Phill Featherstone

Elena was the first in the band to realise that things were going wrong. The number was called California Rock Chick. The lyrics were hers and the tune was by DJ, but that hadn’t stopped Alex introducing it as his own. Joey started a driving 2/4 beat and Alex shouted the words.

Cool house, big pool, and her own hot car
She don’t give a shit about who you are
She turns all the heads when she walks on the beach
She’s a queen, she’s a dream and she’s outa your reach
She’s a California rock chick rock chick rock chick
California rock chick
Rock chick

Because it was a school prom, they’d changed ‘don’t give a shit’ to ‘couldn’t care less’. It didn’t matter; what was coming was far worse. The school banned alcohol, but Alex had managed to smuggle in a water bottle full of vodka. That and the weed he smoked at the break were enough to do it. At the end of the first chorus he stood up, clapping his hands, and began to chant.

A group of lads at the front who had been told off by a teacher for moshing couldn’t believe their luck. This was payback time. They took up what Alex was yelling with gusto, more at the back of the hall joined in, and the noise grew until it seemed that the entire school was shouting as one.

California cock chick
Cock chick cock chick
California cock chick
Cock chick cock chick

The teachers went berserk, although some of the younger ones found it hard not to laugh. DJ had the presence of mind to kill the mics, and Joey stopped drumming.
Steve Sutton, the Deputy Head teacher, leapt on to the stage. He was furious, scarlet with rage. He snatched Elena’s microphone and jabbed a finger at DJ to turn it up.
‘Silence!’ he bellowed into it. ‘Silence!’ Raggedly and slowly the racket ebbed. ‘You’ve had your fun. Now it’s over,’ he yelled, glaring at the boys at the front. ‘This prom is done. Finished. You’re all to leave. Those who need transport, call your parents and wait in the foyer. I want this hall cleared in two minutes.’

The students began to file from the room. Some were gleeful, many looked crestfallen, and from one quarter there was subdued booing. Several of the girls were in tears because the opportunity to get the most out of the outfits they’d worked so hard on had been snatched from them. Eventually the teachers managed to herd everyone out, but it took longer than the two minutes Sutton had demanded.

As the last few left through the rear doors, he turned to the band. ‘You too,’ he said. ‘Out.’ Joey started to undo the cymbals. ‘Leave it,’ he snapped. ‘Leave the stuff here. You can sort it out tomorrow. I want all of you in my office at 8.30 in the morning. I hope you’re pleased with yourselves.’ He stamped off to supervise the rest of the evacuation.

‘You idiot!’ DJ snarled at Alex, advancing on him. ‘What the fuck were you thinking?’ Elena thought he was going to thump him.

Alex didn’t answer. He’d sunk on to a chair and he looked greasily white, as if he was about to throw up. Joey hooked Alex’s arm over his shoulders and helped him down from the stage. Elena followed.

* * *

It wasn’t the Deputy Head they saw next morning. They were outside his office in good time, but he immediately led them to the room of Gina Meredith, the Head teacher. She sat behind an enormous desk and the four of them lined up in front of it. Sutton sat on a chair to the side. On the wall behind him was a large, illuminated copy of the school’s crest. The motto beneath it read, A pure mind served by a pure heart. Oh shit, thought DJ.

They’d decided on their story the night before. Or rather Elena, DJ and Joey had; Alex had been completely out of it. The line they’d agreed was simple: the chanting had come not from the band but from a group of boys. Sorry, they hadn’t seen exactly who started it and couldn’t name them. It was a lie but, as Elena pointed out, it was justified for self-preservation and it was morally acceptable because it didn’t hurt anyone else.

Meredith appeared sceptical. ‘Is that your reading of what happened, Mr Sutton?’ she said, turning to him.

He thought for a moment. ‘I honestly can’t say, Head. The band may not have started the obscene chant but my impression is that Alex at least joined in.’

Alex was about to say something, but Elena gave him a warning nudge and the four waited in silence.

