21
Alina
Sitting in the treehouse, I feel like a poser.
After the photoshoot—and having the girls react so positively to seeing me in a skirt and formfitting shirt for the first time—I actually felt pretty. I felt like a girlie girl for once, and even allowed myself to get a bit excited, knowing that dressing myself like that was a huge step for me.
But now I’m sitting here freaking the hell out about what to wear tonight to the tour’s kickoff party down at the Onyx. Roxie and I were texting earlier, and I admitted how nervous I was, and how I wasn’t sure what to wear. She offered to come over and get ready with me, saying she had a ton of clothes in my size that I could choose from. After mulling it over, I politely declined her offer. I’m not sure I’m ready for female bonding over clothes and doing each other’s makeup just yet. It had been hard enough convincing Martin, the tour’s wardrobe consultant, to allow me to change in the privacy of the washroom instead of in the open dressing room. In the end, I told the girls I’d just meet them at the kickoff party later on because I had a few last minute errands to run before we leave on Tuesday. Which wasn’t a total lie. Thankfully, none of them protested.
I can’t believe that in three days we’ll be getting on a plane for our first stop on the tour, Whitehorse in the Yukon Territory. We’re playing the smallest venue on the tour there, but, from what Tommy explained, Whitehorse is one of the best places to perform because of its diverse music scene. Sicken Union have a huge following there, one they only get to tap into during this particular North American tour.
“Room for one more tonight, Squirt?” I hear Lucky’s voice, and a sense of relief washes over me. I could use a break from stressing over whether or not I can pull off the outfit I finally chose to wear tonight (fitted black jeans paired with one of my more clingy Sublime Torched Heart T-shirts that I bought years ago, but never had the guts to wear as it’s a little snugger than I prefer). But, it showcases my curves, curves I’ve spent so long trying to accept. I know Lucky’ll tell me honestly if I look like a fat girl trying to look skinny. It’s a stupid thought, but I can’t help it. It’s something I always worry others will think of me.
Leaning over the railing, I smile down at my big brother. “Always.”
Making his way up the stairs, Lucky stops when he reaches me at the top. “Wow, sis. You look great.”
“Yeah? This okay for the party tonight?” I ask.
“Definitely. You’ve got the girl-next-door-meets-rocker-chick vibe going on. I think you’ll fit right in with the crowd,” he says.
“Good, I’ve kind of been stressing. This is actually outfit number seven,” I laugh, moving back inside the treehouse while Lucky follows.
“Aww, look at my sister being all girlie and shit.”
“Whatever.” I elbow him in the ribs before we both sit.
“What time is the party?” Lucky asks.
“I’ve gotta be there for nine to meet my band.”
“I’m so proud of you, Squirt,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “You excited?”
“Yes and no. I’m nervous as hell, but also so excited that my stomach won’t stop doing somersaults. I can’t believe we’re going to be playing sold-out stadiums and packed bars,” I tell him.
Despite our near-constant rehearsals—and writing a few new songs the band insisted we play for the tour—I can’t seem to shake the feeling in the pit of my stomach or quiet the voice in my head telling me this is going to be an awful mistake, that I’m not ready for the spotlight, or the notoriety a tour with Sicken Union will likely bring. I can’t seem to stop hearing Her voice either, and She’s getting louder and louder, shouting at me that I’m not good enough to even think that I belong onstage. Luckily, I booked in one last session with Kristie for Monday morning before we depart for eight whole weeks of touring.
“Nah, don’t get in your head, Ali. You’re ready for this. I have all the faith in the world that you’ll be able to pull this off. I have a feeling this is just what you need to help you see how gifted and talented you are,” Lucky says, and it makes me smile so big my cheeks hurt.
“Thank you for always being you, Lucky. I don’t know what I’m going to do without you for so long.”
“Please, Miss Rock Star. You’ll be so busy, time will fly by. Besides, I’m only a text or phone call away. I’m trying to book some vacation time, too. Hoping maybe I can meet you at one of the shows. I’ll know soon.”
“That would be amazing.” I wipe the tear that’s pooled in the corner of my eye as I realize how much I’m going to miss him.
“Ready to meet Draco?”
“As in Malfoy?” I tease, and he rolls his eyes, knowing I love me some Harry Potter, which he is not a fan of. Damn Muggle.
“No. As in Ladon, the dragon that guarded the golden apples in the Garden of the Hesperides, according to Greek mythology,” Lucky says, passing me my astronomy book so I can look it up. I’m always so impressed at his ability to remember all this information without ever seeming to have to refer to the astronomy books like I do.
Scanning the index, I find “Draco”, and turn to the correct page.
“It says here that Draco is the eighth-largest constellation in the Northern sky, and actually means ‘head of the serpent’,” I share.
“True. See those four stars—that trapezoid? That’s the dragon’s head, and that big orange star where the nose is? That’s called Gamma Draconis. It’s the brightest one in the whole constellation. Draconis means ‘serpent’ or ‘dragon’. Can you spot it?”
“How cool is that?” I say, tracing the constellation’s serpentine pattern in my book. “I hope we can see it,” I say.
“Oh shit, before I forget…” Lucky says, reaching into the back pocket of his dark-wash jeans, “…I bought you a present. I saw online that you guys are going to have a few days in Vancouver between shows, and I figured you wouldn’t want to miss seeing this.” He hands me a sealed white envelope, a huge grin on his face.
“What is it?” I ask, excited, holding it up to the light of the moon to see if I can see anything inside before ripping the envelope open.
“A car. Just open it and see,” he beams, moving to set up the telescope.
“Okay,” I say, making quick work of tearing open the side of the envelope. “Oh my goodness, Lucky!” I squeal excitedly, pulling out an admission pass to the H.R. MacMillan Space Centre, a place I’ve always dreamt about visiting. A place it hadn’t even dawned on me that I could actually go to this summer.
“Figured you’d like that. I only bought the one pass, thinking it was something you might want to do on your own—kind of an escape day, if needed. And if not, I’m sure the other girls can grab a ticket the day of.”
“I’m so excited!” I hold the ticket close to my chest. The MacMillan Space Centre is ranked as one of the top ten planetariums in the world. And it’s been on my bucket list forever. “Thank you so much, Lucky. I love it,” I say, getting up to give him a hug.
“You’ve got this, Ali. Don’t let Her make you think otherwise,” he says, kissing my forehead, referring to the bully he knows is still coiled up like a dragon inside me. Looking into the telescope’s eyepiece, I catch sight of what appears to be the bright orange speck on the head of the dragon—and the irony isn’t lost on me.