When Bella woke up, the first thing she noticed was the feel of the cool autumnal air across her skin. That led, of course, to the realization that she had kicked off her blankets in her sleep. Well that's new. She looked around the room, confused by the brightly colored, amoeboid chairs and eclectic tables. Four other mattresses were placed neatly in line with her own, each containing a gently slumbering girl, one of whom was snoring lightly. Slowly, she remembered where she was. Detroit, Michigan, on the fake LA set of The Sing! Project.
Slipping out of bed, she tiptoed over to her suitcase and pulled out some clothing and toiletries. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Rosalie start to stir. She made a mad dash for the girls' bathroom, counting it a miracle when she managed to stay upright. Showering quickly, she frowned at the cracked tiles on the wall and the chipped mirror hanging above the sink. It was as if she were living in the love-child of low income housing and IKEA.
The harpies were already queued up when she emerged. From the matching scowls on their faces, it was evident that none of them had ever had to share a bathroom before. Heaven forbid. She held back the urge to give an unladylike snort, opting instead to make her way downstairs for breakfast.
Thirty minutes later, she was back in the girls' dorm, preparing for what would undoubtedly be an embarrassing performance. As Alice meticulously painted her face, Bella tried to ignore the roiling of her stomach as she took in the appearances of the other five—the competition, as it were. Her self-esteem all but crumpled upon itself as she noted Lauren's curves and Rosalie's ethereal beauty. Angela was tall and graceful, like a ballerina, while Alice was the dainty fairy she had always been. Even Jessica's mediocre looks overshadowed her own, and she wondered for the millionth time why she was willingly subjecting herself to yet another "ugly duckling" experience, this one filmed for mass consumption. How had she even made it this far?
At eight o'clock, the twelve contenders trooped silently to the main practice room and took their seats. This time, Bella found herself caught between Mike Newton and Eric Yorkie. The latter persisted in giving her sly looks that made revisiting her half-digested breakfast a very real possibility. Mike noticed her discomfort, however, and after several seconds, he rose from his seat and indicated that they should switch.
"It's okay, Mike. I'm fine," she protested.
Her words fell on deaf ears. Tilting his head towards Edward, he gave her a pleading look. "Masen looks pissed off about something, and it's freaking me out," he confessed.
Bella sighed and switched places with him. From what she could tell, Edward hated her already, so any ire directed her way was to be expected. Therefore, she was surprised when he pointedly ignored her. The only response he showed was when Carlisle strolled into the room, greeting them cheerily.
Standing in front of them all, Carlisle gave them a generic, benevolent smile. "Okay, guys. Let's see what you've got."
They stood, forming a half circle in the middle of the room. The instrumentals started playing through the overhead speakers. One by one, the competitors stepped into the middle of the semicircle and sang one or two lines before returning to the outskirts. Bella all but mumbled the words, standing stock still for her solo. She stumbled on her way back to her spot, and Edward had to catch her and impatiently push her into the right position. He glared at her angrily as they all joined together for the final chorus.
Carlisle applauded once they finished. "Great job, everyone. A few things I noticed: Jasper, you looked really awkward, but at the same time, I feel like you were very comfortable with being awkward. It's this strange sort of paradox."
Jasper reached up and scratched the back of his neck. "I am who I am? I've sort of had two decades to get used to the idea."
Carlisle nodded. "Well it works. Edward, you were really cool and edgy. I like it. Rosalie and Lauren, I have to say, I found the two of you incredibly interesting. You're similar, but at the same time, you're so different. During your performances, both of you were very confident and sexy, but Rosalie came across as being very aggressive and powerful, while Lauren's personality was more sassy and cool. Good job, both of you.
"Bella, you seemed almost robotic while you were singing. The theme this week is individuality, but from your performance, I'm having trouble forming a clear picture of who you are. You need to figure that out, and we need to see it. Mike, same for you."
Carlisle continued handing out praise and criticism until he had worked his way through the room. "The winner for the homework assignment is Lauren. And now, let's get to the rest of the week. You'll be in the recording studio with me this afternoon, dance studio all day tomorrow with Esme, and on set all day Friday with Eleazar. Your sheet music is on the piano.
"You guys are going to be singing Katy Perry's 'Firework'." He paused as Jessica let out a high-pitched squeal. "Glad to see you're excited. Now, Eleazar tells me that the theme is going to be a high school yearbook photo shoot. I want you guys to think of a tagline that would go with your photo. That's who you're going to be trying to show us through your performance. Rosalie, let's start with you."