The school had a problem. The incident could be seen as the deliberate promotion of disorder, an attempt to sabotage one of the major events in the calendar. It had resulted in the prom, which many students looked forward to, being cut short. Already there had been complaints from parents. Suspension would be the obvious punishment. On the other hand, three of the band–Alex, DJ and Elena–were A* students, almost certain to do very well in their exams next year. Besides that, Alex’s father had only recently made a substantial donation to the school fund. Finally, because it was so nearly the end of term suspension would be pointless.

At last Meredith spoke. ‘Your explanation doesn’t convince me,’ she said. ‘If I was certain that one of you was the instigator of this appalling behaviour I would have no hesitation in punishing you severely. However, you assure me that it was none of you and we have no one who can say it was, so I must give you the benefit of the doubt.’

Despite this exoneration they were in some disgrace. However, less than a week later the school closed for the summer break, and by the time DJ, Alex, Joey and Elena returned to begin the new term the occasion seemed to have been forgotten. Except that the band wasn’t invited again to play at school events. Instead, another group from a year below who called themselves Vampire Slaves took over. They wore black and were heavily into fangs and fake blood, but worse than that was their music: repetitive covers badly played, with no original material at all.

Not long afterwards, the band lost its name; or rather, it lost them. They used to call themselves The Green Men. That was after The Green Man pub that Elena’s parents run, where they had their first few gigs and the only ones for which they were paid. They’d needed a name quickly, jumped on that and it had stuck, but it had never been right. Elena, for one, had never been happy with it.

‘We’re not all men,’ she’d grumbled. ‘I’m a girl.’

Joey had suggested Green People, but Alex thought that sounded as if they were aliens. ‘Green has other associations too,’ he’d said. ‘Like unripe. Or immature. Or green with envy. It’s just not cool.’

‘It’s cool when it’s to do with conservation,’ Elena had said.

‘And what’s belting out rock to a roomful of people got to do with conservation?’

The discussion had got nowhere, but now they have to come up with a new name because Alex had found the others that lunchtime and given them some astonishing news.

‘The Head just sent for me,’ he told them. ‘Guess what. She wants us to play at the end of term awards.’

‘Never!’

‘What?’

‘Really?’

‘Yes, really. She said she’s taking a risk. She said that in a few days we’ll be leaving. She said we could,’ and he made air quotes with his fingers, ‘“repeat the anarchy of last year”, or we could put on a great show and ensure everybody has a good time and we leave in a blaze of glory. She said I was to talk to you all about it.’

‘Why did she send for you?’ DJ said.

‘She assumed I’m the band leader.’

‘You?’ DJ was irritated. ‘We don’t have a fucking leader. We’re a democracy.’

‘Democracies have leaders,’ said Alex.

‘Well it’s not you,’ said DJ.

‘Okay, okay,’ said Alex, shrugging.

So they are to play, and they need a name, and time is short.

* * *

They have gathered around the table in Elena’s kitchen. Her parents are in the bar. In the middle of the table is a box. When they started the business of choosing, they brainstormed, writing ideas on slips of paper and dropping them into it. Elena picks out another one.

‘To Be Continued,’ she says.

DJ, Alex and Joey receive the suggestion in silence. They’ve been at this for some time now and they’re weary.

DJ is the first to respond. ‘To Be Continued,’ he repeats. ‘It’s not bad. It kind of gives the idea of forward momentum, like we’re at the beginning of something.’

‘Yes, and it implies that we’re not done, that there’s more to come from us,’ says Joey.

They wait. What does Alex think? If they’re honest, none of them is really taken with this one but the pressure is mounting to settle on a name, and soon.

Alex says nothing for long seconds, then, ‘I suppose it’s got something, but there’s kind of an unfinished vibe to it. It sounds as if we’re a work in progress. We don’t want people to think we’re playing stuff we haven’t properly worked on. Like we haven’t rehearsed.’

