Reaching For Stars

This is my book, Starstruck.  I've totally reformulated this page, and I don't really feel like typing a whole bunch, so here it is, plain and simple!  Starstruck, by Clarie and I.  Enjoy!

Starstruck
Idea on February 3, 2006
Started on May 10, 2007

Chapter 1

                "Baby you're a glitter doll on the radio.  I dissolve in the stereo.  You've got me.  You've got me coming back for more...

                Pop princess hold my hand.  Pop princess I'm a fan.  Pop princess I need you now.  Freak me out turn me inside out.  Pop princess make me smile.  Pop princess drive me wild.  Pop princess I need you now.  So baby, turn your love up loud."

                You have to love my song.  No, I didn't write it, and I don't sing it (on stage anyway).  In fact, I often find myself putting on my green army hat and my home mike and rocking out to it, even when I’m extremely busy.  Even so, I wouldn't change my songs or give up my career for the world.  And, of course, I could not live without (primarily) Em, Annebelle, and Henri.  My life wouldn’t be complete without them!

                Oh my goodness; I am so sorry.  I’m getting ahead of myself.  Trust me; once you get big on Broadway, you constantly do that.  Yeah, you got it; I'm famous.  When you’re so well-liked you meet a lot of people.  So right here and now I’m going to tell you about all of my fave people.

                First of all, I should introduce you to Sam.  Sam Crenshaw is my producer and manager.  He absolutely rocks!  Sam’s the one who “discovered” me.  Next is Em.  My best, best, best friend (and cast mate) is Emilia (Em) Corinth.  She is the sweetest, kindest, most fun, best actress I know.  My next closest friend is Annebelle Tynan.  I met her through our similar interests.  You’ll here more about her later.  Lucy Starlet is my mom and assistant manager.  Peter is my dad and my biggest fan.  Here’s always there for me and he’s very persuasive (so he gets me what I need).  The next person you need to know is Lance Tangent, my bodyguard/ chauffeur.  I’m not so famous, so he’s more like an over-protective uncle who drives me to premiers and auditions.  The next person is the coolest guy ever to grace the Earth.  Henri Oliver.  Henri is my hairdresser and makeup artist.  He’s twenty-four and knows the trends all too well.  He is just spectacular, but he hasn’t been around a lot lately.  He’s got a new boyfriend and has been really busy with him.  These aren’t the only people you’ll meet throughout the course of my fairy-tale, but they’re the only ones you need know now.

                And, not to be conceited or anything, but that’s my cue!  I’m Claire Starlet.  That's right, the one and only!  What?  Who am I?  What kind of question is that?  Oh wait; chances are, you have no clue what I'm talking about.  I'll explain a big part later.  And since no one else is going to tell you who I am (and you obviously don’t know enough to do it yourself) I guess I’ll just have to do it.  Until I was eight, I was just a normal girl with extraordinary talent.  I could sing like an angel and act marvelously.  I was also a great writer, but I didn’t share that with anybody but Em.  Em and I grew up in separate communities, but then she moved in next door.  We instantly bonded, and not to one of those fake co-star friendships you see on TV.  We were tight!  Then, she got into acting, so we were, like, closer than ever and I really got to know her.  We’re a lot alike, actually.)

                On the day where I had my shining moment, my school had its play and talent show the same day, with the play in the morning and the show in the afternoon (a double whammy for me).  Sam is one of the best, pickiest talent scouts out there, and he was at the play because his niece was in it.  (If I’d have known that sooner I would have tried to become friends with her.)  Sam noticed me straight away.  He talked to me after the performance and I told him to stay for the talent show.  I was astounded that I was noticed, mostly because I didn't even have a lead role.  Sam saw me sing, and I received permission to be whisked off to Hollywood.  Of course, I only live in Burbank, so it wasn't that far.  Then, I landed the lead in the musical "They’re Playing Our Song."  We filmed it and I even did it on Broadway (which, as you can imagine, is a bit of a hassle.  I live across the country).  I also got Em an audition and she got a supporting role.  Alexander Stanton, of course, did not get an audition, no matter how much he begged.  I shan’t waste my time on him now.  So, I grew up in movies, musicals, and shows.  Then, when I was eleven, it was realized that my voice had really matured and didn't have the little Shirley Temple sound like it used to.  It was more of an Olivia Newton John sound, mixed with modern pop and good old country.  Sam asked me if I wanted to do a CD, greatly encouraging it.  I wasn't sure, but I agreed. That is when I told them I could write.  They asked for the songs I had and I handed over my old, worn-in notebook.  It was kind of embarrassing, actually.  Here’s the scene: I gave my notebook to Sam, Lucy, and Peter.  They started looking through it, and I timidly asked, "Are they any good?"  Sam laughed.  "Well," he smiled, "The lyrics are great!  Now, let’s hear the tunes."  "So, you want me to sing?" I asked, very nervously.  "Oh, oh, oh!!  Don’t tell me Claire Starlet, the greatest pop singer of all time, is nervous to sing in front of three people?”  I nodded.  “Claire,” Sam smiled, “you’ve sung on Broadway, but you can't sing here, in front of me?"  "I've never sung my own stuff for anyone but Em before."  "Well, if the tunes are solid, that will definitely change."  “Oh boy,” I moaned.  He chose a random song and luckily it was one of my favorites.

                "You smile; and the spotlight hits your eyes.  You laugh; and the spotlight turns on me.  I sing; and my heart beats twice its pace; your eyes the sky; the night your face; and the fog is cleared.

                You know how you feel.  It's not a mystery.  I knew it was real.  I knew that you'd see; the real me; the truth believed; and what really happens; behind the scenes.

                Finally; I love you and you love me.  Mystery; to everyone but me.  You don't; know how I fell for you that day; in those bright lights; on that stage.  So I gotta tell you.

                You know how you feel.  It's not a mystery.  I knew it was real.  I knew that you'd see; the real me; the truth believed; and what really happens; behind the scenes."

                "Where did this come from?" Sam asked.  He looked disgusted.  I was knocked for six as I stammered on.  "I...I...umm... I don't know I was just tired and felt like writing one day and-"  "It's...amazing.  Who knew you could write like this?"  Just then, Em strolled into the room.  "I did," she beamed.  And that was the beginning of my singer/ songwriter career.  That's right.  For all my devoted fans, here's the secret revealed.  I write most of my own songs.  Eight songs out of ten were published out of that notebook and are progressing on to my first CD.  Of course, I have many more songs in the notebook now, but it was just ten back then.  Now now that I'm thirteen, I can handle writing more songs, as many as two drafts a day.  (I know, Wow‼)

                I guess you're wondering about Alexander Stanton.  We're neighbors and we always have been.  If you’re looking out my door, he’s on my right and Em’s on my left.  We were always very close friends (actually, though I don't want to admit it, we were best friends), until I was eight.  We’ve both acted and sang since we could move and he’s insanely jealous.  He’s incredulous that I got "discovered" and he didn't because, on that fateful day in that serendipital play, he had the very lead and I didn’t. If your lesser got an agent and you didn’t, would you be furious.  Oh, of course not; you don’t know what the theater is like.  Now we're always competing and he's just the annoying brat that lives next door.  He doesn't know everything he thinks he does though; he thinks I'm just not that famous.  Yes, I do shows and what not, but that's mostly Cherie Marie.  The worst is, I still have to put up with Alex because I live at home most of the time.  And that means when I do, I still go to Daystar Heights Middle School (It feels so juvenile and degrading to be in eighth grade).  I get tutored when I have to be available on set at all times, but that’s not often.  I'm just glad he's not on Broadway.  I'm auditioning for a musical next week and it’s great not to have him there.  I think the show is called “Aida” or something.  It's supposed to be really good.  They're having auditions and callbacks early so that we can start practice as soon as school gets out.  As for now, I've got to get some sleep.  Even though the audition isn't tomorrow, I'm going to need rest.  I don't want dark circles under my eyes (Henri hates those and gets worried when I don’t get enough sleep), and the days of pampering will take work.

Chapter 2

                Lucy came in at nine and woke me up.  I got a shower and went downstairs so I could let my hair air dry.  I have a whole cycle with my hair that my stylist taught me.  You need four different shampoos, straightening lotion, straightening glitter gel, and a bottle of vinegar.  Each week of the month is a different shampoo: first is conditioning shampoo, then honeysuckle and pear with cleansing purifiers, then grapefruit with Elastin E and botanical extracts, then light dandruff shampoo with silk proteins.  Every two days, you rinse with vinegar.  The last week, you put the lotion in on Sunday and Saturday.  The gel is for styling.  You can use a flat iron if you need it, and air-drying is less damaging than a blow dryer.

                I wasn't allowed milk for the whole week because it creates mucus in the back of your throat, and that's not good.  I had to take nice long showers then sit and soak in the tub for a long time, too.  The steam is really good for your voice, and plus its fun.  One thing that isn't fun is drinking honey and vinegar or honey and lemon juice.  It tastes revolting, but it's immensely good for your voice.

                After my whole incredibly long morning routine, I went downstairs for some breakfast.  I decided to have some pink lemonade and a grapefruit.  Citrus is good for your voice, too.  Then, I had my morning yoga session with Anthony Levine.  He's the best trainer ever!  You know, Feng Shui actually does a lot more than you think it does.  First it was just going to be the workout room, but I put on my sweetest face and told him that I would really appreciate it if he helped me do the whole house.  He bought it, and we had gotten to work straight away.  It was so cool!  Now my whole house is spiritually balanced for the different energies and auras that apply to each particular living space.

                I decided to write in my journal next.  I was taught that writing it all out is the best.  I always say that if you can't crank out a song (or don't want to), then journal.  I thought about what was bothering me and what I was excited about and started writing.  "May 4, 2007.  The auditions for Aida are next Saturday!  I'm going to watch a movie version later.  Apparently, it's a big role that could either totally make my career, or it could totally kill it.  It better be the first one!  I'm not nervous about it, but you know how that is.  I'm not nervous at all until I think about it on the way to the audition.  For now, I'm just absolutely excited!  I'm not being myself for the audition, and you know what I mean.  I can't reveal that to all who are reading this!  I'm telling Alex that I didn't want the audition, so I gave it up.  I actually got an audition for Em, too.  She has an alter ego just like me.  Hers is Laci Vernoque.  Em/ Laci isn’t in this for all the fame.  She doesn’t want to go anywhere, actually.  But I wanted her to have an alter ego so we can do everything together.

                The talent show is on Thursday.  I'm thinking of singing solo, but you know me.  I'll get plenty of invitations into groups by then!

                School was boring yesterday.  Don't even get me started with Alex.  I overheard him talking about some audition he landed with someone during locker break.  It's probably for one of the smaller performing arts centers around here.  I just laughed and turned to Em.  "Too bad he's not on Broadway!  I would sure like him there."  Em is with me on this one; Alex is a juvenile, infantile, jerk.  I am so sick of him and his jealousy!  He needs to get over it and himself.