Rosalie straightened her spine and flipped her hair over her shoulder. "Most likely to become a top model," she announced matter-of-factly. Beside her, Jasper rolled his eyes.
Unfortunately, he was also next. "Um, most likely to develop a better operating system than Windows?"
There were giggles and blank stares from the others. Carlisle nodded at him encouragingly. "That could work, but it's a little specific. Maybe something less complex…and shorter."
"How about 'most likely to stay a nerd'?" offered Lauren sweetly. Alice glared at her, while Jasper shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
"Fine," he agreed.
Eric was next. "Most likely to be a heartbreaker," he purred, leaning past Mike to leer at Bella.
The blond boy leaned forward, shielding her from view. "Most likely to star in a soap opera," he muttered, elbowing Eric as he shifted over again.
Bella looked around the room. Everyone was suddenly looking at her, and she blushed. "Um, I don't really know…"
"Most likely to write a book," chirped Alice. Bella gave her a warning look, but the imp grinned impudently. "What? You've already started a manuscript."
"Mary Alice Cullen, you'd better sleep with one eye open," Bella hissed. Out loud, she gently prodded, "Your turn."
Alice tugged at one of her necklaces. "Most likely to become a fashion designer," she declared, her voice uncharacteristically nervous. Beside her, Edward scoffed, though Rosalie was analyzing her outfit appraisingly. A top consisting of layers of silken earth tones, delicate fishnet stockings, leather boots covered in buckles, and several strings of random metallic charms hanging around her neck. None of the pieces and colors should have gone together, but somehow, they made Alice look like a wood nymph who was heavily into punk rock. After several seconds, the professional model nodded.
"As fascinating as Alice's outfit is, let's move on," Edward drawled. "My turn. Most likely to succeed."
"More like 'most likely to wind up a miserable old bastard'," Michael mumbled under his breath. Bella made a noise of agreement, and Edward kicked her chair.
"I'm sorry, did you say something?" he snidely enquired. She shook her head. "That's what I thought."
Carlisle cleared his throat again. Oddly enough, the gross movement of mucus was incredibly effective in bringing everyone back to the present task. Must be his signature move, Bella thought to herself, holding back a giggle as the man pointed to Emmett.
"Most likely to be happy," the boy replied, smirking impudently as someone made a comment about spending all his time buried underneath other people's cars. "Nothing wrong with being on bottom, so long as you know what you're doing. Besides, I'm good with my hands."
Jasper guffawed, while Eric laughed obnoxiously. Jessica shook her head at them all and stood, drawing everyone's attention. "Most likely to become a pastry chef." She surveyed the room, her eyes daring anyone to comment. Satisfied that she would be left alone, she sank back down, leaving Jacob and Lauren to proclaim themselves 'most likely to become a movie star' and 'most likely to star on Broadway', respectively. Angela quietly labeled herself as 'most likely to save a life'.
Carlisle's smile was strained as he handed them their sheet music. "Learn you parts, and I'll see you at two o'clock. We'll be going in alphabetical order."
"But that means the people at the end of the alphabet get more time," Lauren whined.
Rosalie reached out and patted the girl's shoulder comfortingly. "There there, now. I'm sure an extra hour won't make much of a difference." She gestured discretely towards Bella and Jasper.
Lauren glanced at them, and her shoulders smoothly relaxed. "You're right. Alphabetical is fine, Carlisle."
"Glad to hear it," he deadpanned. "I'll see you all later."
After he left, each of them went their separate ways, and Bella found herself sitting on a folding chair in the middle of the rotting porch. Somehow, the grunge made it easier for her to access the part of her that actually wanted to be here, the love of singing to which Alice had appealed at the start of this whole mess. The rundown exterior of the house was her connection to reality; the shiny interior was a glitzy, cheesy home for narcissists.
For the next few hours, she reviewed her single sentence, the one that would open the entire song. She tried embellishing the basic tune, playing around with notes, rhythm, and breath to mold those sixteen words into something representative of who she was. Apparently, she was supposed to be a future author, but a writer didn't have a clear stereotype, no unofficial manual about how she was supposed to present herself. Shy, boring, and absurdly insecure. I'm screwed.
By the time she walked into the recording booth, she'd worked herself into a panic. Her first take came out as a shaky burble. Carlisle stopped the recording and frowned. "That's it? That's all you got?"
