Disclaimer: I shall only do this once...I own nothing, except for the Newsies...I own every single one! Take that Disney!
A/N: Well, here it is, the first official chapter of FAME! Are you excited? I know, tis I long hiatus, but since Summer is here I have rekindled a long lost love for this fic! So here is a new chappy with a twist...it's a song fic! Recognize the song? Send me the name of the artist and win Chapter 2 of FAME in your inbox one hour before I post it, as well as a song of your choice as the outline for a future FAME chappy! So, here we go...and a BIG BIG BIG THANK-YOU to everyone who reviewed/sent in a character, etc.! This chappy is a dedication to you guys!
Chapter 1: What Is This Feeling?
What is this feeling?
So sudden and new?
I felt it the moment I laid eyes on you:
My pulse is rushing:
My head is reeling:
My face is flushing:
What is this feeling?
Fervid as a flame,
Does it have a name?
Yes!
Loathing
Unadulterated loathing
For your face
Your voice
Your clothing
Let's just say - I loathe it all
Ev'ry little trait, however small
Makes my very flesh begin to crawl
With simple utter loathing
There's a strange exhilaration
In such total detestation
It's so pure and strong!
Though I do admit it came on fast
Still I do believe that it can last
And I will be loathing
Loathing you
My whole life long!
Breakfast
Rose Hamilton's head drooped sleepily into her bowl of Cheerio's. She was barely aware that a smiling young man had slid into the seat opposite of her.
"Are you gonna eat those, or are they just a drowning hazard?"
Rose wiped her eyes sleepily and pushed the bowl away from her.
"I'm up! I'm up!"
She moaned with a yawn. The boy grinned.
"I'm guessing either a late night partying, or a pesky roommate."
"Let's just say I'm not the partying type."
Rose said with a laugh. The boy nodded knowledgably and stuck out his hand.
"David Jacobs! I know all about pesky roommates! I've seen it all, dancers insisting on late night practice, musicians celloing all hours of the night and actors who recite Shakespeare in their sleep!"
Rose smiled and accepted his hand.
"Rose Hamilton. My roomie spent the day sulking in the bathroom, the blasting the radio when I was trying to sleep and berating me with blonde jokes."
"Sounds like a piece of work."
Rose cringed at the recount of the past day.
"Well, I suppose it didn't help that the first time we met, I accidentally spilled hot coffee all over her."
"Hot coffee..."
David pondered in his head for a moment.
"No...couldn't be..."
He shook his head and patted Rose's hand comfortingly.
"Well, that would put a damper on your relationship..."
"I'm just so hopeless at this whole thing! I don't belong in New York, I belong back in Santa Fe!"
David sighed. In the three years he had been attending the school, at one point or another, all his friends had doubts, himself included.
"Well, you know that isn't true! They don't just let anyone in here. Come on, what's your major?"
Rose smile in spite of her self.
"Dance."
"See! And just look at the way your face lights up!"
He exclaimed, causing members from several neighbouring tables to turn and stare at the freckled young man.
"You just need to know your enemy! Once you can control your roommate, everything else will fall into place. Hey, maybe I could help you out with this whole thing!"
"That would be perfect! I need all the help I can get!"
Her eyes scanned the cafeteria around her, looking for the villainous roommate.
"I can't seem to find her..."
Rose's words by the cafeteria doors bursting open. In paraded the beloved roomie, dressed so brightly that she was shining like a Christmas tree. The whole cafeteria swivelled to get a good look at her. And, Rose wasn't quite sure, but she thought David swooned.
"Chloe Cormac..."
He sighed, his eyes clouding and a lovesick smile creeping across his face.
"That's her, that's my pesky roommate!"
Rose whispered excitedly. Dave looked from Chloe to Rose and back again before bursting into laughter. He raised his hands in defeat.
"I can't help ya!"
"But, but you said you had seen it all!"
Rose sputtered, but Dave just shook his head.
"Chloe, well...she's...different! She...she is extremely talented, no doubting that, but she bends the rules. She is extremely competitive. She...well, she just makes her own rules!"
David stood slowly and gathered his books. Rose wasn't going to let him get away that easily.
"But, you said you could help me! What am I supposed to do?"
Rose jumped up exasperatedly, but David shrugged.
"Get ear plugs?"
Rose frowned and gathered her own books. Dave sighed.
"Look, I'll come and find you at lunch. You'll do fine, I promise. Until then┘just try and stay on Chloe's good side. She is a good friend, but not the kind of girl you want as an enemy! Trust me!"
