Chapter Twenty-Six #2
When I get to the rec center, it’s quiet.
I wasn’t expecting a bunch of kids at this hour since it’s a school day, but I was expecting someone.
Some sort of adult class, people playing basketball, anything.
Instead, there’s just one woman sitting on one of the couches with her headphones on, writing furiously in a notebook, and another woman pacing back and forth while reading a stack of papers to herself quietly.
I walk over to the woman with the papers, not wanting to make the woman on the couch remove her headphones. “Hi, is there someone working today?”
She turns to me and that’s when I see she’s not a woman at all. She can’t be any older than fifteen, maybe, but she’s only about an inch shorter than me. “Oh my God, oh my God,” she yells.
The woman on the couch squints over at us, lifting her headphones off one ear, but returns to whatever she’s doing when I give her a thumbs-up.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t be so loud, but you’re Dani Jenkins, aren’t you?”
“That would be me.”
Her voice jumps a half octave. “You’re my idol!”
I slap my hand against my chest. “That is so sweet, thank you.”
Her legs start shaking and she hides her stack of papers behind her back. “I have so many questions for you, oh my God.” She shakes her head. “No, you’re busy. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t bother you.”
I look at this girl, beautiful yet awkward in her stance.
I approached her, and yet she apologized for bothering me.
Her white blouse looks fantastic against the russet color of her skin, but she tugs on the bottom of her shirt like she’s dressed inappropriately.
Somewhere along the lines of her life, she’s been told that she’s too much and that she needed to take up less space.
I wish I could wrap my hands around the throat of every person that’s ever told her that and squeeze until they couldn’t fill her head with lies anymore.
“I’m not busy and you’re not bothering me. Do you want to sit down?”
Her eyes bulge out of her skull. “Really?”
“Really.”
She starts to skip over to the bleachers, but then looks back at me, embarrassed, and slows down to a stroll. I catch up to her and skip past her, all the way to the bleachers, happy when I see her doing the same.
“So, what’s your name?”
“Veronica.”
“It’s nice to meet you.” I hold my hand out to hers and she nearly rips my arm out of its socket with how fast and hard she shakes it.
“Sorry, sorry. Nice to meet you too.”
“You said you had questions for me?”
She rubs her hands down her face, letting out a small shriek. “I don’t even know where to start. Umm, how did you get into modeling?”
I happily give her a brief rundown of what led me here and I can see her mouth moving as I talk, trying to memorize every word.
“Are you interested in modeling, Veronica?”
Her hand flies behind her to the stack of papers she stashed there when we sat down. “Sort of. I want to model, act, and sing.”
“A triple threat, I like it.”
I expect her to smile at that, but she doesn’t. She looks away, suddenly very interested in her nails.
“Did I say something wrong?”
Her eyes jump to mine as she frantically waves her hands. “No, no, no. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“Is it okay if I grab your hands?” I ask.
“S-s-sure.”
I take her hands in mine and take a deep breath. “You didn’t offend me. We’re having a great conversation, okay?”
She mimics my deep breath. “We are.”
“Okay. So, tell me about the modeling, acting, and singing.”
Another deep breath. “People tell me I could be good at modeling, because I’m tall. But most people say I don’t have the right vibe to be famous.”
That gives me pause. “What’s the right vibe?”
She hums. “More calm, I guess. They say I have too much energy to be able to do interviews and stuff. They say acting takes a finesse I don’t have.”
Again, who is “they”? And where can I find them? “You know what that sounds like to me?”
“What?”
“Jealousy.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” she says, a hint of red creeping up her neck.
“I do. Anyone who tries to dim someone else’s light has no light of their own. Let them rot in the dark.”
Her hands fly to her mouth and her eyes peek behind her once again. After seemingly wrestling with herself, she finally grabs the stack of papers. “Um, I was thinking of auditioning for my school’s musical.”
“Yes! That sounds amazing. What is it?”
“Little Shop of Horrors. I really want to play Audrey.”
“Those your lines for your audition?” I motion toward the papers. It can’t be a coincidence that this girl is here running lines by herself the night after the dream I had.
“Yeah. The audition is in a couple weeks, so I’m practicing. But I don’t even know if I should do it.”
“Do you want to do it?”
“I do.”
“Then you will. Hand it over, we can run lines together.”
She perks up. “Are you serious? But weren’t you here looking for someone?”
“Looks like I found ’em.”
After ninety minutes of running lines in between Veronica prodding me with questions, she leaves to head home, while I’m the one left buzzing.
Veronica was a gift I didn’t know I needed. Once upon a time, interactions like that were everything I wanted out of this industry. In all the pain I experienced, I allowed myself to forget that.
I won’t let myself forget again.