                I think I'm going to go and sing a little, get my voice a little exercise.  I can't let it rest too long or I'll be rusty.  Do you want me to have the rust?  (That was a line from an old show I did called "For the Love of Lucy")  Okay then.   Byes!!"

                I made my way to my music room.  It's one of the biggest rooms in the house because I need so much in it.  I have the grand piano, the whole band ensemble, all the amps and equipment, the CD system, the mikes, the extra sets of equipment, and the soundproofing materials.  The whole room is soundproof, so no one is bothered whenever I want to do whatever in there.  It's my personal space and my favorite room in the whole house.  I grabbed my favorite mixed CD and put it in the CD player.  I put it on random to help train my ear and know the introductions.  Then I put on the headset mike and waited for the music to begin.

                "You smile; And the spotlight hits your eyes; You laugh; And the spotlight turns on me; I sing; And my voice rings through your head; And the fog is cleared.

                You know how you feel; It's not a mystery; I knew it was real; I knew that you'd see; The real me; The truth in it; and what really happens; behind the scenes.

                Finally; I love you and you love me; Mystery; To everyone but me.  You don't; Know how I fell for you that day; In those bright lights; On that stage; So I gotta tell you.

                You know how you feel; It's not a mystery; I knew it was real; I knew that you'd see; The real me; The truth in it; And what really happens; Behind the scenes."

                As I previously mentioned, this is one of my favorites.  I was sitting off stage once, watching one of our school plays.  It was a scene I wasn't in.  And all of a sudden, it came to me.  I just started singing (and I almost ruined the scene doing so).  I grabbed my script and scribbled it down, almost missing my cue for sake of the song.  I don't know how it came into my head, though.

                Up next came a song I only co-wrote.  It was, well, a spin-off version of a song by Andy Griggs.  Sam heard the song and thought I would sing it well.  I had heard the song many times before.  As you know, songs that guys sing usually are about the female persuasion.  So, with the song "She's More," we had to change it.  I got together with Andy, who is a pleasure by the way (and who is super hot!), and we rewrote it.  The intro faded and I started into the song.

                "His eyes are hazel, I like green.  Not like the boy of my dreams.  And his hair's not styled just as I had planned.  Five foot four isn't tall.  He's not the boy I pictured at all.  In those paint by number fantasies I've had.

                So it took me by complete surprise.  When my heart got lost in those deep hazel eyes.  He's not at all what I was looking for.  He's more.

                No, it wasn't at first sight.  But the moment I looked twice.  I saw the boy I was born to love.  His laughter fills my soul.  And when I hold him I don't wanna let go.  When it comes to him I can't get enough.

                So it took me by complete surprise.  When my heart got lost in those deep hazel eyes.  He's not at all what I was looking for.  He's more.

                So it took me by complete surprise.  When my heart got lost in those deep hazel eyes.  He's not at all what I was looking for.  He's more.

                More than I dreamed of.  More than any girl deserves.  I couldn't ask for more.  Than love that mends and cures.

                So it took me by complete surprise.  When my heart got lost in those deep hazel eyes.  He's not at all what I was looking for.  He's more."

                Andy's a genius, isn't he?  (A very hot genius, yes)  I decided to change certain parts that were unnecessary to change because then my song would be even more different than his version.  Remakes are never as good as the original, so I'm not hoping mine will be any better than Andy's.

                The next song was "I Try to Think About Elvis" by Patty Loveless.  Patty is about as much fun a person as you'll ever meet!  I laid down a track with her on that song.  It'll be a bonus song on my new 2-disc CD/DVD.  It's such a fun song to sing, too.  It's not just a country song, but it's like country, rock, pop, jazz, and an Elvis swing- all put together.

                “Oh, I'm sorry I forgot where I was.  I Try to think about Elvis, Memphis.  Oprah in the afternoon.  I try to think about palm trees, fig leaves.  The creature from the black lagoon.  I try to think about high heels.  Good deals, anything to get me through.  I just can't concentrate.  You're all I think about these days.

                I try to contemplate the cosmos.  And what goes, round and round the sky at night.  I try to think about champagne.  Freight trains, slowly rolling out of sight.  I try to focus on the headlights, and street crimes.  Every time I think I might.  I just can't concentrate.  You're all I think about these days.

                My mind wonders where it will.  And when it settles right on you.  I forget what I should say.  I forget what I should do.

                My mind wonders where it will.  And when it settles right on you.  I forget what I should say.  I forget what I should do.

                Ugh, come on Cherie !  Get it together!

                I try to think about Shakespeare and Leap Year.  Beatles or the Rolling Stones.  I try to think about hair do's, tattoos.  Sushi bars and saxophones.  I try to think about the talk shows, new clothes.  But I guess I should've known.  I just can't concentrate.  You're all I think about these days.  You're all I think about these days!"

                As the next song started, I realized how many artists I've recorded with. I am truly lucky to have Sam, one reason being that he knows so many people.  The next song was "Livin on a Prayer” by Jon Bon Jovi.  He's so cool to hang with.  I took Em to that recording session because she loves him.

                "Once upon a time.  Not so long ago.  Tommy used to work on the docks. Union's been on strike.  He's down on his luck.  It's tough.  So tough.  Gina works the diner all day.  Working for her man, she brings home her pay.   For love.  For love.

                She says we've got to hold on to what we've got.  It doesn't make a difference if we make it or not.  We've got each other and that's a lot.  For love.  We'll give it a shot.

                Ohhhhh.  We're half way there.  Ohhhhh Oh!  Livin' on a prayer.  Take my hand.  And we'll make it, I swear.  Ohhhhh Oh! Livin' on a prayer.

                Tommy's got his six string in high.  Now he's holding in what he used to make it talk.  So tough.  Its tough.  Gina dreams of running away.  When she cries in the night Tommy whispers, "Baby its okay, someday."

                We've got to hold on to what we've got.  It doesn't make a difference if we make it or not.  We've got each other and that's a lot.  For love.  We'll give it a shot.

                Ohhhhh.  We're half way there.  Ohhhhh Oh!  Livin' on a prayer.  Take my hand.  We'll make it, I swear.  Ohhhhh Oh! Livin' on a prayer.

                Livin' on a prayer!

                We got to hold on ready or not.  You live for the fight when that's all that you've got.

                Woahhhhh.  We're half way there.  Woahhhhh!  Livin' on a prayer.  Take my hand.  And we'll make it, I swear.  Woahhhhh! Livin' on a prayer.

                Ohhhhh.  We're half way there.  Ohhhhh Oh!  Livin' on a prayer.  Take my hand.  And we'll make it, I swear.  Ohhhhh Oh! Livin' on a prayer.

                Ohhhhh.  We're half way there.  Ohhhhh Oh!  Livin' on a prayer.  Take my hand.  And we'll make it, I swear.  Ohhhhh Oh! Livin' on a prayer."

                Maybe you've noticed, but there aren't a lot of originals on this CD.  To start me out, we have writers and remakes to hold me over.  There are a few of mine, too.  The next song was "I Think We're Alone Now" by Tiffany.

                “Children behave.'  That's what they say when we're together.  'And watch how you play.'  They don't understand.  And so we're.

                Running just as fast as we can.  Holding on to one another's hand.  Trying to get away into the night.  And then you put your arms around me and we tumble to the ground and then you say.

                I think we're alone now.  There doesn't seem to be anyone around.  I think we're alone now.  The beating of our hearts is the only sound.

                Look at the way.  We gotta hide what we're doing'.  Cause what would they say.  If they ever knew.  And so we're.

                Running just as fast as we can.  Holding on to one another's hand.  Trying to get away into the night.  And then you put your arms around me.  And we tumble to the ground.  And then you say.

                I think we're alone now.  There doesn't seem to be anyone around.  I think we're alone now.  The beating of our hearts is the only sound.

                I think we're alone now.  There doesn't seem to be anyone around.  I think we're alone now.  The beating of our hearts is the only sound.

                Running just as fast as we can.  Holding on to one another's hand.  Trying to get away into the night.  And then you put your arms around me.  And we tumble to the ground.  And then you say.

                I think we're alone now.  There doesn't seem to be anyone around.  I think we're alone now.  The beating of our hearts is the only sound.  I think we're alone now.  There doesn't seem to be anyone around.  I think we're alone now.  The beating of our hearts is the only sound.  I think we're alone now.  There doesn't seem to be anyone around.  I think we're alone now.  The beating of our hearts is the only sound.  I think we're alone now.  There doesn't seem to be anyone around.  I think we're alone now.  The beating of our hearts is the only sound.

                After a few more songs, I figured I'd see if anyone was on instant messenger.  I didn't need privacy, so I went back upstairs and into the computer room.  I signed on to see that Em was on.  She immediately IMed me, just like any best friend would.  "Hey!" she said.  "Hey!" I replied. "Could you hold on a second?"  "Sure."  I went back to my Buddy List to see who else was on.  A few other kids were, and so was Alex.  Good thing his away message was on, because I did not need to talk to him.

                "Back!" I IMed.  "Sweet!  How are you?"  "Fine thanks.  You?"  "I'm good. And so excited!"  "For this week?"  "Yeah!  It’s our first parade!"  I know, I know.  I've been to a parade before.  It's just that Em and I are actually big time band geeks, and we're only in concert band.  You're not allowed to join marching band until the summer between your seventh and eighth grade years.  The marching band plays the Memorial Day parade, but so do seventh and eighth concert members.  And you practically have to be either out of state or on your death bed or in jail to miss it.  I was surprised; it was really early this year.  It was the first Sunday of May.  In the parade (and everywhere else), I play the saxophone and Em plays the flute.  Alex is a band geek too, so he'll be there.  The thing is, he plays sax.  He is really annoying, but I have to admit, he is pretty good.  But not nearly as good as me!  "I'm way pumped too!" I replied.  "This is going to be such a ball!  Especially with Annebelle there."  "Yeah!  She's so nice."  Annebelle is a girl Em and I met in French class.  Foreign languages are electives once you're in seventh grade.  Only three girls and two guys signed up for it this year.  Em, Annebelle, and I are the girls, and Alex and Mike are the guys.  Mike is Alex's best friend.  He can be awesome when he wants to.  It's such a shame that he has to hang out with Alex.  He's one of my guy friends, too.  We both write.  He is another saxophone in our band.  There are five.  Annebelle is so; well, brainy and quiet that you'd never guess that she can play the saxophone like nobody's business.  She also plays drum set, so she's a percussionist ("percussionister," as Em calls them) too.  There are only five saxes in our band, but there are ten trumpets, twelve flutes, fifteen clarinets, and about a million percussionists.  That's why she chose to be a sax in band.  But all the saxes rock, and I'm the first chair, so we lead the band.  Apparently, Mr. Farjay, our director, thinks I'm better than Belle, so I landed first chair.  We both get melody first parts.  Alex is a first, and the rest are seconds (firsts are people who get the harder melody/harmony parts, seconds are easier parts with usually harmony).  Talent is so wasted on him!