DJ feels a stab of irritation. Every proposal that comes out of the box is rejected by Alex but he makes none of his own. He picks out another slip. ‘Rainbow Avenue,’ he reads. ‘How about that?’ It’s a suggestion that’s come from him and he quite likes it. He can see the spectrum logo on Joey’s bass drum.

The faces of the others aren’t encouraging.

‘Yuk,’ says Alex.

‘No,’ says Elena. ‘We can’t. It’s too LGBT. They’ve kind of appropriated the rainbow, so it’s hard to use it for anything else. I mean I don’t mind people thinking we’re gay,’ she adds hurriedly, ‘but we’re not gay, so why should we give people the idea that we are.’ Although, she thinks, Joey might be. He doesn’t have a girlfriend and as far as she knows he’s shown no interest in having one. But there isn’t a boy he seems particularly close to either, so maybe he’s just a loner. Or his sexuality hasn’t found its feet yet. He is, after all, the youngest of them.

‘Yeah, but it’s also a symbol of the NHS,’ says DJ. ‘Remember when all that Covid stuff was going on and there were NHS rainbows everywhere? People put them in their windows.’

‘What do you think, Joey?’ says Elena.

Joey doesn’t pause to think. He obviously has an idea that he’s been mulling over because it comes out straight away. ‘Persons Unknown,’ he says.

Alex makes a sound somewhere between a sigh and a raspberry. ‘It wasn’t in the box,’ he says. ‘We’re only considering ideas that have been put in the box or we’ll be here all night.’

This isn’t a rule they’d agreed, and DJ resents Alex suddenly inventing it. He feels compelled to give Joey’s suggestion a run. ‘Persons Unknown,’ he says, thoughtfully. ‘It’s a possibility. It’s got a kind of mystery. Hey, we could dress in black and wear masks, like Anonymous.’

‘Are you serious?’ says Elena. ‘Dress up as anarchists and remind people about the last time we played at a school event? Good idea!’

‘Anyway, we don’t want to be unknown,’ Alex says wearily. ‘It’s the complete opposite of what we want.’

‘So it’s kind of ironic?’ says Elena.

They all look at each other. It’s another no.

DJ goes back to the box. ‘Strip Mall Psychos,’ he reads. ‘Who the fuck came up with that one? Have we gone completely punk or something? Is this your writing, Joey?’

‘Hey,’ says Elena. ‘The first rule of brainstorming is that all ideas are unattributed, and all get considered.’

‘That’s two rules,’ says DJ. ‘Anyway, is anybody backing this one?’

They all shake their heads. Nobody owns up to putting it in the box.

Mia watches. She’s been sitting apart, pretending to be doing something on her phone but listening to the discussion. She’s not a member of the band and she wasn’t at the prom last year. She realises she has no say in what they decide to call themselves, but she’s DJ’s girlfriend so she thinks she should have. It scarcely matters though. The band hasn’t much life left. If their exam results turn out to be what their teachers have predicted, in a few weeks two of them will leave home to start courses at different universities. Alex, who’s taking a year off, and Joey, who’s starting a job in a local restaurant, will still be here but Elena and DJ will go to opposite ends of the country. The band will split, it has no future. They only need a name for now.

She puts her hand up and coughs loudly. The other four look towards her. ‘How about Friendly Fire?’ she says.

There’s another silence.

‘Hey, I like that,’ says DJ. ‘Fire gives a feeling of energy and passion, and Friendly chimes with the sort of music we play and the image we want to promote.’ He waits for Alex to disagree, but this time he doesn’t.

‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘Fire’s also aggression and attack, but Friendly tones it down and stops it being too negative.’

‘It’s oxymoron,’ says Elena. ‘I like it.’

‘Who are you calling a moron?’ Alex and DJ chant in unison, repeating the old joke that always came up when they did parts of speech in class.

They all laugh, even Joey, who remembers the word cropping up in an English lesson once but has long forgotten what it means.

‘Friendly Fire it is then,’ says DJ.

‘Terrific,’ says Mia. ‘Thank God you’ve managed at last to agree on something. I’ll start right away on the posters.’