You'll Always Find Your Way Back Home. Chapter 1, Part 3 and 4 of 8
Oh my gosh, I can't believe it! I woke up and saw how people liked my work!! =-) This is awesome! I promise I will become more proficient at formatting tonight! Here is part 3 & 4. I hope everyone enjoys this!
One, Part 3
The bell rang and we all rose with grumbles and a few choice words, beginning to file out of the cafeteria and back to the drudgery of class. Jordan quickly saddled up beside him. “Do you think there really is something going on between Joshua and your sister?” She questioned.
I had known Jordan most of my life but for some reason, she still thought that Emilia and I had some sort of direct connection. Maybe she was thinking Twin ESP or something. I shrugged. “I really couldn’t tell you.” That was the nicest way to phrase what I really wanted to say.
“Maybe they really will get married and Emilia will feel like there’s been something missing all her life and her wedding is the perfect thing to figure out what that something is and she’ll set out of a quest to find you and-”
I quickly interrupted. “Jordan!” I held up a hand, begging for silence. “I really think Emilia is too busy to even think about stuff like that.”
I was reminded of just how busy Emilia was when I went to the store after work to pick up the paints I needed for a school project. I was in charge of painting Neptune for our class solar system and was looking forward to experimenting with a little bit of tye dye. Neptune was swirling gasses right? It should be mixed, in my opinion.
Waiting in line, I was assaulted with headlines about Emilia, none of them flattering. Through Emilia was only sixteen going on seventeen, she seemed to be sixteen going on a rehab stint. At least that was the way the magazines portrayed it. Against my better judgment, I picked one up, intrigued and a little saddened by the question “Emilia: The Next Victim of Child Celebrity?”
Emilia had been nine when she’d first hit the spot light and luckily for her, my mother and her record label, her vocal cords had aged well. A quick scan of the article revealed that the magazine suggested that Emilia was on the wrong track, partying too much and showing up late for sound checks after wild nights, being less than cordial to her fans and photographers. These wild nights Emilia seemed to be partaking in were hardly of the most innocent kind and it seemed that national drinking laws didn’t apply when you had a couple Grammys sitting on your nightstand.
“Sad, isn’t it?” Questioned Maria, the cashier who had been waiting patiently for me to hand over the paints in my hand. I looked up at her in surprise and she pointed one long, red, fingernail at the magazine. “Such a young girl too.”
I nodded, putting down the magazine and looking away from the picture of Emilia at a bar like she had nothing to do with me.
“I guess she’s not anything like you.” Maria continued, scanning the bottles and dropping them into a paper bag. “You’d never stay out all night, drinking, partying, having fun.” She remarked dismissively and I raised an eyebrow. Well, thanks Maria, you make it sound like I’m a hermit. “You’re a sweet girl, Scout.”
I forced a smile when I really wanted to assure her that I did go out and have fun, thank you very much. Though that fun mostly consisted of going to the bowling alley. But they closed at eleven on weekends. And they didn’t serve alcohol. “Thanks.” I mumbled, picking up bag and heading out of the store before she could give me any more compliments.
One, Part 4
It wasn’t like I never went out, that I didn’t know how to have a good time. I went out to the movies with my friends, or bowling, and I got invited to parties all the time (because of Emilia), even if I wasn’t much of a drinker…Well, that didn’t really matter, anyway; according to the tabloids I’d have to be a borderline alcoholic to keep up with Emilia. Or perhaps a full blown alcoholic. I wasn’t sure how much of the stories were true, but for my sister’s sake, I hoped they were incredibly exaggerated. I might not have ever met her, but the Amy Winehouse path wasn’t exactly what I wanted for Emilia.
Unfortunately, it seemed that Emilia didn’t feel the same way, because a story similar to the one I’d been reading at the store was featured on the news that evening. “Scout, it’s you!” Luke pointed to the TV and started laughing, just as he always did whenever Emilia was on. Apparently this never got old to his eight-year-old mind.
I didn’t turn away from loading dinner dishes into the dish washer but that didn’t stop me from overhearing the news report, especially because Luke punched up the volume.
“Pop sensation Emilia Thompson is making headlines yet again, but not for the reasons her producers would like.” The news reporter was saying. “Earlier today, while interviewing for a California radio show, Emilia dumped a pitcher of water over the dee jay’s head, claiming that he was asking her questions she wasn’t comfortable with. She then proceeded to tell the interviewer exactly what she thought of him.” A tiny segment of the interview was played, though most of it had been bleeped out to become appropriate for all viewers. “This isn’t the first time Emilia has come under fire for her less than professional dealings with the press; just last week, she reportedly broke a camera at a photo-shoot because the photographer wasn’t catching her good side.” The reporter laughed, shaking his head as if they say ‘poor little rich kids.’
I closed the dish washer and looked down the TV set; it was almost like watching a train wreck. A train wreck with my own face. Every time I saw Emilia it was still bizarre and I always got the eerie feeling that I was in two places at once, living out everyone’s fantasy of the double life. A double life where I apparently had rage issues.
“Despite her popularity, Emilia’s treatment of the press, her fans and those who work for her is beginning to take a toll on her empire.” The reporter continued. “CD sales are beginning to decrease, as are the sales of her concert tickets. Emilia’s behavior seems to have parents wondering whether she is really a good role model for their daughters.”
The reporter deftly switched to a story about a cat they fell off a twenty-five story building and walked away without a scratch, losing Luke’s interest and causing him to channel surf like he possessed the most extreme case of ADD ever known to man.
“It’s hard to think you two are even related.” Beverly remarked, not looking up from the curtain she was hemming. It figured, I got compared to a sister no one had ever even actually met. “Too bad some of your politeness can’t rub off on her.” I was starting to wonder if ‘politeness’ and being a ‘good kid’ were code of ‘boring’ and ‘predictable.’
This topic is quite interesting to me not as a reader (not only as a reader) but, surprisingly, as a person. Back in the old country, I happen to have a remote relative who is a famous actor and who carries the same (relatively rare) last name. Because of that, I’ve always been the object of unwanted attention, not to the degree described in your novel, but still quite annoying. I was bombarded with the request to get a ticket to theater performances, as to get a ticket in this theater was a difficult endeavor. More importantly, or more annoyingly, if you wish, was the attitude when you are looked at only as a conduit to get to someone else. Thus, I’ll be curious to see how you will develop this theme as the action would progress.
If you enjoyed this, check out the next parts here.