I put down my guitar and picked up my notebook to make a correction. Sarah had bought it in for me, after I'd spent half an hour on the phone to her begging her to bring it in. Well, I hadn't wanted to leave the hospital in case there was any news about Finn. She'd gone again almost straight away, but to tell the truth, I didn't care. I only cared for one person right now, and he was lying critically ill on a hospital bed.

The nurses had disapproved, at first, but as none of the other patients had raised a complaint they were willing to allow me to fiddle with my guitar. Tim hadn't wanted to go and get his bass; he felt it would be wrong to have both of us playing without Finn, and I agreed with him. I just needed my guitar to take my mind off the fact that Finn might...

I sighed, put down my notebook, picked up Flash again and lost myself in the song. I followed it up with our first single, and I couldn't help crying as I sang.

I rested my guitar on the chair next to mine after those two songs, thinking back to the day when we signed to our label. It was only two years ago. We'd spent most of the first two years touring our asses off and sending demo tapes to lots of independent record companies.

Our 'big break' came when we entered a competition in 'Kerrang!' magazine for the chance of supporting Hell Is For Heroes on their UK tour. We only entered it for a laugh, and we were all amazed when we won. We played our hearts out over those two months, and the proudest day of my life came when 'Kerrang!' gave us a four-K review.

And when we got back home, there was a letter waiting for us.

"A bed! A proper bed!" yelled Finn joyfully, throwing his bag down in the middle of the living room and running to the bedroom we shared.

"Bagsie first bath!" I announced, hunting through my bag for my one and only towel.

"We've got a shitload of mail," announced Tim.

"Probably bills," called Finn. "Ignore them."

"Hang on, there's one here addressed to all of us." There was a pause while Tim read the letter and then, "Fuck! Guys, come here."

"What's the matter?" asked Finn. "We're not being kicked out, are we?"

"No, we. Creation Records want to sign us!"

"You're joking!" I cried, snatching the letter off of Tim and reading it for myself. There it was, in glorious black and white. "You are invited to meet with Mr. Alan McGee on the 21st November."

The letter stated that McGee had sent his scouts to the Hell Is For Heroes gig in London, and they had been impressed by our set-up and professionalism. We had our own transport, and we even had an EP out that we sold from out of the back of our van. Tim's mum, who was our manager, was even going to get some T-shirts made up to sell after gigs.

I could feel my excitement growing. I was certain that this was it. We'd be signed, we'd make a couple of CDs, and within a couple of years we'd be as big, if not bigger, than Green Day. Maybe even get Green Day to support us on a big world tour. That would have been fantastic.

Anyway, we went to meet Mr. McGee on the 21st November, and we were offered a three-album deal, which of course we signed. The very next day we went into the studios to record our very first album.

Our first album shifted a couple of thousand copies, which we were really proud of. Our second album, our present album, a year later, shifted a lot more. It sold five times as many copies as our first album! We couldn't believe it. People loved us. People were actually buying our shit, and we were preparing for a massive UK tour, headliners ourselves now.

But, of course, now that will have to be put on hold until Finn gets better.

Tim nudged me in the ribs. I jumped, knocking my guitar over.

"You were off again," he whispered. "What were you thinking of this time?"

"Signing to Creation, and how many copies our albums sold," I replied. He nodded.

"We're so close to actually making it," he whispered. "Do you think we ever will? Do you think we'll ever be big?"

"We will when Finn gets better," I said determinedly.

"Oh, yeah, the nurse just came in. She said we could see him."

"He's awake?"

"It would appear so." I jumped up, my heart pounding. If he was awake, that meant he was going to be okay! I couldn't wait to see him now. He was going to get better, and I was going to tell him how I felt, and the band would become internationally famous and we'd become rich and kids of all ages would be buying our CDs and wearing our T-shirts and we'd all live happily ever after. Things can only get better from now on. Nothing can touch us now.