Crooked, Twisted and Warped

Loverboy by You Me At Six

"We're gonna die out here!" Izzy wailed from the passenger seat as I hopped out of the car to assess the damage.

"Calm your tits, bro." I told her.

"We're never gonna get to Warped!" She continued dramatically crying.

I sighed, "Chill out, child! I know how to change a tire. We have plenty of time before we have to get there."

"We're never gonna get to meet Jack Barakat, or Oli Sykes, or Travis Clark, or DAVID SCHMITT!" She continued wailing. I rolled my eyes and tried to block her out.

The tire was changed thirty minutes later and Izzy complained about the people we wouldn't be able to meet, the entire time,"What are they gonna do if they're two merch girls and a stage manager short?" Izziee gasped as I climbed back into the car.

"Relax. The tire is changed and we still have three hours until we have to be there." I told her.

"But we still have an hour left to go." She complained while I pulled out of the parking lot.

"I know you've never been good with math, but that still leaves us with two hours until they hand out schedules and stuff." I laughed.

Izzy crossed her arms, "Fine."

The next hour seemed to drag on. Izzy was stressing about the time, the entire way. Eventually, I put on a the new Skrillex CD, Bangarang, and turned it up all the way to drone out Izzy's complaining.

We got there at nine fifteen, with plenty of time to spare, "See? I told you we'd be fine." I said as we got out of the car and started unloading our suitcases.

"I never doubted you." She said and we both doubled over laughing. Once we composed ourselves, we walked into the hotel. Izzy was ten feet behind me because of all the suitcases she was dragging along with her.

There was a man standing in the middle of the lobby with a Warped t-shirt on. He was holding a checklist. He looked to be about twenty, with spiky black hair and skinny jeans.

"Are you guys here for Warped?" He approached us.

"Yeah, we won the contest to be merch girls. I'm the stage manager, too." I told him, "Amaya del Jardin and Izzy Scott."

He flipped through some sheets of paper on his clipboard until he found our names and crossed them off, "Yup, you guys are sharing room 425." He said, handing us each keys, "Be in the event center by eleven. That's where you'll get your schedules and the bands you're assigned to sell merch for."

We rode the elevator up to the fourth floor and quickly found our room. Izzy, immediately, crashed on one of the two beds and was passed out in seconds. I laughed and decided to leave her be. How could she be sleeping in a time like this? I thought. I was so pumped on adrenaline and I had a feeling I wouldn't be sleeping for a while.

My stomach grumbled and I realized that Izzy had eaten all my nachos while I was changing the tire. I smiled to myself and left the room to go down to the cafeteria.

As I was walking down the hall, I pulled out my phone to check my messages. Most of them were from my dad, making sure I got there safely. Some of them were from my old classmates, telling me how lucky I was that I got to be a merch girl and stage manager for the Vans War-- My thoughts were interrupted when I ran into something, or, rather, someone. He must have been checking his phone, too, because both of our phones clanged to the ground. We bent down simultaneously to retrieve them but I still hadn't looked up too see who I'd run into.

"Sorry about that, love." He said, handing me my phone. I looked up into his brown, nearly black, eyes and knew that I recognized them.