Chapter 1 - Moronic Rocks

An intro of Casey Rockwell and her life... goes into the story a bit, but the action really starts in chapter two.

ChApTeR 1

 

“Hold on, Ben! I promise you, it’ll be okay. Just hold on a bit longer.”

 

A tear fell down my face. It looked so painful for him to breathe.

 

“Ben, listen to me – the ambulance is going to be here soon. Try to breathe, Busy Bee Benny, you hear me?”

 

He was choking on blood; I turned him onto his stomach to clear his throat, and he coughed out blood. He gasped, and I turned him over again. I sobbed, and he gasped again – he finally mouthed something that looked like ‘I love you.’

 

Then it was over.

 

His eyes stared at the ceiling with a kind of glazed look, and I let out another sob. I pulled his head to my chest and I started crying.

 

“And, CUT!”

 

I got up from my spot and helped Eric up. He grabbed a bottle of water from one of the crew and took a drink, then spit red into the trash; he grinned at me, and I was glad to see that his teeth weren’t red with that nasty fake blood.

 “Good scene, Casey, Eric. Just brilliant. I loved how great you did, and that was just the first scene to shoot; I can’t wait to see you two tomorrow,” our flamingly gay but lovable director, José Hanson, said with a big grin. “Go on and change, and I’ll have someone drive you to the interview with Teenie – Bopp Studios, kay – kay?” Eric and I nodded and went to our dressing room. My twin sisters were in there – that is to say, the mirror images of me, only with a boring twist.

 

“Did you do okay, Casey?” Sarah anxiously asked, wringing her hands. I rolled my eyes.

“Sar, if I didn’t do okay, you’d see me in a really crappy mood and throwing that wig head thingy over there.” I replied, pointing at a plaster head that really freaked me out; seriously, it looks like it’s staring at you!

 

Leslie grinned and hugged me. “You did great, I’m sure. I can’t wait to see the movie – you’re so lucky! I’ve sent in so many demo tapes of my songs, but no one wants to hear them.”

I smiled. “They’re always looking for the next big thing, Les. Someone will hear how good you are. There’s gonna be a big – time music producer at the premiere, how about if mom lets you two come, you can give him a copy of your demo?” Leslie nodded excitedly, and I grinned. “Goody. Now let me change, girlies!” I ushered my sisters out of my room and changed into normal clothing.

 

My sisters are über cool; we’re all fifteen, but Sarah is the oldest (obviously; eldest siblings always seem to be worrywarts); she has a love of writing poetry and stories. In fact, her short story just recently won a place in Teenie – Bopp magazine (yes, the one I was about to go to); she also got $250  - she spent it on more writing supplies and a sketchpad.

 

Leslie is the second oldest – two minutes older of me, in fact (In case you’re wondering – and I bet you’re not – Sarah’s five minutes older than me); she loves writing and playing her songs. Everybody, including herself, no matter how humble she is, knows that she’s great at it. She can play the harp, guitar, drums, piano, bass, flute, and violin – I swear, she’s some kind of musical genius. She’s been looking for a record company to sign her, but no such luck. In my awesome opinion, I’m surprised that a record company’s not begging to sign her on.

 

And I’m just Casey, the youngest triplet. The third wheel. Not really the third wheel, but still… sometimes I can’t help but joke about it. I auditioned for millions of things from commercials to TV shows, but nothing worked out. I finally auditioned for this movie, The Sons of the West, and after about a hundred callbacks, they called me and told me I got the part. Talk about the best day of my life, man!

 

We all look alike, pretty much; not that bad looking, with different shades of hair ranging from auburn to bright red (Leslie has the auburn hair, Sarah’s is a bit lighter, and mine just so happens to be the bright red that attracted the casting director to me) and big blue eyes. The only difference is that Sarah and Leslie’s eyes are exactly the same sky blue color, but sometimes mine turn grey and have gold flecks in them. We’re all pretty pale and burn in the sunlight, and we have freckles. Other than that, we’re completely different. As I said before, Sarah’s such a worrywart, Leslie is the gorgeous one who doesn’t need makeup to be beautiful, and I’m the third wheel; meaning, like, I wear clip in streaks, I skateboard, and I’m a bit of a semi – tomboy. We still love each other.