                "Yeah," I continued, "But it's too bad that Alex will be there."  "Yeah, but I don't have to march with him!"  "Yeah, rub it in, rub it in," I sighed.  "And if I remember correctly, which I always do, then we are behind clarinets, who are behind flutes, and we're in front of trumpets, who are in front of percussion."  "Yes, and if I remember correctly, which I usually do, we play Military Medley, then America the Beautiful, and back and forth until we reach our destination.  Then we play The Star Spangled Banner."  "Right.  I am so excited!"  Right then, Annebelle signed on.  "Hey!" she messaged.  "Hey Belle!  How are you?"  "I'm awesome, as usual!  How are you?"  "Fine, thanks.  I'm just busy!"  "With what?"  "Well, I have to pamper for my, um, thing next week, practice for the parade tomorrow, then have the parade, then have the, um, thing."  "Hey!  don't whine.  I've been busier."  "Thanks for the encouragement!" I laughed.  "Sorry!"  "JK, JK."  (JK, JK= just kidding, just kidding)  "Okay.  Hey, you want to come in a chat with Em and I?"  "Okay."  I closed windows and brought up a chat window.  "Are you doing anything for the talent show next week?" Em asked.  "Singing, of course."  "Awesome!" she replied.  Belle spoke up with, "We were thinking of playing 'I Swear' by John Michael Montgomery.  I have the music for flute and sax and a CD with the real version on."  "Oh how glamorous!  JMM's so nice.  I've laid down multiple tracks with him, 'I Swear' being one of them."  “Seriously?!?” Belle typed.  "Great!" replied Em, "Any chance you would sing along with it?  If you have nothing else planned out, I mean."   "That would be great!"  "I was wondering if you have a recording of you singing it that we could use?" Belle asked.  "Yeah.  You two want to come over later so we can practice it?"  "Sure!" said Em.  "Sounds great.  What time?" asked Belle  "How about at one?  That will give us an hour to get ready."  "I'll be about an hour late then.  I have a dentist appointment."  "See you at two then.  Well, I gtg.  Byes!!"  "Bye."  "See you!"

                I signed off and prepared for a good, long practice session.  I made some herbal tea with lots of honey for our voices.  After sneaking a little lemon juice in in place of vinegar, I put them on a heated tray and brought them into the music room.  I figured we'd just chill in there.  I set up two chairs for them with two seat mike stands and the mikes.  I got myself a normal stand and a mike.  I turned Em's mike up since a flute is soft and Belle's mike down because a sax is way loud.  I tried to make it so we'd all be rather even, except I was a little louder.  Let’s face it: I’ve got the most talent here!  I got the CD in the sound system and practiced for a while.  Then, I took a few sips of my tea and got the door.  There was Belle, struggling with Alex and Mike, trying to get them to uncuff her wrists.  "This is your house??" she managed.

                "Alex Stanton!  Let her go!"  I slapped him on the shoulder and kicked Mike in the shins, both very hard.  "Hey!  What the heck'd ya do that for?!?" Michael squealed.  "Belle's a guest!  Would it impair you to encompass a little chivalry?"  "She kicked Keioni!" Alex whined.  Keioni is Alex's golden retriever.  "I didn't even touch your stupid dog!" she yelled, rubbing her wrists.  "He's not stupid!" Alex and Mike covered, in unison.  "You're wrong.  He obviously is because he takes after you two!"  Each gaze followed my nod to the dog, sniffing a place you needn’t know about.  “You see?  You both have to do the same thing just to make sure of things, now don’t you?” I spat, shoving them out of my doorway.  Slamming the door in their face, I apologized to Annebelle.  "You'll have to excuse Alex," I said.  "He hasn't been the same since he fell of his exercise bike.  It's... in the attic."  She just laughs, recalling the familiar lines from "For the Love of Lucy".  "Michael just joins in because he and Alex are attached at the hip.  I mean, quels idiots."  "You know, when I was walking up your street and I came to your house, I was in disbelief.  Your house is enormous!  And the inside suits it well," she stared in incredulity.  "Yeah, well... I'm kind of rich.  It's not exactly something I advertise, as you can tell."  "I was even more confused when those two goons came up and grabbed me."  "You really must forgive them.  They know not what they do."  "I feel your pain.  So where are we practicing?"  "In my music room.  Follow me."
As we circled through numerous rooms and halls, Belle remarked, "Wow!  Your house is seriously gigantic."  "I'm almost- famous, and being so can get you here.  And even though it is huge, it’s not quite as immense as it seems.  It's mainly because a really knowledgeable architect premeditated the house.  He made it so every aspect of my sociality came to being in our domicile.  It’s an extremely luxurious architectural magnum opus!"

                "Oh," came the simple reply.

                We made our way in through the heavy doors that guard the sound-proof room.  "It's...it's...it's," she babbled, "splendid!!  I love the color scheme."  "It's orange, yellow, and purple," I stated sardonically.  "It's awesome!"  "Okay!  You want some tea?  It's great for your voice."  "Sure!"  She reaches for the mug I hold out, but something catches her eye.  She ran over to the side of the room.  "Is this the steam cell??"  "Yeah."  I've talked about it before.  An inventor made is just for me.  It's like a shower, but it disperses steam.  It pulls wonders for your voice.  I totally lost my voice once and, after sitting in it for a whole day, it saved my life (even though I looked like a moist prune).  It's kind of like a sauna, but better.  "You wanna go in?" I imposed.  "Could we?!?"  "Of course."  "You might want to change, though.  It's gets damp and hot."  "I didn't bring anything."  "Here."  I got her one of my old swim suits and told her she could use the bathroom to change.  I changed in the walk-in storage closet.  Then we walked into the cell and sealed the door.  The sealed door might sound sufficational, but of course there was an air vent so we could breathe.  The steam had to stay in somehow.  I turned it on and Belle got very excited.  "This is so cool!" she squeaked.  "But I'm still confused on one thing.  If you're so rich and famous, then why do you never talk about it at school?  And why have I never heard of you?  And what do your parents do?  And why don't you wear expensive designer clothes?  Don't you have any?  Are you lying?  Of course you're not.  You can't be!  How could you lie and still have all this stuff.  Unless there's something you're not telling me.  I don’t think you-"  "Belle!” I interrupted.  “What?  Aren’t you famous?”  “Well..."  "Well what?"  "Well, I guess I can trust you.  But you’ve got to swear on all that is good that you’ll never tell.  “I swear by the moon and the stars in the sky, Claire.”  (ha, ha)  I breathed in a heavy, contemplating the possible outcomes of what I was about to do.  The lot of them were bad, but I decided to pull it off anyway.  “You'll never believe me, but..."

                If you think all this info I've given on myself sounds familiar, but the name doesn't, you're in good company.  You see, Claire Starlet isn't famous, Cherie Marie Gracemore is.

                "I decided to have an alter ego for my Hollywood and Broadway life. I still wanted to be a regular girl.  I have red hair, so on stage I wear a blonde wig.  I have a completely separate wardrobe for my eminent life than from my Claire life.  I'm not nearly ready for everything to get out yet because I’m enjoying life as we know it.  I still want to be Claire Starlet.  but this whole thing was all Lucy's idea.  I love my French name, so I had to make my pseudonym French too.  Cherie Marie Gracemore sounded perfect."

                One nanosecond, and Belle was on the ground.

                Grand.

                I got up and turned off the cell.  I unsealed the door and dragged Belle out onto the floor.  I knew cold water would only give her temp shock and hypothermia, so I tried gently shaking.  After about thirty seconds, she started awakening.  “Cherie Marie?” she whispered.  “Yeah?” I winced, hoping she wasn’t one of those people who’d just call you by your other name.  (I hate them; it’s like they like your alter better than they like you)  Her head was physically spinning, so I was very worried, that is, until she bolted upright.  “OMIGOD!!  Are you serious??  YOU'RE Cherie Marie?  I don't believe it." "You want me to prove it?"  She nodded.  "Then come with me."

                I turned the cell of and brought Belle into my room.  "You have to swear with your right hand up to the good Lord in Heaven not to tell anyone this," I told her.  "You and Em are the only ones who know."  She put her left hand up, then shook her head and switched to her right.  “I do solemnly swear.”  I brought her over to the other side of my room.  "Welcome," I said, swinging open the doors, "to my closet."

                "Seriously?" she asked, wondering what I was showing her.  "Whoops!  I forgot.  You see, these are my Claire clothes.  Back here," I continued, parting the clothes on the rack, "is my Cherie Marie closet."  Behind the mismatched blouses and skirts were two large glass doors.  The initials "CMG" were etched in fancy print into the
foggy glass.

                So, yes, I'm Cherie Marie Gracemore.  I'm sure you've heard of me by now.  I (as Claire, well myself) take roles and community theaters and school plays and stuff, but for the big stuff, I'm Cherie Marie.  Alex doesn't even know.  Only Lucy, Peter, Em, Belle, and Henri do.  Alex just thinks that my agent is a bust and that he can't get me any decent auditions.  He can't even deal with that; he's still jealous that I have an agent.

                I covered her eyes and led her in.  Then I turned her around to face the doors.  “I’m going to take my hand off your eyes, but you have to promise to keep them closed and not peek.  Got it?”  “I promise.”  I quickly ran over to the closet and opened the button panel.  I typed in my password and pressed the correct buttons.  The first one opened the automatic sliding door that hid the revolving, seven-racked, circular closet room.  The second one opened my many-shelved accessory room.  The third brought out the ten individual cubicles for my favorite shoes built into each wall.  The fourth opened the shoe room with its tall racks.  The fifth opened my jewelry room with it's many drawers. The sixth turned on all the special lighting, which got an “ooh!” from Belle.  The seventh did all the finishing touches, and the ninth turned it all off (I hit all but that one).  yes, I did skip the eighth button.  it’s the best one!  A password is required for it to be activated.  It was the armoire where my styled wigs were held.  I opened it, put my basic wig on, and closed it.  “Okay,” I said, “You can open your eyes now.”  She turned around, dazed, staring at the rooms and all my awards on the walls.  Her jaw dropped to the floor.  “C’EST VRAI!” she screamed.  “Omigoodness you’re Cherie Marie!”  “Um… sometimes…”  “Woooooahh.  Do you have a mini-fridge and a bathroom?"  "Yep!"  I pressed button ten which opened the bathroom, with its full triple sink vanity and hugangus make-up counter.  Button eleven opened up my makeup room, which had all the best designer makeup in it.  Button twelve revealed a relaxation room with couches, tables, lamps, a huge screen TV, a computer, and other entertainment.  "The mini-fridge is in the corner of the sitting room."  "This is insane!  you could practically live in here!"  "I know!  I've locked myself in here for two days before.  There's no bed, but you can pull an air mattress  and some blankets out of the linen closet.  That’s button thirteen."  "Wow!  How many buttons are there?"  “Umm,” I thought out loud, “If my calculations are correct, then thirty-two.”  "Oh baby!”  “Sweetie,” I said, closing her jaw, “you’re drooling.”  She blushed a deep shade of red.  “So... I'm kind of getting cold.”  You wanna go back in the cell for a while, get changed, then practice, then you can pick some stuff out to borrow, you know, if you want to.  Cause you don't have to..."  "Oh I will I will!!  Let's go!"  "We can wear some of it for the show."  "Okay!"  We ran quick-footed back to the cell and I turned it on.  We sat in it, in silence for about twenty minutes, just relaxing.

