Spotlight on Generation Next, Plus Excerpt & Giveaway!

Excerpt:

THE TEAM

My first week at the new school went by in a blur. I spent most of it trying to learn the ropes, getting to grips with some of the study projects I was going to have to tackle and listening to the teachers banging on about revision and AS exams. Apart from the odd ‘How are you getting on, new boy?’ and a few short bursts of small talk with people whose names I never really got to know, I drifted through the corri­ dors like a ghost for most of that week. It was only when I bumped into Austin or one of his mates that I got into any serious conversation.

The one bright spot in the week was seeing the incredible Ella Foster in the media production class on Monday. The downside of that was that Mr Allen forced us to sit through several cringingly arty film clips to give us ideas for our upcoming project, which, he kept reminding us, was worth a massive chunk of credit for the AS level. So apart from a quick chat at the start of the class, Ella and I didn’t get to talk much. To be honest, I didn’t see half of what was happening on the screen anyway, as I spent most of the lesson just looking across at her, sort of mesmerised. I know, it sounds a bit lame, but as I watched the light from the screen flickering across her beautiful face, I wondered . . . well, mainly I wondered if a girl like that could be interested in somebody like me. And no, it wasn’t just the way she looked, either. Ella seemed to have a kind of self­assurance about her that I could only dream of having, and in the brief moments when we did speak that morning, she looked me in the face and I felt like she meant every word she said. OK, so it was only small talk about the weekend and the mountains of homework we both had, but there was an honesty about her that fascinated me. She most definitely wasn’t a girl who just spouted words for the sake of it, and I liked that. As the week went on, I spotted her around a few times, just hanging out between lessons or at lunch, and I wasn’t surprised to discover that most of her friends seemed to be of the popular variety. Still, she always waved or smiled and said, ‘Hey, Jack Penman,’ whenever she saw me, and that was good enough for now.

Later that week I panicked slightly when Ella didn’t turn up for Thursday’s media production lesson and I was left without a study partner for the start of the filming project we’d been assigned. When I heard one of the popular girls say that she was home in bed with mild tonsillitis, I reassured myself that since it was unlikely you could still die from mild tonsillitis in this day and age, she would eventually be back in class and I could continue getting to know her better. Then I spent ten minutes googling and reading about tonsil­ litis, just to make sure that you couldn’t die from it.

*

Before I knew it, Austin’s gaming night was on, and with no better offers for that Friday evening, I went along, hoping it might be at least a little more exciting than I’d imagined. Look, don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t as if I was unhappy about making friends – jeez, I needed to after the disaster of my last school – but a bunch of nerdy tech kids playing computer games wasn’t exactly out of my comfort zone, you know? And the evening that lay ahead certainly couldn’t be put into the category of trying something new.

As it turned out, Austin and his mates weren’t what I was expecting at all, and I was pleasantly surprised when I walked into his house and his chatty, smiling mum directed me down­ stairs to where they were all hanging out in a converted cellar. Ducking my head under the low ceiling above the steps, I could hear laughter and music, and once inside I was greeted by three faces who all looked happy to see me.

‘You came.’ Austin sounded more than a little surprised. ‘Come in and get comfy, man.’

Over by a large TV at one end of the room, Austin’s fourteen­year­old brother Miles was engaged in an intense World of Warcraft battle, while Sai and Ava were hunched in a corner over a MacBook, messing about with what looked like a serious graphics program.

‘So what skulduggery goes on down here?’ I asked, looking around at Austin’s neat set­up.

The whole room was white, including the concrete floor, which had been smoothed over and painted, and there were LED spotlights on the ceiling as well as two or three lava lamps dotted around and a mini­fridge stocked with Diet Cokes, bottled water and cartons of juice. The room was also kitted out with a Sonos speaker system, currently playing Justin Bieber, and there was a desktop with a thirty­two­inch monitor sitting on a table plus several laptops of varying brands and a couple of iPads lying about. This was a pretty sweet den and I was slightly envious that I’d never had a headquarters as cool as this to work and play in.

‘What do you want to do?’ Austin said. ‘These nights were just gaming get­togethers at one stage, a laugh, but now we mostly hang out and work on stuff.’

‘What stuff?’ I asked, heading over to see exactly what kind of program Sai and Ava were working with.

‘Well, er . . . if we’ve got school projects to do, we get together and help one another out, and we, er . . . we’ve been trying to come up with ideas for our own project, too.’

‘What kind of project?’ I asked.

‘That’s the problem, man,’ Sai said, turning around. ‘We haven’t decided yet.’

‘We promised ourselves last term that we’d come up with something serious,’ Ava explained. ‘It might be a game or a website or even an app, but it has to be something that makes use of all our individual talents.’

‘Are you lot nuts?’ I laughed. ‘Haven’t you got enough going on revising for exams?’ They all glared back at me as if I were the crazy person in the room. ‘Of course,’ I said, ‘you guys are all such geeks, you probably don’t even need to revise. Anyway, what exactly are your individual talents?’

‘Well, Ava is brilliant at anything film­ and video­related: shooting, editing, sound editing – all that kind of stuff,’ Austin said.

