Chapter Two
I’m semi-blasting my favorite song, “The
Middle” by Jimmy Eat World, and dancing my way around the apartment.
I’m in a great mood, and there’s nothing like a little dance party to keep me
there.
The living room doubles as everything—office, dining nook,
movie theater, and dance space. A cozy, blue couch faces our small,
wall-mounted TV with a thrifted coffee table barely wide enough for a laptop
and two mugs. The floor is faux hardwood, clean but creaky, and a woven rug
adds a splash of personality.
Plus, it acts as a decent buffer for our downstairs
neighbors, since we’re not exactly quiet sometimes.
“What about red? You would look sexy in the red
dress,” my roommate and BFF, Jen, asks as she pops her head out of her room.
Right now, she’s trying to help me figure out what to wear to the movie
premiere. She’s a hair and makeup artist, and I absolutely adore her style. But
so far, nothing is really grabbing me.
“I don’t know if I’m going for sexy,” I explain as I twirl a
bit. “After all, it’s a premiere. And potentially a blind date. I don’t think
that’s the vibe I want to be giving off.”
The song ends, and another comes on, but I lower the volume
and follow Jen into her room, hopping onto her bed.
We’ve been roommates for almost two years, and I am so
grateful we met. When I first moved to LA, I rented a teeny-tiny studio
apartment that wasn’t ideal. Plus, I was lonely. It was my first time really
living on my own, and it was hard going home to that little place by myself
every night to stare at the four walls. I mentioned to some people that I
wanted to find something a little bigger and have a roommate, and Jen’s name
came up. We agreed to move in together without even meeting first, so it’s awesome
that it not only worked out, but we also ended up becoming such great friends.
Our current apartment is on the second floor of a modest
stucco building tucked between palm trees and buzzing power lines. Inside, the
space is compact but bright, thanks to the big sliding glass door that opens to
a narrow balcony just wide enough for two chairs and a cactus.
I don’t have a green thumb, and neither does Jen. A cactus
is the only thing we can keep alive.
I wasn’t picky about what I wanted in an apartment, as long
as it was in a safe part of town, and we could each have our own bedroom.
Luckily, it worked out. It’s small, but it works.
Jen’s bedroom has a full bed pushed into one corner, with
just enough room for a nightstand and a small desk that doubles as a vanity.
She calls it “Glam Central.”
“Fair enough,” she says while rummaging through her closet.
It’s shallow but crammed with LA-style essentials: colored jackets, vintage
tees, and sneakers. We always start with her stuff because she has a much more
impressive wardrobe than I do. I prefer to dress for comfort, while Jen makes a
statement almost everywhere she goes.
She pulls out a blue dress because that’s my favorite color,
and then a yellow one, even though it may clash with my blond hair. Then, she
pulls out a long, black number that looks a little too goth for me. I’m about
to say as much when she beats me to it.
“Um, no, right?” she says with a laugh. “You’re all cute and
sunshiny. This is way too…I don’t know…Wednesday Addams.”
We both start laughing because I cannot even imagine myself
in something like that. Or Jen.
“Why do you even have that dress?” I ask. “It’s totally not
your style either.”
Tilting her head, she studies it for a moment. “I want to
say it was for Halloween one year, and then I wore it to a New Year’s Eve party
because I literally couldn’t find anything else that I wanted to wear. It was a
big hit.”
“Oh, well…that’s awesome. Good for you!”
She puts the dress back and starts flipping through all her
clothes again. “How do we feel about green? It matches your eyes.”
“Depends on the style.”
“I could braid your hair and style it in a fun updo, and I
can do your eye makeup to be a little sparkly and…” Before she can finish the
thought, she shakes her head and puts the dress back. “Nope. It’s not the one.
I know you, Ella, and none of these dresses is speaking your name.”
“That’s a new one,” I say, thoroughly amused. “I didn’t
think dresses could talk.”
She grins at me over her shoulder. “You know what I mean.
Whatever dress we choose has to be perfect. It’s a big night on multiple
levels. It’s a lot of pressure for a dress. Of course, everything looks good on
you, so you wouldn’t think this would be so difficult. But I know we haven’t
found the one yet.” She closes the closet door with a
dramatic sigh. “Come on. Time to check your closet. And if that doesn’t work,
we’ll hit the thrift store. You know we’ll find something there.”
I hop off her bed. “I know, but I’d love it if I didn’t have
to buy anything right now. Between the two of us, there has to be something
that will work.”