And with that, the odd boy was off, leaving Rose standing alone. She sighed and nodded solemnly, turning slowly to make her way out of the opposite set of doors. Her head was filled with the knowledgeable reasoning of David Jacobs, the strange boy, and the fear of her first day at the school of the arts. She didn't even notice the bright purple sneakers stretched out in front of her. Needless to say, Rose went flying, books and everything, landing flat on her face. The culprit, a brightly dressed girl with wild red hair and a wicked grin (and, as you have probably guessed, Rose's beloved roommate) laughed jovially.
"Honey, I hope YOU aren't a dance major. Every time I see you, you are tripping over your own feet!"
Rose's face flushed scarlet as she tried to make a speedy exit, followed by a chorus of have a nice trip and see you next fall, and Rose felt herself wishing that Dave had stuck around for a few extra minutes.
Homeroom
Mush (or, as he newly christened himself: Roger) rubbed his tired eyes in awe and disbelief as he stared at the legions of talented dancers before him from the safety of the doorway. Homeroom. Beginner's Ballroom.
"Mush, you are in way over your head!"
After one day, "Roger" had soon learned that he hated everything about the School of the Performing Arts; especially his chatty Italian roommate. Well, he hated almost everything-except for her. He didn't hate her, or at least not yet. "Roger" didn't even know her name, but he knew there was something different about her. After years of living alone, he had discovered that he was definitely not a people person. Perhaps that is why it came as such a shock when he walked into his dorm room for the first time; his little roommate was jumping on his bed, telling a series of bad jokes to that peculiar girl, who was sitting on Mush's bed, reading the newspaper ("What kinda chick reads da newspaper?" Mush had thought to himself.) Before "Roger" could say anything, the boy leapt off the bed and scurried over to him, throwing his arm around "Roger's" shoulders (by way of standing on tippy toe).
"My roommate! My buddy, my pal! My amigo!"
The little Italian had proclaimed enthusiastically, as if he had known Mush his entire life.
"He looks thrilled, Race."
The red-headed girl had mumbled, raising herself from the bed and tucking the newspaper under her arm.
"Well, I am off Race. I gotta go see if my roommate is in yet!"
Race removed his arm from Mush's shoulder to rub his hands together eagerly.
"Oh, I can't wait for ya to introduce us!"
The girl swatted at him and left; and Race didn't stop talking the entire night"
And there she was, in the classroom before him, leaning on the barre, a small crowd surrounding her. Even though he couldn't hear them, Mush could tell they were laughing. The bell rand and the crowd dispersed (not wanting to anger their dance teacher, the world famous Medda Larkson, on the first day). Summoning all the courage possible, Mush walked bravely into the classroom, making his way over to the girl, who quite possibly could be his first friend at the school.
"What do ya say to a chick, anyways?"
He pondered. Always a somewhat shy kid, Mush was never a ladies man and he had certainly never been able to hold a real conversation with any girl (other then his mother). However, he got an idea.
"You ain't Mush-for-brains anymore! You're Roger, and he can talk to anyone he wants, guy or girl!"
He mused, puffing out his chest and sauntering across the room. Roger was vaguely aware that he was definitely under-dressed, everyone wearing body suits and tights (Roger settling on his favourite pair of shorts and no shoes to speak of). The girl seemed out of place to, wearing hot pink tights and a matching top. With that red hair, it made her look like someone familiar┘
"Hey, Strawberry Shortcake! The kindergarten classes are down the street."
Roger could immediately tell that that was definitely not the right thing to say (though met with laughter from the rest of the dancers). For a moment, doubt and uncertainty flickered in the eyes of the young girl, but soon it was gone and was replaced by a look that had the inner Mush frightened for his life.
"A short joke, eh? Gee, haven't heard one of those before."
The class was silent, and Mush had a feeling he was about to regret his choice of words.
"Well, if you are going back to kindergarten with your sense of humour, I guess I can go back too."
And without another word, Mush felt his shorts being dropped to the floor, the class erupting into laughter over his nice tighty-whities. The girl grinned smugly, receiving many high-fives when┘
"What is going on in here?!?"
Enter Medda Larkson, dance teacher extraordinaire! And she did not look pleased.
"Out! Out of my class until you can both behave like you belong here!"
Mush sheepishly pulled up his shorts.
"Wait in my office. I will deal with you two later."
Meanwhile...
