School of Rock – Reality TV
Disclaimer: I don't own School of Rock. Nor the characters that are familiar. I own the idea, and my pretty Hello Kitty lights.
Chapter 1
Katie
Brunette hair combed back, tied neatly into a ponytail braid, the young adult turned to face her expression in the mirror. Chocolate brown eyes with flecks of green stared back, surrounded by slightly long, but genuinely real eyelashes. Her skin was not tan; but not pale either. She was in between.
Kathryn Brown began to apply her neutral toned make-up to her slightly oval-circle face, her barely curved lips bland, but soon covered with cream-and-sugar lip gloss from Mary Kay, an expensive make-up brand. She stood, her ironed black slacks tracing the curves of her legs. Her white button-up blouse, closed below her collar-bone, had no decoration; but ironed as well. Katie, as she was called by close friends and relatives, had her black flats, shiny and new-looking, covering her size 7½ feet.
Kathryn Michelle Brown was single; hasn't had a boyfriend since high school, when she was in the School of Rock. "School of Rock," She whispered, bringing back painful memories. Tears stung her eyes, and they rolled down her cheeks.
"Ding-dong," rang the doorbell to Katie's apartment. She quickly dried her tears, and walked out of her room to answer the door. Katie knew it wasn't a person just for her; it was the mailman.
She opened the door to find a thick envelope, along with a bunch of bills. She grabbed the envelope and the other papers, but focusing all her attention on the envelope. Katie placed the bills in her wicker/net mail basket, and walked into her living room, sitting down on her expensive maroon suede couch.
"Dear Ms. Kathryn Michelle Brown," it began. "You are cordially invited to join the brand new reality TV show, the Real Life. If you have any questions about this TV show, call 1-800-THEREALLIFE, and they will answer them.
"You will be paid for being on the show, and the meeting is June 23rd, or this Friday. You will meet the cast mates. Once you come to this meeting, you cannot back out of the show. Thanks, the Editors."
Katie reread the paper, and looked at the handbook. It told her she would be paid $50,000 dollars a week just to do the show.
"Maybe I'll do it," Katie decided.
Freddy
Banging and screaming incoherent words while on his drum set in his new pad, Freddy Jones was rocking to a song he wrote on his own. His blond hair was spiked as usual, but there was blue dye on the tips.
"WHAAAAAA!" shouted Freddy at the top of his lungs. He banged on his set in an order one last time, than switched off the music. His ears were ringing.
Freddy stood up and brushed off the dust from his drums that got on his black Ramones t-shirt and his black ripped jeans. He was a hard rocker, and constantly wore black. Even on hot, hot days.
As Freddy exited his drum room, his phone immediately started ringing. He ran towards it, and answered it on the 2nd ring.
"Hey, Jones residence. Fredsters speaking. Who this is?" Freddy said into the receiver. The voice on the other end snorted.
"This is Annie Maria Sophie Elizabeth Chen? I am one of the editors and the producers of the new reality TV show, the Real Life? I am calling to ask you to join the cast?" The voice on the other end sounded stiff and proper. Freddy winced at that.
"Uh, okay. How much you talking about?" Freddy said, greediness entering his mind.
"Pardon me, sir? I have no idea what you are talking about?" Freddy winced again. The woman kept talking in questions.
"How much is the pay?" Freddy corrected. The woman released her breath.
"Oh, that is maybe, $50,000 a week? Maybe more?" Freddy groaned. "Is something the matter?"
"STOP ANSWERING IN FREAKIN' QUESTIONS! FOR GODS SAKES, WOMAN, THERE IS A PERIOD, AND AN EXCLAMATION MARK, AND, OH MY GOSH, USE THEM!!!!!" Freddy screamed. The woman laughed.
"Sorry. I knew you would blow up at this. Come to the meeting this Friday. See ya, bye." The woman hung up. Freddy just stared at the phone, and put it on the charger.
Summer
Summer Hathaway stared up at the ceiling, holding her satin sheet over her naked body. Her boyfriend left about an hour ago, but she made no attempt to get up and wash and dress herself.
Suddenly, her cell-phone received a text message. It began vibrating and rattling her table. She picked it up, and sat up in bed, releasing the sheet.
