Disclaimer: We don't own shit. There are things you may think we own, but chances are we don't.

A Note From The Authors: ashlex in wonderland is a compilation of two of the earlier authors in the Newsies fandom, Alexandra Paige and Sita-Chan. Some (or most) of you may not remember us, as real life had fought with and taken over our Newsies addiction long ago.

We were, however, recently brought together again by an idea, a vision if you will, to take your average, everyday 1899 newsboys and place them in the recent phenomenon that has taken this nation by storm: American Idol.

Anyway, we spent longer thinking of a title and summary for this sucker than we did writing it, so we'd really appreciate it you reviewed. It's good, we promise.

No seriously, review. All the cool kids are doing it.

Idol Behavior

Sarah Jacobs
Los AngelesCalifornia

When you really take the time to think about it, David made this
happen. After all, he's the one who wanted to audition for American Idol. He's the one who refused to go alone. He's the one who begged me to come with him.

And I'm the one who agreed. What else are big sisters for? Besides,
I didn't have much else to do.

So I drove with David to the auditions, sat with him while he hyperventilated, located his inhaler before he asphyxiated, and so on and so forth. I was just there for moral support, to be the compassionate sister. I never really thought about auditioning myself. But then I started to think, really think. I do love to sing, almost as much as David. But unlike my little brother, I tend to keep it to myself. I tend to keep quiet about most of the things that I want and the things that I like so that I can help David and Les do whatever it is that they want. I learned a long time ago that, since I'm the oldest, my parents expect me to make sacrifices. I also learned that whining about it and always asking "what about me" wouldn't do anything except irritate everyone.

But I just happened to be sitting in the middle of the Los Angeles American Idol auditions. There was no reason why I shouldn't audition, just for fun, right? There was no reason why, just for once, I could think about myself. I would never put myself before my brothers, but every now and then, I could put myself on the same level.

When I told David that I wanted to audition, though, he threw a miniature temper tantrum. And, really, I felt a little bit pissed. I give up a lot of things for him without ever expecting anything in return, and the one time that I want to do something for me, he acts like I'm trying to steal his limelight.

He's an ungrateful little prick, now that I think about it. I still love him, but he really is an ungrateful prick. I could have tutored some freshmen and made some money instead of carting his ass around for an hour to help him get to a competition that he's never going to win. Does he think our parents would have done that willingly? No way. If it wasn't for me, he'd be here alone, like that poor guy in the cowboy hat who keeps walking around, trying to look like he's some kind of badass. David should be thanking me for even being here with him.

And I'm auditioning whether he likes it or not.

-

Kiora Lenster
American Fork, Utah

I didn't make it through! How the hell did I not make it through!

I'm just too unique for them. Almost everyone else is in their cute little preppy skirts and polo shirts and stuff like that. Me, I walk in wearing my Napoleon Dynamite shirt and that pair of jeans I wrote all over. Hey, I wanted to be unique. I wanted to show them that I was no clone, and I was definitely the only person like me there. Good. First mission, accomplished. Second mission, sing a unique song, watch the judges worship me, and head on over to Hollywood.

That part didn't go as well as I wanted it to.

I sang "Your Eyes" from RENT. I breezed past the producers, which I knew I would, and finally headed into the judges' room.

They cut me! I've never been cut at an audition in my life, but they cut me before I even got to the second verse! And Simon told me that I was basically tone deaf.

Excuse me! I think not. I've had the lead in all of my school plays, and most of those are musicals. So I know I'm good, and I don't need the opinion of a wanna-be, a has-been, and a never-will-be to tell me that. Come on, tone deaf! Simon doesn't even know what tone deaf is. Has anyone ever heard him sing? No. He probably can't. So how does he have the right to tell me that I'm tone deaf when no one's ever heard him sing? That fucking hypocrite. He can take his stupid moron opinion and shove it up his big, fat, stupid ass!

Whatever. I didn't really want to do this anyway. Only morons with no real singing experience sing pop music. I'm going back to musical theater, where the music is good and legit and people respect talent when they see it.

I drove from American Fork, Utah! Do you know how fucking far that is! That is a ten hour drive! Ten fucking hours! And now I have to drive all the way back and tell my friends what happened. Do they know how embarrassing that's going to be?

But, whatever. If they want some stupid clone to be the next American Idol, fine, what do I care? This is a stupid contest anyway. I'm too good to be wasting my time with this crap music.

They'll be sorry. In a few years, when I'm the biggest star to ever hit Broadway, they'll remember the name "Kiora Lenster," and they'll wish that they'd snagged me first. They'll even come to track me down and beg me to sign a contract with them. And I'll just laugh and tell them all that they're tone deaf.

