i pretty much love your book! i think you need to majorly put up more chapters sooon!
Posted 04/14/08 - 06:46 pm
Act - CHAPTER FOUR UP BIOS COMING SOON's Profile
The Story
Chelsea Sommers was just like every other girl in the world: she loved to act and wanted to be famous for doing it. Sure, she snagged the lead in all her plays and dabbled in community theatre, but no one really saw the talent deep down inside. That is, until she auditioned for the TV show "Stars of Tomorrow". "Stars of Tomorrow" is another show in the American Idol genre, in which contests battle it out each week to earn a the title of 'Star of Tomorrow' and a coveted part in the up and coming movie '25 Years Ago'. Yes, it is an acting competition. And Chelsea is one of the lucky 24 teens who made the final cut. And if she thought that landing the show was hard, wait until she meets the other dramaqueens... and kings.
"Would number 16089 please enter the audition room?" Chelsea Sommers glanced up at the P.A. with the megaphone, rolling her eyes to hide the butterflies fluttering around in her stomach. In her hand, she clenched and unclenched the small piece of computer paper on which her monologue was printed, going over and over the words in her mind. She wanted this, hoped for this, needed this. She needed to be one of the 24 finalists on "Stars of Tomorrow". But judging from the competition, that was highly unlikely.
Even though it wasn't Chelsea's first ever audition, she still felt like a newbie as she sized up the competition around her, butterflies intensifying with every analysis. A tall thin blonde whispering to herself was definitely pretty enough to have been in the business already if she'd tried. A slightly goth girl, clad all in black with a jaunty beret perched on top of her chesnut brown hair, reading her piece to her mom loud enough for the world to hear, was so good as to be bad. The odds were stacked against her, Chelsea knew, but she was going to try anyways.
"Hey, excuse me, could I sit here?" After shaking some dirty blonde hair out of her eyes, Chelsea looked up to see a semi-cute guy twinkling at her brightly. She didn't know what else to do, so she nodded slightly and he plopped down into the cheap plastic chair beside her. "Travis Baker, Deer Creek, Illinois. You from around here?" After turning to face him, Chelsea studied him closely. He looked sort of like a younger Brad Pitt with dark blonde, almost brown, hair and hazel eyes, but with less chiseled cheek bones.
"Chelsea Sommers, yes I'm from around here, Colfax."
"Oh, just a few miles away." They sat there in silence for a minute, until Travis spoke up again. "Have you gone yet?" He said, tilting his head towards the audition room door.
"Uh... not yet. I'm number," Chelsea glanced down at the white sheet of paper taped to her [practically non-exisistant] chest, "16093."
"Cool, I'm right after you," he said, flashing his own matching piece of paper at her. "Good luck." Silently, Chelsea cursed herself for being so akward with boys. A lot of the time she wished she was more like her best friend, Brenna. Brenn would never let the silence drag like it was doing right then, instead, she'd be chattering along about anything and everything, and giving Travis her number before going in to audition. But she wasn't Brenna. So, averting her hazel eyes from Travis's matching ones, Chelsea went back to going over her lines.
The next 3 numbers were called in rapid succesion, and finally, "Next up, #16093!" was shouted out, and she dragged her feet into the audition room. After the heavy double doors shut behind her, Chelsea quickly took in her new surroundings. Unlike the lobby outside, the ballroom of the Ritz Carlton hotel, where auditions were located, was quiet and peaceful. And bare. Save for the table with the standard 3 judges, there was nothing. Then again, the three judges were enough decoration.
Cheyenne Martine, judge number one, was considered the number one hottest and most talented starlet of the millenium, and she was just as gorgeous close up. Greg Montgomery, a famous director who had created most of the past five year's big blockbusters, was judge number two. And the final judge, Laurel Cortez, was the top agent in all of Hollywood. They were the people who would make or break her [also nonexistant] career.
"State your name, age, and the piece you will be doing for us today," Cheyenne said in an almost bored-sounding voice, big violet eyes [that she claimed were natural, but everyone knew were contacts] flicking up at Chelsea then back down to her scoring sheet. Already Chelsea was wishing she hadn't come.
"Chelsea Sommers, sixteen, and I will be doing a monologue from the movie 'A Corner of Heaven'." This time, the judges looked at her with curiousity in their eyes. 'A Corner of Heaven' was a recent indie flick, about a girl named Iris Malloway who's murdered by her boyfriend, and how she comes to grips with her death and how her family moves on after. The part she'd chosen to present was from the beginning, right after Iris first gets to heaven, and realizes what happened. From the moment she first saw it in her tiny town's 3-theatre movie theatre, she'd loved the character and wanted to do stuff like that. It was a tough piece, but Chelsea knew it was the only way to get her talent across in one monologue.
"Go ahead," Greg said, leaning forward in his seat. After taking a deep breath to calm herself and focusing on Iris's character, Chelsea began.
