Teen Idols And Happy Meals

Cherries and Tragedies

Jacen’s POV

When I think of heaven, I think of Georgia. And when I think of hell, I imagine the same.

A big house, blindingly white, with a wraparound porch and everything. The most picturesque little pond in the backyard. Rolling hills of green as far as the eye can see. A cherry blossom out front. And space, so much beautiful space, glowing and gorgeous in the sunlight.

And a family; a dad, a mom, and three kids. The oldest is named Michael, he’s eighteen at the time, a senior at the local high school. He has his mother’s eyes, but his father’s sandy hair. He’s the epitome of a small town boy; a football player, just temperamental enough to be vindictive, and a hit with the ladies. Buchanan was the most boring town on the planet, but Michael didn’t mind. He was a prince at the top of his own tiny kingdom.

Then there’s the girl, Cherish. An angel in every sense of the word. Sixteen and beautiful; blonde and blue eyed and too sweet for her own good. Cherish was unlike the other girls in every conceivable way. She never made anything for the church bake sales, never stressed over finding a date to Homecoming. She just wasn’t interested; not in popularity, not in small town life. She was better than that; smart and curious. She was going places.

And then there’s the youngest. A boy – much younger than his siblings; only seven at the time. His brother and sister had both been planned, but not him; he’d been an accident. His father hoped he would grow up to be a doctor or a physician – so he named him Jacen, meaning healer.

Instead I became an actor.

It was what my mother wanted, after all. She dreamed of being a movie star from the minute she stepped foot in the states, but instead she married my father. It was for the best; she wasn’t cut out for Hollywood. Neither of my siblings showed any interest in that world, so her dream was left to wither, until I came around.

She must have seen something in me, must have sensed it upon my birth. I was crowned the favorite before they even brought me home from the hospital. From that point on, it seemed I could do no wrong. I was their golden boy.

Things between Michael and I were strained at the start. He was eleven when I was born, old enough to understand that, even as an infant, I was stealing his thunder. He was so used to being at the top of his own little empire – because he was good looking, because he was a boy, because he was the first born. But now, here I was, not only the baby of the family but the inexplicable golden child. Though there was love between us, from day one there was always resentment beneath it.

My parents didn’t seem to notice though. They expected everyone else to see the same potential in me that they saw. I’m still not sure what exactly made them so sure that I would be successful. Probably my looks. I had good genes, everyone in my family was model material. But, as my mother liked to say, I had gotten “an extra dose of pretty” it seemed.

She took me to my first audition when I was four, and it all snowballed from there. A commercial here, a photo-shoot there, a couple of appearances on a TV show.  By the time I was six I had gotten a part on a sitcom so I was constantly going from studio to home and back again.

I didn’t get to see my friends anymore; I basically grew up backstage. Coloring books and action figures were my only friends. It was a very lonely childhood.

I stopped going to school around then. Education had ceased to be important. Nothing else seemed to matter to my parents; only my success. My entire family had become my personal management team. My siblings were expected to drop everything and contribute.