Jorja Rose Dominez sighed heavily, anxiously glancing at her own watch. Her head hurt from jet lag, and her flight was over fifteen hours late. Now she was stuck in...well, she couldn't quite remember anymore. The long flight from Madrid, Spain included many stops in many different countries, though she was pretty sure she was in America. Pretty sure.
"Hey gorgeous!"
A voice said. Jorja raised her eyes to see a crowd of young men passing by.
"Wanna join the mile high club?"
They snickered and wandered off. Jorja sneered after them.
"Gorgeous?"
She thought with a laugh. Her hair was black with blue streaks through it, her darks eyes haunting and mysterious; Jorja also had the right amount of curves to keep the boys attention. Gorgeous was definitely the right word to call Jorja Rose Dominez, though she would never believe it. When she looked in the mirror, all she saw were the scars, the scars which marked her strong dancer's body; the scars that no one could see, save for the one that began at her ear and twisted down her collar bone. Each scar a present from her dear uncle...
Jorja shook her head, trying to replace the image of that awful man in her head with something more pleasant. That was the past. She was going to New York. She was going to be a dancer. Suddenly remembering her destination, Jorja pulled her timetable from her bag and checked her watch, yet again. Giving her timetable a glance (though she didn't need to--she had it memorized) she noticed with a smile that she was missing her most loathed subject: Math.
"Hey! You're goin' to SPA too?"
A thick Irish accent announced, bringing Jorja out of her thoughts. Racing towards her was a slim girl in the most irregular type of dress: Torn blue jeans with holes in the knees so large that they revealed brightly patterned tights, a flannel sweater tied tightly around her petite waist and an over sized band t-shirt ("Who is Duran Duran..." Jorja found herself wondering).
"Yes?"
Jorja said shortly. She was an all around independent girl and wasn't too sure what to think of the strange new-comer. The girl didn't seem to notice. She plopped herself down beside Jorja on the airport bench and continued.
"Ah, me too! Well, supposed to anyway┘that is if our stupid plane ever gets to New York! Oh, is that your time table?"
The girl swiped the time table out of Jorja's hands and began to study it with great vigour. Jorja lept back slightly in surprise, not used to the idea that this strange girl (whom she had just met) was touching her personal posessions.
"I guess I'm not in Madrid anymore..."
She mused, still slightly shocked.
"Amber Perkins. Dance and musical theatre major."
The girl offered in response to Jorja's bewildered face.
"Amber? Um, I'm Jorja, Jorja Rose Dominez."
She spoke slowly, as if by telling this Amber girl her name would in turn reveal all her deepest, darkest secrets.
"So, you're a musical theatre major? Oh, ya gotta be!"
Amber announced, looking from Jorja to her timetable.
"Either that, or ya look like someone who would play the French horn..."
She added with a giggle, and Jorja laughed to, in spite of herself.
"Dance and musical theatre major. We probably even have some classes together!"
Jorja said, letting down her guarded exterior (just a little) to try and have some fun.
"New York may be a little different then I expected..."
Back in the School of the Performing Arts...
"This is kind of weird, isn't it? Mr. Pulitzer has never been late for a class, especially on the first day of school!"
David Jacobs mused dramatically, fingers thoughtfully raised over the pristine white keys of the piano he sat before.
"Maybe the old geezer finally decided to retire!"
Jack Kelly chuckled, pushing a piece of his chestnut brown hair out of his eyes. David just shook his head at his friend.
"Chloe's looking for you!"
He stated in a sing-song voice. Jack responded to this with a non-intelligible grunt. Dave took this as a sign to continue.
"She's got some great new ideas about the band. --That's why you're avoiding her, right?"
Jack let out a loud sigh.
"Jesus Dave, will ya lay off me?! You know as well as I do about this whole band..thing!! It was fine when we was just practicing back in the old arts building; alone, ya know? But, to actually go out and perform...our music ain't ready!"
He ended exasperatedly before adding:
"Besides, it's way to commercial!"
David's face broke into a sly smile.
"So, why don't ya just tell Chloe that?"
The two boys both broke into laughter at the ridiculous notion.
"Davey, ya know that once dat goil's got her heart set on something, there is no saying no to Miss Chloe Cormac!"
Dave leaned thoughfully on the palm, jumping at the sound of his elbow hitting the piano keys. Jack rose from his seat with a grin.
"Come on Davey! Let's go over to that pizza joint down the street. It doesn't look like the old bag of bones is going to show today!"