"Where am I? What is this place? It looks like Riverside but... it doesn't feel like Riverside. It doesn't feel right. I have this weird shiver running up and down my spine. Maybe someone can help me. Hey! Mister! Can you help me? Please? I'm right here! Stop looking at my like I don't exist. Oh god, something isn't right. My neck feels funny, and it hurts to breathe." Here Chelsea felt her neck, like she was looking for something wrong. "There's... bruises. And cuts. One... right across my throat. Oh no. Oh no. Oh my god..." she trailed off when Laurel held up a hand. The three judges huddled for a moment, every now and then glancing at her while speaking in hushed tones. Finally moving apart, they carefully scribbled some stuff down on their sheets and shuffled papers around.
"Chelsea, I'm very impressed," Cheyenne began. "That was a hard piece to do in front of us, and I have to say that for a moment I thought you really were Jillian Page, not Chelsea Sommers." Jillian Page was the up-and-coming actress who had portrayed Iris in the actual film, and being compared to her made Chelsea feel weak in the knees.
"I'm not sure there's anyting else to say. You really blew me over there." Greg smiled slightly, and Chelsea just stood there in shock, praying she didn't fall over in a dead faint in front of the judges.
"Agreed with both Cheyenne and Greg. Chelsea, sweetie, you're going to Hollywood!" And with that, Laurel whipped out a bright blue piece of paper with all the information printed on it and held it out to Chelsea. "Go on, take it, you deserve it!" she said laughing when Chelsea stood there motionless, letting it sink in. Then, almost like in a dream she reached out to take it, and stared at it. It was her ticket to fame, fortune, and her passion. It was all hers.
"Thank you thank you thank you!" Chelsea screamed, hardly believing that it was true. "Thank you thank you thank you!" She held the paper tightly as she almost skipped outside and into the lobby. There were looks of pure jealousy and sadness when they saw the blue sheet, knowing what it meant. As she passed by Travis, she called out "Good luck!" to him, and he smiled and called back "See you in Hollywood!"
Finally, when she was outside, Chelsea collapsed on a bench to wait for her mom to pick her up. She held the paper between her index and middle finger, feeling the rough grain, reading the small print, still in shock. This was real, this was no joke. Her dream was within her grasp, and all she had to do was reach out and grab it, and it was hers.
Look out Hollywood, here comes Chelsea Sommers!
“Yes Brenn, I’m here, I’m fine, take a chill pill!” Chelsea laughed into her phone as she stared at the blue ocean and even bluer sky whizzing along outside the taxi window. It was three weeks later, and with her parent’s permission and a promise that they would keep sending along her schoolwork and go out there for spring break and the finale, she was finally in California. On her way to the hotel where she and the other 49 semi-finalists were going to live, that is, until the final 24 were picked. Then they would move into a custom-built house by the studios, making it easier to commute and easier to practice. Chelsea ached to be in the finals so much, but she knew that there was a slim-to none chance. Well, a 12 in 25 chance, if you wanted the correct calculations. But in her mind, slim-to-none.
“I still can’t believe you won! You’re there! Holy shit!” In her mind’s eye, Chelsea could picture her friend bouncing on her pink bed in her purple room at home. Her dark curls would be up in a sloppy bun, and she’d be wearing one of her many pairs of Victoria’s Secret PINK sweatpants, plus a Colfax Colt’s soccer t-shirt. That was Brenna all the way, both sporty, girly, and all-around cool at the same time.
“Very funny, Brenn, but you know I haven’t yet. I didn’t even make the final 24!” Here she began picking at her nails, a bad habit that she only did when she was really nervous. Or scared. Or sad. Or angry. “God I miss you so much!”
“Same! But seriously, win for me, Chels! Look, I gotta go, winter training starts in twenty minutes and I think my shin guards are still in the wash! Later and love you!”
“Love you too Brenn!” The line went dead in her ear, so Chelsea tossed the mint-green Chocolate phone onto the seat beside her purse and went back to staring out the window. The sandy beaches and endless sky gave way to sleek white buildings and glass high-rises, all sparkling in the Hollywood sun. The bright-yellow taxi glided to a stop in front of the Ritz Carlton—Hollywood Edition—and the driver hopped out and began to unload Chelsea’s suitcases. When the two [relatively small] black bags were on the ground beside her, she thanked the man and watched him and his car skid off into the distance. Then, taking a deep breath to calm herself, Chelsea grabbed the suitcase handles and rolled them into the hotel lobby.
Unlike the hotel back in Illinois, this hotel was gorgeous and new. Its deep red rugs smelled new and lemony, just like the marble walls and tiling. Tall windows along the back wall opened onto a private beach where the rich and famous surfed, sunned, and showed themselves off. It was amazing. Still awed and taking everything in, Chelsea carefully made her way to the front desk to get her room key.
“Hi, I’m Chelsea Sommers. I’m with ‘Stars of Tomorrow?’”
“Right, Chelsea.” The woman, her name tag read Danielle Leif, shook some of her shiny chestnut brown hair off her face and scanned the list of names in front of her. Studying her quietly, Chelsea wondered why she didn’t sound the slightest bit interested that she was there. But then she remembered that Danielle probably met more famous and bigger celebs than she’d ever be, so it was nothing special for her to be there. As she was giving herself a mental slap, Danielle slapped a keycard on the desk in front of her with a bored-sounding “You’re in room 1263, your roommate is Laine Cummings. She checked in about an hour ago.”
