I suppose this is the last in the series of fics I've written. Set after The Beginning of a Problem, with a main character being an OC. I've never done this sort of thing before, so please cut me some slack. Note that chapters in the first person will be from the POV of the OC, and all others, namely, third person, will be from the POV of one of the regular characters. So away we go. :)
Note: This Chapter, and the next are actually set before the Beginning of Forever. Just so there's no confusion. :)
Would it seem strange to tell you that I've never gotten anything I wanted? You would probably tell me I'm a spoiled brat, that I've gotten plenty, but was too stubborn and horrible to accept it graciously. And I would just shake my head at your ignorance.
About eleven years ago, my sister got the coolest new pink bike, with streamers and a bell and a basket. She was so happy she rode it up and down the street, ringing the bell, striking jealousy into little girls everywhere. That was the day she turned seven. It was also the day I turned five. I think I'm cursed sharing a birthday with a sister two years my elder. Because every time I reached an important age, nobody cared. Five, ten, thirteen, you name it! It didn't matter. Because she had already done it.
Any accomplishment I had attained, was like nothing. She would always outdo me somehow. I would get into the dance school down the street, she would be the best in her age group in a matter of weeks. I would achieve my goal of a B+ on the big Math test, and she would achieve an astonishing 4.1 grade average. Impossible? Not for her.
I got a scooter, she got a moped. I got a iPod, she got a laptop. I FINALLY got a bike, she gets a car. And it goes on and on.
She was the favorite. She was the talented one, the one people complimented and admired. She had a fantastic voice, graceful movements, and always had the hottest boyfriends. Actually come to think of it, they may have seemed like the hottest because the only ones she dated were guys I had a crush on. Even if they were younger.
She always got everything I wanted. Did I resent her? Or hate her? Or want to gouge out her eyeballs with a fork? No, not really. Sure, I didn't adore her, but I didn't hate her. I loved her, because she's my sister, and she's never done any of those things directly. Only without knowing. She would be sorry if she knew how dim she always made me feel. But she didn't know. And since it was usually up to my parents, she never would.
About the only thing I could do she couldn't was play guitar. My guitar was the most precious thing in the world to me. If ANYTHING ever happened to it, I'm sure I would die. It was my only comfort sometimes, with a perfectionist mother, an indifferent father, and a flawless sister.
I'm used to it, I guess. Always being second-best, I mean. It's been that way for as long as I can remember. She gets the perfect life, all her dreams come true. And I take a backseat, and try to enjoy her happiness as much as I can. If happiness is what you would call it. More like extremely good luck.
So the day my parents decided to move to L.A. so we could further encourage my sis to follow her every dream, I was kinda excited, kinda apprehensive. It's Hollywood. Wouldn't you be?
So we packed up our life, and watched it back away from the newly paved driveway down Hazelgrove Drive in the form of an enormous moving van. Pulling away after it, away from the only place I'd ever lived, I found I kinda missed it already. It was my sanctuary, the place I had been born and grown up in. Every experience, every memory, seemed to become more non-existent the farther away we got, and I struggled like heck to hold onto them. I already wished I could be back in my room, drinking up the sun and green shining through the pane, sitting on the sill, watching the world change before me through that big bay window. I almost wanted to cry when I thought I would never see it again. Shuddering slightly at the AC cranked up, I snuggled deeper into my seat and took a deep breath, shaking the feeling off. Change was good. I could adapt quickly. Learn to love any way of life I was given. I numbed my senses to everything but drowsiness.
I had never been on an airplane before that long flight from Ohio to California. So, by the time we arrived, I was so exhausted I didn't even bother smiling at the look of ecstasy that enveloped my sister's face as we passed the Hollywood sign. I felt like a bowl of pudding. And all I wanted to do was sleep. I crashed hard that night. The first case of jet-lag is always the worst.
Of course, the first thing my parents did, after making sure I had food and water and a bed to sleep in, was to get Rachel a few modeling gigs. She had always been at home in front of a camera, and would flip her tight brown curls, and flash her teeth like nobody's business. She was amazing at everything. So why wouldn't she be at home in front of anyone at all? With all the attention on her, how could she not be happy? She thrived on it, drunk it up, and grew stronger because of it. She would shine her light on anyone and everyone, and you just couldn't help a smile. Not even now, watching her chatter with Mom, while they pile all that unnecessary make-up on her face. Or squeeze her into a size zero sun dress and size five heels.
But she looked pretty, and I smiled and hugged her hard, ignoring Mom's protests that I would wrinkle the fabric of her outfit.
I asked if I could go along to the first shoot. To watch her in action. My parents said no. They said I would be a distraction, and Rachel needed all her focus if this was gonna work. So I shrugged, and wished her good luck. I watched the car as it pulled away from the hotel and down the street. Then I sighed.
What do I do now? I had nowhere to go. I was officially bored.
