Idols

Lindsay sat before her study table, at a loss of what to write for her essay. The title was ‘My Idols’, which was something she could usually handle, but somehow could not today. In vexation, she threw her pencil down and went over to her sister’s room.

 

“Hey Chloe,” she shouted, pounding on the door. As usual, heavy, thumping music was blaring from the room, drowning out her calls. Lindsay was surprised her sister had not gone deaf by now, or the house had not collapsed. It seemed like there was never a moment where her ear was not glued to her Ipod or her room was not on the verge of exploding with the strain of containing the music. After a few more futile attempts to get her sister’s attention, Lindsay turned the doorknob and let herself in.

 

Her sister was doing a weird jig on her bed, playing air guitar, swinging her hair madly. She hopped off the bed, startled, when she saw Lindsay.

 

“What did I tell you about knocking?” she snapped.

 

“I just need your help with my essay. The title’s –”

 

“Do I look like I’ve got time to help you with your piffling problems, Linds?” Chloe said, trying to disguise her mortification at being caught off-guard with anger. “Why don’t you ask our university-scholar brother? He’s supposed to be the smart one, isn’t he? Now get out of my room.”

 

Tony’s room was the complete opposite of his teenage sister’s. Every inch was mindfully arranged, organised and careful, with no stray papers sticking out or CDs and books scattered anywhere but only arranged alphabetically on the shelves. Lindsay liked her brother’s room, but it was somehow a little too neat for her comfort. The walls were filled with laminated quotes of famous inventors, thinkers and politicians, while Post-It notes adorned the mirror.  

 

“Hey, Tony,” Lindsay said. “I need your help with my essay.”

 

“Sure, Linds, what’s it about?” Tony said, taking off his frameless spectacles and massaging the bridge of his nose. He looked at his eleven-year-old sister with civil affection.

 

“The title’s ‘My Idols’,” she said, certain that he would have the answer. After all, Chloe was right: Tony was the smart one, the angel, while Chloe was the rebel. “I haven’t a clue how to start. What exactly are idols? What’s the actual definition of it?”

 

Tony rubbed his chin, thinking hard. What exactly were idols? For the life of him, he could not come up with a solid definition of the word, so he eventually said, “All right, Linds. You see, the thing is, idols take on different meanings when it comes to different people.” He paused. Lindsay stared at her older brother expectantly. 

 

“Okay, say for example, your sister,” Tony continued. “Who do you think Chloe’s idols are?”

 

Lindsay thought for a while. “Those screaming people in the songs she plays on her stereo?” she guessed. Tony nodded agreeably. When he next asked his sister whom she thought his idols were, Lindsay gestured to his bedroom wall, where the laminated quotes of famous people were adhered to. Tony nodded again, sensing she was getting it. However, Lindsay was stumped when the next question he asked was whom she felt their parents’ idols were. She blinked blankly at her brother.

 

“Their idols are the money moguls, the business gurus and those people you see in The Financial Times magazine. You see why they’re almost never around?” Tony said, a flint of bitterness cutting into his voice. “That’s because they’re too busy slogging their guts out to fund our expenditure and have some spare cash to splurge on the material items they want.”

 

“Are you mad at them?” Lindsay asked, sensing the abhorrence present in her brother’s tone.

 

“There is nothing wrong with having idols, Linds, but when your whole life gets driven by it and you shut out everything else, you should pause and think if that is what you really want,” Tony said.

 

“So what you’re saying is …” Lindsay trailed off, trying to hop on to her brother’s trend of thoughts.

 

“What I’m saying, is that everyone has their own idols. You can look up to people who are smarter, prettier, nobler and richer, or you could just look up to someone in your family. It’s simple. Idols are maybe just people you look up to and want to learn from or, in fact, be.”

 

Lindsay left her brother’s room, her mind reeling with what she had learnt. Her brother was truly smart. Lindsay was already starting to have an idea of whom her idols were. She returned to her room and sat on her bed, pulling out a stack of old magazines from her bookshelf. The girls in school were read them religiously and Lindsay had also gotten hooked onto these magazines after she was introduced to her very first one.

 

In those glossy pages, tall, reed-thin girls with sultry faces and pouty lips flaunted their seemingly-weightless bodies. Some were sashaying down walkways, dressed in heavy-looking designer clothes while people stared up at them in the background; some were posing with male models, being and knowing that they were beautiful.

 

Lindsay pored over them, drinking it all up thirstily. An hour later, she kept them and strode over to her table, certain that she had found her idols.