“Thanks!” She said with a smile and turned to leave. Laine Cummings, Chelsea thought as she pressed the up button on the elevator. She sounds like a New York socialite! Again, Chelsea began to worry, and braced herself as she stepped into the elevator and hit the button for the twelfth floor. When it finally dinged, announcing it had stopped, she stepped out cautiously and followed the gold-plated signs to her room. After slipping the key into the door slot, Chelsea quietly opened the door and peeked inside.
Sitting on one of the beds and sifting through a lime-green suitcase was Laine. But she was nothing like the blonde-haired-blue-eyed-filty-rich-New-York-Park-Avenue-princess her name evoked. Turning around to see who came in, Chelsea noted that Laine had almost black hair partially down her back, dark eyes, and lightly, but natural looking, tan skin. And she actually looked kind of short, 5’2” at best.
“Laine?” She said as she set her suitcases down on the empty bed.
“Right. Chelsea, I’m guessing?” Laine did actually have a New York accent, but it was subtle enough to not take over her entire voice. When Chelsea nodded, she launched into a mini-speech. “Okay, I know you just got here, but I have to fill you in. We’re not just roommates, we’re scene partners as well.” After glancing at Chelsea’s confused face, she explained. “What’s going to happen is, there’s 25 pairs of us doing scenes together. We have today to perfect them, then tomorrow morning we’re going to perform for the judges who’ll then make the final cut. Ours is from the movie Snow Red and Rose White.”
Immediately, Chelsea busted out laughing. Snow Red and Rose White was a remake of the classic Grimm’s fairytale, but modernized and set in New York City. It hadn’t been a major hit, but it was a cute story, and the characters had many different sides to them that would be fun to play.
“Who am I and who are you?” In response, Laine tossed her a script, which she had to dive to catch. After smoothing out the now-slight-wrinkled pages, Chelsea glanced at the top and saw the words Chelsea Sommers – Snow Red. Right, she got to be the sweet, do-gooder, while Laine got to be the more out-going, adventurous twin. But whatever, if that’s what the producers wanted to give her, then that’s what she’d show them. “Alright then. Let’s get to work.”
Forgetting their half-opened suitcases [Laine] and extreme cases of nerves [Chelsea], the two girls sat down on their beds and began to read through the scene. As the night wore on, Chelsea learned a lot about her roommate and hopefully new friend. She was, in fact, from New York, but she wasn’t a socialite at all. More like the artsy-cool kid that everyone thinks is weird but loves anyways. Like take the outfit she had on for instance. A denim mini-skirt with rainbow patches sewed all over it, a black “Broken Memories” band t-shirt, hot pink leggings, and a bright blue bow in her hair. And purple converses doodled on in white-out. She was sixteen as well, but had skipped 3rd grade so she was a senior rather than a junior like Chelsea. Laine was the kind of person you couldn’t help but like, and they got along well as they worked on the script.
Finally, at about 2am, after ordering room-service dinner and eating while running it through, they called it a night and retired to their respective halves of the room. Chelsea fell asleep instantly.
The next day, Chelsea woke with a start to the phone ringing on the night table next to her. Picking it up, she discovered that it was a call from Cheyenne Martine herself, reminding them that they were going to be performing at 10AM in the ballroom right off the lobby. Glancing at the clock, and realizing it was 9AM, Chelsea shook Laine awake and they ran through their lines one last time. Satisfied, both girls threw on some clothes, shoved some of the complimentary boxes of cereal down their throats, and hurried down to the ballroom. Everyone else was already there, and they silently counted down until 10. When the second hand and the minute hand on the ornate clock hit the 12, all three judges grandly walked down the aisle between the plastic folded chairs and settled themselves down at the head table.
“Janine Spitler and Belinda Hughes, you’re up!” They started without any introduction, assuming correctly that everyone knew the drill. Twelve pairs came and went before “Chelsea Sommers and Laine Cummings!” was called, and the two slowly got up and walked down the aisle to the makeshift platform set up.
“Oooh unlucky thirteen! You’ll need extra luck, Chelsea!” Whipping her head around, Chelsea saw Travis sitting there smiling, and couldn’t help but smile back. Their awkward conversation almost a month ago had faded from her mind, but it was brought to the front as she looked at him. Her smile quickly turned to a bright red blush on her cheeks, and she turned back to the front and scurried after Laine.
They performed their scene quickly and effortlessly, both girls slipping into their characters like they Snow and Rose were water and they were fishes. Laine was comical as the adventurous but slightly dumb Rose, while Chelsea countered her as the sweet and smart Snow. There was enthusiastic applause at the end, and they took quick bows and returned to their seats. The other twelve scenes flew by, then the judges concurred for a few minutes while everyone else slipped out of the ballroom for a break. Travis attempted to corner Chelsea at the water cooler, but she [almost rudely] brushed him off, refusing to let him distract her from the competition.
And then it was judgment day. Or hour. Or at least five minutes.
