A/N: So, not only is this my first Hairspray fic, this is my first time using this concept! Now, let it be known that the If You Break a T.V. concept does NOT belong to me! The brilliance that came up with this is Ogreatrandom, who did 5 and a bit parts in her own series (They're good. You should go read them.) Everything, even the fact that Philo Farnsworth was one of the inventors of the television, I got from her. However, I've added my own twist to it and I think this will be very fun. If you feel up to it, you can follow me through all seven of Rachelle's adventerous nights. If you do, there will be a very special prize for you at the end. I don't know what, but I'll think of something! (I've got seven stories to figure it out.) In the mean time, sit back and enjoy night one!
Disclaimer: I do not own Hairspray or any of the canon characters in there of. Nor do I own the When You Break a T.V. concept. I am making no profit for this story, and am writing it purely for the enjoyment in brings to me and, hopefully, others.
Really, if you look at it closely, it wasn't my fault. I mean, sure, I was the last one to touch the T.V. and if I hadn't interfered it probably wouldn't have hit the cement, but I was only trying to help! And at the very least it definitely would have broken anyway.
Maybe I should explain.
My name is Rachelle Adair. I know, pretty, right? My dad was a huge fan of Victorian novels, especially French ones. (Can you call them Victorian if they're not English?) Anyway, he thought Rachelle sounded pretty and went well with our last name. I'm 17 years old, but I don't look my age. I don't necessarily look older or younger, or at least I've been mistaken for both so many times that I can't tell which one gets the majority. But I do know that no one gets it right. Maybe that's why none of my friends are my age.
I'm a dancer, but really only as a side thing. My main hobby is acting. I hope to turn it into a career one day, but I don't think I'm good enough. I've only gotten a lead role once, although I usually get supporting roles instead of extras. I have an eidetic memory. Ok, not really. But I do have a really good one. You're probably wondering why I'm rattling on about myself so much. I just thought you might want to get to know me before I launch into the most bizarre experience of my life.
It all started when I was helping my friend, Alex, move. He's nineteen and had just signed the lease on a new rent house and was leaving his old apartment, so me and a couple of our other friends agreed to help him lug his stuff from one location to the other. He was so excited about it we couldn't exactly say no. And besides, he came to almost all my plays, so I owed him.
We were finishing up and headed downstairs for the last time. Our friend Danielle was already in the car, and she honked at us in impatience. I didn't have anything in my hands, but Alex was carrying his old T.V. He hated the thing. It was so old that it was big and bulky, like an old computer monitor. He wanted to buy a new one but didn't have the money for it. I had a certain fondness for it, though, like an old dog that just sits on the couch all day instead of playing and doing tricks. You keep it because of all it has done for you. But really, I should have known better. Alex has never been the most coordinated person and it didn't help that he'd let his light brown hair grow out until it got in his eyes.
So we were walking down the stairs and I turned to say something. I don't remember what (I blame the ensuing concussion.) That's when it happened. Alex's foot slipped on one of the stairs and, in choosing between his own life and his hated T.V., he chose his life and let go of the set, grabbing the thin metal railing. As I watched the old set fall through the air, my instincts and ninja reflexes kicked in. I lunged forward to grab it. Now, being a dancer, I'm normally coordinated and balanced. However, my body did not compensate for the weight or momentum of the bulky television. My hands grabbed it so, instead of going downwards, it (and I) swung around. I felt my arm hit the railing and the T.V. left my grasp. I vaguely saw it tumbling through the air towards the walkway two stories below before gravity kicked in for me.
Really I don't remember too much after that. Everything went black, but I had a few seconds of hearing an amazingly loud crash and a few screams and feeling a ridiculous pain in my head before that all faded too. And then the last thing I expected happened.
I saw this weird looking old man.
Now keep in mind that everything else was still black. But there was this old man, clear as day, just standing there. So, naturally, the first thing out of my mouth was "Who in the world are you?"
"I am one of the inventors of the television," he said proudly. I stared. This was the first time I realized that I had no idea who had invented the television. He frowned and gave an annoyed sigh, like he wasn't surprised or pleased with my reaction. "Philo Farnsworth." he prompted. I stared some more. He shook his head and muttered "Just once…" Trying to snap him out of his mumbling, I threw a second question at him.
"What are you doing in my… dream?" I wasn't really sure what I was in. Of course, before this point I'd never been knocked out. He rolled his eyes, like this too was a question he got far too often.
"You broke a television." He said this like it was the most obvious answer in the world.
"And…?" I asked, still quite confused. He sighed.
"You know how when you break a mirror you get seven years of bad luck?"
"Yeah…"
"When you break a television, you get seven nights of bad dreams."
"What, like psycho clowns trying to kill you?" I asked, feeling it was a perfectly reasonable assumption. He chuckled.
"Not unless your favorite movie is It." I looked questioningly, so he elaborated. "You are forced to live through your seven favorite movies."
"Like, as the main character or a side one? Or watching it like it's a… movie?" I asked, not quite getting it. He shook his head.
"None of the above. You will be a character that doesn't actually exist in the movie, but a character that you would not want to be."
"So… like an orc soldier in Lord of the Rings?" He nodded appreciatively.
"I'll have to remember that one. And yes, that's the idea."
"So, when does this start?" He grinned.
"Right now. Let's see what's on your list, shall we?" He closed his eyes, as though trying to remember something. He paused for a moment, then said bemusedly, "They're all musicals."
I felt a little defensive and demanded, "Well? Which one's first?" He opened his eyes.
"Hairspray." he said, sounding a little disgusted. "Far too peppy for my tastes."
I tried to think of a character that I wouldn't want to be in that movie. "I suppose I'll be… I don't know, a police person's assistant? A bully at the school?"
He grinned evilly. "Oh no," he said. "Nothing like that. In fact, you'll be one of the nicest kids in town!"
Everything faded before I had a chance to curse.
A/N: So, that was chapter one! I hope you liked it. The next chapter will start her actual dream. Please review! They are very much appriciated (and very inspiring. :D)