                "I think that's good.  You ready?" I asked.  "Yes!  Let's get to it!"  We went back out and changed into our clothes.

                I started the music once she had her sax out and I had the mikes ready.  Belle’s music was nice because it wasn't melody, it was an accompaniment.  I met the cue and began singing.  "I see the questions in your eyes.  I know what's weighing on your mind.  But you can be sure I know my part. Cause I stand beside you through the years.  You'll only cry those happy tears.  And though I make mistakes,  I'll never break your heart

                And I swear  by the moon  and the stars in the sky.  I'll be there.  And I swear  like the shadow that's by your side  I'll be there.  For better or worse; Till death do us part.  I'll love you with every beat of my heart.  And I swear.

                I'll give you everything I can.  I'll build your dreams with these two hands.  We'll hang some memories on the wall.  And when there's silver in your hair.  You won't have to ask if I still care.  Cause as the time turns the page.  My love won't age at all.

                And I swear by the moon  and the stars in the sky.  I'll be there.  I swear like the shadow that's by your side.  I'll be there.  For better or worse; Till death do us part.  I'll love you with every beat of my heart.  And I
swear.

                And I swear  by the moon  and the stars in the sky.  I'll be there.  I  swear   like the shadow that's by your side.  I'll be there."

                The music faded and Belle spoke up.  "That's really good.  So, how do you like being a star?  I mean, if you go through all this pampering before your recording sessions and concerts, then it must be pretty nice."  "Well, I'm working on concerts.  I haven't actually had a big one yet.  I’ve had a few in the community, but that’s pretty much it.  And you, Emilia, my staff, and my family are the only ones who know."  "Really?"  "Yeah."  "I don't know how you could keep such a huge secret in for so long."  "It's not so huge.  Cherie Marie isn't way too famous."  "Oh yes she is!"  "Really?  Then why is it that I haven't had a real concert yet?"  "Your manager mustn't think you're ready."  "Oh, you know how Sam is often at our house?"  "Yeah, he's pretty cool.  Isn’t  he your uncle or something?"  "Well, he is kind of like an uncle.  He's my manager."  "Seriously?"  "That's your favorite word today, isn't it?"  "It's just that I've been surprised again and again!"

                We practiced the song over a few times more, and then Belle started begging me to go and pick out clothes.  "Okay.  We can pick out two coordinating outfits to wear for the show: a good and a back-up.  What color scheme do you want?"  "Your eyes are bright blue," she said, looking behind my glasses, "and mine are just regular, boring blue.  Wait, doesn’t Cherie have green eyes?”  “Yeah.  I wear colored contacts.”  “Oh.  So blues and greens will work well."  I went to the control panel and spun the closet (not a button of the thirty-two, but on a new button pad inside the closet.  It has ten buttons) until the blue section came up (it’s color sorted).  "For me, how about... this?" Belle asked.  It was a turquoise blue Chanel top that was cut at the bottom so one side was just at waist and the other was draped below.  Flared, white-wash, dark Chip and Pepper jeans were the bottoms.  "Perfect!" Belle squealed. “And for you, how about this?"  She chose a white Christopher Bailey camisole (with a v-neckline) that had a little silver and turquoise embroidery coming up the right side at an angle.  Over that, there was a half-length turquoise Marc Jacobs blazer.  For bottoms, there were white six pocket Oscar de la Renta trousers.  "Perfect!” I smiled.  “I love Oscar de la Renta!  Now for accessories.  They all coordinate to match the outfits, so they won't be hard to locate."  I took her hand to lead her to the accessory room as she stuttered, “That’s Oscar de la Renta??”

                We walked into the shoe room.  I found the two numbers on the hangers of our outfits and matched them to the numbers of two shoe boxes.  Luckily, we're the same size.  I had black, strappy, high-heels (Prada).  She held up white, slightly heeled, beaded flip flops (Dolce and Gabbana).  “Who are these?” she asked.  “Those are Dolce and Gabbana.  Mine are Prada.”  "Amazing!" she declared, "Now for accessories."

                We headed into the accessory room, dumping our stuff on the table in the center of the closet on the way.  We found Belle's first; she chose an oversized turquoise Coach purse with a metal ring strap.  Mine was a silk silver Gianni Versace clutch with a turquoise beaded chain and small heart charm.  Next, we needed jewelry.

                For Belle, we found a small, dainty silver Scott Kay chain with a heart charm that had three gemstones in its corner.  For me, there was a long chained silver Tiffany necklace that had a dragonfly charm.  The dragonfly was very small and totally made of silver, except the wings, which were blue Australian crystal.

                Lastly, we chose hair and makeup.  My hair would be in a curly pony tail. My bangs would frame my face with a corkscrew curl on each side.  A bobby pin with a gemstone at its end would lay an inch behind my ears on each side.  Belle would have low, curly pigtails that sat at her shoulders.  Her bangs would be swept to one side and held back with a clip of alternating blue and white Australian crystal.

                All in all, we would look remarkable!

                We put the outfits in the extra walk-in closet (button fourteen) so they'd be ready for the talent show day.  "You have a closet inside your closet?"  "There are three.  buttons fourteen through sixteen."  "You're insane."  "I know, you're jealous!"  "Hey, you wanna pick out a few more outfits so we can go call your mom?"  "You're kicking me out already?"  "No stupid, we have to ask if you can sleep over at my house that night!"  "Oh.  Okay!"  She made her selections and we ran to the kitchen where Lucy was sitting.  I ran over and got the cordless phone, and then dialed Belle's number.    "Hey, Mrs. Joviel, this is Claire.  I wanted to know if Belle could stay over Thursday night to make talent show arrangements easier.  We've discussed plans together, and we decided that we won't stay up past nine.  My mom offered to take us to school bright and early the next morning."  "Sounds great!" she replied.  "Awesome.  We'll come over and pick her up around five and she can have a healthy dinner with us the night she is to stay.  See you later!"  "Bye!"  I hung up the phone, smiling confidently.  "You know my mom inside and out!" Belle exclaimed.  "That was awesome!"  Her mom is rather strict.  Not about where she goes, but about what she does there and how the people treat her.  It's like Lain's mom on Gillmore Girls.  "I just know how to get what I want," I smiled.  "Let's go do something."  "Like what?"  "Oh I know!  Alex and Mike are probably doing something very stupid next door.  I have an excellently appropriate pair of bejeweled binoculars for the occasion."  "Sounds like a plan!"

                As we made it into my room, I grabbed the binoculars and closed the window. My house is rather close to Alex's, so we could just look out the window into his bedroom if we wanted.  But we couldn't be that obvious, so we sat on the bed instead.  I took my turn first.  I glared into the room to find it was empty.  I got up and looked around through the window.  "This can't be, Belle.  If he has someone over, they're either outside in the yard or in his room. But they're not outside, and they're not in his room."  "Let me look."  I handed her the binoculars and sat down on the bed.  She did the same thing I did, but opening the window for a better view.  "Oh well," she sighed, "Maybe if we're lucky they got hit by a truck or something."  I laughed.  "If only!  Fate isn’t so kind.  They do need to move to Alaska.  But if they do, then I won't be able to rub it in his face."  "What?"  "I won't be able to rub it in when I outshine him in everything, as I always do."  Right then, as we laughed, I heard a "Harrumph!" coming, strangely, from my closet.  I stopped suddenly.  I looked at Belle to get her attention and pointed to the closet.  I mouthed something, and she nodded.  "So, Belle," I smiled, "Since we have no guys to spy on, I figure we could play a little truth or dare."  "Okay.  Truth or dare?"  "Truth."  "What is your deepest, darkest secret that you would never tell anyone?"  "I’m not afraid of that.  I'll tell you.  But you have to promise never to tell anyone."  "I promise."  "Okay.  You'll never believe this, but I'm”  “Claire!  You wouldn’t say that!  You can’t!”  Belle clearly thought I was going to tell the Cherie Marie thing.  I may be blonde, but I’m not that blonde.  “Yes I can.  I’m secretly madly in love with Alex Stanton."  I heard two unanimous gasps coming from the closet.  Then, I heard a thump.

                We strolled over to the closet and opened the doors.  There was Mike, with his hand covering his mouth.  And on the floor was Alex, out cold.  "Hey Mike!  What brings you two into my closet?"  He was silent.  Belle poked him a few times to try to wake him up, which didn't work.  I picked up Alex's hands and nodded for Belle to get his feet.  She picked them up and we walked over to the window.  We swung him back and forth, pretending like we were going to throw him out.  Mike finally woke up from his trance.  "No! No!" he shouted, grabbing Alex's middle and pulling him back.  Belle and I both shrugged and let him go, causing both guys to tumble to the floor.  The fall jilted Alex from his trance, causing a look of confusion I figured was for either of two reasons.  One, he wondered how he made it out of the closet on the floor in the middle of my room; or two, he was still shocked at my trick.  Either way, he looked so funny I had to laugh at him.

                "Whaa??" he stammered, dazed and confused.  I suddenly gasped, trying not to smile.  "Alex!  Did you just hear that?  You weren’t supposed to know!" I said with fake enthusiasm, turning my head away with the back of my hand on my forehead.  "Yes!  And what the heck was it supposed to mean?  Ah, who am I kidding.  I know I'm irresistible." he smiled, combing through his hair with his fingers.  "You conceited idiot!  I heard you in there so I made up something I knew would shock you.  It worked, and you believed it!  Joke's on you, buddy."  He turned to Mike, who did the whole retard chest-slap thing.  "I knew this was a bad idea." Mike said. “You two were bad ideas,” I said.   "How did you get in anyway?" Belle questioned.  "We had been spying on you and when you went downstairs we climbed in your window.  Then, we heard you coming back up and went into the closet."  "Well, it doesn’t matter how you got in, as long as you leave, preferably out the front door."  We escorted them to the steps and started them down with a shove.  Then, the door bell rang.  We ran down the steps, knocking Alex and Mike down the rest of the way.  We opened the door for Em who walked in talking, as usual.  All I caught was, "My mom said it was okay if I stayed over the night before, and we'll have to coordinate outfits so we look fine, even though you two already took care of yours, sorry we'll have to practice more, I don't need to use the steam cell, I could use some tea though, why are Alex and Mike here, did they find out about "IT" or something, oh no did they?  Claire!!"  "No, Em, these two were just leaving.  And no, thank gosh, they don't have a clue."  "About what?" Alex questioned suspiciously, almost anxiously.  "Do you think they figured it out?" he asked Mike.  "Heck no!
They're girls!  But still, maybe."  “Oh no,” Mike said, “Was she?...”  “Cloud she be?”  “She may have been.”  There was an awkward pause, filled with contemplations.  "Find out about what?" Alex repeated, even more anxiously.  "About you leaving!" I said.  I pushed them out the door and on to the ground.  "Em," Belle started, "how do you know what we did?"  "She has her sources," I said, pulling them both along.  "I mean, for serious, she's a girl!  Now, outfits first!"

