Chapter 10
TEN
Olly
News Oisín and I are swapping seats has caused a chaotic auction of people bartering to swap seats all around the plush green auditorium for tonight’s viewing of Billy Elliot.
‘Oh, these are fantastic!’ Jas coos to me, Zeb and Gabby as we take our prime seats in the middle of the Stalls. ‘What a fabulous view, and with us all sat together!’
‘Maybe with you two here, Olly will finally give me a straight answer,’ Zeb says from the furthest away seat.
The girls look between us cautiously.
‘What’s this?’ asks Gabby.
‘There’s nothing to tell!’ I sigh. ‘Zeb’s annoyed because I’ve chosen to change my final six song, but I’m just doing what’s best for me in the competition.’
Zeb tuts.
‘It’s a tricky business, choosing songs.
Everyone has an opinion on what you should be showcasing…
’ Gabby says sagely, her mind going off somewhere before she comes back to us with a smile.
‘Please can we take a cute, friendly 164picture before any drama kicks off between you two boys? Hannah wants an update on what we’re up to! ’
‘For your girlfriend,’ Zeb says, casting me a look so I know he’s not done digging, ‘I’m willing to postpone any drama until a suitably well-lit and flattering selfie has been acquired.’
‘Excellent! Why don’t you take the photo, Ol?’ Gabby asks, pulling her phone from her pocket.
‘Noooo,’ I groan. ‘I always look like a thumb if I’m at the front!’
‘But you have the longest arms to get us all in. Please, Ol,’ says Jas, and I begrudgingly take the phone.
I hold it aloft in landscape mode, making sure all of us are in the frame.
I shift my finger to take the photo when my eyes dart off to the right, where Tarun and Oisín are taking their seats, proving quite the distraction.
‘What are you waiting for?’ asks Gabby.
‘Take the picture,’ scolds Jas.
‘Sorry,’ I say, returning my focus to the screen and quickly taking several options. Zeb has the most variety, going from toothy grin to fish pout to a shocked face reminiscent of the Scream mask.
I hand Gabby the phone back and the three of them all hunch round to check which photo’s the most agreeable.
I pretend to be interested but keep glancing over to see what Tarun and Oisín are up to.
I don’t know 165which is worse: their entire date unfolding mere metres away from me, like a repeated slap in the face that Oisín’s the one Tarun wants, or that I can’t silence my worry that Oisín might be up to something.
There’s every reason to believe he fancies Tarun – I mean, I do – but, thinking about it, Oisín didn’t make an effort to spend time with Tarun until after he heard him sing.
‘That’s the one,’ Gabby says, showing us all a selfie that isn’t particularly different from the rest, to general murmurs of agreement. ‘Olly? What do you think?’
My reply is cut off when someone from the row behind whacks me on the shoulder, and I turn around to see what’s wrong.
‘You need to move,’ says an older, well-dressed man in a suit.
‘Excuse me?’ asks Zeb in his thickest Scottish brogue, the kind he only puts on when he wants to be intimidating. I know what’s coming though.
‘He’s blocking my view! It’s like sitting behind Stone-bloody-henge! I’ve paid good money for these seats!’
I sigh. This is why I always take responsibility for ticket purchases. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t book these tickets so there’s not a lot I can do. There’s a sign out front saying tonight’s sold out so I don’t think there’ll be anywhere I can move to.’
He scoffs. ‘It’s simply not good enough!’166
Getting up, he scoots down his row of seats, making everyone stand up so he can get past. He’s probably going to complain to someone.
‘Well, he was a delight,’ says Jas. ‘Whatever happens, Ol, you’re not moving. You’ve only seen Billy Elliot three times and you deserve to have good seats, sat with your friends.’
Zeb’s ready to grill me, and just in front of him there’s Oisín and Tarun shoulder to shoulder. Whatever my doubts about Oisín, they seem authentically loved up. Maybe being moved wouldn’t be so bad.
A woman in a suit waves at me from the side aisle with the angry man beside her, beckoning me to join them. ‘I might just have to suck it up and move…’ My friends object, but I pick up my stuff, guessing she’s going to shove me somewhere else in the theatre. ‘I’ll see you in the interval, okay?’
‘I’m holding you to that!’ shouts Zeb as I shimmy past the other occupants of our row.
‘Hi there,’ I say to the official-looking lady when I reach the aisle.
‘I’m sorry, sir. I know your height’s not your fault, but we’re having some issues with you obstructing this gentleman’s view. I have an unused box, and I wondered if you might be happy to move there for me?’
