I scrolled down with my shaking hand. I had to go. I had to get a ticket no matter what. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity.
When I was thirteen, they’d been touring and I had a ticket to see them play. Mum had promised to take me because we lived five hours drive out of the city, with no public transport, just a bus service once a day. I’d wanted to go to that concert more than anything in this world. I made plans with my best friend from high school. What to wear, how to do our hair, how to act when Brent Baxter saw me in the audience.
Then, about three weeks beforehand, I’d done something wrong. I hadn’t dinner on when Mum was at work or I’d forgotten to bring the laundry in. She was so angry. I’d cowered in the corner, waiting for her to strike me.
But what she did was so much worse.
She went into my room and got my concert ticket and, before I could stop her, she tore that ticket up in front of me.
I cried. I cried and I cried.
“What are you crying for?” she said. “If you’d done as you were told, you wouldn’t have been punished.”
I knew I’d done the wrong thing. I’d upset her and made her angry. But I’d wanted to go to that concert with all my heart.
Now they were touring again and —
This week?
Had I been living on a different planet to miss that announcement?
But surely there’d have been posters up around town? I’d seen no posters. They’d be advertising everywhere, you’d think. But then I’d been so caught up with Jackson, I might’ve missed it.
The tickets would be all sold out.
But maybe, just maybe, I’d be lucky. Even a seat in the last row would be enough. So long as I could be there.
I clicked through to the website as fast as my computer would go.
Sold out.
Sold out.
Wait. They’d announced an extra show.
My heart jumped. It wasn’t sold out. I had to get my ticket. Now.
Margie and Dianne walked back in and shot me a dirty look. I didn’t care. Their looks were always dirty.
The site loaded. There were no tickets.
Nothing available.
Wait, there were different levels of seating. VIP tickets were insanely priced but you got to go to a “meet the band” cocktail party before the show. That would be so awesome. Although as scary as hell, going on my own.
That’d sold out anyway. Good thing or I’d have been tempted to pay the $500.
The A seats and B seats were sold out too.
Taking a deep breath, I kept scrolling.
Down the bottom of the page, stalls. Not sold out.
I clicked that buy button and got out my wallet. Take my money, just take my money.
The seat map loaded. There were some seats right up near the back. Like second row from the back. But second row from the back was better than not being there at all. I entered my credit card details and didn’t breathe until I got the confirmation message.
Ping. There in my inbox.