“Congratulations to everyone who has made it here so far, but unfortunately only 24 of you will be finalists on ‘Stars of Tomorrow’. Without further ado, let me read you the names.” Greg shuffled the papers in his hands and read out in a loud clear voice. “Elaine Becker, Alanna Moore, Laine Cummings, Travis Barker, Chad Turner, Belinda Hughes, Angela Weinberger, Chelsea Sommers…”
After that, Chelsea couldn’t hear anymore. Because her heart was beating so fast, and her head was spinning. She was in, and that was all that mattered.
“And now the moment you’ve all been waiting for. The one lucky teen you voted America’s ‘Star of Tomorrow’!” Bryce Whitecrest, held out the moment for as long as possible, and Chelsea held her breath as well. “Well, I guess I can’t keep you holding your breaths any longer!” She let hers out with a big sigh, and then went back to holding it in. “And the winner of ‘Star of Tomorrow is…Chelsea Sommers!” The crowd went wild, and Chelsea felt confetti gently settling on top of her head. She’d done it!
“Chelsea! Wake up!” Chelsea blinked in the bright California sunlight. Laine was standing over her, dark hair pulled up into a messy bun held together with two sparkly silver chopsticks. It took her a minute to realize what had happened and where she was. The crème colored Ritz Carlton walls had been replaced by calming blue ones, and the comforter no longer bore the Ritz’s logo, but was yellow with a funky pattern of flowers and leaves all over it. Right. She was in the “Barbie and Ken Dreamhouse”, as she and Laine had so aptly named it the other day.
Because it was. A dream house that is. Each contestant got their own room, with three bathrooms for the girls and three bathrooms for the guys. Downstairs was a large living room, kitchen, dining room, and a special “practice room” with acoustics, a small stage, and a screen on the back wall to project the words of the monologues and scenes during practice. It was heaven. Pure and true heaven.
“’Kay Lainey, I’m up I’m up!” Chelsea pushed off the covers and let her bare feet sink into the deep dark blue carpeting. It even felt like heaven. “What’s today’s schedule?”
“Just shopping for our first NATIONALLY BROADCASTED SHOW!!!” Laine screamed, and Chelsea playfully covered her ears with her pillow.
“When?” Chelsea went over to her dresser and began pulling out clothes to construct the perfect “Going Out” outfit. She’s already half-famous, because the show had already started showing episodes using cuts from the auditions and final auditions. And her family back home had created a fan-following, called “Chelsea’s Cheering Squad”. Thinking of them made her feel all warm and fuzzy inside. But back to the outfit. Eventually tossing on a pair of light skinny jeans with a grey wetseal top that had a bunch of cassettes printed on it in black and shiny purple. To go with it were a pair of patent-leather purple heels (from wetseal again, hey, she loved that store!) and a skinny black belt.
“Wow girlie, you’re so tame!” Laine twirled to show off her outfit. She was wearing a white short-sleeved dress with rainbow polka dots all over it, black fishnets, and black ankle boots. In her dark hair, besides the chopsticks, was a white headband with matching jewels, and stacked up both arms were rainbow colored bracelets. “Cute, huh?” When Chelsea busted out laughing, Laine took it as a yes. “Now c’mon, we’re supposed to meet down in the front hall in 10 minutes!” “And you only wake me up NOW?!?!” Chelsea groaned good-naturedly, but allowed herself to be pulled down to the front hall.
Cheyenne herself was there, ready to guide the girls [the guys were being taken by Greg] on a tour of Hollywood’s best stores. They each had a set budget from the show, but were allowed to use their own money if needed. All of them jostled to get the best view of downtown as their two taxis skimmed along the famously wide boulevards. Chelsea and Layne were stuck in a cab with Cheyenne herself, Lianna Baxter, a drop-dead-gorgeous brunette with wide brown eyes and a great complexion [her portrayal as Juliet from R&J had gotten her in, but not her partner], Chrissy Thompson [a cutesey blonde who’d charmed everyone as Cher from Clueless], Elisa Niva [an artsy girl who had dazzled as Rose from Titanic], and Alanna Moore [the dark-haired-ice-eyed beauty who had been commended for her performance as Elizabeth Swan]. They all clamored from store to store in a big group, laughing together, talking together, shopping together, even though they all hardly knew each other. And although no one said it out loud, they were still sizing each other up. It was a competition, after all.
Chelsea and Laine stuck together, both nabbing bags of cute stuff from a bunch of different stores. Chelsea was both surprised and excited to find that there was a Wetseal on the west coast, and spent ages [to everyone’s dismay] thumbing through their clothes and picking out just the right things for her character and the characters they’d be playing. This week’s challenge was to completely redo their audition monologues and look at them a totally new way. This time, Chelsea was going to do Iris’s call for help like she kind of knew what happened but didn’t want to admit it. It was very new angle from the scared, helpless girl she’d portrayed the last time, but she was still looking forward to doing it!
After all their bags had been packed and loaded into a separate—there were just so many of them—taxi, they practically skidded back to the house to get ready and practice their monologues. They knew that, although they’d been judged a bunch of times before then, now was the true test. This time, the public was voting, and there was no going back. Already the show had a pretty steady following, mostly in the 13-25 category, and its popularity and viewing numbers grew each week. Judgment day, well, night, had arrived.