 

Back to the story; I pulled my sneakers on and pulled my hair back, keeping a couple of strands out to braid. I took out the heavy earrings that were weighing my earlobes down and practically pulling them down to my toes. I wiped off my thick makeup to reveal a pale but freckly face and swiped on one coat of mascara and one coat of clear lip gloss before pulling open my door to step out of the hot studio.

 

One problem – I couldn’t.

 

Eric Madden was outside of my door.

 

I’m not saying I didn’t like it – Eric Madden was in one of the hottest teen bands around currently. He and his brothers, Christian and Zak made up the band Choir of Souls. I was so excited when I found out he was going to be my co – star. Obviously, I’m a fan! He and his bros had pretty good looks, too. Christian, the oldest at 18, had sea green eyes that you could drown in, and light reddish – brown hair that went well with his tan complexion. Eric was the middle child (thus being his job to be the hilarious 17 year – old of the group), but probably the best looking out of all of them. He had black hair that was a bit longer than his brothers, and the prettiest brown eyes. I mean, not even contacts could make someone’s eyes like his. Zak was three months older than me; the youngest of the group (they have a six year old brother named Lucas), and it was thanks to him that they had gotten signed to Golden Angel Records. He has brown hair and odd eyes – like one blue/green eye and one blue/brown eye. Both are like half and half. Cream and milk. Sugar and Splenda.

 

Hmm, I nearly forgot that the music producer going to the premiere is from Golden Angel Records!

 

“Hey Eric.” I smiled and allowed him in; I knew what he was looking for – this used to be his dressing room before he gave it to me yesterday for a smaller one. Did I mention he was sweet? Anyways, he came in looking for his jacket; very cool one, I might add – it was black with a neon – colored picture of Freddie Mercury on the back. He found it behind my purple couch and popped up with a mock pout on his face. “This is how you treat my things? After all I’ve done for you!” He exclaimed, clutching his chest as if wounded. I couldn’t help it. I started laughing, and he chuckled, happy to know he had made someone’s day. His smile faded a bit and he walked out, nudging my shoulder on the way out. He stopped at the doorway and said, “The limo’s here, by the way. You should get your stuff.”

 

Of course, it took me five more minutes before I got out of there; lots of saying goodbyes, hearing José say that he loved the scene and that I did great five million times, and talking to my mom on my agent Martha’s cell.

 

Once I did get in the limo, Eric and his brothers were in the limo with my sisters. Leslie was writing something with Zak, Sarah was looking out the window, and Christian had his ear buds out. I sat down next to Eric, who was still spitting out red from the fake blood. Out the window, of course. Otherwise I would’ve either drowned in the first five minutes of being in the limo or when I opened the car my jeans would’ve gotten soaked. He finally stopped when the limo driver said that we were halfway there. Sarah pulled herself away from the window to look at me.

 

I knew that look.

 

“Sarah,” I said, and everyone glanced my way. I ignored them, because it’s between me, Sarah, and Leslie. We both pulled out our phones and began to text back and forth.

 

Sar, what is dad doing now?

 

He wants custody of us. Mom & him r @ it again

 

S**t.

 

Language, Head Case! But yah, I know.

 

I laughed when I read ‘Head Case.’ She smiled and put away her phone; I followed suit. Eric then decided we had to talk about embarrassing moments our parents have caused. He then decided that Christian had to go first.

 

“Uh, okay,” Chris said, pulling out his ear buds and thinking for a moment. He then snapped his fingers and pointed at Eric. “Remember when we were going to that fifth grade dance?”

 

Eric smiled and shook his head. “I still can’t believe you got to dance with Mimi Bell. She was like, the best looking girl in the school!” Chris nodded and said, “Once she took off the glasses and got her braces taken out. Anyways, our parents met up afterward and began to exchange pictures of us in second grade.” I frowned. “What’s wrong with pictures of – “Chris showed me a picture of himself and I grimaced. Eric hopped up and down in his seat, being the hyper guy he was. “My turn! My turn!” he shouted, and Leslie looked up from her paper and giggled before looking back down again.

 

“Okay, so we were doing our first big gig, and my dad comes out with my bags. Richard Billard, the producer of GAR, comes to help. He took one of my heavier bags and started grunting, and my dad jokingly says, ‘Oh, so you’ve seen the magazines, have you?’ And Richard dropped the bag and stared.” He sighed and relaxed up against his seat while everyone was screaming with laughter.  Christian wiped tears out of his eyes and said, “You never told me that!” Zak looked at Chris and Eric and smiled slowly before saying, “I remember that. I couldn’t stop laughing.”

