Chapter 3

"AND WE'RE BACK," the radio announces. "If you've just joined us, after the ad break we'll be talking to the boys of Fable. Don't go anywhere!"

"No freaking way!" Zee says. "They just had an ad break!"

Alix lets out an exaggerated sigh. "Well obviously Zee. The station's squeezing in as many ads as possible around the interview so they can sell more stuff."

The car jolts forward as it screeches to a stop at the traffic lights. "It goes along with being commercial fake rock sellouts. I mean, they're basically a glorified boy band with instruments."

He's done it now. Zee turns her head very slowly to face him. I don't want her to start shouting or something and cause a car accident, so I put my hand on her shoulder.

Zee's pretty easygoing most of the time, but when it comes to Alix she's like a banshee.

"Just because the only thing you'll listen to is obscure bands with impossible to pronounce names, doesn't mean you get to trash what I like," she says so slowly and angrily that I swear her words could kill. "Admit it. You hate any band that's successful."

Alix might look like a jock on the surface, but underneath, he's pure hipster through-and-through. To the point of listening to everything on vinyl, playing ukulele on weekends and wearing thick-rimmed glasses during band practice (minus the lenses). At school he's the spitting image of a clean-cut star quarterback, all straight-edge and preppy Mr. Popular. It's like he's leading a double life, and sometimes I'm not sure which is the real him.

"You wouldn't get it," he replies, skidding the tires as he turns the car too quickly into a bus lane. "Anyway, you're under their spell now. You're not seeing what they really are."

"And what's that?" Zee asks.

"Sell outs," he replies.

Zee's face is turning bright red, which is a sure sign she's angry. Her skin is so tan that most people wouldn't be able to tell, but I know her well enough to see when she's furious - and so does Alix.

"Whoa, looks like I hit a nerve." He mutters glancing her way. "Forget I said anything."

"Don't tell me to forget it. I've had enough Alix. I'm tired of you ripping on them all the time."

"Lighten up Zee," he says. "I just want my little sister listening to quality music. Not the teen version of 30 Seconds to Mars." He adjusts his mirror slightly, glances at me for a moment.

"You too, Ashling," he says. "I mean, we're making music together, right? It's really sucks that our lead singer has a massive crush on some lame pop-rock band."

"Hey!" Zee protests. “Leave her out of it.”

I reach out and squeeze her shoulder, struggling to find the right comeback.

"We get it Alix, you hate them," I say, trying to sound defiant but stumbling over my words. "If you actually gave their music a chance, you’d see... they’re amazing. They helped me through a really tough time in my life."

I barely manage to even whisper the last part. It feels so stupid saying it out loud.

"Fable helped you? Seriously? You mean like, personally?" Alix smirks. "Did Felix Lockhart jump on a plane to serenade you? Did Lyall Greene cradle you in his arms and wipe away the tears while crooning Déjà Vu?"

"Well no, obviously," I say as I feel my face burning. "But they mean a lot… their music I mean… it’s important to me. More than I can really explain."

I expect Alix to come back with another sarcastic comment, but he's just studying me in the rear-view mirror, his eyes dark and full of something I can't quite place.

Zee and my other besties Jamie and Grace are the only people at school who know about the accident. I don't blame Alix for not understanding.

The adverts end and Zee squeals, seemingly having forgotten about Alix's comments already.

One of the things that makes it so easy to love Zee - even though she gets angry quickly, she also gets over it just as fast.

"Welcome back to 94.8 Portland Waves FM. This is Martin Fowles with your Rise and Shine report. For those who've just joined us, we've got the boys of Fable live in studio to talk about the last leg of their worldwide WISH tour, which sold out within minutes of tickets going on sale. This group of strapping seventeen year olds has conquered the music charts this past year, going platinum in more than twenty-five countries. Welcome to Portland, boys."

"Thanks," several voices say at once.

Zee snorts at the radio. "Five seconds into the interview and Martin's already got his facts wrong. They're not all seventeen. Lyall's sixteen."

Alix rolls his eyes. "Obsessed much?"

"Shut up," Zee snaps back at him. "I'm trying to listen."

"So, I understand this is your first time in Oregon," Martin continues over the radio. "How are you finding it?"

