Forever Phoenix Read online

  ‘I know,’ Bex says. ‘Right – let’s do this! Dip-dyed hair, Phoenix-style! Cerise into orange into auburn! Sure you still want me to go ahead?’

  ‘You bet,’ I tell her. ‘You’ve already bleached the ends – no way are you leaving it like this!’

  ‘It’s going to look awesome,’ Bex promises, painting orange dye on my hair and stuffing the ends into her bowl of cerise paste. ‘I’m an expert at this. You’re going to look even more like a phoenix now! Such a cool name … were you named after that Ked Wilder song?’

  ‘Maybe – Mum used to like it, I know that much,’ I say. ‘But she has this phoenix necklace, and I think I was named after that. Grandma Lou gave it to her on her sixteenth birthday, and when I was ten she got me a phoenix charm bracelet to match …’ I show her my wrist.

  ‘Aww,’ Bex says. ‘It’s beautiful! Your gran’s so cool and eccentric. I bet your mum’s amazing too …’

  ‘Grandma Lou’s the normal one,’ I say. ‘My mum is so cold you’d catch frostbite if you went too near. Then there’s my wicked stepmother, who put a spell on my dad so he’d forget he actually has a daughter. As for Drake and Dara …’

  ‘Are they dogs?’ Bex asks.

  ‘No, half-brothers,’ I say sadly.

  ‘Well, that’s families,’ Bex says, and I shut up then because I know she and Lexie are in foster care, which means they have their own messed-up family stories too. Then there’s Sami, who lost his dad on the journey from Syria, and Romy, who looks after her disabled mum with no dad on the scene – and even Marley and Dylan whose dad also seems to be out of the picture. I know that no matter how odd and mixed up my family is, I’m lucky to have them, and lucky too not to have to use food banks like Sharleen and her family.

  ‘Don’t worry, Phoenix, you’ve always got us,’ Bex is saying. ‘The Lost & Found is like a family, right? And I think Lee has a crush on you … Wait till he sees your new hair!’

  I smile. ‘Lee’s really nice. I do quite fancy him, but I don’t want to get involved right now. I don’t have a great track record with boys … They end up getting hurt, or I do. Besides, it can’t be a great idea to go out with someone in the band, right? Wouldn’t it all get a bit heavy?’

  Bex raises an eyebrow. ‘It works for Lexie and Sami,’ she points out. ‘Jake and Sasha too, although neither of them are actually in the band, technically. I think Romy quite liked George too, but nothing’s come of that one. I think she scares him a bit … she’s gained so much confidence lately. She used to be really shy, but now she’s found her style and her self-esteem, and maybe that’s too much for George.’

  ‘Too much …’ I echo. ‘Yeah, I’ve had that trouble myself. How come girls who break the rules or dare to stick up for themselves are “too much”? I dunno about too much – I reckon Romy’s too good for George!’

  ‘I do, too,’ Bex agrees. ‘Lately I’m not sure that George’s heart has been in the band, to be honest.’

  ‘I know,’ I agree. ‘What about you, Bex? Any romance on the horizon?’

  She laughs. ‘Not a chance. I have more than enough on my plate with schoolwork and the band … for now, at least. Anyway … time to wash this off and see what we’ve got!’

  I lean over the bath as Bex rinses the colour away, conditions and rinses again. She chills for a while with a GCSE English text while I dry my hair, and the two of us examine the results in my dressing-table mirror.

  Bex is a fierce teen punk goddess with a razor-sharp intellect, but she’s also the best amateur hairdresser I’ve ever met. My hair looks awesome … a blaze of cerise and orange blending seamlessly into natural auburn. What with the ringlet curls, I am a living, breathing bonfire.

  ‘My mum would disown me if she saw this,’ I say, grinning a little at the thought of it. ‘She’d say it was a disgrace!’

  ‘Sounds like a win to me,’ Bex says.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I say, shaking my hair and checking the mirror again. ‘Really? Are you sure it’s not too much?’

  Bex rolls her eyes. ‘Phoenix, when are you going to learn? Too much is exactly the look we’re going for!’ I smile and slip the torn-off front of the hair dye boxes into my Quality Street tin.

  The dip-dyed hair is a hit with Grandma Lou and the Lost & Found, although at school it earns me a talking-to from Mr Simpson. ‘I’m a little concerned that you’re trying to push the boundaries here,’ he says.