                We made it to my closet in very little time.  I turned everything on, and Em went to work.  She had her entire outfit and a back-up in no time.  She already knew to pick turquoise, so we didn't have to tell her.  She chose a basic fitted turquoise top with belled quarter-length sleeves, a pair of white capris, turquoise sandals, and a two-strand, long, silver, beaded necklace.  She looked darling.

                After that, we practiced until we had our act down.  Since we all had already been practicing, it didn't take us long.  I mean, we're just that good!  Then we made way up to my room.

                "Now that Alex and Mini-jerk are gone, why don't we have a real truth-or-dare session," Belle suggested.  "We better check every possible space for guys and wires first," I warned.  So we looked everywhere, performing a strip-search of my large room.  It appeared to be safe, so to finish up I locked the doors and windows.  "You can never be too sure!" Em concluded.  "I'll ask first," Belle smiled, "Claire.  Truth or dare?"  "Truth," I answered, aware of the potentially dangerous dares fourteen year old girls can spring on you.  "Okay," Belle started, "here's a good one.  Have you ever had a crush on a guy younger than you?"  "No!  I really can't stand younger guys.  They're always so immature."  "That's saying nothing." Em laughed.  "I know some five-year-olds who are more mature than Alex!" We all chortled.  "Okay," I began, "I ask next.  Em, even though I know just about everything about you, I'm asking you.  Who do you have a crush on right now?"  "You really want to know?" she smiled.  Belle and I nodded frantically.  "Okay.  Umm.. Tanner Falk,” she nodded.  "Really?" I asked.  It was the best friend radar.  I could tell she was lying.  But I decided to let it go this once.  "Isn't he like one big teddy bear?" Belle cooed.  "And he's so sweet!" Em added, agreeing.  "Okay, next," Belle said, "Your turn Em."  "Okay.  Belle, truth or dare?"  "Dare!"  "Oh!  The dangerous one.  Okay.  I dare you to... go downstairs, get two ice cubes , and put them in the elastic of your bra, right under your arms.  You have to hold them there for fifteen seconds."  "I'll take it!"  And with her simple confirmation, we all bolted downstairs for the freezer.

                As Belle braced herself for the cold to come, Em got the timer and I got the ice cubes.  I picked out the biggest two in the freezer and handed them to Belle, she put them into place jumping and cringing as the cold ice touched her skin.  As soon as her arms were down and the ice cubes were placed correctly, Em started the timer.  "15 Mississippi, 14 Mississippi, 13 Mississippi..." Em counted.  Just between you and me, I had "accidentally" bumped the shutter on my camcorder.  I was getting the whole thing on tape!  "10 Mississippi, 9 Mississippi, 8 Mississippi, 7 Mississippi…"  Belle was be-bopping all around the kitchen.  It may not sound bad, but try sticking two ice cubes in your bra and then talk to me.  She was just about to scream when Em announced the final second and the timer went off.  She grabbed what was left of the now quite small ice cubes and chucked them into the sink.  "Nice shot!" I smiled, pressing the shutter once again.  "Okay," Belle smiled, "Now MY turn!  Em, truth or dare?"  "You think you can intimidate me?" Em snickered, "Well bring it on.  Dare."  “Okay wait.  Don’t I get a turn?” I asked.  "If you really want a turn, you can take Em’s dare,” Belle smiled.  “What is it?” I asked.  She whispered it into my ear.  “Heck no!” I shouted.  Okay.  As far as I know, Alex and Mike are in Alex's room.  We'll keep watch as to when they leave.  I dare you to climb across the very branch that Alex and Mike shimmied across earlier into Alex's room.  You have to hide in his closet, silent as you can be, with this ear piece.  We'll record everything they say, and might be able to use it against them."  I was about to compliment the greatness of this plan when Em screamed.  "Are you crazy?!?" she shrieked.  "Okay, hiding in his room is fine, but not in his closet!  Who knows what could be in there!  I mean, what if I find a second closet full of clothes for some rock star that is Alex's alter ego?"  I gasped.  "What is that supposed to mean?  You'd more likely find two dead turtles and seven live weasels in his room than any talent!"  "You see what I mean?" Em said with wide eyes.  "I'm sorry," Belle smiled, "But a dare's a dare.  You back down, and you'll be mocked for the rest of your life."  "If I go in Alex's closet, that oughtn't be very long!  Let me just ask you this: do you value my life?"  "Yes," I laughed, "but I also value anything I can use against Alex!"  "And as I previously mentioned, a dare is a dare.  You have to take it or the terrible consequences," Belle explained.  "And look!" she continued.  "They're leaving.  And now they're gone."  "Fine!" Em shouted.  "Wait!" I interrupted.  "What?" Em asked hopefully.  "Hold on while I get something."  I went through my computer desk drawers until I found what I was looking for.  "Here," I handed Em the computer chip.  "It's hooked up to my computer so we can listen."  "You mean you're not going to save me?" she winced.  "Heck no!  I'm going to love this!"  "Fine!" she screamed, "I'll die for your sick entertainment."  And with a dramatic "Harrumph!", she was out the window.

                By the time five minutes had passed, Em had safely made it into the closet, among who knows what, and Alex and Mike had made it back into the room.  I didn't expect to get much out of the guys since usually, guys don't gossip and giggle like we girls do.  But what I got was certainly enough.  "So she doesn't have a clue?" Mike asked.  I had a sneaking suspicion that I was "she."  "Not at all!" Alex smiled.  "And she won't.  She doesn't have an audition, and I do!"  "It's about time!  But won't she get mad?"  "Yes, and that's not particularly awesome, but I guess she'll just have to live with it."  "She will, but the question is, can you?"  "I doubt it.  It's going to pain me, but I'm gonna have to act like her being mad is nothing and me getting this audition is everything," I could hear the shrug in Alex's voice.  What the heck is he talking about?  Maybe someone else.  "I guess that will work for a while," Mike said.  "But eventually, you won't be able to take it."  "Yes, but for now, she's just going to have to be mad.  You want to get on IM?"  "Sure!  Let's use the den computer."  "Nah, let's just go down to get the Internet card so we can use the laptop."  "Cool."  As soon as the door shut, Em leaped from the closet and bounded across the
branch.  "Omigosh we must get on IM now.  I have a question to ask this kid.  So we signed on to my screen name.  Em's fingers flew across the keys and typed fluidly.  "Hey Alex!  Have you ever heard of a thing called cleaning your closet?  It smells like something died in there!!  And if that's not bad enough, I felt something heavy run across my toes!"  "That's precisely why I don't clean it.  And how do you know?"  "Oh, I know.  This is Emilia."  "Oh, that explains a lot."  "Yes, and I'll explain even more when you explain what you were doing in Claire's closet?"  "Wait what?"  "You know, when you passed out?"  "Okay and how do you know about this?"  "Oh Alexander, you silly little naive boy!  I'm Emilia Corinth.  I see all, hear all, and know all."  "Yeah I wouldn't be so sure!"  I could feel him snickering.  It sickened me.  "Let me have a crack at this boy." I smiled. Em got up and motioned for me to sit down in my pink, monogrammed, wheely mushroom chair.  "Oh I would," I typed.  "I know a lot.”  “Prove it!”  “Okay.  When you were in kindergarten, you only ever sat with Claire on the bus.  Also, you loved the sandbox more than anything.  You used to take your mom’s stuff and bury it in there.  Once, your mom found her pearls in it and she made you sit in your room for one whole day.”  “How do you know that?”  “The same way I know you love prune juice.”  “Only Claire knows that!”  “I told you.  I see all, hear all, and know all.  but there’s one thing I don’t know.  Why, exactly, did you faint when Claire told Belle that she likes you?"  "Because I hate her.  She's so weird and self-centered.  The thought of her actually have a crush on me is pitiful."  "I know!  She's way too good for you!  And obviously, she knew you were in the closet.  She could never have an actual crush on you."  The response was faltered, which made me ill.  "Oh."  There was an awkward pause just then.  I didn't know what to say next and, apparently, neither did he.  "Good.  It'd just be too weird," he replied.  I looked through the window to see Mike cracking up and Alex just sitting, almost stunned-looking.  Since his window was opened, I opened mine to ask them what the heck was up.

                Alex jumped, but Mike just laughed even harder.    "What do you mean, weird?" I accused.  "Huh?" Alex asked, stumbling over to his window.  "Uh, duh Alex.  Was Em not here when you left?  Do you think she'd leave that quickly?  She's here on my computer!"  "Oh.  Well, like I care," he shrugged, "And shut your window already!"  "Why should I?"  "Oh never mind!" he yelled.  "You never answered my question.  What do you mean 'weird'?”  "Nothing, all right?  I hate you and you hate me back.  Okay?"  "No!  Answer the fricking question!"  "I mean, this thing.  I hate you and you hate me.  Would it not be awkward if you liked me and I hated you?"  "I guess so."  "You have no idea how much tension it would cause.  Honestly."  Mike was rolling on the floor, howling with laughter.  I really don't know what's up with that boy.  “One last thing,” I said.  “Tell your Turret’s ADHD friend over there to get some meds.  It’s no wonder you two work well together.”  “Dude,” he said to Mike, “not cool.”  Mike got up and tried unsuccessfully to stifle the laughter.  Turning around, Alex sighed, annoyed, yet desperately, and he slammed his window shut.  "I'm so sick of that loser!" I said, exasperated.  "Just get over it.  Don't even bother," Belle shook her head.  "He's not worth the energy.  Save it for the a...u...d..." Belle hinted.  "Okay what a...u...d...?" Belle asked.  "Oh, it's nothing," I smiled.  "Cherie Marie has an audition and so does Em.  We told Alex that I had the audition, but that I gave it up."  "Shows how much he knows!" Belle smiled.  "Okay wait," Em said, "do you realize how much time we spend bashing that boy?  We needn't waste our precious voices!  We should just do something quiet."  "Like what?" Belle smiled.  "Don't break the sugar bowl?"  I laughed at that one.  "No!  How about something like... spit?"  "Sounds good to me!" I said.  "Bring it on!" Belle challenged.  "You know I'm the best."  I got up and retrieved the cards from my desk drawer.  "Let's play in my closet.  As for you Belle, we'll see about that!"  Spit is our favorite card game, so it didn't take us long to run into my closet, which earned us suspicious looks from Alex and Mike through the window.  We got set up and played our hearts out, all in silence.

Chapter 3

                As I laid in bed that night, I thought about the day's events.  I always reflect on my day while I lay in the dark because it's easier to think.  The abyss of nightfall seems to open the blinds covering the imagination and sense of reason.  I more often have dreams about what happened, too, and it usually goes how I want it to.  For example, if I walked by a hot guy who totally ignored me during the day, I’d processit that night.  I’d relive the hott guy and think of why he didn’t talk to me.  Once I’d come up with a sufficient answer, I’d go to sleep.  Then in my dreams, the scene would happen, but the hot guy would come up and talk to me.  You see how that works?