A Canadian-accented voice speaks up. "Awesome. We're loving every second."

"Oh my god, that's Ben," Zee shrieks.

"Everytin's really beautiful 'ere," a cute, lyrical Irish-accented voice pipes up, before a smooth Mayfair accent cuts in "...especially the girls."

"Lyall! Oh my god Lyall and Alastaire!" Zee cries. "I can't believe they're really here. In Portland. Right now. Breathing the same air as us." She rolls down her window as if to get more air. She sounds like she's hyperventilating or something.

"So, first things first," Martin says in his smooth radio voice. "Your name. Fable... it's a bit odd, isn't it? Not your typical rock band name. How'd you come up with that?"

"That's actually a good question Martin," says a boy with a clear, confident voice. Elliot Shawcross. He's Mr. Responsible, the band's bassist. Most fans think he's the most mature of the group, even though he's only eldest by four months.

"When we were trying to think of a name, we wanted something that represented all of us. So we put the first letters of all our names together and scrambled them up to see if we could make a word."

"I see," says Martin "so it's F for Felix..."

"Obviously," Felix cuts in. "A for Alastaire, B for Ben, L for Lyall, E for Elliot. Did you seriously not know that?"

There's a moment of silence, broken after a few seconds by Lyall's nervous laughter.

"Ah. Ok. Gotchya," Martin says, a slight catch in his voice. He sounds suddenly on edge. "So... Elliot. Tell me a bit about how you all met... I understand you were all at boarding school together in Wales."

"That's right," Elliot says.

"And how did the band form? Whose idea was it?"

All the boys answer "Lyall" almost at exactly the same time.

Lyall's soft Irish laugh is sort of warm and infectious. I find myself grinning straight away just hearing it. As the youngest in the group, he's considered by some to be the "cutie" – the boy next door.

His big brown eyes and a shock of messy cinnamon reddish-brown hair, plus his ever-present smile, certainly help out in that department.

"Well I don't like takin' de credit," Lyall says, laughter still in his voice.

"It's true though," Elliot cuts in.

"Yeah, he wouldn't shut up about it for weeks," Ben says.

"Lyall had his own channel on YouTube where he sang stuff and played songs on his digital keyboard," he says. "He was getting a lot of female fans, subscribers, whatever."

"But I'm a shite singer," Lyall interjects.

"Yes, he is kinda," Ben says. "Felix sings really well, so Lyall sort of... pestered him I guess. He made us all join. He knew that I play the drums, Alastaire plays guitar and Elliot plays bass. So we sort of all got to know each other and we formed a band."

"So you weren't actually friends before you formed Fable?"

"No, we barely knew each other,” Elliot says. “Except Felix and Lyall. They’ve been friends for years."

"And how would you describe your sound?"

It's Alastaire who speaks this time. "Well, last year Rolling Stone called us theatrical fantasy rock with a dash of progressive electronica. But our music's still very approachable. It's even been called fantasy pop. That's probably the most passable definition I've heard."

Just listening to him speak, it's obvious why the haters have labeled Alastaire a snob, while the fans consider him “the charming one”.

Even though all the boys met at a prestigious boarding school, Alastaire still sticks out – his accent and way of speaking make him sound like some kind of romantic aristocrat. An aristocrat who happens to have the palest blue eyes, an unusually beautiful face and a halo of burnished gold hair that literally makes him look like an angel from an old painting (hence his nickname – "The Angel".) He's really taken the whole angel thing on board, and started playing with a pure white electric guitar, embellished with two silver angel wings on the scratch-plate.

It's all a recipe for creating obsessed stalker fangirls, and the reason that Alastaire's fans – or Alastaire's Angels, as they call themselves - are particularly aggressive and territorial over him.

When it comes to fan numbers though, the most popular band member by far is Fable’s lead singer, Felix.

Where Alastaire is sun-kissed and light, Felix is all shadows and mystery – his trademark longish dark brown hair, hazel eyes and vampire-pale skin seem to have half the girls in the world under his spell. The fact that he's rude, arrogant and unnervingly cold doesn't seem to matter to his legions of fans. Some girls like jerks. I'm not one of them. I love Fable, but that doesn't extend to every single one of the band's members.

