Stuck on the Puzzle

Chapter 1

•April 16th - 2 years later•

Georgia and I arrived at my sister, Kasey's flat in Los Angeles two nights ago. We're all driving down to Indio, for the Coachella music festival tomorrow morning. I'm rather excited, because I'll be able to get some great shots for the newspaper back in Sheffield, and this could potentially mean a raise for photos from such a large event. Plus, it's my 21st birthday weekend. So, it's a win-win. 

Also, about four months after I'd met Alex, the boy from the Grapes, Arctic Monkeys blew up with their debut album. Since then, they've released two other chart-toppers, one of which came out only three days ago, entitled "Humbug". I'd always meant to catch a show of theirs one day to formally congratulate Alex on his success. However, I never seemed to have the time, and I honestly doubt that he'd remember me. Getting backstage is never an issue though since technically, I am a reporter.

Kasey walks out of her bedroom into the tiny living room where I sit, on her grey suede sectional with my feet propped up on the coffee table.

"Kara, can you come grab this from the top shelf?" Kasey struggles on a small step stool to reach for a cardboard box.

"Yeah, I'll get it." I take her place on the step stool and grab the box with ease.

"Thanks, Stilts."

Kasey had been calling me Stilts since I was around 13 when I bypassed her in height. She's 26 and five foot six, and now, at 20, almost 21, I'm nearly five foot ten.

Kasey begins to unfold the flaps of the box to reveal three ultra compact folding lawn chairs. "We're gonna need these at some point."

"Yeah, I guess. Why not just bring a blanket to sit on?"

"Trust me, Kara these will treat your ass much better," Kasey pats my arm.

Georgia walks in wrapped in a towel and shakes out her wet hair. "Ah, folding chairs! Coachella is gonna be sick, guys."

"Wash up now, apparently the rental house we're gonna be in has shitty plumbing," Kasey grabs the folding chairs and puts the box under her dining room table. "I'll be back, I'm gonna put these in the trunk of my car."

"Dude, I'm fucking excited about this trip."

"I can tell. You can't seem to shut up about it," I tease Georgia.

"We've got to see Vampire Weekend and Julian Casablancas... I heard Tame Impala are gonna be there too! Hm, also Fidlar, most definitely Smith Westerns, yeah. And-"

"What about Arctic Monkeys?" I blurt out.

"What about them? They're good, but I've got a priority list here, Kara," she shows me a folded piece of paper clutched in her hands.

I feel my face burning with both anger and embarrassment.

"Well, so do I, and I say that we put Arctic Monkeys at the top of our list."

"Alright, alright. Don't get your panties in a twist," she says sarcastically. "Why do you like them so much anyway?"

"They're just a great live band. Plus, I dunno, it seems like they've got their feet very firmly on the ground. They've just got that sort of appeal I guess," I scratch my arm.

Georgia looks at me like I'm full of it. "Mmhm, yeah. Seriously, just tell me why you like them!"

"That's why I like 'em, honestly," I fold my arms.

"Yeah, okay. Fine, we'll put them at the top."

I'm not sure why I'm getting so worked up about Alex. Chances are that if I'm even allowed to go backstage with my excuse of a reporter ID, since I'm writing for such a minor newspaper, I won't be given the time of day. And why in God's name would Alex remember me? We chatted for an hour at nine o'clock in the evening on a Thursday night. It certainly meant nothing to him; simply another slummed out girl having a rough night in a pub. I've definitely overestimated this trip for the past month, and now that I've begun thinking about the reality of this situation, the more I regret even registering myself as a reporter for a cheaper entrance fee. The probability of this going well in any way is surely a solid one in twenty-four.