I got up and walked outside to the bench in front of our hotel building. Only problem was it was in full sun, and I'm pretty sure I was suffering from heat-stroke in five minutes. I fanned myself with my hands, but then it looked like I was flapping my wings or something, and people looked at me funny. I waved at them happily, hoping I looked really retarded. They hurried past faster. I chuckled a bit to myself. People in this town were really kinda mean and unfriendly and stuff. I hadn't seen any teens around yet, this being only the second day. But I was sure they would be just as snooty and high-and-mighty as their elder counterparts.
Unconsciously, my foot started tapping, before I even realized it was to the beat of music nearby.
Somewhere near, a song was drifting in and out of my hearing. Some male voices, melding seamlessly like water flowing. It sounded really good. I listened for a minute, but I couldn't make out anything but a kind of clearness and clarity that I hadn't heard often in my genre of music. I was more of an instrumental and acoustic-jazzy type girl. But I took a chance, and started walking towards the melody.
It was coming from a stereo a little ways off. Some kids were sitting on the green next to it, sipping soda from glass bottles and talking loudly. I inched closer. One of them caught my eye. He frowned a little and I almost stopped. I shook my head like I was being bothered by an annoying fly. Then I kept walking faster, all the while towards the mystery angels blasting from their stereo.
I stopped right in front of the green, not stepping on it, but close enough to get my message across. I meant business. They all stopped talking, and just stared.
"Who's that?" I said, pointing to the stereo. A couple of the kids sniggered.
"A stereo? Not a who. More of a what." The boy who had frowned chuckled and smiled at me from beneath his eyebrows. He was cutely weird in a kinda good way. I found myself losing my trademark feeling of defiance.
I grinned back. He wasn't hostile or anything. He was just joking. One thing you get good at is reading people's faces, when you have a sister in the modeling biz.
"Ha ha ha. Yeah cute. No, I meant the singer." He looked away from me and took a long swig from his soda bottle. I wondered if he would answer, or play idiot.
"What, 'cha neva heard of Big Time Rush?" a girl said, in a strong New York accent, popping her gum around in her mouth loudly as she stood up.
"Um, no. Who the heck-"
"You foreign or somethin', bluondie?" the girl said, jutting her chin out towards my dark red-blonde hair, pulled back into a ponytail.
"No. Are YOU-"
"It's theya single. Very exclusive." She looked me up and down, like she was gonna eat me or something, and she was thinking about how good I would taste: grilled or boiled?
"Just back off Del," the guy who had smiled at me sighed. He looked apprehensive, and the other kids, who could've been deaf and dumb for all the talking they did, shifted uncomfortably.
"Del" looked at me again, her chin still out, before she shrugged and sat back down. "Whateva."
The boy turned his attention back to me. He didn't look happy.
"Big Time Rush, like the boy band? Check em' out sometime maybe?" he asked. He looked annoyed all of a sudden, and his tone was definitely frazzled. Can you say bipolar?
I raised my hands defeatedly. The last thing I had wanted to do was annoy this guy. "Yeah sure. I will, thanks."
He sighed, and sat down next to the loud-mouth girl again.
I walked away.
"Seeya around," he called after me. I waved, not looking back. They cranked the stereo louder. The sounds of "Big Time Rush" filled my ears. I felt like I as floating on nothing. Almost as good as playing guitar myself. This guy could sing. Shivers traveled up my spine.
"Here I am, there you are. Why does it seem so far...?"
The rest of the song drifted away as I left. But that guy... it's like his voice was in my head. I couldn't get hold of myself. I felt drunk on his pitch, tone, every thing about his voice. I had never heard anything so amazing.
The next few hours passed fairly quickly, with me strumming along to songs I was listening to on my iPod. I found myself humming that song again and again to myself, not able to get it out of my head. No song had had that impact on me. Ever. Why? I mean, it was just a regular song, right? Besides the fact that that guy could've been a angel with a voice like that.
Soon enough, my parents walked through the door, followed by a radiant Rachel.
"How'd it go?" I asked nonchalantly. I wished they had gotten stuck in traffic. So I would have a few more minutes of being alone.
"Brilliant!" Rachel sighed, before either of my parents could say a word. "Absolutely brilliant!" She threw herself on the bed beside me.
"If only you could've been there Ren..." she said dreamily. "It was amazing! I can't wait to go back! It was all so... just like, everything I want! If I could do this for an actual living..."
I looked to my parents for confirmation. But they were smiling so wide I didn't even have to ask.
"She was brilliant," my dad said proudly, kissing her on the forehead. "Perfect in every way. She has another go in a few days. Modeling jeans for Levi's."
I raised my eyebrows and whistled a bit. "Levi's? Wow, great job, Rach."
"Yes, really," my mom parroted. "Absolutely stunning job, dear." Then of course they proceeded to give me the run through, of every little detail, every tiny little thing it WOULDN'T have been necessary to know, like her lip gloss shade, of the size bikini she modeled. I just nodded and smiled, glancing at Rachel occasionally.
Finally, they ceased, and Mom set about to unwinding Rachel's hair, while I ran to get her comb.