  ‘I am,’ I tell him, and he puts me on report for another week.

  12

  Marley’s Confession

  As Saturday’s practice crashes to a halt, Marley announces that he has news. ‘Just some band business before you all head home,’ he says. ‘Shall we go to the Leaping Llama? I’ll stand everyone a hot chocolate out of the band’s petty cash!’

  We head out into the fading light, Pie perched on my shoulder as usual.

  ‘What’s the big news then, Marley?’ Bex demands as we walk. ‘Should I be worried that you think we need sweetening up with hot chocolate first?’

  ‘Trust me,’ Marley says. ‘It’s good news, promise!’

  Lee falls into step with me. ‘Did I tell you how much I like your hair?’ he asks, his ears pink beneath the battered trilby.

  ‘Once or twice,’ I say with a grin. ‘It’s OK – you can tell me again!’

  ‘I like your hair,’ he repeats. ‘I liked it before and I like it now. You look like a fiery warrior princess! You could come out with me sometime and I can tell you all this some more?’

  ‘I’ll think about it,’ I say, and Lee grins at me from behind a messy fall of hair. I badly want to reach out and tuck it behind his ears.

  ‘At least Pie appreciates me,’ Lee says, as the magpie hops from my shoulder to his. ‘He clearly has great taste –’

  Without warning, Pie grabs Lee’s battered trilby and disappears into the darkening sky with it.

  ‘Hey!’ he yells. ‘Stop! Thief!’ Even though Lee gives chase, he doesn’t stand a chance, and eventually gives up, laughing.

  ‘He must have wanted the feathers!’ I say. ‘He doesn’t normally do stuff like that!’

  ‘Scoundrels, the pair of you,’ Lee says.

  The Leaping Llama is all lit up with fairy lights and as we push through the door both a blast of warm air and a blast of cool music greet us. The place is busy, but the young waiter who Marley was flirting with on my last visit rushes over and quickly moves two tables together to make a space for us. ‘Millford’s coolest band is always welcome here,’ he says. ‘I’m definitely a fan. Enjoy!’

  We arrange ourselves round the tables, which on closer inspection turn out to be ancient school desks complete with old inkwells and Latin graffiti inscribed into the wood, while Marley heads to the counter to order.

  ‘He’s definitely up to something,’ Bex says with a frown. ‘Marley never dips into petty cash if he can help it …’

  I think Marley’s just looking for another excuse to see the flirty waiter, but what do I know?

  ‘At least we get hot chocolate,’ I say. ‘And brownies, by the look of it!’

  The young waiter sets down a tray of hot chocolates, piled high with cream and cinnamon, each with a chocolate flake to stir. The brownies are squishy and vegan, and come with ice cream on the side. Lee scoops up a spoonful and offers it to me, and it tastes like heaven.

  Marley grins. ‘So this is it. Our breakthrough moment. The gig that will take us from promising new band to rich and famous!’

  ‘Like we haven’t heard that one before,’ George groans.

  ‘Huh?’ Bex says. ‘What breakthrough gig?’

  ‘We’re only headlining a major gig in Birmingham city centre,’ he crows. ‘A paid gig too. There’ll be TV and newspaper coverage and we can invite Ked Wilder … fingers crossed he’ll come!’

  I feel like someone has poured ice water down my back. I’m cold all over, shocked, shaken.

  ‘What?’ I ask quietly. ‘When? What kind of gig?’

&nbs
p; ‘The council’s putting on a big party for the Christmas lights switch-on, on the first of December,’ he says. ‘They want to showcase Midlands talent, with us headlining. It’ll be like a festival in a city setting, with a Christmas flavour, obviously. It’s tailor-made for us!’

  ‘But – December the first is only two weeks away!’ I argue, the tremor in my voice building to anger. ‘I can’t do it!’

  ‘Sure you can,’ Marley says. ‘D’you think we’d have got you on board if we didn’t think you could do this? We’re all behind you, Phoenix. You’re pushing us up a notch, taking us out of our comfort zone …’

  Marley’s words are like petrol on a bonfire, and my anger flares. ‘What about my comfort zone?’ I snap. ‘I haven’t sung in public since I was ten years old. This was not what we agreed. You said I’d have time to get used to it all, time to perfect things. I can’t do this. I won’t!’