"Ok, so you started off singing covers," Martin continues. “But it didn't stay that way for long, did it?"

"No." Alastaire replies. "We got bored of that. That's why we started writing our own songs".

"Déjà Vu was de first," says Lyall. "An' probably most Enfablers' favorite track."

"Enfablers?" Martin asks, sounding genuinely confused.

Zee is getting impatient. "Jeez, it's called research!" she mutters at the radio. "Try it some time."

But Alastaire's response is cool and measured. "Yes, that's the name our fans have given themselves. Enfablers, as in Fable enablers. It's quite fitting – we're constantly amazed by how supportive they are... of us and of each other. We couldn't do any of this without them."

"It's touchin' really," Lyall pipes in. "We 'ave de best fans in de world."

The boys murmur agreement in the background, and again I feel a slight stab of guilt.

"In that case, care to sing a bit of Déjà Vu here on air for them?" asks Martin.

"I hate to admit it, but Felix is the only one with a decent voice," Ben says. "What do you say, F-"

Without missing a beat, Felix's voice cuts loud and clear through the radio waves, slipping into the first line of the song.

Even though I listen to Fable every day, the sound of Felix's voice still gives me goose bumps every time I hear it. He sounds amazing, even without the backing of instruments. Jerk though he may be, it's undeniable that he's got an unbelievably amazing singing voice. He sings until the end of the chorus then stops.

There's a slight pause before Martin finds his voice again. "Well, I can certainly see what all the fuss is about," Martin says. "That was... wow."

"Damn straight it was," Zee says, shooting a challenging glance at Alix, daring him to contradict her.

"This is the last concert of your WISH tour," Martin continues. "It's been twenty-four countries in six months. You must be exhausted. What are you planning to do after the tour wraps up?"

"We'll speak to the press about that when we're ready to," Felix answers. I can picture his deadpan, bored expression now. Poor Martin.

There's a long silence before Martin recovers, talking twice as fast as usual.

"Ok then! Good luck for tonight," Martin hurriedly says. "For those lucky enough to have tickets – have a wonderful evening. Fable will be performing live at the Rose Quarter at 7pm, and judging by what we've just heard it's a concert not to be missed. Thanks for coming on the show boys."

"That's a pleasure Martin, thanks for having us," Elliot says. "We hope -"

Before he can finish Alix has switched off the radio.

"Hey!" Zee shrieks at him "what do you think-"

"We're already at school, idiot," Alix interrupts her. It's only then that I realize we're parked and everything – we might have arrived minutes ago for all I know.

Alix winces as Zee slams her door a little too hard.

"You could have at least let us listen until the end," she sulks.

"And let you be late for class?" he answers. "What kind of responsible older brother would that make me? Anyway, try not to burn down the school today."

He's referring to last Monday when Zee accidentally set fire to her experiment in chem lab. Even though Mr. Schwartz managed to put it out in five seconds flat and no one got hurt, people kept talking about it and by the end of the day the story in the corridors was that Zee had tried to set the whole school alight and the entire class had been evacuated.

I know for a fact that's not what happened. I'm Zee's lab partner after all.

Zee sticks her tongue out at Alix quickly.

"I can't wait for next year," she says.

Even though Zee's turning sixteen and getting her driver's license next month, she has to wait for Alix to graduate before she can get his car. Her parents can't afford to buy her a car right away, so it's basically a waiting game.

"Bye Ashling." He winks at me as he walks towards his friends on the entrance steps.

As we walk up through the parking lot, I see it out of the corner of my eye.

Yellow. Kids streaming out.

I walk a bit faster and face forward, determined not to look at it. It's just a school bus, but it feels like so much more. A ghost. Something I can't forget.

A high-pitched scream cuts through the air.

I snap my head back as a cold chill runs down my spine. A little girl is literally being dragged kicking and screaming into the kindergarten across the road.

Now that I've turned around and the school bus is in my line of sight, I can't stop staring. The last few stragglers are just stepping off the bus, the driver is hunched over his seat, tapping on the screen of his phone. There's no blood. None of the windows are broken. But still. I feel myself start to shake.

Zee puts her hand on my shoulder.

"Let's go, Ashling."