A/N: This chapter was written in honor of Alexz Johnson's illustrious career.

Chapter Thirteen

The car ride was torture. For one thing, my stomach was flying in about sixteen different directions as Annie flew over every speed bump, railroad track, and pothole and zipped around every corner and past every stop sign without braking for a second. "You couldn't just let me drive, could you?" I asked, annoyed.

"Well that would look rather suspicious, don't you think?" Annie smirked, as she nearly ran yet another red light.

"Oh, and this doesn't?" I demanded. "It's remarkable that we haven't been pulled over yet."

"Are you kidding? This is probably the best I've ever driven!" Annie announced proudly. "I haven't hit a single mailbox or fire hydrant."

"Or pedestrian."

"Well, it's been a pretty long time since I got one of them."

I hoped she was joking. "Look, what is this all about? Why did you have to drive me? What's your plan?"

"Duh!" Annie said perkily. "Like you don't know!"

I looked at her warily. "Yeah, actually, I don't."

"Hello, Carey! This is my future that's at stake. I have to make sure you don't mess it up!"

"Trust me, I won't. I can't. I tried." Then something occurred to me. "Wait. Your future?"

"Well, of course, silly. You didn't think you'd be trapped in my body forever, did you?"

A glimmer of hope! She was going to get me out!

"Then again, you might… I mean, I don't know about you, but I'm pretty happy where I am now! Being you is so wicked!"

I sighed. Back to square one. Suddenly she swerved into the parking lot and jerked to a stop in a parking space, slamming on the brakes, and throwing both of us forward in our seats until the seat belts snapped us back into place. "We're here!" Annie announced, leaping out of the car. I tried to relocate my stomach, which felt as it was still being catapulted at sixty miles an hour into the distance. Annie was already walking at a steady pace—practically skipping—into the studio. I followed reluctantly.

"Hello, I'm Carey Bell, here with Annie Thelen, and we're scheduled to see Rob Jennings for a two o'clock appointment," Annie said briskly to the receptionist, who barely glanced at us.

She began shuffling through some papers, and then finally said, "Ah, yes, Annie. Rob couldn't make it today after all, but someone else will be here to see you instead. Have a seat right over there in our waiting area." I felt like I was seeing a dentist.

I nodded and Annie and I went to sit down. "This is awesome!" Annie whispered. "I'm going to be famous!"

Yeah, I hope the tabloids tear you apart, I thought bitterly. Several minutes later, the door flew open and a young man, about my age, with dark brown hair appeared in the doorway. "Annie Thelen?"

"Hi," I said, standing up to greet him and to shake his hand. Annie followed suit.

"My name is Tom Quincy. Won't you come into my office?" Without waiting for a response, he spun on his heel and began walking down another hallway. I started to follow him.

"Wait!" Annie grabbed my arm. "Isn't that Little Tommy Q?"

"What? Who?" I asked impatiently. "Let go of me, we have a meeting!"

"Little Tommy Q, from Boys Attack!"

"What, that stupid boy band you have on your wall?"

"No, silly, those are the Backstreet Boys. Duh. Boys Attack was some rip-off Canadian version. They were so lame."

"Right up your alley, huh?" I began walking briskly after Tommy Q—I mean Tom Quincy—before Annie had a chance to respond.

His office was bright and spacious. Annie and I both collapsed into the comfortable confines of two large reclining chairs. Tom took a seat at his desk.

"Now, Annie. Let's cut right to the chase. You're not here today because of your singing."

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?" Annie asked.

"I'm sorry, who did you say you were?" Tom replied, clearly annoyed. "Anyway. Annie. You have the look that we're, well, looking for. With a few minor modifications to your appearance, and some voice-training, and guitar lessons… you'll be set."

"Wait," I interrupted. "If I need all that, then why did you pick me?"

He shrugged. "We're desperate. Anyway, it doesn't matter. We're going to market you to Canada first before we even try the U.S."

"Gee, thanks."

"Wait, what kind of modifications are we talking about?" Annie asked impatiently. I was curious myself.

"Well," Tom began, "the hair definitely has to go."

"What's wrong with her hair?" Annie asked irritably.

"We want to go for more of an edgier look. The blonde just isn't going to cut it. There are enough blond-haired teenage pop singers out there. We were thinking more of a deep red."

Oh, please. Like anyone would ever believe that Annie was a natural redhead.

"Hm, interesting," Annie said, and I could tell she approved. She would, wouldn't she?

"And the music, of course, will have an edgier sound too. We want to go for something fresh and marketable. Perhaps a sad-girl-with-guitar kind of routine."

Annie? Sad? With a guitar?

"Wicked!" Annie said excitedly.

I sighed. "Yeah. Wonderful."

Tom smiled. "Well, it looks like you've already got the sad girl role taken care of. There's one more problem, though."

"What's that?" Annie asked.

"It's just—Annie Thelen?" He looked at me. "How are we going to give you this image with a name like that? People hear Annie, and they think of a little redhead girl singing about how the sun will come out tomorrow."

"I love that musical!" Annie interrupted.

Tom glared at her.

"What name did you have in mind?" I asked.

"Your management staff has tossed around a few different ideas for a stage name. Right now the most popular one is Jude Harrison."

"Jude Harrison?" Annie repeated. "I love it!" Tom looked at me expectantly.

"It sounds like a horribly contrived combination of a Beatles' song and… a Beatle." His eyes grew a little more fiery. "Um, but sure. Whatever."

"Great!" He smiled again. "So it's a deal." He pulled open a drawer in his desk and handed me a folder of papers. "Here's some sheet music. We want you to practice these songs and come in prepared to start recording a week from today. Okay?" He didn't wait for a response. "Alright then. See you next Monday!" He quickly led us to the door, practically shoving us out.

"That was weird," I remarked. "Jude Harrison? Red hair? Sad girl with guitar? Where the hell do they come up with this stuff?"

But Annie wasn't listening. "This is the greatest thing that ever happened to me… I'm going to be a singer! And famous!" She squealed. "I'm going to be an instant star!"

--

Disclaimer: I don't own Instant Star, Tom Quincy, or Jude Harrison. Canada does.