  ‘It’s jumping in at the deep end, sure,’ he insists. ‘But you’re hardly the shy, retiring type, are you?’

  ‘How would you even know, Marley?’ I snap. ‘You met me, what, all of a fortnight ago, and I’ve only been in the band for ten days of that. I can’t do this!’

  ‘It’s not just about Phoenix, either,’ Bex chips in. ‘The whole dynamic of the band has changed, and we’re still getting used to that! The gig sounds great, but the timing is all wrong. We’ll have to turn it down.’

  Marley rolls his eyes. ‘We won’t get a better opportunity,’ he argues. ‘They want us, they’ve asked us specially … and I’ve agreed. Let’s get on with making sure it’s a smash, OK?’

  There’s an awkward silence, and I feel fear and dismay crashing through my body like an avalanche, extinguishing my dreams. For a little while I’d let myself think I could do this, but the fantasy was never going to last.

  ‘You agreed?’ I say calmly into the quiet. ‘You agreed, Marley? I thought we were a team? You had no right to make that decision on our behalf!’

  ‘We can’t possibly be ready in two weeks!’ Lee says, backing me up.

  ‘No way,’ Lexie agrees.

  ‘Why can’t you guys trust me?’ Marley says, exasperated. ‘I only want what’s best for the band, you know that! The promoter contacted me during half-term week, and I followed it up because it was a total no-brainer – great publicity, a huge audience and an eye-watering fee on top of it all. And then we lost Sasha, and I panicked, but there was no need because we can do this!’

  Lexie looks upset. ‘But, Marley, that’s not the point. We’re a team – we make decisions together … and you’ve been hiding all this stuff from us for weeks! If you’d told us earlier, maybe we’d have agreed to give it a go –’

  ‘I wouldn’t have,’ I snap. ‘No way!’

  ‘You see?’ Marley argues. ‘You’d have said it was impossible, but look how far we’ve come in ten days! You’re a natural, Phoenix, and yes, OK, we’ve had to change things around a little, adapt, but we’re almost there, I promise!’

  ‘Not sure we are,’ George sulks. ‘You’ve jazzed up the melodies, put in a load of new stuff. There’s more input now for Happi, Romy, Dylan and Bex … but less for me and Sami. There’s hardly any flute or cello now. Maybe it’s not rock and roll enough?’

  Sami looks up from his sketchbook. ‘But we’re not rock and roll anyway!’ he argues. ‘Or we didn’t used to be. I am not sure what we are now …’

  The words slice into me like razor blades. I try hard not to take them personally, but they still add up to one thing – the band has changed now that I’m in it, and not everyone is happy about that. I take the hurt and turn it into anger, the way I always do.

  ‘Fine,’ I say. ‘I didn’t ask to join your band in the first place, but you nagged me into it then changed all the rules, and now it’s my fault things have changed? I never asked for this, not any of it, and I won’t miss it either!’

  Even as I say it, I know it’s not true. In just ten days the Lost & Found has become the most important thing in my life, and I don’t want to lose it.

  13

  Something Special

  Everyone is talking at once, telling me that Marley’s an idiot, that I can’t leave, that things can be sorted.

  ‘The band needs you, Phoenix,’ Lee argues. ‘You’re – I dunno, something special. You can’t go … you just can’t!’

  Marley sighs. ‘I shouldn’t have sprung this on you, but I meant it when I said we’d support you, Phoenix, and we will. Lee’s right … you’re something special!’

  I fight the impulse to stomp out and slam the door. Do I really want to run away from all this? The band is a long way from perfect and Marley can be a total nightmare, but I’m every bit as bad. I’m supposed to be working on my temper, keeping my cool. I dunk my chocolate flake with trembling fingers and try to act like I don’t care. I’m not fooling anybody, not even myself.

  I notice Lee scribbling on a scrap of paper with a worn-down pencil from his pocket, watch him fold it up, smaller and smaller. He passes me the note underneath the table, and I open it out, read the message, smile.

  ‘I may be an idiot, but you can’t say I’m not doing my best for the band,’ Marley argues. ‘I could have said no to the gig, but why let a chance like this go when I know we can do it? Is it bad timing? Sure. Will it be hard work? Yes, of course … but you lot can do it. You always put a hundred per cent in, no matter what. OK, we’ll have to practise pretty much every day, but we’ve done that before … and I swear it will be worth it!’