"The old sack of bones will make a brief appearance today, Mr. Kelly."
An omnious voice came from behind Jack, met with a chorus of snickering.
"Mr. Pulitzer! Somebody should buy you a watch! That's exactly eleven minutes of my precious time wasted when I should have been getting an education!"
"Oh Mr. Kelly, somebody should get you some manners, my young man."
The two stared each other down for a few seconds before Jack slowly returned to his seat. Mr. Pulitzer's face broke into a smile (if that's what you would call it--Mr. Pulitzer didn't smile).
"Thank you, Mr. Kelly. Now class, the reason I am eleven minutes late, as your classmate helpfully pointed out, is for a very special reason. As you have probably heard, over the past summer the Brooklyn School of the Performing Arts closed down because of lack of funding. Hence, we held a series of special auditions to admit a few lucky Brooklynites into our institution."
He took a dramatic pause before continuing.
"I bring with me today a special young man from Brooklyn, the pianist and composer prodigy, Mr. Patrick Conlon."
Mr. Pulitzer slowly lumbered out of the doorway, revealing a young man standing behind him. Jack kelly had never in his life seen a more sour looking young man. There was nothing extraordinary about his appearance; average height and build, normal clothes, sandy brown hair that flopped defiantly in his face. It was his eyes that chilled Jack to his very core. He couldn't quite distinguish if they were ice blue or a steely grey, but they held a certain strength and determination that dared every single person in the room to cross him.
"Well, doesn't he seem like a barrel of laughs?!"
David muttered sarcastically to Jack. Patrick's harsh eyes scanned the room.
"They call me Spot."
He scowled, his delicate facial features twisting into a sneer. Jack grinned and leaned over to Dave.
"Woof."
Mr. Pulitzer put his hand protectively on Spot's shoulder, beaming like a proud parent at a dance recital.
"It's an honour to have you with us."
Jack rolled his eyes.
"Gag me with a spoon."
Meanwhile, In Medda's Office...
Ginger shuffled uneasily in her chair, arms sternly crossed, eyebrows knitted in silent anger and confusion. She managed a sideways glance at the boy sitting beside her, the boy who very well could've ruined her career before it had even started. She ran her fingers over her hot pink tights.
"Strawberry Shortcake?! What does he know anyway?!?!? I saw Madonna wearing something exactly like this!"
She snuck another peek at him, slouched in his chair, looking bored. Ginger sniffed, shaking her red curls. She had seen his type before, the punks who cared about no one but themselves, and even then they didn't care too much.
"This is all your fault, you know."
Ginger stated childishly, not looking the young man.
"Me?!?! I didn't pull down my own pants!"
"You started it!"
Ginger said wildly, turning to face him. He pulled himself out of the slouch and leaned forward, pointing a finger at Ginger.
"You are a nut case!"
Slightly taken aback, Ginger smiled for the first time during the entire hour they had been sitting there.
"No, I'm an actress."
The boy sighed and leaned back into his seat.
"Whatever."
Ginger paused for a moment. She'd never had many enemies--if you could consider this guy an enemy"
"My name's Ginger."
She offered. The boy eyed her suspiciously.
"My name's Mu--Roger!"
He said hurriedly, turning so he wasn't facing her. Ginger giggled.
"Mu--Roger? Wow, what was your mom drinking..."
This comment hit a nerve with Mush.
"And Ginger's so much better?!"
He snapped. And so, Ginger went back to the stony, thick silence between them.
And down a dark hallway...
"Old MacDonald had a farm...eeee i eee i ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!"
Racetrack Higgins sung, doing a makeshift tap-dance down the deserted hallway, sincerely hoping that his Science teacher wasn't missing him too much. That is when the noise started. It sounded somewhat like footprints. Race got the feeling that someone was watching him...
NO EXIT
...read the sign that Race stopped in front of.
"Damn, I took a wrong turn."
He thought turning around, jumping with a small yelp at the two looming figures before him.
"What's this, Oscar?"
"Morris, looks like we got ourselves a skipper.."
What is this feeling
There's a strange exhilaration
In such total detestation
So pure, so strong
Though I do admit it came on fast
Still I do believe that it can last
And I will be loathing
For forever loathing
Truly deeply loathing
My whole
Life long!
Unadulterated loathing
A/N: What will happen to Racetrack?! Will Chloe ever catch up with Jack Kelly? And When will Crutchy be introduced, damn it?! All this, and more, will be answered in the next chapter!