Noah James, as in the Noah James. The Noah James who is USA's junior boxing champion. As in the badass guy who influenced my new healthy lifestyle from the destructive lifestyle I had before. The dark, mysterious and insanely hot boxer who I had a mild crush on since forever.
"Um." That was all I could say?!
She chuckled again, "You will make our school proud if you represent us, unlike some other girls. Thank you again Taylor, here's your form that you might want to fill out now so Alicia doesn't find it and 'loose it'."
I laugh and spend the first period in the headmistress office, filling out paper work and complaining about my step family. It wasn't until recess when I saw Jordan again, out the back of the library underneath a big palm tree.
"Wait, so you're going on the show, the one everyone was going on about last year?"
I nodded and she groaned, "That means I actually have to watch it now." I chuckled along with her. She refuses to conform to what is popular.
"So, who you fighting for, I mean where are you going?"
I rolled my eyes, "The person is Noah James-"
"Hold up, Noah James, your idol?"
"He's not my idol; I just appreciate his determination, skills and hard work. Getting this far as a boxer at nineteen is incredible."
Jordan raised her eyebrow, "I reckon you could do it, you're an incredible boxer." Jordan was the only one who knew about my training and the occasional legal matches I competed in for cash, Alicia was using up all of dad's hard earned money for Botox and God knows what else.
I brushed her comment aside, "I think it is being shot in Miami this time." I told her. She glared at me, "All the way in Miami?! That's not fair; last year wasn't it here in California, now I can't visit you," she groaned, "You're leaving me alone to all the wolves." She dramatically wrapped her arms around me crushing me with her body weight as she pretended to collapse.
"Jordan, it won't be that bad. We can skype each other and you can post me your Mixtapes the old fashion way."
Jordan mixed me a lot of mix tracks and electronic music which I used to run to, and as her best friend I was always the first to listen to whatever she made; best friend privileges.
The bell rang, and Jordan uncharacteristically wrapped her arm around my shoulders as we made our way to Modern History.
**
After finishing all of the chores Alicia demanded that I do, I convinced Jordan to come over and help me pack. I was leaving in five days and I had made sure to lock my door so that my lovely sisters wouldn't try entering. This is the one time I wanted to do something for me.
My suit case was spread open the bed and Jordan was chucking anything in which she thought was 'decent' or 'hot'. With the cash I made on the sidelines, my closet was fairly limited to second hand band shirts, jeans and whatever else fit me, from the thrift shop or cheap gym clothes from Kmart.
Music was blaring through my speakers, another electronic dance track Jordan had made while I sat behind my laptop, typing up a new blog post. My mind wandered behind my screen as so did my hands. This was when I could be me, truly me and say whatever was on my mind. Behind my screen I am a different person, open about my healthy lifestyles, open about my thoughts, open about advice and ideas I've had. To thousands of followers across the world I was runwithgrace, a worldwide known blogger who wrote posts about my life with a 'loving' step family, about my crazy DJ of a best friend, about the food I ate and healthy recipes, along with workouts, ideas and mixtapes (which promoted my best friend's music a lot) and motivation; not only motivation to get through a work out, but motivation for each day, for people who struggled with different things.
It was ironic though, how much response I got from people, when back home and at school I was nobody.
"Hey, I've sorted all your clothes out and I even included your workout clothes so you're welcome." Jordan shouts over the loud music just as I click my current post hinting the world about the upcoming opportunity I have but not telling them exactly what I was doing. There was a possibility I wouldn't get through the round of producers.
"Thanks Jordan, do you want to stay the night?"
She grins at me and pushes the suitcase off my bed making it clunk on the floor as she jumps on my bed.
"Sounds like a plan." She grins but before I could say anything in reply the speaker phone in the kitchen beeps and a nasally high pitched female voice screeches, "Taylor Grace! Where is our dinner?!"
Jordan grumbles, "The Kardashians are calling."
**
Since Alicia refused to book my flights (with my dad's money!) this resulted two things on the day of my departure, a) a bruised face and body due to trying to make some cash to actually make it to Florida, b) sitting as far away as I could from the airheads in economy which wasn't too bad. I had a window seat and sat next to a middle aged man reading Fifty Shades of Grey.
I felt slightly uncomfortable.
I managed to trick myself that he was an English Lit teacher on his way to lecture a university class on reasons not to read the darn book. However, I knew I was lying to myself which resulted in me pressing as far as I can into the window with my carry on satchel and pillow as a barrier, I had to make sure there was nothing around which could be used to tie me up and I refused to use the sleeping masks.