Yeah. That's gonna be awesome.

-

Adrian Valdez

Sacramento, California

I love my Mama. She expects a lot, but she knows what's best for me and I trust her. She's usually right.

When I was eight, she told me that I could sing like an angel, that it was a gift from God, and that she wouldn't let me waste it. She signed me up for children's choirs, voice lessons, musicals… anything where I'd be able to refine my voice. Mama had big plans for me.

She's the reason I'm here today. The thought of auditioning for American Idol had never even crossed my mind before Mama told me that it was my chance to become known. I'd never even watched the show, but Mama was obsessed. She said that I would be perfect for it, and I believed her; Mama would never lie to me.

I was scared, though. I may have never watched the show, but you would have had to have been living under a rock for the past five years to not know who Simon Cowell is. I didn't think I had the nerve to sing in front of the harshest man on television and, essentially, millions of American viewers. What if I didn't do well? What if I made a fool out of myself in there and let Mama down?

Finally, after two rounds of producers and hours of waiting, it was my turn. I was so nervous, I didn't even hear them call my number until my brother, Enrique, kicked my leg saying "C'mon you bum, let's go! It's your turn!"

My heart was pounding in my chest so loudly that I was certain Simon would comment on it. But he didn't.

It didn't even register that I was going to Hollywood until I walked out of that room, yellow sheet in hand, to cheers from my fellow contestants and the biggest hug of my life from my sobbing mother.

I'd made Mama proud.

-

Laura Kellogg

HarrisburgPennsylvania

My friend Janine wanted to audition for American Idol and asked me to go with her. I wanted to tell her that, at twenty-seven, she was too old for this, but of course I didn't say anything. I didn't want Janine to be angry with me.

Janine talked me into driving, because gas for my tiny Honda Civic is much less expensive than it is for her big SUV. Our bags would have fit better in her car, but I didn't think it was worth starting an argument over. She's probably right anyway.

I had to drive the whole way to New York City because Janine can't drive stick shift. That was okay, though, because she needed to rest up before her big audition. I really wish she had rested, though, instead of talking the whole ride. She kept asking me if I thought that she was good enough, and I didn't know how to answer that. The truth is, Janine really can't sing and I've heard her try to sing along with the radio enough times to know. I couldn't tell her that, though! She would have been so pissed!

When we finally got there, Janine told me that she wanted me to try out too. I really didn't want to, but if Janine thought that I could do it, who was I to say no? And besides, what are friends for? I would be a good friend and audition right alongside her.

I wasn't too upset when the producers told me that I wasn't going on to the judges, I was somewhat expecting it. They did say that I had a nice voice, though, and that I was on pitch for most of my song. I just wasn't vocally where an Idol needed to be. It's okay, they're probably right. After all, this is their job.

Janine was given the all clear to go on to Randy, Simon, and Paula. I didn't have the heart to tell her that she'll probably be featured as one of the bad, entertaining auditions. I'm too good of a friend for that.

-

Sebastian Conlon

Brooklyn, New York

Ask any self-respecting Brooklynite who their 'idol' is and they'll all give you the same answer: Sebastian fucking Conlon.

It only makes sense that I should conquer the rest of the country, and, unsurprisingly, those washed-up excuses for judges agree with me.

Fucking Simon Cowell says I have an attitude problem. Fuck yeah I do, and America is going to fucking love me.

Daniel Wilford
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania

I'm different from all the other contestants, that, I can guarantee you. I'm different because I absolutely, completely, and without a doubt knew that I was going to close the door between the judges and myself with one of those beautiful sheets of yellow paper. I was going to Hollywood. It was as simple as that.

I'm sure that other contestants will say the same thing. "I'm going to Hollywood! I'm going to be in the top twelve! I'm the next American Idol!" And, yet, they're nervous. If they really knew, they wouldn't be nervous, would they?

For the first time in my life, I'm not nervous. I'm disgustingly paranoid about everything else, but not about my singing. It's the one thing that I'm completely sure of and, therefore, the one thing that doesn't scare me.

I know I'm good. I'm not saying that to be conceited or anything; I'm just saying it because it's a fact. I was always good. Ever since I enrolled at Point Park, I've gotten even better. And I know what I'm doing. I know what kind of songs the judges want to hear.

When I sang for the producers, I wasn't nervous. I was irritated by the fact that I had to prove myself twice before they'd even let me get to the judges. When they called my number to wait outside the judges' door, I was just bored and tired of waiting around. When I sang for three of the most famous faces on television, I didn't feel anything at all. I was doing what I did best, and I knew that they'd like me. And when I strolled out of that room, armed with one of those coveted yellow papers and the knowledge that I was going to Hollywood, all I felt was satisfied.