‘Sounds good. I’m pretty handy with a camera, too,’ I said.

Austin went on, getting more animated as he spoke. ‘Sai is a master at graphics, web design, layouts and anything arty, and I’m pretty fearsome when it comes to coding and technical jargon.’

‘And what about him?’ I said, nodding towards Miles.

‘My little brother comes in handy for running errands sometimes, but mostly he just hangs out playing World of Warcraft,’ Austin laughed.

‘Look, we’ve got all the bases covered,’ Sai said. ‘Trouble is, we spend most of our time together looking at the bril­ liant stuff other people are doing and not doing anything ourselves because . . . Well, because we haven’t had any good ideas of our own yet, I suppose.’

Sai looked at me hopefully, as if he thought I might say some magic word to make something amazing happen right then and there. His stare was intense, as if he was trying to figure out my entire character just by looking at me. Then Ava stood up and headed towards me, her forehead knotted in a frown.

‘And what about you, Penman? What are you good at?’

I pondered the question for a moment; what exactly was I good at? Then, as if a cartoon light bulb had flashed above my head, it dawned on me that I might be just what they were looking for.

‘Actually,’ I said, ‘I’m a bit of an ideas man. I s’pose that’s what I’m really good at. Ideas.’

‘So have you got any?’ Ava said, laughing. ‘’Cause I can only spend so many weeks locked in a small space wasting time with these two idiots before I go psycho with Austin’s mum’s bread knife.’

‘Er . . . could you at least let me have a minute or two? I’ve only just walked in the door. You need to give me a few clues about what sort of thing you want to do,’ I said.

‘That’s the problem, man, we haven’t got any direction,’ Sai said, shaking his head.

Out of the blue, Miles looked up from his game and shouted over his shoulder from the sofa.

‘Yeah, man, you’re GODLYM0DZ, you can help us.’ ‘What did he say? GODLYM0DZ? How the hell . . .?’ My blood ran cold and I looked at my new mates one by

one, all staring at me as if I was about to sprout horns or wings or something. Then my heart sank as the penny dropped. Austin looked guilty. They all looked guilty.

‘Miles has been online gaming since he was nine,’ Austin mumbled. ‘He reads all the forums.’

‘So is that why I’m here? Is that the only reason you called me over and befriended me the other day, because you knew whoIwasandyouthought …?’

I didn’t know whether to feel angry or flattered or . . . No, what I actually felt was hurt. I’d stupidly thought this smart, quirky little group had reached out and invited me into their inner sanctum because they thought I was a decent bloke; that I was worth befriending. Turns out it was because of some stupid online persona I’d shaken off ages ago. Turns out they wanted something.

‘How?’ I asked. ‘How did you know it was me?’
‘I wasn’t sure at first, but a bit of fishing around on some online forums and it seemed pretty clear that GODLYM0DZ was Jack Penman,’ Austin said.

‘So you targeted me when I arrived at St Joe’s just so I could help you out with your non­starter of a project,’ I said.

‘No, it wasn’t like that, Jack. Not targeted, just—’

‘Do you know how much crap that stupid name got me into? Do you know how much I’ve tried to move on and forget it?’

‘You sound really angry,’ Ava said.

‘Too right I’m angry. You could have been upfront about it. You’ve had all week. You could have . . . Oh, you know what, I’m out of here.’

After I slammed Austin’s front door behind me, I stood there for a good three or four minutes before I walked up the path into the night. Just as I got near to the front gate, a massive shudder shot down my spine. What the hell had just happened? OK, so when I thought about it rationally, I knew Austin and his crew weren’t trying to be devious or nasty, scoping me out like that, but they couldn’t possibly understand how much I wanted to get away from the way my life was before. Even the thought of it made me feel sick.

As I swung open the gate, a soft, calm voice spoke from behind me.

‘Jack! Hey, Jack! Why don’t you come back in? The pizza’s arrived and as usual I’ve ordered far too much.’

I turned around to face Austin’s smiley mum, Tina. ‘Yeah, I’m not sure I want to,’ I said.
‘Oh, come on, I’ve got my best china out,’ she laughed.

‘Look, Austin just filled me in on what happened. I know he can be a bit of a dozy sod at times, but he’s all right really.’

‘Is he?’

‘Well I know I’m biased, being his mother,’ she said, ‘but why don’t you at least come in and give him a chance?’

I thought for a moment, then took a few deep breaths and followed Tina inside. I know, I’m a soft touch, but what would you have done? If I’d walked away then, where would I have been? I was over being a loner, you know? I was over being lonely.

As we reached the kitchen, where everyone was gathered, Austin stood up.

‘Jack, look, what it is, right—’
I put my hand up and shook my head.
‘Can we just forget it for now, Austin? It’s cool, honestly, mate. Let’s just leave it for the time being.’

‘All you need to know is that we think you’re a really good

bloke and we’d like you as a mate whatever,’ Ava said. ‘Good enough for me,’ I answered.
It’s funny, in the short trip from the front door to the kitchen, I’d come to the conclusion that I didn’t really want any explanations or even to talk about it that night. I just needed to digest the situation for a while and think about it all later. At that moment it was all about pepperoni pizza, which was bloody delicious, as it goes.