They all took turns on the stage, attempting to recite their pieces from memory and not using the projector unless they really, really, really needed it. Chelsea was especially pleased to find out that she and Laine were the only ones that knew theirs completely by heart. It seemed everyone else had forgotten in the four weeks they hadn’t been practicing. But as they all kept rehearsing and rehearsing, they knew that it was going to be a tough competition. Because they all were amazing. And they were all after the same prize.
At six PM, after a quick pizza dinner ordered in from the neighborhood dominos, they all piled back into taxis and head on over to the studio in LA. During the car ride, it really hit Chelsea that she was there, that she was a finalist, that she could follow her dreams and become an actress. Her head began to spin, and at the studio Laine had to practically pull her out and drag her to hair makeup. The people there were sweet and soothing, while applying concealer to Chelsea’s relatively clear complexion, they told her she would do great. While the hairstylist was turning her half-wavy-half-straight hair into pin straight golden locks, he regaled her with stories about the other clients he’s worked for, and soon enough her fears melted away and she was ready.
Once they were done, she slipped into the bathroom to change into her clothes and check out the new Chelsea. Her green-brown eyes were outlined with a thin line of brown kohl, and a few coats of lengthening mascara made her normally short lashes look extra long, dark, and flirty. The few small zits she had were expertly concealed, and a creamy blush was spread along her cheeks, making her look prettily flushed. With her new hair swaying softly around her shoulders, Chelsea could hardly tell that it was her. But it was.
When a P.A. screamed “5 minutes!” she quickly tossed off her clothes and slipped into a flattering pair of jeans, white t-shirt with a grey pinstriped vest over it, and a pair of black converses. Iris would be proud of me, Chelsea thought with a giggle, as she looked in the mirror one more time, then dashed out to the lineup. She was right behind Laine, who looked great as the character Bella from a hit indie flick “Bellanova”, about a fallen popstar who resorts to drugs and alcohol to make her way through life, in a pair of ripped skinny jeans, spiked yellow heels, and a white ribbed tank top underneath a yellow glitter belly shirt. Chelsea had never seen the movie herself, but was sure her friend was going to do great.
The show flew by fast, with each actor going up to present their 1 minute monologue and being scored by the judges right after. After the cheers for Laine died down, Chelsea braced herself and climbed the stairs that lead to the stage. Whoops and holler assaulted her entrance, buoying her up and into the stars. She recited Iris’s monologue with new feeling, and she could tell they were impressed.
“Remarkable, much better than your first portrayal!” Came from Cheyenne, who actually looked up from picking at her fingers to see.
“I’d cast you in a second!” came from Greg.
“Want to join my agency?” Laurel joked to the crowd as everyone laughed.
And then they shooed her offstage so that Lianna could go on after her. She whispered a quick “Good luck!” as they passed, and Lianna nodded and gulped, then stepped onto the stage. First night down, and one to go. The good-bye show.
Chelsea hardly slept that night. She kept tossing and turning, the judges’ reactions to her performance earlier that night, but then the voters reactions appeared. Some said she did great, others promised to vote for anyone but her. Visions danced inside her head, and no matter what she did, they refused to be drowned out.
But the next thing she knew, it was the next day. Rest/Freak Out day, as Laine pointed out. Rest because they didn’t have any work to prepare, Freak Out because they had to worry about whether or not they’d even be on the show to have another piece to prepare. Chelsea took the opportunity to go down to the beach and just sit on the edge of the water, letting her toes wiggle in the wet sand and surf. As she was staring out at the endless blue ocean, she felt someone settle next to her.
“Amazing, isn’t it?” Chelsea turned to see Travis, his initial cuteness much enhanced by the fact that he was wearing board shorts and nothing else. In the warm California sunlight he looked even more like a younger Brad Pitt. “Never seen the ocean before?”
“Nope,” she said and looked down at her legs, wishing she’d worn pants instead of her favorite white bikini with green and blue apples.
“Nothing like this in Illinois, huh?” His matching eyes winked at her, the sun shining in them. It made her uncomfortable, the way he was looking at her. Beyond uncomfortable. Without realizing what she was doing, Chelsea quickly got up and began walking back to the house. “Chelsea, wait! What did I do?” He grabbed her shoulder and made her face him,
“Travis… it’s a competition. I want this more than anything and I can’t get distracted! I just can’t!” The hurt showed on his face, and she forced herself to look away.
“I get it, Chels.” Her heart beat in her throat as she began to walk back up to the house. “But once you’re out, or I’m out, or both of us are out, wait for me, okay?” Too scared of what she was supposed to say, Chelsea dashed back up to her room and lay down on the bed, head in her hands. She’d never been comfortable around guys, especially ones she liked. And, even though she didn’t want to admit it, she liked Travis. And it hurt.
That night, she and Laine sat next to each other on the big red couch on stage, waiting for Bryce to announce that week’s winners and losers. They held hands, praying that neither of them went home but, if it came down to one or the other, that they alone went on to the next round.
“Well America, the votes are tallied and the results are `in! This week had an extremely high number of votes for a first show, which we thank you for. But one person edged away the competition. This week’s winner, who had the highest amount of votes, is…. Laine Cummings!” Chelsea stared at her friend with envy in her eyes as Laine stepped down to the podium and was directed to one side of the stage. The in side. The side that would make it to the next round. The side Chelsea wanted to be on.