                So there I was, laying in bed, and I found myself thinking about Alex.  I can't believe he fainted out of the closet.  He was completelty dumbfounded!  I can only imagine how he would react if I told him about how I was Cherie Marie.  She may only be almost-famous, but she's huge in Burbank.  Like, if a fast rising star lived in your hometown, wouldn't she be big at your school?  She's big because people know her (and love her!), and especially because they know that she lives around there.  They just don't know how near.  If Alex knew she lived next door, he'd positively die!  But he won't know, because no one's going to tell him.  I’m definitely waiting to let the world in on my little secret.  It was hard enough deciding to tell Em!  I had chose to tell Belle a while ago, but the right time didn't come until today.  I mean, everyone that doesn’t know just thinks I’m an above-average middle class girl.  Then when my closest friends come over, they see the huge house and all the nice stuff and they want an explaination.  And  I’m not about to lie to my two best friends.  Family is another story.  I have a rather small family and we’re all scattered across the country.  No one knows but my immediate family- which includes Henri and Sam.

                I’m glad I've practiced for my Talent Show act already.  Not much more practice will be necessary, but maybe in mid-summer before the talent show, we'll get together to refresh so we’re completely ready.  I'm also ready for the Memorial Day parade tomorrow.  I'm very excited for that!  Then, in one week from today, next Saturday, I have the Aida auditions.  That I’m nervous for, but very excited.  It was suggested that I do the audition as Claire, but I don't feel like mixing my perfect almost-famous life with reality.

                And speaking of Claire, I spent a lot of time thinking about Alex lately.  Not just how he got in my closet, but why he fainted out of it.  If I would've heard him say something that juicy, I would've burst out laughing and regretted not having a tape recorder!  I mean, no way in heck could Alex pull off a Cherie Marie, but still.  If we were put in an equal but opposite situation, I would’ve needed a recorder.  I would've said that if he didn't shape up I'd use it against him.  I would've done all but faint.  People faint when they're surprised, usually for an extremly good or extremely bad reason.  It would be bad if I heard him say that, but good too, in that I'd have that useful tidbit for revenge and blackmail.  No way would I faint.  But why did he?  Was there something I wasn't getting?  Was there something I needed to know?  Did Alex really hate me as much as I thought he did?  This was all too much.  I rolled over and closed my big blue eyes.  I needed a clear head and a relaxed mind in able to pull off an audition.  But no matter how much I tried to convince myself, I knew I wouldn't get much sleep that night.

Chapter 4

                Waiting for the parade to start seemed to take hours.  It was sweltering hot on the black pavement, particularly with the sun beating down on us.  We stood the whole time in our heavy wool uniforms, dying.  Alex ignored me completely, but I didn't care; I was ignoring him.  Belle and I continually complained about our many bothersome worries.  We whined about the heat of the sun, the weight of our saxes, and the insanity of Mr. Farjay. One thing I didn't bother with was my dilemma with Alex.  I couldn't complicate others into this situation.  I needed to figure it out on my own.
       I became nervous as we were about to march.  I mean, I'm on Broadway and this big theatre in Burbank and all, but that's Cherie Marie.  This is me, Claire, doing something... something... well, complicated.  Acting is easy.  Singing is easy.  Marching is easy.  Playing is easy.  The problem is when you put acting and singing together, I can handle it, but when you put marching and playing together, it's harder.  It's not so new now, but it takes some practice.

                We had made it to the starting point when the cadences of the drum line subsided.  It was our cue to start.  The trumpets played the first chord, and I was right in step.  Then, the rest of the band joined in.  "America the Beautiful" could be heard from miles away.  

                As I laid in bed that night, like every night, I recapped.  Amazingly, I didn't mess up at all at the parade.  Oh, save just once.  I almost fell over when Alex slammed me in the side while he was marching.  That boy has issues.  But I’m talking about the parade in general, not Alex’s ability (or, as I should say, inability) to march.  I was proud of myself.  Our marching band director is the high school band director, not Farjay (he’s the assistant).  His name is Mr. Kayst.  We all call him Phil, though, because that’s his first name.  I don’t know why, but that’s the way we’ve always done it.  Except we mostly call him Dr. Phil, cause of, you know, Dr. Phil.  They’re great.  Em and I are going to miss Mr. Farjay immensely when we go over to the high school.  He teaches sixth, seventh, and eighth grades.  His first year teaching ever was when I was in sixth grade.  My class will be the only one, ever, that had him for three years, one being his first year of teaching.  It’s totally going to be a tearfest when we leave.  Em and I will be bawling when we have to leave.  I think he might have a clue about the whole Cherie Marie thing, especially since I’m in chorale.  He’s always been extra supportive of me and everything I pursue.  He called me Cherie a few times, too.  We’ve always kind of been sly about it, how I definitely know and kind of “inside- jokingly” tease about it and how he kind of knows inside that it’s me.  But if there’s anything I’ll miss about Farjay, I’ll miss one certain thing.  No matter where we are, we’re always “his kids.”  County band, marching band, whatever.  We’ll be “his kids” forever and a day.  I’m going to miss him saying it, though.  I have all my friends in marching band and in concert band  A few of them are moving.  Others are quitting.  Some are just drifting away.  But I love them all and I’ll miss each one of them, even Farjay.  My mind began to drift over old memories.  Fond memories of bus rides, rehearsals, concerts.  As I reminisced, I felt my face become damp.  I looked up to see that the window at my bedside was opened and a tender rain had begun to trickle into the room, creating a damp, chilly air.  I closed the window gently, still so gently wrapped in sweet memories.  I gently sauntered over to my bathroom and turned on the vanity mirror lights.  As I lit a candle, I sang to myself softly.  “I`m freaking out about what's ahead.  Maybe I`ll just stay in bed.  'Cause it's no fun to be the one going out of my head.  So I tell it to myself again.  You`re looking for something you can`t find.  If you give it up, you`ll lose your mind.  There`s always something in your way.”  I placed my hand over the candle.  Not in the flame, but about an inch above its bright peak.  I don’t know why, but I wanted to feel that pain, the burning in my hand.  I just let my hand there until it singed.  I needed to know that at least pain was real.  But strangely, my hand felt nothing but heat.  “What can you say?  Not going to be a good day.”  I grabbed a washcloth to dry my face and gazed into the mirror.  I saw a reflection of who I was, who I’ve become.  My eyes were full of determination.  It was then I realized that that isn’t all they were full of.  They were red and twinkling and my cheeks glistened.  I was really going to miss things as they were.

Chapter 5

                I woke up with the tears all plastered to my face.  I don’t know why I cried.  It doesn’t seem like such a big thing, but it is.  I mean, my life will totally change without him.  He was like my school dad.  He, Phil, and my dad are, like, best friends anyway.  I’m going to miss everything.  I’m going to long how we both kind of knew.  He’s the only one that was questionable, but almost sure.  Phil doesn’t have a clue.

                But enough of that.  The audition’s sneaking up very soon.  I had one week of endless school, and it was here!  But I knew a big audition came with much preparation and much relaxation.  I already have a song prepared to audition with.  I was going to sing “Every Story is a Love Story.”  I loved how at the end it morphed into “Fortune Favors the Brave.”  And it’s pretty cool that it goes from all slow and sing-songey to fast and furious.  “This is a story of a love that flourished in a time of hate.”  Beautiful!  As I got dressed for the boring day to come, I reviewed my French in my head.  “Parlez- vous Francaise?”  “Oui!  J’ai parlez fracaise!”  “Ca va?”   “Ca va bien!!”  “Qu’est- ce que tu veux?”  “Je voudrais une glace au chocolat.”  Speaking of food, chocolate ice cream does sound good.  But I eat healthy for breakfast.  A glass of OJ and a grapefruit (which is so bizarrely named) sounded great.

While I was eating, I explained to Lucy why the grapefruit was so bizarrely named.  “I mean, c’mon Lucy!  Don’t you agree?  It doesn’t taste like a grape, have the size of a grape, have the color of a grapefruit, have the appearance of a grape in any way, it doesn’t grow like a grape, it’s a citrus fruit, and it’s just not like a grape fruit!”  “Mmhhh…” Lucy mumbled.  She was lost in a good book.  This time, I saw it was a fiction book.  “Inkheart.”  I had given her that one; it was one of my favorites.  “What just happened?” I asked.  “Meggie’s playing with Fengolio’s grandchildren.”  I loved that book.  I finished my breakfast and went off, singing, to get ready.

                “Whatever you do, I'll do it too.  Show me everything and tell me how.  It all means something; and yet nothing to me.

                I can see there's so much to learn.  It's all so close and yet so far.  I see myself as people see me.  Oh, I just know there's something bigger out there.

                I wanna know.  Can you show me?  I wanna know about these strangers like me.  Tell me more.  Please show me.  Something's familiar about these strangers like me.

                Every gesture, every move that he makes makes me feel like never before.  Why do I have this growing need to be beside him?

                Oh, these emotions I never knew.  Of some other world far beyond this place.  Beyond the trees, above the clouds.  I see before me a new horizon.”

                I loved my closet.  I decided to wear some Cherie Marie clothes today too.  I wore a pink cami with a white knit wrap and washed jeans.  I wore a knit cap and Ugg boots.  I looked awesome!  I threw my gold- banded satchel over my shoulder and chucked my books into it.  After straightening my hair and doing my makeup, it was time for school!

                The bus rides seemed to get longer as the days went on.  Alex and Mike often sat behind me.  I often get my hair pulled.  It’s insane the things they do to me.  At least it’s never resulted in spitballs.  I would KILL them if a spitball landed in my hair.  But they usually behave because I have Em beside me.  The guys don’t care much about Belle, but Em poses a real threat to them.  They don’t like her much.  She has such luck.

                School was mostly boring.  It’s all the same- boring classes, gossipy lunch with the gals, and finally, music, art, or drama with the besties- Em and Belle.  Today, though, I had drama- my favorite and best class.  I’m practically the best actress in the school, okay maybe not practically, but nonetheless.  I’m not a snobby name-dropping wannabe, and I’m not too shy to do anything.  I’m a excellently happy medium.  As usual, our drama coach praised me highly.  “Great job today Claire!  You had such great facial expressions.  In the dying scene, when you awoke to see Romeo dead, I was moved to tears.  And you know how it is,” she smiled.  “Nothing’s ever good until you get choked up, right?”  “Exactly!  And you got it right on the first try.  Brilliant!”  “Merci!”  The truth is, I didn’t think I was all that good.  I mean, instead of dying on Romeo (minus the kiss), I almost decided to let him die alone.  The fact that Romeo was Alex made the scene challenging.  It took some effort to make the tears materialize, but I did it.  Once again, it’s just Claire Starlet, making the world better, one scene at a time!

                I didn’t have anything to do after school, so I rehearsed.  “Every story, tale or memoir; every saga or romance.  Whether true or fabricated; whether planned or happenstance.  Whether sweeping through the ages, casting centuries aside, or a hurried brief recital, just a thirty minute ride.  Whether bright or melancholy; rough and ready, finely spun.  Whether with a thousand players or a lonely cast of one.  Every story, new or ancient, bagatelle or work of art, all are tales of human failing.  All are tales of love at heart…”

                (And the lights change drastically.  Every person but Amneris freezes.)

