beginning
My life was perfect, if you were seeing it from the outside.
Being the daughter of two very successful theatre performers meant lots of invitations to exclusive events and a paved pathway towards my own future. My social media pages were nothing short of being filled with fashion and travel pictures, nor short of other big names following me. It seemed like the ultimate Gen Z dream.
Of course without the still-attending-public-school aspect.
To be fair, it was my idea to stay in this school instead of homeschooling or going to a performing arts academy -- it was the only thing in common I had with other fellow 16 and 17-year-olds. Also, I wanted to soak up as much of Toronto as I could before I was off to Los Angeles to focus on my screen acting career, which definitely included auditioning 90% of the time. So if this was the only time left to come close to being a normal teen... I would stick with it. Even though I felt like a walking dead person on the first day of Grade 11.
“Hey, Sunshine!” Justin Fox chirped as he caught sight of me walking down the school hallway, his bag casually slung over one shoulder. He too, had opted to stay in this school (not that he was doing well academically, whoops) -- but he was already in Grade 12. So close to graduating.
I barely managed a smile, definitely not feeling like sunshine. “Hey, Justin.”
He fell into step beside me, ignoring the people that were gaping at him. “Rough morning?”
I raised a hand to rub my eye. “You have no idea.”
He swatted my hand away. “Uh-uh, you’ll mess up your mascara and probably pull out some eyelashes while you’re at it.”
I huffed a laugh. “You know the drill. Parents waking me up at the crack of dawn to either practice acting lines or music theory. Your eyeliner is on fleek, by the way.”
He rolled his eyes. “Who even says ‘on fleek’ anymore? But if it makes you feel better, I was up at 4am getting prepped for a photoshoot with the boys. Came straight here after and couldn’t be bothered to take it off. At least I’ll look good when we show up on Twitter or something thanks to people sneak-photographing us later.”
I glanced around, noting there were indeed a couple phones discreetly pointed in our direction. “I think you’re to blame for this. They almost treat me like a fellow student.”
Justin raised a perfectly trimmed brow. “What can I do -- stop being the gorgeous lead singer of Toronto’s very own up-and-coming band?”
I flicked him. “Freaking massive ego.”
He winked at me and slung an arm around my shoulders. “Ego is fine, as long as one has the skills to back it up.”
And Justin did. Besides being Luke Hemmings’ doppelgänger, Justin possessed the musical talent that justified his position as the lead singer of Flames of Tomorrow -- a rock band he and three other friends formed together. They had been writing songs since pre-teen days probably, regularly performing at local gigs, until a Vine of Justin singing (while playing the guitar shirtless) skyrocketed their popularity. It was at that moment I was jarringly reminded of the beauty bias that existed in society -- did anyone still remember how ‘Alex from Target’ blew up online just because he was... cute? And got invited to interviews and the freaking Ellen DeGeneres Show?
I shook my head. There was a silver lining, I guessed -- even U.S recording labels had reached out to the boys, and now they were signed under Universal Spotlights. It was the same recording label as my favourite popstar, Nightingale, was signed with, so it was a huge deal -- there was even a rumour that the boys would be touring the U.S with her too.
Justin dropped his arm from around my shoulders suddenly, jerking me back to reality. “What’s going on here?”
I peered to my right, noticing there was a large crowd gathering in one of the narrower hallways. I could hear people murmuring to each other, but there was a lone guy’s angry voice that rose above it all. “Watch where the f*ck you’re going, freak!”
I exchanged a glanced with Justin and we shuffled forward, trying to get a better view. I could faintly make out the guy standing over someone on the ground, papers scattered everywhere.
“Were you too high to watch where you were going, druggy?” The standing guy snorted. There was a collective intake of breath at his statement, but that didn’t stop his rampage. “I can’t believe that you’re let back into school, held back a grade or not. If you’re not clean, go back to rehab, bro. Don’t relapse here.”
The guy make it a point to kick at the papers on the floor, which made Justin cringe. “Let’s go, Lani.”
I hesitated and gestured to the other guy who was still on the floor. I had an inkling of who he was, from the verbal abuse that was just hurled at him. “But --”
“Before a camera catches us and associates us with this mess.”
“Shouldn’t we --”
Justin’s tone was firm. ”We aren’t going to do anything. Let someone else handle it. That’s Deandre Williams, Lani. We don’t want to be seen with him, you hear me? Or you’re going to blow up your reputation -- and not in a good way.”
I tried to crane my neck over the crowd, but gave up soon enough -- what was I expecting, with my 160cm frame -- and allowed Justin to steer me away. “Isn’t he clean now, though?”
“Clean or not, no one really cares. You know how cancel culture works. Doesn’t help he was in juvie before and had gang parents,” he warned. But then he perked up. “Enough depressing talk. I’ll see you at lunch, alright? My manager has planned so many things for the boys and I to film for YouTube -- I’ve got to tell you all about it.”
I grinned back at him, grateful for the change of topic. “Alright. See you at lunch!”
I turned around and sighed as the first bell rang, sending students scattering and scurrying to their classes. I mentally prepared myself for my 8am French class -- then I nearly slipped on a matte black folder on the floor.
I caught myself, realising that I hadn’t seen it as it was half-wedged under a locker. I glared at it, cursing it mentally, then eventually picked it up and flipped through it to find some form of identification -- but my blood chilled as soon as I realised whose folder it belonged to.
With only five minutes left to spare, I hurried in the general direction I thought Deandre Williams had disappeared in -- not even considering if it was better if I left it where I had found it, or dropped it off at the lost-and-found. Perhaps it was the guilt from my inaction earlier that was driving me now.
Miraculously, like something out of a movie -- or a Wattpad story -- I found him near the entrance of the school. He was lingering by the door, one hand clutching his schoolbag, looking like he was about to bolt while he still could. I stood there for a while dumbly, waiting to catch his attention. He shifted his backpack higher on his shoulder and finally looked over to me, his dark eyes wary and defensive.
“Hi,” I cleared my throat. “Um, I think you dropped this.”
He stared at me for a moment longer.
I was starting to feel self-conscious, so I swatted at my face. “Oh gosh, my mascara’s smudged, isn’t it? Justin told me not to rub, but I must’ve unconsciously done it--”
I cut myself off when I noticed that Deandre had begun walking up to me, albeit a bit awkwardly. He promptly took the folder from me.
“Thank you,” he mumbled. I had never heard him speak before, but his voice was lower than I had imagined it to be. He would definitely be part of the choir’s bass section.
Shoot, I blamed my parents for turning me into such a music nerd.
Smiling and laughing were things that came rather naturally to me, but at the moment, my smile came out tentative. “Anytime.”
The second bell rang, and he winced. I gestured back towards the classrooms, in the complete opposite direction of where he had been staring out at. “So, are you heading to class or...?”
He didn’t miss the hidden question and his lips pressed into a thin line. “Can’t waste THE Leilani’s efforts, can I?”
I vaguely felt my jaw drop, and his grimace lifted slightly in amusement. I snapped my mouth shut with a huff. I hated that people could read me like an open book. So, instead, I drew in a deep breath and put on my most convincing smile. “Yes. I’ll see you around, Deandre Williams.”
Probably in detention, as we were now both late to class.