‘Of course,’ I say, resigned to my fate, before turning to the old man. ‘Enjoy the show!’167
He grumbles back to his seat, and I wave goodbye to the gang.
‘Apologies, the show’s about to start, so we need to move quickly…’ The woman leads me out of the auditorium and up what feels like a hundred flights of stairs until we reach a door with no markings on which she ushers me through.
The small box is a significant downgrade: I’ve gone from premium seats in the middle of the Stalls to as far away from the stage as it’s possible to be, with a two-thirds obstructed view.
Sitting down, the opening chords begin to play. Do I care too much about making other people happy? I could have fought to sit with my friends, and pushed back against Elaine and Marty’s advice, and told Tarun what an absolute dick Oisín has been to me. Instead, I’m alone.
The music transports me though – away from probing questions, cute boys who are on dates with other boys whom I hate, and rude old men.
I close my eyes, allowing myself to think only about a small boy from Durham who wants to be a ballet dancer.
For the next two and a half hours, his problems are all I care about, rather than my own. 168
Tarun
I’ve never been on a date before, but I think this is a good one so far?
Before the show we were talking about home and the competition without too many awkward pauses. Admittedly we were mostly talking about Oisín, but it’s fine for me not to be the centre of the conversation.
Once the show begins, I’m drawn in immediately.
It’s a Desi boy playing the main role, and he’s amazing.
He nails dances I could never dream of performing.
Could I have been that comfortable on stage by his age if I’d not run away from performing and instead been encouraged by my dad?
Probably not, given my lack of coordination.
Twenty minutes in, Oisín’s shoulder brushes against mine, and he reaches over and puts his hand on my thigh.
I lose track of the plot as he starts massaging my leg.
Should I be reaching over and doing the same to him?
For the moment it’s discrete, but if I join in people from the competition might notice us, so I hold back.
‘What do you think of the show?’ I ask him when the lights come up around us at the interval.
‘Aye, it’s good,’ he says, taking his hand from my lap and smiling. ‘But giving reviews isn’t why we’re sat together, is it? We’re meant to be getting to know each other better.’169
All I can do is nod, my brain failing me as his blue eyes sparkle.
‘Was I your first kiss?’ he asks, leaning in closer to me, his breath warm.
I clear my throat. ‘Uhh, yeah. How about you?’
‘I’ve kissed a few fellas. But I liked kissing you. It was like you were … hungry.’
Is that a good thing? ‘Sure…’
He chuckles, brushing my thick hair off my face. ‘You’d like to kiss me again, wouldn’t you?’
My skin tingles and all I can muster is an ‘Uh huh…’
‘Well, I’ve got one last summer in Derry before I go off to drama school, hopefully. Maybe we could spend the summer doing more … kissing?’ His face is close as can be now, a smirk crossing his lips. ‘I need you to do something for me first though…’
‘What?’ I ask, edging away from him.
‘If you mess up your Marius solo on Saturday night, we can spend the whole summer together. Maybe we can do even more than kiss…’
Huh? ‘Why would you want me to do that?’ My voice is small. I sound – and feel – pathetic.
‘You’re talented, Tarun. But you’ve only been doing shows for the last year… Do you really think it would be fair to steal a spot in the final six from someone Saturday is important for? Ruin mine or … Olly’s chances?’170
The alarm bells that have been ringing quietly in the background this week are sounding louder and louder.
It’s basically what Zeb said at the start of the week; hell, it’s what I’ve said, but it feels different coming from Oisín’s mouth.
Because he’s trying to use what he’s saying to manipulate me.
He stares at me, waiting for my response.
‘I need to go the bathroom,’ I say, standing up and edging my way down the row before he can stop me.
In the aisle, contestants wave as I pass them, but I keep on moving.
I need to get to a cubicle and hide. Figure out what’s going on.
I push open the men’s bathroom door, but all the cubicles are occupied.
I turn and stare at myself in the mirror, my face taut with pent-up anxiety.
I can’t have a wobble … not here in public…
‘Tarun?’ calls out Zeb as he pushes open the door. ‘Thank fuck I found you!’
‘You okay?’
‘I heard what Oisín was saying to you, and I had to speak to you. He can’t get away with pulling the exact same stunts he did with Olly last year. I won’t have it. Not again.’
Everything’s blurry and confusing, and I need clarity. ‘Please will you just tell me what went down last year? Olly told me to give Oisín a shot, but there’s something he’s not telling me.’