When the plane finally touched ground after five hours, I bolted as fast as I could out of the plane, leaving Stacey and Bianca behind. Maybe if I pretended I wasn't related to them in any shape or form then maybe it would happen in real life. As I received my check in luggage from the bagging area a row of suited men stood in a straight line holding out signs, sure enough I saw my name and greeted the thirty-year-old man.
He grinned at me, "I'm guessing you are Taylor Grace?". I nodded and he shook my hand before taking my bags and leading me to the limo outside. I should say a limo due to the long line down the airport strip of limos.
On the way he explained what was happening, and apparently today was the day we were going to be meeting the producers, unprepared and unaware. I felt like an airplane mess, with static hair, and my usual football t-shirt dress with leggings and, this time, Doc Martens.
He drove up to a warehouse, and as I left the car with my luggage in it, I was handed a number, #3152, that was when I noticed the massive line of girls and my anxiety grew. These girls were loud and they were screaming quite a lot in voices which reminded me of Alicia. I was hit in the face with the air of hairspray and perfume as girls swapped make up with each other in a big rush to get ready. I didn't even put any make up on when I got on the plane.
I dug in my bag for my earphones and thankfully was able to drown the noise out with some Chet Faker. I could feel the stares on me and I realised how much more of a mess I looked compared to most of them. They were in tight clothing, put together, designer brands and then there was me in a hand me down shirt from an op-shop. I tried to divert my attention by scrolling through my blog and comments from people who care enough to listen to what I say.
I decided not to say anything about the show unless I make it through this round, or until I get the chance to meet Noah James to thank him.
It wasn't until five hours later till I was called in, I waited a majority of that time sitting and standing in line, listening to music and by the time I got in I was flustered and frustrated because I really needed to go to the toilet. First my photo was taken against a white wall by a Russian man who couldn't speak English. I then wondered through the warehouse temporarily blinded due to the flash.
The large room was dark and as I entered I faced a long desk which sat three people. Once I finally came to the spot which was marked with an X they all introduced themselves with names I forgot instantly. A woman in the middle smiled at me warmly, "Hello sweetie, what is your name?"
"Taylor Grace, mam."
Their pens scratched along on their notepads.
"How old are you?"
"17."
Questions like these followed along and I answered each one as honestly as I could, it only got interesting when one of them asked, "What do you do in your spare time?"
"Um, I either go running, or blog."
The questions continued before the red head said, "Thanks Taylor for today, we shall be in touch with you tonight via email, do you have any questions?"
I nodded, "Where's the bathroom?"
And all of them burst out laughing.
**
The networkers of the show booked out a hotel completely. I was in a middle sized room with four beds, both double beds, so it looked as if I would be sharing a bed with a stranger tonight. I was the second one in here, the first girl, Ashley, was tanned, blonde and looked like a younger version of Paris Hilton. What completed her look were her criticizing eyes, looking me up and down as well as her Gucci hand bag lying spread open on the floor with designer clothes pouring out. She ignored me, so I took the other bed hoping that the other girls would at least talk to me.
After shoving my suitcase underneath my bed I took my laptop and earphones out and after plugging in one of Jordan's mixes opened up my blog. I began to type away, once again opening up to strangers worldwide. Once my post has been published another girl walked in and she sent me a shy smile. She had pale skin with black long hair, and multiple studs in both ears. She was stunning.
"Hi, I'm Jasmine," she softly spoke. I grinned back at her, "Taylor."
We talked for a little bit while we both settled in. Finally, the last girl entered and she was another clone of Ashley, no wonder they got along really well, bragging to each other but how much Gucci and Prada they own.
Jasmine and I had moved out to the balcony of the crappy hotel. I'm pretty sure we were in the backstreets of Miami. We were still getting to know each other, and soon I learnt she was an only child from Seattle, raised by her hard core Nirvana fan parents. They had moved from Michigan to Seattle because that's where the grunge sound was born. Room service had been organised and we all were sent up a tray of salads and spaghetti and garlic bread. It wasn't until 8:45 when all our phones rang and we quickly picked up.
"Hello is this Taylor Grace?" a voice on the other end asked.
"Yes sir."
"Congratulations, you have made it through to the show, a car will pick you up tomorrow at 9 to move you to your new location, good luck."
The line went dead.
I was going to meet Noah James.
Love you guys so much <3
Alexis (why do I still use this name while you know my real one beats me)
p.s. I know some of you think this is like the another Cinderella story but the differences are coming - of course, there'll be similarities though cause it's both Cinderella