Dragging out the tension, Bryce continued to direct the teens to one side of the stage or the other. Lianna went with Laine, Chrissy to the other side. Elisa with Chrissy and Alanna with Lianna and Laine. Name after name was called, until on Chelsea and Travis were left, each sitting on a different side of the couch. “Chelsea Sommers, you’re with... Laine’s side!” Laine cheered as Chelsea raced over and they hugged. While they were hugging, Chelsea heard Travis say “I know what side I’m going to, you don’t have to announce it,” and heard his shoes clomp over to the other side of the stage. Chelsea, Laine and the other “in” people were told to go back and sit down on the couch, which they did. Chelsea felt all the tension drip out of her and puddle on the floor. She relaxed and casually leaned back, almost enjoying the look on the other side’s faces, the feeling of hopelessness and nerves. She knew it was cruel, but this was a competition. Times like this you couldn’t be sympathetic in.
“Okay, so as you all know we will be kicking the bottom two off each week until we get to the top 10, in which we will kick off the bottom one until we’re down to the final three. You ready?” All the teens on the other side looked at Bryce like he was their only anchor to their dreams left. Which, technically he was. “Our bottom two, the two unlucky teens whose dreams will be ending tonight are… Elisa Niva and James Mactuckett.” The audience clapped appreciatively as sad music played and the two losers waved and left the stage. Now Chelsea felt slightly bad, because Elisa had been really sweet.
But she was still through, and that was all that mattered.
When Chelsea awoke the next morning, it was so early that the sun was barely climbing out of the ocean and into the sky. Checking her night table clock, she discovered that it was only 6:50am, just over an hour before official wake-up call. Yes, they did have a wake-up call, even on the show. Chelsea figured she’d use the extra time to get started on her homework. Back at home, her school was really piling it on for the end of junior year, plus she had to apply for college the coming fall, put them together and you’ve got a 6in pile of work stacked on your dresser waiting for you to do it. But then she noticed a bright blue collapsible filing folder with her name and age written on it placed neatly at the foot of her bed.
As she scrambled over and picked it up, 2 pieces of paper fell out from inside. Stooping to grab one off the floor, Chelsea flipped it over and read what was written in neat, flowing penmanship.
Chelsea- This is your portfolio, because as you know all actors and actresses who want to work professionally have one. In here, there are enough pockets for each week’s monologue or scene, with plenty of space inside for research and notes. Use it well. This week’s monologue is in the first pocket, I trust that you will learn it and be ready by next Thursday. Good luck!
-Laurel.
After setting the note down on her dresser, Chelsea ducked down under her bed to grab the second sheet of paper, the one she knew would have her monologue on it. It took up most of the page, and at the top the words “Chelsea Sommers – Mary Boleyn” were written in another unfamiliar scrawl. Quickly scanning the paragraphs, she understood that it was from the movie “The Other Boleyn Girl”, adapted from one of Chelsea’s favorite books. Mary was the main character, a young girl who has to grow up in the Tudor court under King Henry VIII’s reign, and how her family’s need for power puts her and her older sister Anne in the path of the King’s desires. The book was great; the movie was good but not as awesome as the book. But that was normal for movies adapted from books. At the bottom were the words, written in thick marker and underlined three times “Do not show anyone!” She thought it was weird, but shrugged it off.
The monologue took place right near the end, when Mary pleaded with the king for her sister’s life. That part hadn’t come from the book, but was so unexpected that Chelsea’d enjoyed it anyways. It was both dramatic and sweet, how Mary begged for Anne’s life even though they were mortal enemies, at the feet of her old lover. Chelsea knew it would be a real task, but understood that they were trying to narrow the competition down as quickly as possible. And that meant separating the best of the best from the people that hardly deserved to be there.
Chelsea hoped she was in the first category.
Throwing on a bathing suit [a tankini this time] and a knee-length terry-cloth cover-up, she grabbed her portfolio and headed down to the beach. The soothing crash of the surf provided the perfect background for scene study and memorization. The more she read into the monologue, the more she could feel all of Mary’s emotions hit her at once: pressure from her family, hatred towards her sister, and lingering feelings for the king whose feet she knelt at. The piece presented itself to her in bits, and soon enough she was lost in the character.
“Hey, can I sit here?” Without looking up, Chelsea murmured “No, Travis.”
“Funny, ‘cause I’m not Travis.” She looked up startled to see another one of the girl contestants, Alex[andria, but on the first day she’d mentioned how much she hated her full name and insisted on being called Alex] Lavelle. Tall, with striking green eyes to contrast her average dark hair and pale skin, Alex was nothing special until she stepped onstage. Of all the girls there [besides Laine], Alex was who Chelsea considered her top competition. She envied the way that Alex just got the character, and wore their skin like it was her own.
