“Chris, hi—Benjamin Cox.” Dad gave him his best smile, the one that’s like floodlights.

“Hello, Benjamin.”

There was an awful lot of helloing and shaking of hands. Then, finally, Chris said, “So, we thought we’d interview you during ‘Clap Your Hands,’ the boys’ new single. It’s toward the end. Stay here and we’ll set up, and then when the song begins, I’ll start talking.”

“So I have to sit through a whole entire Karamel concert?” A guilty part of me thought how much Lacey would have loved it. In fact, I was wondering if I should call her so she could listen in and trying to figure out whether I had enough minutes left to cover the whole thing when—“You came!”

“Kurt. Hi. Um, yes, I came.”

He was standing right next to me. “I didn’t think you would!”

“Well, I did,” I said.

And Dad said, “Benjamin Cox, musician. If you ever need someone…”

“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Cox,” said Kurt, looking for all the world as though he was pleased to meet my dad.

He was dressed completely stupidly, in this billowy shirt thing, over a pair of neat, sharp jeans. And his hair—it was sticking up in about thirty-seven thousand tufts, all pointing in different directions, like a kind of human mop.

“Have my card,” said Dad.

“Thanks,” said Kurt, sticking it into his back pocket. “Hey, sorry, but I have to go. The opening act finished a long time ago, and the crowd’s getting restless. See you after?”

“I don’t know. It’s a school night. I have homework.”

“What?” said Dad. “Of course we’ll stick around.”

“Cool,” said Kurt. “See you, then.”

I was just breathing a sigh of relief that he was leaving when he turned and shot me an awkward grin. “Enjoy the show.”

“I really won’t,” I said to his departing back.

Now, the noise from the audience had gone from loud to supersonic, and around me, people with headsets and radios and things were running about, doing whatever it

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