 

The rest of the ride was like that, talking about embarrassing things and what – not.

 

I couldn’t help but have fun.

 

We arrived at Teenie Bopp Studios shortly after they squeezed an embarrassing story out of me (and I will not be repeating that experience); we bid our siblings goodbye and entered the big building. As soon as we came through the doors, people rushed us to wardrobe and makeup for a photo shoot. The photographer came in and told Eric and I would be dressed in 18^th century clothing for the shoot. I frowned when they put the amazingly heavy powder – white wig on my head, but I kept my mouth closed. They powdered my face within an inch of its life, then put on some pink lipstick, fake eyelashes with those faux jewels, rouge colored – blush, and some purple eye shadow. They then had me change into a white slip and a large cream colored court dress. Man, those things tie up tight in the chest area.

 

I met Eric at the back of the studio; they had created a set in their “backyard,” and we were supposed to pose in different places. Once we finished, we were going to get dressed into normal clothes, clean off our faces, and go to the cafeteria for the interview. Our photographer, Lila Mistroni, met us outside on the set. “We’re going to have you pose over there first, on the bridge. Casey, honey, do you think you could sit on the edge and look to your left?” She directed us like that, helping us when we didn’t get it, and so on and so forth. All in all nice lady. She actually asked for our autographs when we were finished up, and I gave her my cell too, just in case she wanted to do more photos or anything.

 

We cleaned up and changed; I was happy they had showers – the wig was murder! Anyways, Eric and I met up at the cafeteria, where they had a little Starbucks booth. I immediately made a beeline for the booth with Eric on my heels. “Two chocolate frappucinos, please!” I said, and we were handed the kind of bottles you get from the store. I didn’t care, it was a friggin’ frappucino!

 

We met the interviewer at the table; we shook hands, asked the usual ‘How are you?’ and so on.

 

And so the interview began.

 

“How does it feel to have beaten out millions of girls for a humongous role that could give you a great beginning to your career?” Was her first question; of course, it was directed at me. Eric had been in like, two movies before this. And he didn’t need to act to be famous; his band had been signed last year. And we can’t forget that he is of the opposite sex! I felt her eyes pierce me like daggers hitting me in the chest, but I shrugged it off and answered. “To have been chosen for this movie was probably the best day of my life. I mean, just to think that I’d been picked out of all those girls who did one thing or another better than me was just amazing.” Yes, if it sounds planned, we planned all of these answers ahead of time; we meaning Martha and I (I’ll tell you more about Martha later), and ahead of time meaning… ahead of time.

 

“Eric, this one’s for you. You and your brothers are coming out with a third CD, yet you wanted to be in this movie! Why?” came out of the interviewer’s mouth. Eric smiled slightly and answered, “I found out about this role from my agent; he sent me a copy of the script and I couldn’t help but want it.”

 

We came out of the studio two hours later, exhausted and tired. Night had fallen, and my mom couldn’t come, so Eric’s bus was driving me home. Which was, unfortunately, two more hours away. Well, we got on the bus to find Chris and Zak playing the Gamecube and saying things like, “You suck at this game, dude,” and “I bet Steven Hawking could play better!” Eric rolled his eyes and went to a little room in the back. I followed, not really thinking of what else I could do.

 

The room wasn’t that small; kind of a medium sized room for a tour bus. It had red walls with a black border, and the white carpet was very clean and fluffy. I slipped out of my shoes so I wouldn’t dirty the floor and stood in the doorway. This room had a grand piano at the back of the room; Eric was sitting at the bench, playing a song that I could’ve sworn came off the top of his head. He paused and wrote down the notes (I think) before going back to playing. He seemed to be humming along with it, as if trying to figure out each note. I thought it was kinda cute, just to watch him play this gorgeous instrument effortlessly, and then stopping to write down the notes he had just played. I could almost feel a song forming with it:

 

With your hand on my shoulder,

And a tear in my eye,

You lean forward,

Suddenly I’m flying across the sky,

The tears dry quickly,

Your lips touching mine softly,

It’s like a cure to a common disease,

Mister Incredible, don’t stop, please…

 

I still had my bag on my shoulder, so I pulled out an empty journal and my favorite pen and jotted down the words – I’d show Leslie later and see what she thought. I watched Eric play for a little while longer, but then Zak tapped my shoulder and quietly (and quite politely, I might add) asked if I wanted to join Chris and him in their video game.