“Oh, hey Alex. Sorry. Last time I was out here he kinda just snuck up on me so I assumed…” Chelsea trailed off, knowing it sounded stupid. Already she’d heard Alanna talking to Lianna [the my-name-should-be-Anna-but-I’m-too-cool-to-have-that-boring-a-name-so-I-added-something-to-the-beginning girls, Laine had joked the other night] about how hot Travis was and how she was going to make him hers. Already Chelsea knew Alanna was someone she’d have to watch out for, not because she was good [because she really wasn’t, kind of like their Sanjayah] but because she was ruthless. And she wanted to win.
“S’ok Chels, I get it. But remember what mommy always says: Assume is to make an ass out of U and me!” Alex’s eyes sparkled as she plopped into the sand and let it run between her fingers. Chelsea immediately noticed the lime green portfolio next to her. So Alex was out here to study too. Remembering what was on the bottom of her monologue, she quickly flipped hers over so that it was face down. Catching sight of the sudden movement, Alex laughed, a low throaty laugh that made Chelsea want to laugh too.
“I know I know, the monologues are a huge secret. Like such a huge secret I heard that you don’t even get to pick out your own costume, they’re giving them to us so no one sees!” The rising sun made the shimmery gold bits in Alex’s green eyes sparkle even brighter.
“Oh really?” Chelsea winced, imagining herself in a Tudor England gown like the ones in the film, layer upon layer of skirts, stockings, bodices, hat… she could feel herself sweating already!
“Yea I know. This is going to be so cool! I can already imagine myself in those long skirts…” Alex got a dreamy look on her face for a second, but pulled herself back together when she realized she was giving part of her monologue away. “…Then again who says I’m wearing long skirts? Maybe they decided to go with a mini instead!” Here Chelsea couldn’t help but laugh, because although Alex could perform any monologue with ease, she obviously couldn’t come up with a cover-up when she needed one.
“Alright, well I’m starved so I’m going to go grab some breakfast I’ll see you.” Chelsea stood up abruptly, brushing the tiny grains of sand off of her dress and watching them drift like snow to their family a few inches below. Alex was absorbed in her script, and barely nodded her head to acknowledge Chelsea departure. A little rude, Chelsea thought, but brushed it off as Alex being one of those dreamy type, the ones who, once they concentrate on something, couldn’t be brought out of their trance unless you slapped them or something.
When she got back to the house, Laine was waiting for her. Dressed in her usual crazy style, she was wearing denim cutoffs over black biker shorts over bright blue leggings [she had no idea how a New Yorker like Laine could stand to wear so many layers in the California heat], a hot pink tee that read “Make Dramas Not Wars”, and a glittery purple hat. Oh, and let’s not forget that on her feet were shiny black ankle boots. With rhinestone hearts down the side.
“Message for you from the judges. We’ve all got fittings today for out costumes, supposedly they’re special ordering! I’m so excited!” Laine plopped down on one of the couches in the den right off the back hallway and swung her legs like a little kid. “I love my monologue too! What’s yours from?” They stared at each other in silence for a minute, until Laine realized her mistake. “Top secret! Right! God this is like we’re in the FBI or something! Show your script to a spy and the enemy will kill you! Target locked!”
“Lainers, can you pleaaseeee leave me alone and let me get some breakfast! I’m starved!” Chelsea groaned good-naturedly and strolled into the kitchen to grab an apple from the bowl on the countertop.
“Well you might want to throw on some clothes first, considering we’re leaving in five minutes!”
“Laine! I can’t believe you!” Chelsea ran upstairs, half-chewed apple shooting out of her mouth as Laine’s laughter echoed in her ears. You’d think the girl was trying to sabotage her or something! But that’s Alanna’s job, Chelsea thought as she exchanged her tankini for a bra and underwear, then threw on a simple blue sundress and pink flipflops.
The costume store was located in the very heart of Hollywood. A medium sized space that was divided into sections for sewing, for fitting rooms, and for storage. Each contestant was brought into their own personal area and given a box with their costume in it. After the attendant left, Chelsea pulled the top off of the box and gasped in surprise. Lifting out the dress inside, the smooth velvety fabric slipped between her fingers. It’s deep green color with golden trip made her hazel eyes seem almost mossy, and somehow brought out the rosy tones in her otherwise paleish skin. The underskirt looked heavy, but felt light when it settled around her hips. And the tiny cap matched perfectly and made her rounded heart face look sharper, more controlled.
It was amazing what one dress and one hat could do to you.
After the attendant came back in and pronounced it a ‘perfect fit’, Chelsea carefully packed it back up and met everyone else in the front. They were all protectively clutching matching white boxes, their smiles matching hers. They looked like little kids on Christmas morning. And they knew it.
The week flew by in a whirlwind of practices, swims in the ocean [sans Travis and Alex of course], and just general hanging out time. Laine and Chelsea continued to grow closer, but distanced themselves away from the rest of the competition. They were each other’s only lifelines, the only people who they wanted to make it to the end.
When Thursday night came, everyone packed up their big white boxes and portfolios and headed back to the studio. The same stylists changed up her look from gritty and dead to feminine and 16th century. They carefully braided her hair and tucked it up under the cap, with a few curls dangling around her collar bone. Once the gown was on, she was perfect. A Tudor Court vision.
This time, the order switched. Chelsea was up first, and was beyond nervous. Behind her was Travis, and behind him was Alexis. They were all wearing similar styled costumes, and she figured they were going by earliest monologue to most modern. At least, that’s what it looked like. Oh was she in for the surprise of her life.
