He hoped, with a fervent, almost desperate hope, that it would stop the endless teasing at school. The “ginger nut” taunts, the relentless mickey-taking – maybe they’d finally see him as something other than just “that ginger kid.” Being called “carrot top” every single day got old, real quick. He just wanted them to, like, chillin’ instead of being such prats.
And then there was Jessica. The whole Jessica thing was…well, mental, really. Falling for someone he’d never even met, someone who was apparently giving up on eating? Bonkers. He'd only seen her picture. Nothing particularly striking, just…normal. But the website had said, in big, bold letters: “YOU CAN HELP THOSE WHO NEED YOU!” And that, for some reason, hit him hard.
He knew it sounded cheesy, proper cringe, but he actually believed it. He really thought he could make a difference. Maybe he couldn't change the entire messed-up world, but maybe, just maybe, he could change Jessica's life. He would message her online a few times after the gig, trying to be encouraging, offering to listen. “You alright, Jess?” he’d type, then immediately delete it and forget her.
His mum’s voice, sharp and slightly nagging, cut through his thoughts. “Alex? Where are you off to then? Have you finished your homework? Are you even thinking about applying to university? What time will you be back? And for goodness sake, don't embarrass your father!”
Alex winced. His dad, the university professor. The embodiment of academic respectability. “Yeah, yeah, Mum,” he mumbled, already tuning his guitar. “Just doing my best. I need to go out now.”
“Out where? With who? Don't tell me you're seeing those guys from your school. They are bad boys, you know.”
Alex rolled his eyes. He didn't reply, just strummed a chord, letting the sound drown out her questions.
He plucked at the strings, checking the tuning. E…A…D…G…B…E. He needed to nail it. He needed to be perfect. This wasn't just about the gig, it wasn't just about escaping the bullies. This was about…everything.
He thought about Jessica again. He imagined her, somewhere out there, maybe listening to music, maybe feeling completely alone. He would dedicate a song to her. It would be a surprise for her.
His mum sighed dramatically. “Honestly, Alex, sometimes I think you live in a different world. Your father works hard to provide for you, and all you care about is strumming that blasted guitar.”