It’s the end of the show
But it’s not the end of us
‘The End’ fromThe In-Between
Okay, there may have been other people who have taken this seriously,’ says Ty as we arrive at Wembley.
‘There’s too many people here!’
‘How do you know?’ says Ty. ‘You said you’ve not been to Wembley before. This stadium is very big.’
‘Look at the amount of people already queuing,’ I hiss. And there in front of us, is a large queue of people in various costumes of floaty materials. There must be enough material here to drape Buckingham Palace. Rose Conrad is famous for her love of everything bohemian, and the fans have got the memo.
‘Oh good, the queue is moving,’ says Ty. ‘I still don’t understand why you British people love to queue so much.’
I stand there, watching the volume of people mass and move.
‘Come on,’ says Ty, grabbing my hand and pulling me forwards.
I feel Ty pull me through the crowd and up the stairs to the stadium. I see the back of his head, feel my hand in his. And I don’t want to let go. Instead I keep hold of him, as he leads us to the back of the queue for the entrance we need to go through.
The queue is moving forwards slowly, people chatting to each other eagerly. I see girls dressed as different songs: strings of stars for ‘Under the Night Sky’, feathered dresses referencing the cover of ‘Jungle’, where Rose Conrad was dressed as a parrot. Then there’s some memes, white T-shirts scribbled with her SNL sketch quotes. And I feel this deep sense of belonging. These are my people; I am meant to be here.
And I’m still holding Ty’s hand.
I don’t drop it as we start moving slowly forwards. And there’s no reason to keep holding it either; we both aren’t going to get separated from each other in this queue moving at a snail’s pace.
But he keeps holding my hand too.
I feel the electricity sing and spark between us. I wonder if he feels it too. There’s no denying, as much as I’ve tried denying, the connection between us.
I lean into him. He tenses briefly, then lets go of my hand. I start to pull myself away, but he swings his arm around my shoulder, pulling me in closer.
For a split second, I see us through other people’s eyes, looking like an ordinary couple standing here. This version of Ty and Selena. The ones who are happy and content and queuing to see their favourite artist. And maybe for one day, this is what we can be.
For a few minutes, we don’t say a word to each other, and I’m caught in this being the moment, and the worry it will disappear if we do or say anything else. But then Ty leans down to me and points at a girl two rows up with a giant feather headdress andsays, ‘If she’s stood in front of us I will have to rip that thing off her head.’
I snort. ‘Not very considerate, is it? Plus, how many birds do you think died for it?’
‘I don’t think birds die when they lose feathers,’ says Ty, with a wry smile.
‘With the amount of feathers on that headdress, I wouldn’t be so sure!’
He laughs, and I’m looking up at him and laughing too, and his arm is still around me.
We chat our way through the queue, and my annoyance at the number of people ahead of us starts to disappear. The number of people is the reason Ty and I can spend time like this together.
At the front of the line, we break apart. I go and scan our tickets, and then after a security check, we are in.
‘Are you ready to get a prime spot?’ says Ty.
I roll my eyes. ‘I’ll take a good spot. Clearly I’m not as much of a superfan as I thought I was.’
He nudges me with his shoulder. ‘Hey, you deserve to be here. How many people here can say they got their tickets through talent and grit?’
We end up nowhere near the front, but we get a spot that I can still see the stage from. As people continue to pile in, I look around, at all of the people in tiny seats in the sky, and I feel very present here. Like I’m part of a mass, but I’m still at the centre of it all.
‘Okay,’ I say, looking at him. ‘We’re in, we’ve got time to kill. Will you now tell me what’s going on?’
