real music, part 3

June 21, 2087. Vale Akiyama is 26, Vicky Garth is 22, Lauren Sanders is 14, Blossom McCarthy is 28, April Hutchins is 23, Ariel Beech is 19, Josie Booth is 20, Lara Nova is 34, Patrick Nova is 36. 

"real music, part 1," "real music, part 2"


Vale still had his bags to pack and a flight up north to catch for the long-awaited Copper Island Summer Solstice Festival. But first, he wondered what to wear for his big night. He tried on a few combinations and texted the selfies to Vicky.

     Vale: Which one says “musical superstar”?

     Vicky: I don’t know, but that vest says arrogant and pretentious.

     Vale: And the other one?

     Vicky: I don’t know, just pretentious I guess.

—

People from all over the country, performers and adventurers and partygoers alike, had primped and packed and patiently waited for the arrival of the Copper Island Summer Solstice weekend, three famous days of lively music, inspiring arts, and delicious food. But when the famed weekend finally arrived, the weather was less than ideal.


This wasn't just a little bit of rain—it was pissing from the sky in tsunami waves, lightning strikes like nuclear bombs, howling winds like something haunted and deadly. It was gearing up to be the worst storm Copper Island had seen in years. All outdoor activities were postponed indefinitely. And since this was an outdoor festival, that meant pretty much everything was canceled.


Lauren and her mother snagged one of two hotel rooms at the only hotel on the island. Everyone else would share bunks and bathrooms at the hostel, or even worse, have to hunker down in soggy tents for the weekend while it rained and rained.

"We could've gone to California or South America or the Mediterranean," Lauren whined. "You know, somewhere warm and sunny. Somewhere not raining. But you wanted to go to this hippie festival on some rustic island in Michigan. It’s barely even warm here. If there are hippies dancing in the mud, I’m going to vomit!"


There were no hippies dancing in the mud. For now, it was advised that no one venture outdoors at all, at their own risk of peril...


As a few unfortunate souls discovered.


Indoors, all the festival had to offer was a lecture series about local frogs in the nature hall.


And then a local violinist from Dresden College showed off a possible senior recital piece that she would perform later in the year. She was quite good, so it was unfortunate for her that in the middle of her piece, the rain broke for a moment. The dismal cloudy sky turned from torrents into a soft mist.

"Hey, look, the storm stopped," Vicky said.

The whole room noticed. Then Josie's fickle audience took off in a flash of summery sundresses to enjoy what short reprieve they might get.



There were indeed hippies dancing in the mud, but Lauren was too busy being flattered by the portraitist to worry about vomiting.

And Josie tried not to be too disappointed that nobody stayed for her performance. She and Ariel went out to enjoy the festivities, too.

But they were only making fools of themselves on roller skates. Ariel would have been so embarrassed to break her back in front of Vale Akiyama, tonight's musical headliner. She only recognized his face from the event posters, thinking that he looked cute in a standoffish kind of way. "Hey, Josie, isn't that the DJ? Isn't he a little bit famous? You think we should go talk to him?"

Josie knew she didn't need to answer that question. It would be unwise to get between Ariel Beech and a cute (maybe famous) boy.

"Hey, aren’t you Vale Akiyama? Aren't you a little bit famous?"

She stroked a finger along his forearm.

Vale moved his arm away and sneered an eyebrow. "Only a little bit famous?"

Ariel giggled. "You know, if your show gets canceled later, I can keep you company. We both will, right, Josie?"

"I dunno, I was gonna see if Drake—"

"Nevermind her," Ariel said. "We can have plenty of fun just the two of us."


"My concert isn't getting canceled," Vale said, seeming irritated now.

Ariel tried to recover the conversation with her charms, but she'd already offended him and there was no hope.

"I have some grown-ups to talk to," he said. "Why don't you girls check out the coloring contest in the dining hall?"

Ariel was mortified. "Do you think I tried a little too hard?"

"Just a little," Josie said.



The break in storms lasted nearly two whole hours. It was wet and soggy, the day had been spoiled, and it was probably not worth the cost of travelling all this way, but for a short time they all felt like maybe the weekend might be salvaged.


But they were wrong. Another storm front crept up on the island, just as powerful as the last. The wind whipped up from the cold cold lake and thunder threatened in the distance.

The governor gave word. Tonight’s show and all other festivities had to be canceled for safety reasons. The Copper Island Summer Solstice Festival was officially over this year.


