I, Cristina Cedirius, looked in the mirror and checked me hair again. It was already two in the afternoon; there were only had five more hours before the concert. The adrenaline running through my stomach was making me almost sick. It was the rush of knowing that I would meet Hanson again, and of thinking "What outfit will catch Taylor's eye?"

I think it's good to stick with traditions, I mean hell, "If it ain't broke, why fix it?" Putting on a classic white tank top and shorts. "Oops, I forgot a bra." I giggled. I glanced in the mirror again, I swear to God that piece of glass is my best friend. It never lies. "Mirror, mirror, in my room, damn I'm hot, Taylor I'm coming soon." Okay, so maybe my C-cup breasts were sagging a little without my bra, and maybe my shorts were showing about a quarter inch of ass, but who cares? "It's not like all the others girls at the concert aren't going to be doing the same thing."

Whatever 'the same thing' is seems to be forever in the mind of the holder. I arrived in a posh white limousine along with four other girls, all members of the local fan club "Red Jellybeans". Two girls in the limo wore their hair in tiny braids, with carefully threaded ribbons in the hair. The other girl, Maria, and I maintained our bra-less, white tank top philosophy.

We arrived at the arena about 2 hours prior to the opening of the doors, which was at 7:00. The concert itself wasn't scheduled to begin until 8:00, and that was only the time for the opening band to take the stage. It was unsurprising that a small group of girls had already formed around a radio station booth. Girls who'd arrived at the concert in vans full of friends and a few tortured parents. They flocked in pig tails, and Hanson tee shirts, swarming around the DJ; begging for backstage passes.

"Oh please," I muttered, in almost disgust.

"Like you haven't done it." Maria scoffed.

"Of course I haven't, I find other ways of getting in."

"Like what?"

"I never reveal my secrets."

"Because you're just full of shit that's why."

"I am not!"

"I bet you didn't even meet Hanson, ever."

"What are you talking about? I've met them 10 times. Today will be my 11th."

"You won't get backstage. You have to win those, or pay way more money than either of us have."

"I'll get backstage."

"I don't believe you."

"Fine don't."

"Bring me something back, an autograph, something to prove you were there."

I mockingly waved my hand in the air, "Child's play. Hanson loves me, they wouldn't deny me anything."

"Fifty bucks says you won't do it."

I shrugged and accepted the bet, "Where there's a will there's a way."

I stood watching warily around me. I saw the backstage security guard holding a list, and I wanted to make sure no one was around when I made my move.

"Hi, is this where we go to get backstage?"

"Yeah, can I see your pass?"

"Yeah of course." I began to look through my purse.

It was all a ploy, of course. Pretend that you're legal to get away with something illegal. I was searching slowly at first and then almost furiously. "Damn it." I looked up, pitifully and ran my fingers through my hair. I haven't met a guy yet who didn't fall on his knees for puppy dog eyes and a hair toss. "I think I left it at home."

The guard shook his head. "Then I can't let you in."

God Damn it, did you not see the puppy dog eyes? That was NOT what you were supposed to say, 'Then I can't let you in.' What the hell! I'm a Red Jellybean damn it. "Wait, what about that list? Maybe I'm on the list!"

He glanced at me, pure annoyance in his eyes. And you know what buddy? You can just go ahead at look at me like that. When I get hooked up with Taylor I'm going to make sure he fires your ass. "I don't think so, honey. This is for people Hanson requested to see. It's their close friends and celebrity type people."

"Well then that's me!"

"What on earth are you talking about?"

"I'm a close friend."

"Have you ever even met them?"

"Have I met them? Are you kidding, I practically

know them, if you know what I mean. We're like this," I crossed my fingers. "We're way tight."

The guard shrugged, "So what's your name?"

"Cristina Cedirius. I'm a Red Jellybean."

"There aren't any Cristina's on this list."

"Did you check the spelling, I spell it C-R-I…"

"There are NO Cristina's with a C, with a K, or a C-H, on this list alright?"

Okay, okay, geeze why don't you just bitch at me about it? "That must be a mistake. I know them. They love me. Go ask them, tell them Cristina wants to come in and say 'hi'. They'll let me."

"Miss, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

Alright, new tactic. "But I just wanted an autograph. My cousin's got cancer, and she just wanted an autograph. She's never met Hanson, and all she wanted was an autograph. Please, I promised I'd get her one." I forced tears into my eyes.

"Look I'm sorry, but you're not on the list, and you don't have a pass. I can't do anything about that."

I stood, trying to collect my thoughts, but always losing them all over again. "Okay." I wiped my nose and walked away sniffling.

Once out of earshot, I stopped crying. "What an asshole! My God, has he no fucking heart? Shit, and I was so nice to him too."

I slumped against the bathroom door. Fifty bucks, three dumb names on a napkin was gonna cost me fifty bucks. Jesus Christ.

"Hey, are you alright?" Some girl was staring at me, seeming really concerned.

"I'm fine."

"You sure? You don't want to talk about it or anything?"

"It's nothing really. I just wanted to get backstage for the meet and greet and the guard wouldn't let me."

"You don't have a pass."

"No."

"Have you met them before?"

Something told me that telling this girl the truth would be incredibly stupid, and so I didn't. "No, and I wanted to so badly. My family will be moving to Montana this summer. I'll never have a chance to meet Hanson ever."

"They don't go to Montana?"

"Are you kidding? Nobody in their right mind goes to Montana. The entire state doesn't even have enough people to fill a venue."

The girl laughed, she knew I was being overly sarcastic. "Well, I've met them before."

"Really? What are they like?"

"They're sweet."

I nodded. "Do you hope to meet them again?"

"I don't know, I mean, it seems to me that now that I've met them once it should be somebody else's turn."

"That's a very noble thought." Don't get on your high horse with me. I've got fifty bucks and a score card riding on whether or not you're going to put out for me.

"So, I have a backstage pass, and um…well, since you're moving and you've never met them, I'd like for you to have it. If I'm meant to meet them again then I will. But for now, I think you'd make better use of this than me."

She held out the pass to me. I was scared, so eager, I got paused and it actually took me a second before I snatched it from her. "Thank you, I really appreciate it." I smiled.

She nodded and walked away, she waved once, I didn't. I walked back to the guard. "I found my pass."

"Did you?" He took it from me and matched it with one on his list. "Alright, go on in." He was smiling, so was I.

I walked down the hall towards the room. A room, which I already knew how it would look. A table would be on one side and a couch or a chair on the other. A big group of girls would stand near one side and Hanson, afraid of mingling too much would stand near the outskirts of the herd.

"Here I come, greet number 11." I opened the door and stepped it. The sight was breath taking. "Where the hell is everybody?"

A man picking up some garbage peeked up from behind the couch. "They all left a few minutes ago. Went out the back door…"

I was out of there before he could finish. "I finally get that girl's pass and they're gone."

I ran to the back door and found the guard waiting there. The same guard who'd been at the backstage entrance. "Hanson has already left, and the girls were redirected out another exit."

"I made a bet for fifty dollars I'd get an autograph. I have a pass, and you're telling me that I have just lost my bet and I don't get to meet them either?"

"Yeah." He was so smug, I wanted to slap him.

"What am I supposed to do now? Tell me, what the hell am I supposed to do."

He laughed and shrugged. "S.O.L."

"Bastard."

He laughed, "Alright that's enough, you're out of here." He grabbed me by the arm and motioned to another guard. "We've got a trouble maker."

"I'm not a trouble maker! I'm just a Hanson fan!"

"That's what they all say."


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