Austin’s kitchen was vast and white and there was a flat­ screen TV on the wall opposite the table, which was also enormous. As we all grabbed a second slice of Papa John’s finest, Austin flicked through the music channels, landing on a video featuring a girl singer backed by two guys – a keyboard player and a guitarist.

Ava jumped out of her seat.

‘Oh, I love this band! Turn it up, Austin,’ she said, spraying bits of pepperoni all over the table. ‘They’re called The Gloves – they’re a bit wacky but so good. Have you seen them?’

None of us had, but I thought they had a pretty good sound: electronic beats with funky, scratchy guitars, and the singer had a voice like nothing I’d ever heard.

‘They’re American,’ Ava said. ‘Kind of old­school punky disco but with a contemporary edge. The girl’s called Wren. Isn’t that an amazing name, Wren?’

Sai laughed, waving his pizza at her.

‘You’re obsessed with her, and I’ve never even heard of them.’

‘I am not obsessed, I’m just interested in great music that isn’t forced down our throats via a TV talent show,’ Ava said.

‘Sad fangirl,’ Austin said, laughing and running a greasy hand down her face.

‘There’s nothing sad about it,’ Ava said, ducking his hand. ‘She’s a cool young woman who doesn’t feel like she has to conform to that whole Taylor Swift pretty­girl vibe.’

‘Oh here we go,’ Sai said, rolling his eyes. ‘Well I like Taylor Swift.’

‘Me too,’ Ava said. ‘But some girls are not into that sort of music and don’t want to be. And I totally get where Wren is coming from with the whole understated­look thing. I love her style. Anyway, shut up, I’m listening.’

I have to say, even after everything that had happened that evening, I was still quite intrigued by the dynamic within this group of misfits. They all seemed very smart, had a sense of humour, and took the piss out of one another mercilessly, but there was clearly a lot of love and respect between them as well, which appealed to me. I wondered if they’d been drawn to one another because none of them gelled with any of the other cliques in the school. All that week, during lessons and in the common room, I’d been hearing kids planning the stuff they were going to be doing at the weekend, whether it was hanging out at a skate park or the shopping mall or going to one of the three or four parties or get­togethers I’d heard talk of. Maybe Austin, Sai and Ava were the kids who never got invited to parties; maybe that was why they found themselves hanging out. It dawned on me that I’d been one of those kids for most of my life, I just hadn’t been lucky enough to find others of the same species . . . until now.

Ava suddenly grabbed the remote and cranked up the volume.

‘Oh listen to this! The interview section of this show is terminally lame.’

I tore off a large slice of pizza and looked up at the screen. The band were now sitting on chairs that looked like mini­ thrones in a posh hotel lobby. The surroundings were prop­ erly fancy but the band members, with their torn jeans, vintage tees and air of understated cool, looked ridiculously out of place amongst the oil paintings and swirly antique furniture surrounding them. The girl­and­guy duo who were doing the interviewing looked like they’d dressed especially to appeal to the band, not to mention their teenage viewers, but you sort of got the feeling that they weren’t wearing their real clothes and that they were maybe a little bit too old for the kind of banter and street slang they were chatting. Mind you, their masks slipped quite tragically with some of the questions they asked the three members of The Gloves, who by this point looked like they were about ready for a suicide pact.

‘So do you have a glam­squad of make­up artists, hair­ dressers and stylists when you’re on tour?’ the female host asked the singer.

Wren was wearing ripped leggings with more rip than legging and a Mickey Mouse T­shirt. Her bleached hair with black roots was dragged back in a scruffy ponytail, and I’m no expert, but as far as I could tell she wasn’t wearing any make­up at all. In fact, she didn’t look like she even had the email address of a stylist, let alone had ever employed one.

‘What do you think?’ she answered, looking at the inter­ viewer like she’d escaped from a high­security institution.

The male interviewer followed this up with equally rubbish questions to the guys in the band.

‘So, fellas, what’s your routine when you work in the studio? Do you start nice and early or are you night owls? What’s the first thing you do when you get in there?’

‘Crack open a beer,’ one of the guys answered.

The interviewing duo wriggled in their chairs uncomfort­ ably and we all rolled about laughing, the awkwardness of earlier evaporating fast.

‘You are so right, Ava, this is the worst,’ I said.
‘Isn’t it? It’s meant to be aimed at us, this show. Youth!’

‘Yeah, they don’t look as if they’re having much fun, the poor suckers,’ Austin said.

I watched, fascinated, as questions, texts and tweets from the show’s viewers shot across the bottom of the TV screen.

The messages were all totally ignored by the presenters, and it was at that very moment, as I was ripping into a lump of garlic bread, that the idea happened. That tiny acorn that was destined to get bigger and bigger until it exploded and took me to where I am now. Of course! Why not? It was bloody perfect! 

Generation Next

By: Oli White

Release Date: July 5, 2016 

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