                “This is the story of a love that flourished in a time of hate.  Of lovers no tyranny could separate.  Love set into motion on the Nile’s shore; destiny ignited by a act of war.

                (Every one starts clearing the stage but Amneris.  Nubian women and Egyptian soldiers enter now.)

                “Egypt saw the might river as its very heart and soul; source of life for all her people that only Egypt could control.  Destruction of her southern neighbor justified; Nubia exploited, left with little more than pride…”

                (And here it would bump int-)

                “OOOOOH OOOH OOOOO- OOOH.  FORTUNE FAVORS THE BRAVE.  OOOH OOOO-OOOH.  FORTUNE FAVORS THE BRAVE!” came flooding through the window, right on it’s undefined cue.  I stomped over and cleared my voice.

                “We have swept to glo-”  “IT’S ENOUGH‼” I sang-shouted (the last line of Dance of the Robe, and an amazingly high line).  Alex looked over through his window, startled, and blushed.  “Oops!”  “Could you shut up?” I asked, bewildered.  “Sorry.  Could I keep singing if I closed my window?” he asked.  “Sure,” I said, “but you might have to close your door, too.  I don’t think people in your house want to hear that.”  “And who’d have thought that confidence could die?” he frowned, closing his window.  I slowly slid down the window frame, contemplating my comment.  Regardless of my harshness, I thought he sounded pretty good.  Dumb competition.

                I don’t want to sound overconfident, but I knew I could land a good role in Aida.  I  had to!  If I didn’t, I would seriously die.  I could get Amneris and be happy.  But if I got Aida, it would mean my life.  You see, this is what could undo the whole “almost-famous” thing.  I could be really famous.  And until auditions, it’s pamper city!

just then, an IM popped up on my screen.  It was Em.  “Hey!” it read.  “Hey!” I replied, “How are you?”  “I’m fine.  My mom is totally letting my relax.  It’s all-out for Laci Vernoque!”  “Me too!  Cherie Marie’s taking it easy this weekend.  As Amneris said, it’s such hard work maintaining perfection!  But it’s worth the effort, don’t you think?”  “Oh yes,” Em messaged, “Definitely worth it.  You’re perfect!  Except, those are just the lines, not reality…”  “Em‼”  “Fine.  Yes, it’s worth all the effort.  We’re both going to rock it!  I just wonder, if one of us got Aida, who would get Radames?”  “I don’t know.  I could hope for Brad Pitt, but he might be a little old.”  “Yeah‼  Plus, I don’t think he does Broadway.  What if it’s, like… um… Tanner Falk?”  “He’s an athlete.  And have you ever heard him sing?”  “No.  Why?”  “Let’s put it this way- if you did, you wouldn’t want to hear it ever again.”  “Whateve!  Maybe it’s someone juicy like Jason Dolley or Nick Jonas?”  “Nick sings,” I pointed out.  “Yeah, but he has that movie coming out.”  “Good point!  Or, how about Cole Sprouse?”  “Dylan’s cuter!” she replied, almost instantly.  “No way‼  And what if it’s Mitchell Musso?  Or Jesse McCartney?”  “Oh yeah!” she typed, ended with a big smiley face.  “And what if it’s Justin Bartha?” she typed.  “Omigod yes!  But he’s kind of old-ish for the part.”  There was no reply for a sec.  “He could still pull it off,” she reasoned.  I laughed.  “What if it’s Eric Szmanda?”  “Yes!  Yes!!  If he gets it, I might have to be Aida!”  I suddenly got an amazing idea.  “But, Em, here’s the best one.  What if it’s Pat?”  “You mean, like, Pat Bartly??”  “Yes.  Think about it.  He’s perfect for Radames.  And gosh would I love to kiss him!”  “Omigod are you lucky‼  You’re right, he is perfect for the part!”

                I was dead tired.  I needed sleep.  But in order to ever sleep, I had to reflect.  I couldn’t stand the negative aura I’d get if I decided not to!  I had stirred all day, too.  Ever since my conversation with Em.  I would die if Pat got the part!

                I had had a pretty good day at school.  I was afraid I’d bombed my science test, but I got a hundred plus two bonus points!  Everyone was so jealous, but I’m used to it.  Band was fun.  Mr. Farjay was practically dancing to one of the songs while he conducted.  We all laughed so hard we couldn’t play!  He always does embarrassing stuff like that, which is especially appreciated before concerts.  Once, he got overdramatic while conducting and got his baton accidentally stuck in his fly.  It flung out and hit a very innocent and unsuspecting clarinet player.  We all cracked up and we never let him forget that fateful day.

                Reflection that night was short.  I didn’t have anything to think about but Pat Bartley.  He is a very hot fourteen-year-old actor that does a lot of stuff around Burbank.  I’ve met him before as Claire.  He’s a very tall 5’9 and his birthday is July 21.  He’s an absolutely amazing actor.  And those are just several things I know about him.  You see, I am very skilled in the arts of finding out things about people.  I am a total computer geek, so my friends tease me a lot.  I’m a computer geek and a band geek, so, basically, I’m screwed as far as popular goes.  But I like my life.  And I totally love Pat Bartley.  I rolled over, smiling and praying for a dream about him.  Immediately, the second best song in the world (first is Pop Princess) popped into my head.  Open Arms, by Journey.  It’s so addictive.  I ran to my computer the first time I heard it and I downloaded it (as a computer geek, I know where I can legally get songs for a dime apiece.  It rocks!).  Then I listened to it for two days straight.  I sighed and softly drifted off to sleep, ready for sweet dreams to come.

                Wednesday and Thursday went by rather quickly and uneventfully.  But Friday, oh, Friday was an adventure.  School was completely normal, but the bus ride was unexpected.

It all started out normally.    I finished the homework I hadn’t finished in activity period, as usual.  Everything was done but my most dreaded subject.  I had algebra homework, and I just couldn’t figure it out.  The whole thing was explained in class, but I was lost.  Don’t ask me how I’ve landed in the most advanced class each year.  This time, I was completely stumped.  I asked Em for help, but she didn’t understand it either.  “Oh!” I sighed, “I give up‼”  I had just slammed down my notebook, ready to close my book and surrender, when Alex slid into my seat.  “Here,” he said, “let’s do number six.  You take the second fraction, invert it, then multiply.  After that, you simplify and then FOIL.  You take the answer and divide it by negative one to get a positive number.  You with me?”  “Completely.”  “Then, you subtract the number beside x  from both sides of the equation to get x alone.  You subtract because it’s x plus the number.  You do the opposite to get rid of it.  And there!”  “Okay.  Is that it?”  “That’s all.  X=17.  Try it.”  So I took my pencil and started number seven.  I got a little stuck during the FOILing.  “Umm…” I stuttered, tapping the point on the page.  Alex put his arm around me and put his hand around mine on my pencil; he wrote it all out with me.  “Multiply the first… then outer… add the inner… and last.  Put it together for the answer.  Get it?”  I stared at his hand in disbelief.  “Yeah.  Absolutely.”  He traced my gaze and quickly took his hand off mine.  “Ummm, thanks,” I blushed.  “No problem,” he breathed.  I looked up at Em and Mike staring at each other in wonder.  Then their eyes trained on us.  I looked at Alex, then right into Em’s eyes with incredulity.  On the contrary of what I let her believe, the surprise wasn’t because he just helped me out without gloating or being rude, but it was mostly because he had his arm around and his hand on mine, and I didn’t mind.

                All I could think about that night was the bus ride and the audition.  I couldn’t be freaked out for the audition.  It just couldn’t happen that way!  I had to be relaxed.  Maybe Alex just had some type of life-changing near-death experience that showed his that he needed to grow up.

                Yeah, right.

                I needed something to take my mind off of it, but I couldn’t.  What did he do that for?  How did he remember all of that.  How did he decide to help me?  Was it all him, or did someone tell him to?  Why was he so nice about it, though?  How did he make it so much easier to understand?  Why did Alex cause so many questions and so much confusion in my life?  Why did he put his arm around me?  Why did he put his hand on mine?

Out of all of those, one question burned in my mind until I fell asleep: why did I like it??

Chapter 6

                Henri was ready to go wild on me.  He wanted everything done completely over.  I wanted it simple.  But oh no, my look for this audition had to be perfect. The worst thing was that there’d be no second chance if anything got messed up.  The audition and callbacks were the same night because the theatre wanted to get this thing started A.S.A.P., so every little detail of, well, everything had to be exactly right.  We planned my look out in the morning.  I would wear teal-blue, my signature color.  It was a color engineered especially for Cherie- it’s like turquoise and teal and blue all mixed together.  Almost like cyan, but deeper.  Henri did my eye shadow in that color, deep at the lids to barely noticeable at the brow lines.  He used the shimmer powder- my fave!  We used a barely noticeable peach blush and shimmer powder on the cheekbones.  There was candy pink gloss for my lips.  My wig would be half up with soft curls and side-swept bangs.  I would wear a Christian Dior cami with detailing over bedazzled Chip and Pepper jeans.  Prada strappies and Babette Wasserman jewelry would finish off the look.

                Lance would drive me to and from the audition, ten minutes both ways.  We’d leave 20 minutes before the time I was to be there to allow for traffic.  He would stay with me the whole time.

                Finally, all the planning was done and the pampering began.  All citrus drinks, save the tea with honey, and all citrus foods.  I drank lots of water, too, because I couldn’t dehydrate.  I’ve seen actresses that only drink things like energy drinks and lemonade all day.  The lemonade has too much sugar and not enough water to be half decent, and the energy drinks are the most dangerous thing ever.  Many people end up in the ER or even six feet under from drinking too many of those and not enough water.  They dehydrate you and you OD on caffeine.  I laid in bed, sitting upright, singing some for half an hour every two hours to keep my voice fresh.  I reviewed the audition materials, too.  There wasn’t much text involved, but there had to be some.  I guess maybe I was going to confuse the directors- I was trying out for Aida, singing a song by Amneris, and acting the text as Aida.  Yeesh!  I think we were going to be paired up with someone to try out.  I‘m not sure if it’s going to be one of the actors or just a stand-in, but I’m praying for Pat‼

                I finished the sing at the stroke of five.  I swift rap on my door signaled the time.  “Omigod!” I squealed, “it’s time!”  I leaped out of bed and across the room, through the door and right into Henri.  “Whoa, Sweetums, look before you leap!” he hugged me.  Then I pulled away from his tight embrace.  “I thought you were gay!”  He laughed.  “I am, Sweetums,” he rolled his eyes, “I’m just so excited‼”  “Then let’s do this.”