Three failed takes later, Bella looked miserably at her feet as he continued, "Look, if you can't hack it in here, there's no way you're going to be able to handle everything else we have planned. I saw your audition, and I know you can sing. What's holding you back?"
"I'm not sure how an author is supposed to sing," she whispered into the microphone.
"You've got to be kidding me." Carlisle groaned. "Look, forget the theme and everything else for now. Just take your solo, think about the words, and sing the hell out of it."
Bella took a deep breath and nodded slowly. Closing her eyes, she pulled herself back into that peaceful state, that stable frame of mind where it was just her in the music. Opening her eyes again, she slowly exhaled and nodded to Carlisle. He signaled her when he started recording.
Dredging up the regretful despair behind the phrases, and feeling very much like a free-floating plastic bag herself, Bella skimmed the surface of her own well of pain, letting her emotions saturate every syllable. When she finished, she looked up to see Carlisle staring at her, both his eyes and his mouth wide open with shock.
"Um, was that good or bad?" she asked when several seconds passed without any movement. At her question, he shook his head quickly, forcing himself out of his stupor.
"Good job, Bella. Let's just get the chorus, and we'll be done."
Five minutes later she scurried out of the booth, waving Jasper in on her way to the kitchen. She poured herself a glass of milk and gulped it down while her hand dug through the cabinet for another package of Pop Tarts.
"Had a rough time?"
Bella turned away from the cabinets and scanned the room. Edward was sitting in the far corner, his feet propped up as he lounged. "What are you doing here?" she snapped at him.
"Is it a crime to want a quiet place to read?" He held up a book to emphasize his point.
Ignoring his question, Bella squinted at the front cover, trying to remember why it was so familiar. Suddenly, she burst into laughter. "The Dusk series, Edward? Really?"
He scowled. "I was once compared to one of the main characters. I'm trying to see if it was meant to be a compliment or an insult."
Funny, I don't remember any caustic, self-absorbed boys in those books. "Which character was it?"
"Edwin Cuthbert."
At that, Bella let out another peal of laughter. "Oh trust me, you don't want to be compared to that guy. He's a total creeper." She paused. "Don't tell me you sneak into girls' rooms to watch them sleep."
Edward wrinkled his nose. "He does that?"
She nodded. "He also hangs out in a tree outside her window and follows her around in a Volvo."
"That's disgusting." He closed the novel and threw it across the room, ignoring the reproach in Bella's eyes for being so callous with a book. With a deep groan, he leaned forward and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands.
"If it makes you feel any better, a lot of tweens have major crushes on him. One of the girls I used to babysit had a 'Team Edwin' poster on every wall of her bedroom." Rinsing out her glass, she turned to place it in the dishwasher, rearranging several items inside to make it fit. Between twelve young adults, they'd managed to fill all three racks over the course of the day. She shook her head and started the appliance. With a satisfied smile, she twirled around to continue her conversation with Edward.
He was standing directly behind her, a malicious glint in his eye. It only intensified as Bella gasped and her hand immediately flew over her heart. "Was that really supposed to make me feel better, Isabella?"
Bella shook her head and tried to move away, backside skimming the counters as she edged towards the doorway. Edward followed, robbing her of more of her nerve with each one of his confident steps. Unexpectedly, he grabbed her arm and pulled her forward so he could whisper in her ear.
"I may not be a vampire, but I do draw blood. Watch yourself, Swan."
He pushed her away from him and swiftly left the room. Meanwhile, Bella let her back slide down the refrigerator door, comforting herself with the coldness of the kitchen floor. What just happened there? One moment, they'd been chatting amicably, and the next, he was back to threatening her and invading her personal space. His mood swings are giving me whiplash.
Eyeing the cover of Edward's discarded book, her face transformed into a scowl. "He's Edwin Cuthbert, all right." She hauled herself up and headed towards the dorms. "Moody, condescending little drama queen."
As she trundled up the stairs, she thanked her lucky stars that she had nothing in common with Edwin's counterpart, Becca Goose. Only a complete idiot would fall in love with such a conceited bastard, she thought, conveniently forgetting many a literary example of good men who started out as incorrigible beasts. Letting her annoyance fester, she resolved to write Edward into her unfinished manuscript, if only for the detective to find another cold body.
A/N: Hi everyone! I didn't expect to post again so soon, but this chapter demanded to be finished. Hope you enjoyed it.