 

***

 

I said my goodbyes and entered my big white Victorian style house, said hi to my mom, and went to my room. It’s nice, really – cherry wood flooring with a cheetah print velvet rug next to my bed; purple walls covered in posters of my favorite bands (one of them just happening to be Choir of Souls), and a nice walk – in closet that has recently become the home of some Gucci and Valentino dresses. I turned on the light in my closet and pulled out a soft pink satin nightgown; I changed into the nightgown, and then pulled on a fluffy purple bathrobe. I then turned on my favorite COS CD, Better than You, and pulled my copy of The Sons of the West out of my bag. The song Moron came on and I sang along to it as I read the scene we were going to work on tomorrow.

 

Walking down the street,

Hoping we don’t meet,

‘Cause I’ve had enough of you,

There’s nothing left to do.

 

I bobbed my head along to Zak’s guitar riff.

 

They say I’m a fool,

For letting you go,

You were so ‘cool,’

But they’ll never know…

 

I couldn’t help it. I threw my script down on my bed and started crazy dancing around the room to the chorus. This was like, my favorite song off the CD, understand? I was gonna dance to it…

 

You pushed me away,

When I wanted to stay,

I’ve learned not to regret,

After all the threats,

Let the faded memories fly,

Behind my eyes,

Turn the radio on,

You’re gone…

What a moron.

 

Yep. Best breakup song ever. I sat down again and re – read my scene, highlighting my lines and practicing them while the music played in the background.

 

What you put me through,

The scars in their depths,

I hope I can let go,

Of the tears that I’ve wept.

 

I heard something hit my window, but I figured it was that annoying tree branch.

 

Because of you,

My life is changed,

What are you?

Deranged?

 

Crack. Another something hit my window, and I realized.

 

You pushed me away,

When I wanted to stay,

I’ve learned not to regret,

After all the threats,

Let the faded memories fly,

Behind my eyes,

Turn the radio on,

You’re gone.

What a moron.

 

That annoying tree was in the backyard.

 

You had me…

You lost me…

You want me…

I’m gone.

You need me…

You left me…

I’m not coming back.

I’m gone.

You’re such a moron.

 

My room faces the front.

 

Turn the radio on,

You’re gone.

What a moron.

 

Crack. Another something went through my open window; I got off my bed and cautiously looked at the something – I breathed a sigh of relief.

 

Just a rock.

 

Crack! This particular rock that someone had just thrown hit my balcony railing and had bounced off. This rock thrower was getting good.

 

Ring.

 

My cellphone made me jump, and I answered very carefully.

 

“H – Hello?”

 

“Would you please go out to your balcony? I really don’t want your mom hurting me for chipping the paint.”

 

“Eric?”

 

“Duh, kiddo. Go outside.”

 

With the phone still pressed to my ear, I went to stand out on the balcony and looked down. To my not so surprise, Eric was down there with a mini pile of rocks at his feet. We hung up and smiled at each other for a couple minutes, and then I started laughing uncontrollably. “What is it?” Eric said; his smile was still on his face. I calmed down long enough to actually reply; “This is like some warped Romeo and Juliet, Eric. Except Romeo didn’t creep Juliet out by throwing rocks at the side of her home.”

 

Eric grinned again. “Hey, sorry for creeping you out. I just wanted to say hi.” I grinned and looked at my watch. “At eleven at night?” I asked skeptically. “Wouldn’t your mom wallop you over the head or something?” Eric chuckled. “Sure, but everybody’s asleep. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.” He answered, and I raised one eyebrow. “You’re gonna have purple under your eyes tomorrow. Then again, so am I.” I said, grinning. Eric shook his head. “Take an allergy pill; those things work like a charm. You take it tonight, and POOF!” His little jump and yell combination made me jump a little; “No more purple puffiness. All gone.” He started to back out of my yard, rubbing the back of his neck. “I should get going, you’re right.” He pulled his arm back and waved. “See you tomorrow, Casey.”

 

I waved, and then went back inside, closing and locking my balcony doors. I looked at the rock again, and then I realized why Eric threw this single rock through my doors.

 

There was a gold (with a black streak down the middle) guitar pick taped to one side.