Twisted Strings [MONSTER EDITING - Read at your own risk]

Throwing you away

15. Throwing you away 

It was the day of the final rehearsal when we all were sat in the auditorium, just hours before the first stage. I was dressed in my sweats backstage at the waiting room. Mr. Flynn didn't allow us to investigate each other's evaluations, as people had tried to hijack other groups before. It was scary, to think someone trying to sabotage us. Lana would stab them without thought and Stella would only need her cold stare to kill them.

''You tried the clothes, right? They fit, right?'' Lana had been nagging me about the fittings since we got here. She hovered around me like a bee, poking my stomach after every three seconds. I was on a verge of throwing her out of the window. The girl was obsessed with our 'fittings'.

''Will you stop that?'' I demanded, grabbing her hand and pushing her away for the tenth time. She gave me an offended look, as if I had been harassing her about clothes for an hour. I ignored her and played the bubble bursting game I was busy with, on my phone. I was having a headache from all the practices we had done in the last twenty-four hours. 'Fame' was ingrained in my mind, I was sure that I would be dreaming Irene Cara's face tonight.

''We need Violet focused,'' Lars told her. It was his business-like tone that he sometimes opted when he was serious about things. It made him look like someone else, someone not Lars. ''Stop bothering her. Now shoo!'' He finished comically. The duality was incredulous.

Lana scoffed. ''Do you know half of what will win the audience is your stage presence. And half of stage presence is stage fashion. Which I oversee.''

''Lana! A little help here! We need to set up our things!'' It was Rhodes, he appeared in the room for a second before disappearing again. He had been so busy since I got back, barely having time to talk. About other things. It was irritating me since yesterday; I had even tried to talk to him during our lunch breaks, but all he wanted to talk about was practice and strategy and practice again. Like Lana, Rhodes was obsessed with our 'stage'. I couldn't blame him either, while I had always been content with just singing whatever we had written together, he was ambitious about popularity and fame.

While I respected that, a selfish part of me wanted him to listen to my issues. I was probably behaving like a kid who wanted constant attention, but I couldn't shake it off.

He had done a good job of distracting Lana, who gave me frustrated look before following him out of the door, huffing as she did so. She was going to restart on her mantra when they would finish with the set up.

''There she goes.'' Stella muttered, she was sat at a corner, headphones in her ears, scrolling down her phone. She looked at me with a pained expression, ''When the dresses came, she made me try mine three times.''

I sighed, ''I feel sorry. I really do.''

''C'mon guys, she's a pushover, but she's passionate about her job.'' Lars piped in. Sitting beside me, he was sipping a lemonade. It was hot today, the sun had shown up in its full glory and despite the fan in the room, sweat was running down my back. One reason why I was iffy about putting on those heavy stage clothes again.

''Can I have some too? It's hot.'' I asked, and Lars handed me the bottle without a word.

''How's the weather at your Mom's place? Orlando, right?''

''Orlando Hills,'' I corrected Stella. ''Which is stupid because there are no hills. Just endless rows of buildings. And the weather there changes.''

''How was it this weekend?'' Lars prompted me,

I took a huge sip of the lemonade, not realizing how thirsty I had been. ''A little cold. It even rained-'' I stopped short, as pictures flashed in my mind. Rain...Oliver...kiss.