My bedroom is slightly smaller than Jen’s, but I’ve got the
same amount of furniture tucked inside. My bed hugs the wall beneath a window
that faces the building next door, and some old plastic crates act as makeshift
shelving.
It isn’t fancy, but it’s home: sunlit, a little cramped, and
alive with the hum of traffic, neighbors’ music, and the drone of the
occasional helicopter overhead.
“Yeah, but if we go to the thrift shop, we both get to play
dress-up. And how fun is that?”
“I do enjoy it when we get to try stuff on…” I sit on my bed
and watch as she starts going through my closet.
Honestly, it’s a bit funny to me that I’m enjoying this.
I was a tomboy when I was younger.
Like…a soccer, getting dirty while playing in the mud, not
caring one bit about my appearance, sort of thing. If my mother wanted me to
wear a dress, she practically had to chase me down to get it on me.
Thinking about that now, it’s really kind of cool. I
mean…sometimes, people think you’re the person you’re going to be from a very
young age. Like if you were a girly-girl at five, you’d always be a girly-girl.
Or if you enjoyed eating PB if it didn’t suit me at the time, I didn’t do it. Some might look at a
child not doing what all the other kids are and call them odd, but I never
cared about what other people thought.
Even as a little girl, Ella Rose Holt became synonymous with
unconventional.
For a while, I was obsessed with the Karate Kid
movies and would wear a karate uniform—a gi—all the
time. I even wore it for my school pictures, despite my mom desperately wanting
me to wear a dress.
I was the only girl on the boys’ soccer team. In my mind, I
wanted to play, and the fact that the rest of the team was all boys didn’t stop
me. I didn’t mind getting sweaty, running, or playing in the dirt. It was
exhilarating and challenging, and I loved proving to people that I could do it.
I wasn’t the best player, but I worked really hard and vowed to always be a
great asset. I was driven, even at a young age.
So, besides being unconventional, I was also very
determined.
Of course, none of that would have been possible without the
best parents in the world. They were always supportive and encouraging, and
they never did anything to deter my ambition.
There were four of us kids, and we all had different
hobbies, interests, and dreams, but my parents were always there, cheering us
on. It was a strict parenting rule for them to never say no to our dreams.
However…
That didn’t mean we were all running wild with no boundaries
or discipline. They were strict when they needed to be, but each had an
incredible work ethic and wanted that for us, too.
So, they taught by example. But they never did the work for
us.
I’ll never forget the Christmas they gave me a hat with Dream
It. Be It on it. They used that hat as a teaching tool and told me that
all my dreams were possible, but they wouldn’t just fall into my lap. I had to
put in the hard work to make it happen.
That became my personal motto: Dream it. Be it.
Then, I started singing and acting in the fourth grade
because I knew I wanted to be an actress. It was obvious to me that it was more
than a phase. It was going to happen, and I was willing to put in the
work.
“Ella? Hello? Earth to Ella?” Jen says, and I realize I’ve
been in my head for a little too long.
“What? Oh, sorry,” I say with a nervous laugh. “My mind
wandered for a minute.”
She sighs with a hint of drama, leaning against the closet
doorway. “Look, I get it. All the dressing-up stuff isn’t your thing.”
“I don’t mind dressing up,” I counter. “And I’m having fun thinking
about all the possibilities. I’m just…I don’t know. I think I have a lot on my
mind. Maybe I’m just not in the right frame of mind to decide on a dress
today.”
“Um, no. I think you’re a little overwhelmed because there
are so many moving parts connected to this particular dress, that’s all. Like
we said, it’s a movie premiere and a potential blind date.” She
pauses. “Blindish? Is that a better word? I mean, we still don’t know if you’re
even going with that Christian guy. Or any guy, for that matter.”
Laughing, she shakes her head. “Either way, you’re straddling the line here on
what direction to go in with the dress, and it’s got you stumped.”
I don’t exactly love that analysis, but
unfortunately, she’s right. I am stumped.
If this were just a movie premiere, I’d be fine.
If it was only a date, I’d be okay.
But combining the two?
And on top of all that, my golden birthday is coming
up. I believe something special is going to happen on my actual birthday, but I
stop my mind from getting ahead of itself. Is all of this connected?
Ugh, this is too much. As an actress, I prefer when
everything is scripted. All of this feels very unscripted, and I cannot control
it. So, yeah, I’m stumped.
“Fine. Let’s just say, for argument’s sake, that I’m