                I put on my outfit and then my robe over it.  Lucy threw down the thermostat to keep us all cool and clear-headed.  Then I jumped into the huge prep room into my chair for Henri to get started with my hair.  He put it back just as planned in the blonde wig.  This time, he pinned the wig in very, very tight.  Almost too tight.  “Henri‼  That’s kind of hurts!”  “I’m sorry Sweetums!”  (If you haven’t noticed, he never calls me anything but Sweetums.)  “I just don’t want it to fall out.”  “Oh, good idea then,” I smiled.  After a load of hairspray it was makeup time.   Henri worked her magic as usual.  “You look… FABULOUS‼” he shrieked.  I took off the robe and voila!  The look was complete, with no time to spare.  I turned to Lance, smiling, “Time to go!”  He nodded and ushered me outside.  He was about to shut the door when Henri pushed him aside, Lucy right next to him.  “Break a leg, Sweetums!” he beamed, giving me one final hug.  “Be careful!” I winced.  “my hair!”  He gasped and jumped back.  “I know you can do it,” Lucy hugged me warmly, “Just ease on down the road.”  “Ease on down the road, Lucy.”  That’s a line from The Wiz.  It’s rumored that I used to run around the house singing it when I was a little girl (of course, I don’t remember that…).  Now it’s our line.  Lance shut the door and I waved good bye as we pulled out.  “Next stop…” Lance glanced in his rearview mirror at me.  “Destiny,” I breathed.

                “Cherie Marie Gracemore, on deck.”  I was next.  I sat in the theater room, so excited for what was to come next.  In about ten minutes, I’d be called into that room.  That all-important room where my fate was to be sealed.  The ten minutes went by quickly.

                “Cherie Marie Gracemore, report to the audition room.”  I looked at Lance for reassurance, and he nodded.  I walked to the room, carrying myself carefully as to make the right impression.  I was about to step into the room when I remembered to turn my cell off.  One of the worst possible impressions you could ever make is to have your cell ring during an audition.  I pulled it out of my pocket just as it pinged a text.  “You can do it, Sweetums!  Go get ‘em!”  “Thanks, Henri,” I replied, “I’m right in front of the door and about to go in now!”  Then another text pinged.  “I’m so sorry I couldn’t make it. You know I want to be there more than anything.”  “Oh, of course I do, Sam!  You couldn’t make it out, I get it.  But you’re coming in next week, right?”  “Of course.”  “I’m at the door now.  they called me in.  I’ve got to go.”  “You’ll do great, I promise you.  Bye!”  As soon as it powered down, I opened the door to the auditorium, head held high.

                “Who are you auditioning for?” the director asked.  “I’m auditioning for Aida.  I’ve prepared, ‘Every Story is a Love Story,’ sung by Amneris, and the monologue between Aida and Radames that follows it shortly after.”  “excellent.  Will you need a partner?”  “For the diologue, please.  I would like a Radames, and a soldier, if you could.”  “They will enter stage left after your song.  You may begin.”  I took a deep breath, remembering that this is what I prepared for.  I opened my mouth and stood like a statue, as Amneris should in the song.

“Every story, tale or memoir; Every saga or romance; Whether true or fabricated; Whether planned or happenstance.

                Whether sweeping through the ages; Casting centuries aside; Or a hurried brief recital; Just a thirty-minute ride.

               Whether bright or melancholy; Rough and ready, finely spun; Whether with a thousand players; Or a lonely cast of one.
               Every story, new or ancient; Bagatelle or work of art; All are tales of human failing; All are tales of love at heart.”
               I had been walking around what would be the museum, staying in the position.  Suddenly, I smoothly jerked out of it.

               “This is the story; Of a love that flourished; In a time of hate; Of lovers no tyranny could separate; Love set into motion on the Nile's shore; Destiny ignited by an act of war.
                “Egypt saw the mighty river as its very heart and soul; Source of life for all her people; That only Egypt could control; Destruction of her southern neighbor justified; Nubia exploited, left with little more than pride.”

                Radames walked on stage.  He was older, twenty-something, and, although he was cute, he was no Pat. 

The soldier was nothing special.  “What have we here?” Radames recited.  “We found them on the riverbank captain.”  Radames turned to me.  “Your country’s at war and you go wandering along the Nile’s edge?  You must have a burning desire to see Egypt.  Put her in chains.  Have you finished the map?”  “Yes, Captain,” the soldier replied.  “Good work.  But this is wrong, from the mast it looked like it curved to the North… like this.  here, let me show you.”  I grab the sword from the soldier, right on cue.  I hold it around him.  “My sword!  My sword!” he gasped.  “Release them!” I command.  “Hand it over,” Radames shouts.  “Now!”  I put the sword up to his neck.  “You took us from Nubia… and now you say we belong to you, yes?” I suggest.  “Yes.”  “Well, I took this soldier from your ranks.  So, by your own logic, he belongs to me.  Now let them go.”  Radames smiled then pointed where the women would be.  The other soldiers would instantly grab them, holding them the same way I was holding the soldier (who, from that angle, was pretty hot, actually). I threw down the sword as the soldier snatched it.  “Throw her in the river!” he says.  “No,” Radames intervenes, “I have better plans for her.”

                The soldier crosses and Radames and I cross the stage.  he lifts his hand and I wince to cover my face.  “Don’t,” I stutter.  “You don’t want me to remove your shackles?”  “Oh.  Yes.”  “They’ll only get in the way.  I should enlist you in my army.  Make you my Lieutenant.”  He was clearly enjoying the whole thing.  “Are you mocking me, Captain?” I challenged.  “No,” he frowned, walking around me.  “Admiring you.”  He dropped his coat.  I like how it says in the script- “He removes his coat, dropping it to the floor almost as a dare.”  “Do you know what’s going to happen now?” he asked.  “You’re going to remove the filth of battle from my skin.”  He took off his sword and sat on a stool in front of me.  “It’s been a long time since I’ve felt clean.”  I take the sponge and scrape it across his back as if washing him very furiously and angrily.  He made a face.  “You’re much better with a sword than you are with a sponge.”  “I wish I had a sword now,” I dwindled.  “There’s mine.  Help yourself.”  he pointed to the sword on the floor.  I looked as if to take it, then shook my head and began scrubbing again.  “Who taught you to use a weapon?”  “My father.”  “Because he knows Nubian men can’t protect their women.”  I immediately snap up, enraged at his comment.  “You’re not finished!” he snapped.  “Yes, I am,” I decided.  “On your knees!” he yelled.  I don’t budge.  “You enjoy living dangerously, don’t you?” Radames asked.  “About as much as I enjoy washing your filthy Egyptian skin!”  I throw the sponge, carefully making it land right at his toes.  I turned around, as if declaring that it was over, and snorted, end of scene.  I waited a second or two for the director to cut… or say anything.  “Oh, oh, I’m sorry!” he apologized.  “I was caught in the moment.  Yes, very good.  We’ll contact you.”  “Thank you!” I smiled, exiting the stage and out the door I came in.  The moment the door closed behind me, I slumped on to Lance.

                “I didn’t do it!” I wailed from my vanity.  “I didn’t get a part‼”  You know when people say “don’t call us, we’ll call you” it means you didn’t get a part?  The director said, “We’ll contact you.”  We’ll contact you?!?!  “No‼” I cried.  I threw my ear buds into my ears, devastated.  About ten minutes later, the feeling changed.  “Would Cherie Marie,” (there were more names here that my ears protested to hear), “Please report to the auditorium?”  I got a callback‼  I walked in the auditorium and the directors were sending everyone in different directions.  They had two people in each group.  I was sent right up on stage.  I watched the dim faces all file past, the directors sending everyone in one of two directions to another person each way.  That person split everyone up.  I waited and waited, but no one was sent by me.  I recalled the words of Sam and Henri, comforting my nerves.  I had just begun to really worry when the last person came through the doors.  A tall slender figure, he confidently walked up to the director, who pointed right up on to the stage.  My breath caught as light shed on the boy’s face.  “Pat,” I whispered, barely audible.  “It’s Pat.”  He smiled when he got into full light.  “Hey, I know you.  You’re… you’re… you’re Cherie Marie Gracemore!”  “Yeah!  And you’re… you’re… Pat Bartley, right?”  “Right!  Hey, nice job, making it here and all.”  “Thanks!  You too!” I flirted.  Truth be told, I couldn’t breathe.

                “Ready?” the director asked.  We nodded, smiling at each other.  He handed us each a script and said, “Start on page 25.  We’ll begin with Radames singing the reprise of Fortune Favors the Brave.  Good?”  “Good!” we both said.  The interlude began and faded, and Pat began to sing.

                “Nothing is an accident.  We are free to have it all.  We are what we want to be.  It’s in ourselves to rise or fall.

                This is easy to believe.  When distance places call to me.  It’s harder from the palace yard.  Fortune favors the free.”

                I watched him from where the light didn’t reach.  Pat looked up and saw me.  I tried to back away, but pat interrupted.  “No, stay.”  “Yes captain?”  “Where are you from?” he asked, sincerity in his voice.  “Ikaita… it’s a village near the Second Cataract.”  He joined me in unison on “near the Second Cataract,” then continued.  “The river’s an entirely different color there.”  “No,” I said, “it’s an entirely different color here.  “Fair enough,” Pat grinned.  “My father and I used to spend days sailing the Nile.  He’d let me choose the course.  And sometimes, I’d run is aground on purpose… whenever I wanted to see something on the shore.”  “Did you ever sail North?”  “No.  My father felt the First Cataract, being so close to the border of Egypt, was too dangerous a place to take me.”  “But there are no Egyptians at the First Cataract.  Only these tiny, grassy islands.  And the sunlight is different there.  In Egypt, it is direct, harsh.  But there it shimmers.  It’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen.”  At the word “beautiful,” my heart melted.  “Of course.  It’s Nubia.  I would like to see that part of my country.”

                Then, the music to “Enchantment Passing Through” began.  It’s my favorite song.

                “To sail away to half discovered places.  To see the secrets so few eyes have seen.  Too see moments of enchantment on our faces.  The moments when we smile and those between.”

                “Are you talking about Nubia now?” I interrupted.”  “Yes, in a way…”  And I began to sing.

                “If I could leave this place then I’d go sailing.  To corners of my land where there would be.  Sweet southern winds of liberty prevailing.  The beauty so majestic and so free.”

                “I would take you sailing,” he smiled, speaking again.  “South.  You could be my guide.”

“Would you let me steer,” I slid up close to him.  “Would you run us aground?” he took my arms and ran his hands down them into mine.  “Oh yes,” I answered, “Where there are no people.  I’d jump out of the boat, kick off my sandals and run.  And there’d be no one there to scold me and tell me to behave like a”- Aida caught herself from saying princess.  “To behave.”  Pat began to sing where our lines go back and forth.

                “There’s be no ties of time and space to bind me.”  “And no horizon I could not pursue.”  “I’d leave the world’s misfortunes far behind me,” he beamed.  “I’d put my faith in something new.”  And we began to sing together.

                “But why should I tell you this?”  “A stranger I’ve just met!” I tried to look confused.  “A woman whom I hardly know at all and should forget.”  “A journey we could only dream of,” we looked into the crowd.  “Enchantment passing through.  And how is it I say these things.”  We looked into each other’s eyes.  “So easily to you.”