It read:
Summer u r invited 2 join us the reality TV show called Life the Real Life. PLZ cum 2 the meeting this Friday. TY! The editors.
Summer stared at it, flipping her now blond hair over her naked tan body. She didn't even look like the little pixie she was when she was younger.
Summer stood up and walked into her bathroom, turned on the shower, and washed her body. She finished quickly, got out, wrapped her purple robe, slippers, and towel around her, and walked into her room.
It was still daytime, so Summer didn't have to worry about immediately changing into clothes she would have to take off 5 minutes later. She pulled out a skimpy blue Hawaiian designed spaghetti strap, quickly pulled it on, and applied her favorite pale pink lip gloss. Summer went barefoot, and walked around her beautiful Florida located condo.
She decided to call her best girlfriend, Kelly. Pressing 1, since she had her on speed dial, it began to ring. Kelly answered on the first ring.
"Kelly!!" squealed Summer like a little girl. "Summer!!" squealed Kelly. The girls laughed.
"What's up?" Summer asked, pulling out her doodle pad and doodling. Kelly told her, and Summer decided to tell her about the TV show.
"WHAT!! Oh my God, Summer!! I'm so happy for you!" cried Kelly through the phone. Summer slightly grinned, and the friends talked for an hour.
"Well, I better find out when this meeting is so, see ya!" Summer hung up. She looked at the text message, looking slightly confused. It didn't give a number...
RIIING! RIIING! Summer practically jumped out of her skin as the phone rang. Answering it, it was one of those automatic voices.
"Hello. This is the Real Life hotline. The meeting is: June 23rd. 2004. At 1:30p.m. Thank you!" Then the dial tone filled Summer's left ear.
"Weird..." Summer said. She glanced at the calendar. It was June 20th. She had three days.
Zack
Zack Mooneyham gently strummed the acoustic guitar, producing a soft sound. Then he began playing a song he wrote. His wife, Taryn, a tiny, thin girl with short, blond hair barely to her shoulders, and creamy blue eyes that could melt any heart, came in, and smiled.
"Oh, Zack, I love it when you play that song," Taryn whispered, kissing him on the cheek and tousling his dark hair. Zack looked up into his wife's eyes, and grinned back, giving her a deep, passionate kiss. Taryn gently pushed him off, giving him another peck on the cheek, picked up his guitar, Zack not protesting.
Taryn placed it on the floor, away so neither of them should step on it. Then Taryn kissed Zack passionately again. Zack swung his arms around his wife's waist, kissing her steadily. Taryn felt her mouth get dry, so she released her lip-lock with Zack.
"Mouth's dry," Taryn whispered. She stood up, leaving Zack alone on the couch. Zack picked up his guitar and began strumming random notes. Then he had an idea. He began to strum a few little notes.
Taryn came back in with two glasses of iced tea, while Zack, still strumming his guitar notes. Then he smiled at Taryn as she handed him a glass after he stopped.
Snuggling next to Zack, Taryn picked up the remote and clicked on the TV, just as the doorbell rang.
"I'll get it," Zack said, standing up, showing his true height, 6'1''. He walked to the door and opened it. A man with a telegram stood there.
"Telegram for Mr. Mooneyham," said the man. Zack took it, signed a paper, handed him a tip, and closed the door. Opening it, he read it softly.
"Mr. Mooneyham. This is the editors of the Real Life. Stop. We want you to join our show. Stop. Pay is fifty grand a week. Stop. Meeting is 1:30p.m. on June 23rd. Stop. Thank you, the Editors. Stop."
"Hmm...a show? Well, anything with money in it. We need it," Zack murmured to himself. He walked to Taryn, handed her the telegram, and she shrieked with delight.
"A TV show!! Oh, my gosh, Zack, you have to do it!" Taryn cried with excitement. Zack grinned, and leaned down and kissed her lightly.
"Okay," Zack whispered.
Tomika
Tomika, sitting in her dressing room, applied her deep red lipstick to her kiss-me lips. Her now slender and attractive figure was covered by a skimpy pink top with glitter, and a pair of leather black pants. Her size 8 feet were held up by big black platforms.
