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CHAPTER SEVEN

The Dream Is Over

‘I’m sorry.’ I look at Cassie and then at Skye. I tell myself that she will understand later. That she can’t be angry forever. but I know Cassie.

‘Come on, Skye.’ Cassie takes Skye’s arm and they walk away.

I feel awful. They’re my best friends, but I can’t miss an opportunity like this.

I look at my watch. It’s already 5.30. I have half an hour before the interview. But when it gets to quarter to, I still haven’t found where I need to be. Mike said that we were to interview Murphy in his van, but there are so many and they all look the same.

Feeling desperate, I try to phone Mike again, but his mobile is switched off.

I quickly look at my watch. 6.15. I remember what Mike said: ‘Murphy hates people who are late.’

Why did I have that stupid argument with Cassie? Why didn’t I phone her after the interview?

Just when I thought I was never going to find where I needed to be I see one of Murphy’s musicians coming out of one of the vans.

I start to run but then a big strong arm stops me.

You can’t come back here,’ a loud voice says. I look up at the tallest man I have ever seen. He is dressed in black from head to toe. A label on his chest, says ‘Security’.

‘It’s OK.’ I say, trying to catch my breath. ‘I’m here to interview Murphy. For Music Now! Magazine.’

‘Murphy isn’t giving any more interviews, today,’ he says.

‘But. I’ve got my pass. Look!’ I hold it up to show him. He checks my name against a list he has.

‘You’re late. Your interview was at six.’

‘I know.’

‘Murphy hates.’

’. it when people are late. I know,’ I interrupt. ‘But please, you have to let me see him.’ But it’s no good. He crosses his arms across his huge chest and stares down at me and I know he won’t change his mind.

What am I going to do now? How can I tell Mike that I missed interviewing Murphy because I was arguing with my best friend?

I stand there for a moment and my eyes start to fill with tears. I don’t want the security guard to see me cry so I turn to walk away.

Just when I think things can’t get any worse I see Mike coming towards me.

Before I can explain what has happened, he says, ‘I’ve just spoken to another journalist. Kriss, the singer Murphy was going to sing a duet with, hasn’t arrived. He’s really angry and has refused to give any interviews. People are saying that he might not even sing tonight, he’s so angry.’

‘So, that means no one. I mean, no one at all has interviewed him today?’

‘Exactly,’ says Mike.

‘Phew! That’s a relief!’ I say quietly.

I’m relieved that it wasn’t my fault, but I really wanted to meet Murphy. I have lied to my Dad, and my best friends will probably never speak to me again. For what? Nothing!

‘Come on, let’s go and enjoy the festival,’ says Mike, trying to sound cheerful. But I feel awful.

‘Is it OK if I stay here for a while?’ I ask, and try to smile. ‘I’d really like to see the next band,’ I lie. The truth is that I want to be alone. This was going to be the best weekend of my life. Now it is the worst.

‘If you’re sure,’ says Mike. ‘I’ll be at the Other Stage if you want me.’ He disappears into the crowd. Everyone looks relaxed and happy and I feel like I’m the only one who is miserable.

After a while I decide to go and find Cassie and Skye. I’ll apologise, and hopefully, Cassie will forgive me.

But just as I am about to leave, the door to one of the vans opens and familiar music fills the air. The security man bends his head low and steps out into the rain. He sees me watching.

‘I told you there were no interviews. You’re wasting your time waiting here.’

‘That music?’ I ask. I’m wrong. I must be. ‘The music that’s playing inside that van.’

‘Murphy loves it,’ says the security guard.

‘What is it?. I mean, do you know who it is?’

‘Some girl who won a competition. The magazine sent it to him and he really likes it.’

So, it is true! Suddenly I don’t feel sad anymore. I feel excited and happy and proud all at the same time! I step closer to the van but the security guard stops me.

‘You can’t go in there, Miss,’ he says.

‘You don’t understand,’ I say. ‘That’s me. that’s my song!’