"So, how 'bout dinner?" Dad said, rubbing his hands together. "Pizza?"
"And salad," Mom said, glancing at Rachel's waist, which was borderline freakishly small. Rachel's hair came in glossy torrents over her shoulders, waving around to curl back up tightly around the side of her head. She ran her comb through it slowly.
"How bout you babe? Do pizza with me?" Dad said, looking towards me hopefully.
"Yeah. Pizza. Sounds great." I twirled a strand of hair around my finger absentmindedly, watching my mom take a t-shirt out of a suitcase.
Rachel sat up, and stopped combing her hair. "Are you okaaaay? You look weird."
I started. "Do I? Sorry."
Rachel laughed merrily. "Don't be sorry. You just look pale, that's all."
"I'm feeling great, though." And I was. I still felt like I was on Cloud Nine.
Mom frowned. "I'll get dinner anyway. Be back soon." She grabbed the keys, the t-shirt laying lost and forgotten on the floor.
I didn't eat any pizza. Just bit into one piece, and tried to swallow. I couldn't. So I swished it around a little on my plate, throwing it away and excusing myself before anyone could protest very loudly. Mom ushered me to bed, saying I was getting ill from the sudden change in climate. She and Dad talked quietly while Rach got a shower. I closed my eyes.
It seemed like just a second. But when I opened them it was dark, and Mom and Dad and Rachel were asleep. My stomach growled. I clutched at it painfully. I was starving.
"That's what you get for not eating dinner, you idiot." I slipped out of my bed, into my shorts and sweatshirt, and out of the hotel room.
The lobby clock told me it was almost ten. Pretty early still for my whole family to be asleep. I went outside anyway.
The cool night air was EXTREMELY welcome. I let it pass over my face, then fill my lungs. I heard a loud raucous laugh from somewhere to my right. I tried to see out of my peripheral vision. It was a tall guy with his arm slung around some vampy lookin girl. Not familiar. So I walked quickly by.
"Maybe I should just go back..." Something intuitive told me I probably shouldn't be out at this time, especially in a place like this. My stomach threw a few more roars at me.
"Oh no, I can't."
I remembered a little joint about a block away we had passed on the way to the hotel yesterday. It had looked yummy, so I jogged in that direction, my abdomen vibrating the whole way. There were a few cars parked in front of the little building, and a black one stood out in my view. A guy with bushy eye-brows and blonde hair was in the front seat. He was tapping on the door to a song on the radio. I could feel a faint beat as I passed him and stepped up on the concrete step in front. I opened the door, almost bumping into a Latino boy who had his arms filled with bags, overflowing with food. He caught my eye. I cocked my eyebrow at him, smiling a little to myself at his enormous load. He shrugged and flashed a set of very white teeth. I laughed, and stepped past him through the door, watching him go to the blonde guy in the car and wrestle over who takes what bags.
Immediately, I was nailed with the smell of grease and a slight hint of table cleaner. I smiled. This was familiar to me. I could do this. I walked up behind a tall dark haired guy giving his order to the smiling girl behind the counter. She was so openly flirting that I almost laughed out loud. But this guy was taking it in his stride.
"Do you want fries with that?" she giggled, looking at him from under her false lashes.
"No thanks. None for me." I could hear the smile on his tongue. It was kinda funny. Every two seconds he would clear his throat and drum his fingers on the counter. So he was anxious to get out of there, and was being nice to her because he obviously pitied her. Or thought this was just too funny. Either way.
Out of nowhere, right as the flirt was giving him his total, a brunette with sparkling eyes and a quirky mouth walked up to the guy from the direction of the bathroom, and slipped her arm around his waist.
"Ready to go, Logie?" she said, staring sweetly as the sputtering girl mouthed words that never came out. I coughed. The guy had a blush creeping up the back of his neck. He seemed very distracted by her proximity.
"Ahem, oh yeah. We better go. How much did that come to?" he asked, digging around in his pockets, not meeting the brunette's eyes.
"$10.95," the flirt grumbled, shooting daggers at the girl with her eyes as she slid the paper bag across the counter. But the girl just smiled innocently, grabbed the bag, and marched away, dragging the boy along with her, almost not giving him time to slap a ten and a few ones down as he grabbed the receipt.
"Keep the change," he called to her as he was pulled away.
When they were at the door I heard him say, "What was that for?"
"What? I did you a favor, boy. She would've been all over you, and the COMMITMENT, ugh. Be thankful."
He looked thankful. And he didn't take her arm from his waist as they walked out the door. They joined the Latino and the blonde, who was now yelling at the former for spilling something that looked like ketchup on him.
I smiled, then walked up to the grumpy girl to give her my order.
Chapter one finished. Believe me this story will develop. Hopefully in a good way. :) Thanks for reading, and again. If you are thinking about favoriting or putting this story on alert, take a little bit more time to put a review up. It motivates me, and makes me feel like all the time I put into my fics is worth while. ^.^
xoxo
~Starbucks