Tomika had teased her black hair, now long, into a French braid and pulled it into a messy bun, and sprinkled glitter in her hair.
"Mika, it's show-time," said Mr. Erich Charles, her manager. Tomika stood at exactly 5'7'' after she got up from her chair.
"Okay, thanks, EC." Tomika heard her name being chanted, ("Mika! Mika! Mika!") as she walked through the hallway and out on stage. Then the crowd went wild.
"I love you Mika!" screamed a male fan. Tomika grinned as she walked towards her microphone. The beginning beat to her number 1 pop song began to swarm through the concert hall.
"Look at me.
I ain't no star.
Who do you think I am?
No Miss Big Shot.
No fancy cars,
One little girl with a big dream.
One moment to shine through,
One show to rule the world.
(I'm not any innocent girl)
Look at me. I'm no star.
I am not who think you I am.
Open your eyes. See me now.
I'm Mika, rockin' your world.
I'm may not be no girl to you.
Always on TV.
I ain't no Paris Hilton.
Or Britney Spears.
I'm just me...Mika!
No fancy cars.
No big houses.
Nothing to show...
Who. I. Am...
But I'm Mika!
Ain't that something?
That matters to you??
Look at me. I'm no star.
I am not who think you I am.
Open your eyes. See me now.
I'm Mika, rockin' your world.
(I'm Mika, rockin' your world)
Just me! Mika!
(Me! Mika! – Copyrighted by Kiki)
Tomika grinned as the fans went wild, screaming and clapping. Before, they watched with awe at the dance moves she did, then they were in the state they were in now.
"Thank you Illinois!" Tomika shouted. The fans went more wild. Tomika did her whole album before the concert was over, and then she did a single she hadn't released on CD yet.
When the concert ended, Tomika grabbed a towel and an Aquafina, signing some autographs on the way. Then she managed to escape in her dressing room, just as she got a phone call on her cell phone.
"Oh, God, no! Not these fans!" groaned Tomika as she answered it. "Hello?"
"Yes. This is Tomika Hassan, no?" said a thick French accent. Tomika replied, "Yes."
"Good. Please come to the Real Life meeting. June 23rd. 1:30p.m. Please come. Good-bye." The caller hung up. Tomika stared at the phone, and put it down.
"Weird," She said finally. Drying her sweaty hair, she shrugged and decided to go, to see what it was like.
Lawrence
"Mr. Tsai, I am glad that you are my science teacher," Craig Johansen smiled, a cute little redheaded boy with small glasses. He was 13, but small and kid-like. Lawrence Tsai, or Mr. Tsai, grinned back.
"Thank you very much, Mr. Johansen. I am glad you are in my science class," Lawrence replied. He began grading the tests, when suddenly the doorway was shadowed by a large figure.
"Mr. Tsai! I have a message! You must come to the Real Life meeting on June 23rd at 1:30p.m!" said a male voice, and then disappeared. Lawrence looked around, stood up, and walked over to the doorway. Only a few kids loitered in the hallways, slamming lockers and walking home.
Lawrence, writing what the man, whoever he was, said, tucked it in his briefcase and began to leave school.
Lawrence was single, ever since he broke up with his girlfriend, Tomika Hassan, from high school, he has been with no one since. He hasn't even kept contact with her, only seen her on TV.
Lawrence leaned back into his car, and backed up and drove off, thinking of the thing the mystery man said. He decided he would do it.
Alicia
"Alicia, baby, c'mere," said a very drunken boyfriend of Alicia Allen's. His usually beautiful green eyes were sagging and red, his slightly thin lips hanging out.
"Joseph, you are way too drunk! I'm taking you home," Alicia said firmly, placing a smooth hand on Joseph's broad left shoulder. Joseph looked up at her, grinned a drunken grin, and passed out. Alicia groaned, and dragged him out to her car.
As Alicia put him in the backseat, she saw a note on the driver's seat. Picking it up, she began to read it aloud.
"Ms. Alicia Allen, please attend the meeting of the new reality TV show, the Real Life. June 23rd, 1:30p.m. Thank you! Editors." Alicia's brow furrowed as she thought of this.
