The Hush Society Presents... by Izzy Matias (best desktop ebook reader .txt) 📕

My fingers type the fastest they ever have as I send my mates a message about "Waves" on the radio. Suddenly I feel as though all the mishaps we’ve run into tonight can be salvaged and turned into something useful. Maybe we can create a module in the program that talks about bad live sets and how to deal with them. Every little mistake or mishap is a learning opportunity.

I can't give up now.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

On the last gig before the culminating music festival, we collect a whooping 723 pounds!

"Since we’re one stop away from Manchester, it’s time you lot enjoy all the hard work you put in," Cassie says as she gives us our share of the pot. "And hopefully enough for Willowfields music festival."

I am like a king, pocketing the wads of cash in my wallet. It thickens to almost half an inch. This is the first time we get paid on tour; the first time I get paid to play music. The money in my calloused hands was earned, with purpose.

Cassie is right, of course, this pay check will be spent on our festivities at Willowfields. Benji, Eric and I have had our passes to Willowfields since pre-sale, and apparently Cassie as well.

Amber isn’t a massive fan of big festivals like these, so she opts to spend our free weekend resting. "I’ve booked myself at a small B&B. The plan is to stay in and watch conspiracy-theory movies and boy-band documentaries with my favourite food the whole weekend," she says as we wave her a temporary goodbye and head towards the festival grounds. "You must be looking forward to your much-needed R&R in your comfy tents."

There are so many new bands this year. So many rising indie stars in the line-up that I get this weird premonition that this time next year, we could be included in the line-up here in the thin, glossy paper I crumple in my hands. We have a year to prove ourselves worthy to these organisers, to work on publicity and build a strong fan base. It’s a long, hard way up, but I am willing to put in all the hard work.

The thing about music festivals is that it's either you feel like you're being cooked alive or getting what I call a spiritual shower. No matter the forecast, there's always bound to be rain. And where there's rain, expect lots and lots of mud. Once we finish pitching our tent in the light drizzle, it looks as if it’s the beginning of what could be a downpour—and the festival hasn't even started yet.

Benji holds out ice-cold bottles of Heineken. Cassie declines, entering her tent, but I take a bottle. I hum a song that’s been stuck in my head all day. My fingers itch to play, but we left our instruments locked inside our van in the car park. I glance around, inhale a deep breath, and smell damp earth. The anticipation builds up round me. Tents, brollies, and coolers are set up. There is a constant crescendo of chatter, and somehow it calms me. This pre-show hype never gets old. In a couple of hours, we’ll be surrounded by drunk neighbours, owl-like creatures, and the faraway sound of the festival going on.

"So who do you think it'll be this year?" I ask.

Willowfields holds secret sets during the festival. If we’re lucky, we’ll get to witness our favourite bands. We always bet on who the surprise bands are going to be.

"Foals, definitely," Benji says.

"Five pounds for The Gramophones," Eric dares.

"Ha!" I say. "You wish."

"A tenner for Foals," Benji counter offers.

Before we can continue, Benji’s alarm goes off. It’s a reminder that the first act he wants to catch is on in thirty minutes. "I’m off to watch Circa Waves. Anyone joining me?" Benji stands beside me with an expectant look.

"Ah, I’ll catch up with you later. Haven’t decided yet between Circa Waves and two other bands."

"Wait up," Eric says, scrambling from inside the tent with an unlit cigarette dangling from his mouth.

Cassie’s head pops out of her tent.

"All right, but if ever we don’t cross paths, see you lot later."

Cassie and I nod in unison.

"We’ll keep in touch via mobile," she shouts as Eric and Benji blend in with the crowd.

"What time’s Ella coming?" I ask. Dan had to sell his pass because of a family emergency. "The first set of acts are going to begin any minute."

"Who knows?" Cassie says. "She said she’ll message me when Dan drops her off. They’re probably snogging their heads off, if they’re going to be away from each other for a whole weekend."

I laugh. "I can’t believe you lot would go every year and we never crossed paths before."

"Thousands of people do flock out to Willowfields every year," Cassie points out. "Maybe we saw each other before and didn’t know it."

I nod. "Sometimes I wish I found out about The Hush Society sooner."

"Everything happens the way it should and at the right time." She says as she sits beside me.

"You sound like Ella," I say and take a sip of my Heineken. "Do you really believe that? I think sometimes, it’s about going out there and making opportunities happen for you. There never is a right time. All we have is now."

She looks up from her mobile. "I believe in that, too, but don’t you see, if we had met a year ago, you would have been with another band. Who knows if I’d even invite you to play at The Hush Society then?"

"Ouch!" I feign hurt, putting a hand over my heart.

She laughs, taking out her Fujifilm camera from her sling bag. "I am sure you’ve grown as a musician since then."

"Our lives are never static," I agree. It’s up to us, who we choose to become. We dictate how our lives will turnout, not the random events thrown at us.

Cassie adjusts the knobs on her camera and takes a