Vicky felt so bad for Vale. He'd been talking about this concert for months and he'd be so disappointed. She dug up a tiny seed of sympathy for him. Because... why? Was he a friend? Did she care?

She did care, a little bit, she found. She had been looking forward to this show for him. She came all this way—for the solstice, yes, but also to see him play.

But when he came to her through the downpour, shouting her name, he didn’t look disappointed.


"Change of plans! Everybody to the lighthouse. And I’m putting that jacket on, the arrogant one. I’m gonna rock the fuck out in that jacket. Tell your friends. Tell everybody. I need you guys to be my ground crew, get the word out. To the lighthouse!"


If there was one thing Vicky admired about Vale—maybe only one thing—it was his bull-headed persistence when he wanted something. He was going to perform tonight, and not even the wrath of Mother Nature would stop him.

—

intermission: love in the wild (a semi-autobiographical tale of how my RL hubby and I enjoy—or don't enjoy—camping) starring Lara and Patrick Nova.


Lara is a creature of nature, and a little bit of rain (or even a great deluge) won't dampen her spirits. She loves everything about it. The earthy smell, the pitter-patter of raindrops on the tent, the wind howling through the trees.


Her husband, however, is not a creature of nature. Not at all.


Lara tried to lighten his mood with a scary story, but Pat didn't feel like the danger was very fictional. He was soaked to the bone, hungry, grungy and miserable, and he swore he saw a lightning bolt strike the ground nearby their tent.

He was not having a good time at all.


"Okay, let's go to the dining hall until the storm lets up," Lara suggested. "A dry room with warm food, that'll make you feel better."

Even soaked to the bone in this rustic kitchen at midnight, Lara couldn’t help but be overcome with a sense of adventure and whimsy. “This is nice, aren’t we having fun?”

“Having a blast,” Pat mumbled.


But they still had to sleep in soggy sleeping bags because there were no ferries off the island this late, and all the beds in the bunk house had been reserved.

Pat just wanted to go straight to sleep so that it would sooner be morning and they could leave this swamped island. He couldn't believe they paid for a babysitter for this trip!

And Lara decided that she should volunteer to be a girl scout mom. She could take the girls out into the wilderness next time, and she would leave her poor husband in the comforts of a dry home.

—

Although the rain wouldn't stop for many more hours, the party at the lighthouse bar was dry. Anyone who was left changed into dry clothes and went to the Sand Bar, which was not the venue anyone had in mind, but Vale filled it with loud music and dancing disappointed hippies, and the bar's owner gladly sold through her stock of booze.

Only a fraction of the festival crowd had trekked across the island to the lighthouse, and the producers and mayor had gone home. The crowd was intimate, you might say. Maybe it wasn't the wild rave Vale had in mind. No blinding strobe lights or big video screens. But he live-streamed the performance to his followers anyway. The post could get picked up by a major entertainment magazine: "Vale Akiyama turns a dud into a dance party!"

Truth be told, this was probably much more Vicky's scene than a loud rave would have been. The close quarters influenced a chill playlist. Vicky quite enjoyed having drinks in real glassware instead of plastic cups, and peeing in a real bathroom instead of an outhouse or even a bush.

She still didn't know if she'd call this real music, but whatever it was, Vale was good at it.

Vicky had several more drinks, she danced, and she really enjoyed herself.


Vale played past midnight, until the last dancer had stopped dancing and the bar owner turned up the lights. The four of them headed back to the bunk house. Vicky had her fill of cocktails, so they sat her down with a strong coffee to sober up.

As the booze wore off and the caffeine took over, Vicky started belting out show tunes to an empty cafeteria. 


But new motherhood had Blossom and April worn out. Although their babies were safely tucked in at home, they were never far from their minds. They wanted to call home to check in, then crawl into their bunks and sleep a full night with no interruptions!

“It's only 11:30,” Vicky said.

“That's thirty minutes past my bedtime,” April said.

“April Hutchins, what has become of you?”


“Hey, Vale, will you look out for her?" April asked. "Make sure she makes it to bed? Make sure she doesn't end up passed out in a mud puddle somewhere?”

“Ha ha, sure,” he said. 

“I don't need a babysitter,” Vicky whined.

"Don't worry," Vale reassured her. "I've always been a shitty babysitter anyway."