She got into her brand new silver BMW and drove off to her manor. Alicia then pulled into her driveway and dragged Joseph out of the car and into her house. She lifted him onto the couch, walked upstairs, and changed out of her silky purple blouse and black skirt and into a pair of grey athletic shorts with HGHS on the corner of her left leg, and into a matching white tank top with HGHS in black across her chest.
Walking down to her basement work-out gym, Alicia hoisted herself onto her bar so she could do chin-ups. While doing so, Alicia thought of that reality show she was invited to come on to.
"Ugh," Alicia grunted as she reached 100. Releasing her grip, she fell onto the mat below her. She began lifting weights, and then walked upstairs.
"I'll do it," Alicia decided as she changed into a nightie and fell asleep on her bed.
Gordon
"Okay, Mr. Matt, your computer is done," Gordon Infante said, pushing up his glasses, as he spoke to Mathew Matt, a frequent customer of Gordon's Computer Service.
"Thank ya, Mr. Infants," Mr. Matt said. Gordon groaned inwardly.
"No problem, Mr. Matt, and it's Infante. I'll drop your PC off on my way home," Gordon sighed and hung up. Sitting down at his system access computer, he pulled up the Internet and checked his mail.
"Spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, spam...the Real Life?" Gordon read aloud, just as his secretary, Nicola, walked up. She wasn't attractive, but she was okay-looking. She had mouse brown hair always pulled into a bun, and always wore milk-white blouses closed at the throat and bland skirts with boring designs. Her eyes were a cadet blue; not much to look at.
"What is it, Mr. Infante?" Nicola asked in a small, faint voice as always. Gordon glanced at her and shook his head.
"Nothing. Go back to work, Nicola," Gordon ordered gently. Nicola sighed, and walked out of the room. Clicking on the link to check the mail, Gordon pulled up the Real Life e-Mail.
"MR. INFANTE,
U R LYK, INVITED 2 JOIN OUR NU REALITEE TEEVEE SHOW CLLED DA REEL LIFE!!!!111 PLZ CUM 2 OUR MEETING 1:30P.M. ON JUNE 23RD. BUH-BYE
EDITORS
Gordon stared at the letter, confused. It couldn't be for him. But it had his name on it. Weird.
Maybe he should do it.
Yeah. He should.
Eleni
Eleni Jones covered herself under her blanket, trying to block out the storm that raged loudly outside her little bungalow. The rain splattered into the open window that was unable to be closed onto her things, soaking them.
"Why, out of both his grandkids, did Grandpa leave the bungalow to me? Especially around when I lost my house?" groaned Eleni, shoving herself under her blanket more and more the thunder roared. She then fell asleep, shaking and quivering, quaking and shivering.
The next morning, she was awaken by a pigeon poking her on the head with his beak, also holding a letter. Eleni was quite used to that; as that was how she got her letters. Taking the letter from the pigeon, she gave it a piece of dry bread and it flew away.
Eleni placed the letter on her night table, and picked up her soaked clothes and socks, and hung them outside on a line right next to window. Then she changed out of her nightclothes and into a pair of white jean shorts and a pink tank top.
Walking into the kitchen, grasping the letter in one hand, Eleni opened the fridge, pulled out a box of Pop-Tarts, pulled one out, and sat at the table, opening the letter while eating.
"What?!" Eleni exclaimed, practically gagging on her Pop-Tart. (A/N: Can you guess what it said?) Dropping the letter, she stood up, walked over to her calendar, marked the meeting date, and slumped back down into her chair.
"I cannot believe this," Eleni said, running her fingers through her bleach blonde hair, from the radiant rays of the sun. She decided to go to the meeting, and ran quickly to her closet, and sifted through her clothes.
"I'll need to have the perfect outfit!" Eleni shrieked to no one in particular, throwing clothes everywhere.
Frankie
Patting his now muscular, tan tummy, Frankie Massagli sat back in his chair on the beach, staring at all the hot ladies that passed his way.
Yeah, you could say he was a ladies' man. Girls fought each other over him, some even killed...
Nah, that was a little exaggerating. Girls pursued him alright; very few fought. He couldn't help it that he had gotten contacts, a beautiful crystal blue, and dyed, with a little help of the sun, his hair blonde. He didn't even look like the little pipsqueak he was in that one school his Grandmere placed him in.