After finishing her monologue, to thunderous applause, instead of being directed offstage, they told her to stay. And once Travis stepped up and was told to face her, and began reciting his own monologue, she got it. They were grouped together by movie. She was Mary, he was King Henry VIII, and Alex was Anne Boleyn. She reacted to their monologues like Mary would have, and the audience’s eyes grew wide in appreciation. They took their bows together, and then raced offstage.
Her heart beat in her throat as she watched everyone else perform. Laine was great as Vivienne from Legally Blonde, opposite Chrissy as Elle and Kyle Goldberg as Warner, and she laughed along with the crowd. She went home high on excitement and surprises, but in the back of her mind she kept wondering why God and the producers kept shoving her and Travis together. Him as her former lover tonight was just the final straw. His face haunted her in her sleep.
The next day, the cutting show was just as tedious and tense, but it all turned out good in the end. Jayla Concord, a quiet Indian beauty, and a [really bad] guy named Liam Becker were sent home. But more importantly, she won. She got the most votes. It gave her a rush of emotions to be picked out of the crowd and acknowledged as the best. She knew she was the best, America knew she was the best.
And she was going to make sure they knew it. That Chelsea Sommers was the ‘Star of Tomorrow’. The one and only.
More will be added as the story continues. ***I added a bio for the character Brenna because she looks similar to Laine and I had so many Laine entries I felt bad about turning you guys down!
Brenna Logan
Age: 16
Height: 5'8"
Hair: Darkdarkdarkdark Brown
Eye: Brown
Other Features: very sporty but girly, lives in Victoria's Secret PINK sweats
Lianna Baxter
Age: 17
Height: 5'9"
Hair: Brown
Eye: Brown or Green
Other Features: very modely looking
Chrissy Thompson
Age: 18
Height: 5'5"
Hair: Blonde
Eye: Blue
Other Features: is very into cutsey, girly things and totally looks the part
Alanna Moore
Age: 17
Height: 5'4"
Hair: Dark (browns and blacks okay)
Eye: Blue
Other Features: kind of the mean girl, if your picture can portay that you get bonus points!
Alex[andria] Lavelle
Age: 16
Height: 5'7"
Hair: Brown
Eye: Green
Other Features: the youngest contestant, Alex is more of the daydreamy kind of girl than the hardxcore people, but still a very good actress! Amazing, actually.
Name:
Age:
Character you're applying for:
Why?
Picture Link:
I will be picking a winner and runner-up for all characters, both will be considered site models.
Every time you complete a photoshoot, I will add it to my photosection, and will rotate them into my primary photos just like all the others. Remember to have fun with them!
Chelsea Sommers: I want you to try to replicate Chelsea at her original audition. That means nervous looking, with script, sitting somewhere, etc. etc. Clothes are up to you, but remember she's just a regular teen from Illinois. She would't be wearing anything fancy, just normal stuff.
Laine Cummings: Laine is the funky, artsy, fun girl, and I want you to show me your best Laine! This means go all out, pull together the craziest outfit imagineable. I'm leaving the place of the shoot up to you, but it'd probably be better to do it somewhere that is mentioned i.e. on your bed, in the kitchen, out shopping, etc. etc. You may or may not be holding a script, again I'm leaving it up to you!
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The Readers
Courtney Cullen"16 at long last!" |
Alisonnn is back"new profile and pics!" |
lindsay might return"breadd :]" |
kyra is getting ready for this "8 dayys :)" |
NICOLE - NEW PHOTOS"I RETURN ALL 10S 4 MY MAKE UP!" |
Lauren-DAILYS LOOK ON PROFILE |
Casey - is sad |
terry |
AlyssaCullenBlack"happy almost bday Courtney..(:" |
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The Critics
kyra is getting ready for this
"8 dayys :)"
Elle-doesn't return 's And this is her last contes
Your book is great! It's well edited and everything =]
Posted 01/15/08 - 01:04 pm
I'm kinda back but on a nother site on my sitee
Well, just don't get meh wrong... I'm still in LOVE wit ur book! Hehe!
Posted 01/10/08 - 07:30 pm
I'm kinda back but on a nother site on my sitee
I liked Chapter number four! It wasn't as good as the third Chapter, nut it was still very fun to read!
Posted 01/10/08 - 07:19 pm
samantha - back in days
are you kidding me? awh man :[ I thought it was so original haha ah well
she really is a betch. who cares who starts a trend? like honestly haha
she really is a betch. who cares who starts a trend? like honestly haha
Posted 01/09/08 - 05:24 pm
nur athirah - blahh
"yerpp."
have i ever told u i loveee your book? lol. i forgot. xD
when are u going to upload chapter 4? :D
when are u going to upload chapter 4? :D
Posted 01/09/08 - 03:54 pm
For Kisses And Giggles
hey i have chapters 6 & 7 up if you wanna check them out :D thanks :]
Posted 01/08/08 - 08:54 pm
I'm kinda back but on a nother site on my sitee
Sorry, I just LOVE the story!!!
Posted 01/08/08 - 08:36 pm
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