After everyone had gone to bed, the rain actually stopped completely. A full moon brightened the cloudy sky, and they had the festival grounds entirely to themselves. 

Vicky outdid him on the roller skates. 

"Showoff," Vale taunted. 



Then Vale swirled two fiery batons around in the air while Vicky burnt her toasted marshmallow. 

"Showoff," Vicky taunted back. 

As the sky lightened into morning, they stumbled around out of the festival grounds, into the campground, resting on a picnic table at what might or might not be someone's campsite. Vicky felt light and giggly, even though her buzz had worn off hours ago. The night had grown chilly, but Vale's warm arm was pressed the entire length of her own and Vicky didn't want to move. 

An irritated voice from inside the tent shouted, "For crying out loud, shut the hell up out there! I'm trying sleep!"

So they got up and walked further. 


They came to the beach at sunrise. It seemed that they had spent the entire night walking around the empty festival grounds, talking, lazing under the stars if there had been any stars. The sky was still overcast with leftover storm clouds, breaking up little by little through the night to reveal fluffy white clouds instead. It reminded Vicky of many magical nights she'd spent with Matteo on the island, swooning under the stars all night, not kissing. All that momentum building, the tension, the danger, the desire. Until there was nothing left to do but kiss.

Not that she compared Vale to Matteo, or that Vale made her think of kissing! No. Vale was nothing like Matteo. Vale wasn't strong or bad or even charming. He was handsome, maybe, in an annoying way—that smug smile, like he always thought he was winning at something but wouldn’t say what it was. His style was so pretentious—except for when he wore those ripped jeans and boots. Those really worked on him. And his music was so irritating—except, she discovered, some of the more chill stuff was kind of not bad. And he was so annoying, she could hardly stand him—except she also couldn’t leave him alone. So frustrating, in such an irresistible way. 


But anyway, Vicky was spent.

"I guess somebody stayed up past her bedtime," Vale teased.

"What, like you’re not even tired?"

"Not at all. I can go all night, baby."

"Showoff."


"Did you like the music?" he asked her. 

"It was okay. I suppose I can see why people like it. It keeps you going."

"I liked your songs earlier, too," he said. "In the cafeteria, when you were swinging coffee across the table. And I don't even like show tunes. Would you record something for me? If I begged?"

Vicky raised an eyebrow. "You would beg? Tempting as that is, no. I'm not a singer."

"You could be." 


He walked her back to the bunkhouse, returning her safely to bed like he promised April he would. Blossom and April were asleep. There was hardly any night left to spend sleeping, but they couldn't help but continue talking in whispers.

"I thought we had a little bit of fun tonight," Vale gloated. "Just a little. Admit it."

"It was passable," Vicky said.

"Mortal enemies don’t have that much fun."

"Well, no, you couldn’t be my mortal enemy. Summer Phoenix is already and will forever be my mortal enemy until the day I die. No one can replace her. You don't stand a chance." 

Vale blurted out a laugh. April stirred under her covers. 

"You know, I almost hit on Summer once." 

"Summer? Eeew!" Vicky made a retching face at him. 

"But I didn't," he added. "She's not really that hot. Up close, I mean." 

"I'm appalled," Vicky said. 

"I thought you didn’t like me. Why do you care who I hit on?"

"I don’t like you." She raised her nose and tried on a haughty smirk, but she couldn’t hold the smirk and cracked up instead. "You can hit on whoever you want. Except Summer Phoenix."

"Right, got it." 

"If you ever hook up with her, I will have to lose every bit of respect I have for you."

"Aww, I'm flattered." He placed a hand over his heart. "You have some respect for me?"

"It's a tiny amount," she said. "It’s minuscule. It’s microscopic."

He grinned, looking like he'd achieved something.


Vicky shook her head at him, feeling suddenly very serious. No, no, no. "See? I see you. I see your game. You only want me to fall in love with you. You want that much adoration. But what would you do with it if it actually happened?"

Vale didn't have an answer for that. They stared at each other in silence, a stalemate, challenged to a dare that neither of them wanted to act on first.

Then from the silence and Blossom's light snoring, April whined, "You guys! Would you just fuck already or shut up and go to sleep?"

Vale broke their staring contest first with a subtle huff. Then Vicky stood and went back to her own bed. 


They crawled into the two remaining bunks to sleep for the few remaining hours before the ferry sent them all back home.

—