"This is the life," Frankie sighed in pleasure, leaning back, letting the sun rays tan his body more.
Frankie was just getting ready to leave when his cell phone rang. "Hello?" The caller spoke back, and Frankie gasped, and dropped the phone onto the hot sand. Quickly picking it back up, Frankie replied, "Are you sure?"
"Yes, quite sure. Bye-bye!" the caller hung up. Frankie dropped the rest of his things and leaned against the hot metal on his car, not paying attention to the burning against his skin.
"Can't believe it. But hey, it's TV, money, so I guess it's a go," Frankie said, loaded his things in his car, got into it, and drove off.
Marta
Marta Hale flattened herself against the wall, watching as two executives passed by. Hidden in the shadows, the only thing she had to worry about was security cameras.
Marta was after a very important file that her cousin's stepfather Gorge had filled out about Michelle Green, her cousin.
Turning the corner quickly and ducking underneath a desk, Marta peaked out, watching for people. The coast was clear.
Marta crawled out from under the desk, got up, and acted like she worked at the office, walking towards the file room. Turning left, Marta tried to open the file door. It was locked.
Not panicked, Marta nonchalantly pulled out one of her bobby pins from her blond ponytail, and stuck it into the keyhole. Twisting and turning slightly, the door opened without a problem.
"Now where is it," Marta said to herself, looking around. It was a very long room, connected to 26 other rooms. Walking down the hallway casually, Marta glanced around for the G's.
"A, B, C, D, E, F...G! There it is!" Marta grabbed the knob and pushed. Didn't budge. Marta again pulled out the same bobby pin and stuck it in the keyhole, twisted and turned, then it opened.
"Yes," Marta whispered, then entered the large G room. She walked around in a square-shape, looking for GR.
"Grayson, Greing, Green," Marta opened the file, and searched for Michelle. She didn't find it without a problem.
Tucking it in her hidden jacket pocket, Marta slipped out of the G room, the file room, and the building with no problem. She got into her gold/orange mini-van, then opened the file.
A piece of paper slipped out. Marta lifted it, and was surprised to find that it had HER name on it. She read it quickly.
"Oh my gosh!" Marta exclaimed, dropping it. She couldn't believe it.
"A TV show? Cool!" Marta said after her sudden shock. "I'll do it!"
Leonard
Leonard Hawkins sat in the movies alone, watching and occasionally throwing a small handful of popcorn in his mouth. He was your average guy. No needing to describe him.
Leonard finished the movie and popcorn around the same time. When he left, the usher stopped him.
"Mr. Hawkins?" the usher said. Leonard turned around. "Yes?"
"Letter for you. From The Real Life editors." The usher left. Leonard, puzzled, opened it and read it, dropped his trash in the trash bin, unfazed by the letter.
"Cool," Leonard said, running his hands over his slightly fuzzed head.
Marco
Marco Hosey wheeled around towards the kitchen in his wheelchair. Opening the fridge, he pulled out a box of big chocolate bars, and wheeled back into the living room.
Flipping on the TV, Marco opened the box, and pulled a chocolate bar out. He pulled off the wrapper, and a single sheet of paper lay in his lap.
"Huh?" Marco picked it up and read it. Then he gasped, practically choked on his bar, and swallowed it.
"Cool," Marco said after his registered shock. Then he finished his candy bar.
Michelle
Michelle Green paced back and forth, waiting for Marta. Marta then burst into the door.
"WE'RE BOTH GONNA BE ON TV!!" were the first words out of Marta's mouth. Michelle's mouth gapped open and the girls shrieked up and down.
Marta then filled her in with the details, then they shrieked again.
"Yeah!!" screamed Michelle, pumping her fist in the air.
Billy
Billy Falduto added the last bead to his latest design, and grinned at the pink outfit he had put together.
Walking over to his bead box, he opened the bottom, and a letter fell out.
"What's this?" Billy said to no one in particular, putting emphasis on his S's. He read it, then squealed with delight.
"I'm gonna be on TV!"
Author's Note: Sorry for the shorter chapters near the end. I couldn't think of anything else for them to find the letters and make it longer. Enjoy!