Right now, I'm walking down the street, and right now, I am nervous. Not because I don't know what's going to happen next in the competition or because I'm starting to think that maybe, just maybe, there's someone better than me out there. I'm nervous because now, I have to work up the courage to tell my mother that I'm dropping out of school and going to the other side of the country.

And that is definitely something that I should be nervous about.

-

Louis Ballatt
Okeechobee, Florida

I actually expected to walk into my audition and be laughed at. Or at least be told, point blank, that I just wasn't Idol material and that I should give up immediately. I did not expect Paula to stand up and wave in what seemed like a few hundred producers who then asked me to sing again. And I definitely didn't expect to walk out of that room with a ticket to Hollywood.

They told me I was a novelty, and I guess that I am. Not every Idol contestant died once.

Obviously, I didn't stay dead. But it sure seemed like I was going to at the time. When I was around thirteen, my older brother crashed his car while driving me to a friend's house. He was fine. I wasn't. They rushed me to the hospital, I was in a coma for two days, then I flatlined for a good thirty seconds or so.

But, miraculously, I came back to the land of the living. Don't ask me how or why, but I did. And I was perfectly fine, too, besides the fact that I ended up losing my eye since the broken glass from the windshield severed my optic nerve.

Not that I'm complaining about a little thing like that. Hell, I'm just glad that I'm alive.

I don't usually go around publicizing my story, but when they asked me to tell them something interesting about myself, I blanked, and it was the only thing I could think of. Immediately, Randy, Simon, and Paula stopped looking like they were going to fall asleep or kill each other and really started listening.

I'm not stupid. I know that I don't have the best voice, and I know that I don't exactly look like an American Idol. The eye patch kind of destroys that image. And I know that the only reason I made it through is because they can sell me as some kind of wonder boy. "He should have died, but now he sings!" So I guess I'm kind of whoring myself out to corporate America by doing this show.

But I think I can live with that.

-

Peter Jones

AustinTexas

I'm going to be on TV!

Shit, man, I'm gonna be on TV and it's gonna be so freakin' awesome!

Ryan came up to me while I was waiting cause I was practicing my dance moves because everyone knows I can't sing and I only tried out for this show cause I wanted to be on TV and now I am, so it's okay. But anyway, yeah, so Ryan came up to me and asked me if I think I'm the next American Idol and I was like "Sure, Ryan man! Piece of pie!"

And he asked me "Don't you mean 'piece of cake?'"

And I was like "No way, Ryan man! Piece of pie, cause man, could I go for some pie! You got any pie?"

And would you believe it? He got me some pie! I got me some true blue American Idol pie, man! Now that's just awesome. I'm gonna be on TV getting American Idol pie!

So, then I went in to see the judges and I was still eating Ryan's American Idol Pie so my mouth was kinda full when I got in there, but that's okay cause man, it was some good pie.

So, Simon was staring at me like 'what the fuck?' and Randy was like "What are you going to sing for us, man?"

And I was just like, "Shit, Randy man, can't you see my mouth is full?" but my mouth was full, so it just came out like "shhhhmmmmfffffullll."

So, once I swallowed, Randy asked me again what I was going to sing, and I told them I was going to do Straight Up with the original choreography, and Paula looked so excited I thought she was going to piss herself.

So, man, maybe I'm not the next American Idol. Because they laughed a lot and told me that I was a riot, but I couldn't sing for shit… or dance for that matter. But I don't really care, cause shit! I'm gonna be on TV! And I bet I'm the only person who ever got American Idol Pie. Beat that.

-

Jack Kelly

Santa FeNew Mexico

It's a really long drive from Santa Fe to Los Angeles, twelve and a half hours to be exact. Twelve and a half hours I sat behind the wheel of my rusty old jeep wondering what the hell I was doing and if it was too late to turn around. Twelve and a half hours I sat alone, watching the road go by under my beat up tires, with doubts running through my mind and not even a radio to distract me.

I wished to God that I had brought someone; that I, like the thousands of other hopefuls milling around, had someone to talk to, to practice on…just someone to tell me that I'm as good as I think I am, that I'll have no problem making it to Hollywood.

No one from home knows that I was coming here in the first place or that I even sing at all. I sure as hell wasn't going to tell them. I can just imagine how they'd react and that's definitely not something that I want to deal with.

So I can handle being alone for now because it'll all be worth it in the end, because I can sing and I will make it to the top. And all those guys will know that Jack Kelly is more than the kid whose old man slit his mother's throat, or the poor kid who never really had a home. When they call my name, I'll saunter in there, Stetson sitting proudly on my head, and wow them. There's no going back now.

America, get ready for Jack Kelly.