White Lies

Prologue

17 September 2015, 8:43 a.m.

Through the transparent glass walls of office room, Corbyn could see them in the main hall clearly from the second floor. The blonde ponytail girl kept nudging the sleepy curly boy besides her to stay in focus. Another dark haired boy was leaning on the pillar behind, playing his phone out of boredom. The man in charge just shook his head at the antics but didn't looked bother with how he would sometimes smiled and laughed at them, with them.

They all looked contented but Corbyn, and it wasn't just fair.

It was really unfair.

The brunette bit his lips as his eyes felt the familiar stung. His let his head hung down. The white creamy head hoodie fell and covered the soft dark brown mop as he stared blankly the white marble tiles with hazy gray eyes.

Two months before, no words could described how Corbyn felt the moment a postman handed him a brown envelope in one fine morning, addressed to his name. Reading the white letter inside, his heart almost stopped and he was near to drop it on muddy road. His throat was sore from calling, screaming for his mother as gray eyes skimmed through word after word of the Impact invitation tour letter.

Singing had always been his passion but he never considered himself good enough to be recognized by the media. Perhaps he was slightly better than the average teens of his age but no, not above to the extent he could make an appearance in tv or magazine or newspaper. He tried to push the thoughts aside as his family congratulated him with hugs and smiles and tears of joy, that he deserved it at least. And that he was a good singer and performer just like his late grandma. They were so proud of him that his mother threw a decent celebration and invited everyone she could reach of.

The news somehow became the talk of the small town and spreaded widely to his highschool. His friends, unknown schoolmates, teachers even his principal complimented how talented and angelic his voice was from the school performances he used to join. Sweet comments from the small group of fans that watched his recorded cover songs in YouNow, made his heart swelled big in proud. He heard nothing but words of encouragements from them that he started to gain more confidence.

Then there was the social media stars he met at the tour as well, agreed with both opinions. In front of everyone, the nice Avery once said that he was very good looking and has the looks as Hollywood famous stars. The compliments made him blushes hard but he secretly loved them wholeheartedly. Yeah, the brunette loved to know he was likeable by all and that he believed nothing could ever went wrong.

However, night after settling up their placement, their manager dropped a bomb.

The voting system had always been part of the plan since the beginning of tour, though Corbyn certained it couldn't be found anywhere in the rules and regulations of the invitation letter. It had purposely been kept as a secret to make things went exciting (to make the ratings went up), and to be revealed later in supposedly surprise manner.

That for the next season, only the best three were chosen.

The statements alone left him and some of teens in restless. He hated that the supposedly enjoyable tour now turned into an ugly competition. And with how talented his acquaintances were, it was hard to be in the slots. Yet leaving the tour wasn't a choice, he wouldn't let his parents down. In fact, his pride and dream starter was on the line too.

Week after weeks has passed. Name after name being called out one by one. Sound of tears and despair faces became his daily nightmares. He was afraid to be in the same page as them.