  ‘You said they invited us back in October,’ George points out. ‘Won’t they be expecting the old version of the Lost & Found?’

  Marley sighs. ‘Things are changing, but you can see how cool it’s going to be. The festival will love it and so will our fans!’

  As if to prove Marley’s point, two girls approach the table. They’ve been sitting at a corner table with their mum, eating ice-cream sundaes and casting curious looks in our direction, and now at last they’ve plucked up the courage to come over. One is clutching a notebook and pen, and both look like they might explode at any moment.

  ‘You’re them, aren’t you?’ the smallest girl says. ‘That band. The Lost & Found! We’re your biggest fans! Someone at school said you split up, but it can’t be true, because you’re here … you’re really here!’

  ‘We definitely haven’t split up,’ Marley says with a grin. ‘We’ve had a change of lead singer, that’s all!’

  The girls giggle and squeal and beg for selfies and autographs, and we all spend a few minutes signing the notebook and posing for selfies.

  ‘Why not come and see our next gig?’ Marley says.

  ‘We will,’ the girls chorus. ‘When is it?’

  Marley shrugs. ‘Well, it was going to be the first of December at the big Christmas lights festival in Birmingham,’ he says. ‘But I think we might have to cancel that, and I don’t know when we’ll get another chance to play. I’m really sorry – the rest of the band don’t want to do it.’

  ‘Blackmail, Marley,’ Bex says icily, but the girls are already dissolving into outraged squeals.

  ‘Oh no!’ they wail. ‘Please do it! You’re our favourite band! We’ll bring all our friends! Please?’

  ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake,’ Bex huffs. ‘Do what you want, Marley! You probably will anyway!’

  One by one, the band members turn and look at me. I hold the future of the Lost & Found in my hands, it seems, and nobody cares that I’ve never sung on an actual stage in my entire life before. I can’t decide whether to laugh or cry.

  ‘Your call,’ Lexie adds. ‘If you want to give it a shot, we’ll go with it … but don’t let Marley bully you!’

  I make the mistake of looking at the two little girls again. One of them has tears in her eyes. Exasperated, I cave in. ‘OK, OK, I’ll do it …’

  The girls throw their arms round me. Marley says he’ll sort them out with a backstage pass each, and finally their mum comes over to usher her daughte
rs back to the table, but by then I am pretty sure my cheeks are as red as my hair.

  ‘Are you OK with this?’ Lee asks.

  ‘No, not really!’

  ‘You’ll be amazing,’ Marley insists. ‘We’re a team. We’ll make every single song the best it can be, and Jake will make sure the tech is perfect and Sasha will do the make-up and styling and it’ll be epic, I know it will. Thanks, Phoenix, seriously. I know this is a leap of faith –’

  ‘Without a safety net!’ I remind him.

  ‘You won’t need one,’ he promises. ‘You really won’t.’

  I barely notice Marley nudging Lexie, but then I see Happi and Romy opening their violin cases, Sami taking out his flute, George opening the cello case. I’m supposed to be the singer, but it’s Lexie, Romy and Happi who start to sing, launching into the song Marley created from my ‘Fireworks’ poem while the others are on their feet, tuning in with their instruments. Dylan, without a drum kit, is bashing out the beat on the tabletop with two of the wooden spoons that show the table numbers.

  ‘C’mon, Phoenix,’ Lee says with a grin. ‘This is the smaller gig you wanted, right?’

  In the corner the two little girls are wide-eyed and suddenly the whole cafe is silent, watching, waiting. I get to my feet, my mouth somehow finding the words. We’ve practised so much they’re engraved on my memory, stamped on my soul, and I forget I’m in a crowded cafe surrounded by strangers and lose myself in the song. I stamp my feet and whirl around and when Lee adds a little dance to his trumpet solo I mirror his steps without even trying. Even Lexie, Romy and Happi are swaying with the music.

  People are taking photos and videos on their phones, but this doesn’t bother me at all. If anything, it spurs me on. When I get to the last verse, I dance right up to the two little girls and pull them to their feet, bringing them into the middle of it all, making it something special.

  Marley is grinning his approval, and Bex laughs as she strums her bass, and I’m on such a high by the time we’re done that I barely register the shouts and applause.