Banner Year

Chapter 1

I had spent all day preparing for tonight, but when it came down to the most crucial part, I had failed. I had been too nervous, too anxious, too busy, whatever you wanted to call it. My problem was that I hadn’t eaten all day. Aww boo hoo, right? Any normal person could stand a day of not eating. Not me. I feel hungry in my head before I feel it in my stomach. Unbearable headaches caused by hunger that hunger refuses to soothe. If left untreated for too long, these headaches turn into nausea. And the only cure was a large dose of Benadryl and a warm comfy bed. It had been this way as long as I could remember. I’d run out the door without a breakfast or a lunch and by 1:30 I’d feel it. My doctor said it was caused by low blood sugar and that the easiest way to treat them was a balanced diet. I had one job today, and I had failed.

I stared into the mirror at my own reflection. I looked beautiful. The style team had done a great job. The one thing they couldn’t fix though was this unbearable pounding in my head.

“Pumpkin, you alright?” My mother had noticed my glazed over expression, and knew that could only signify one thing. I silently shook my head. My mother got up, left the room, and reentered a moment later with a pink Otter Pop and a plate of strawberries. She knew me too well.

“That’s the smile I like to see! I knew you wouldn’t let something like a little headache stop you!” Shia Stapp, my manager, was good intentioned, but she never quite understood any problems I had. I didn’t mind though. She did her job well. I was going to the People’s Choice Awards as a Favorite Breakout Artist Nominee after being under her management only a year and a half. That was my definition of doing your job. The makeup artist touched up my lips as my mother handed me two ginger ales and two bendy straws. I smiled at her in thanks. Where Shia fell short, my mom picked up the slack.

“Limo’s here,” my dad said, entering the room. “Wow, honey, you look beautiful.” He hugged me and rubbed my arm. “You break a leg.”

“Dad, I’m not performing tonight. It’s an award ceremony.” I said with a smile. My dad could be rather oblivious at times.

“You’re up for Stupidest Laugh, right.” My dad smiled in anticipation of my comeback.

“You’re confusing me with you.” We both laughed before he pulled me into another hug.

“I love you, Madster.”

“Love you, too, Dadster.”

Shia and I got in the limo first, followed by my makeup artist, hair stylist, and the seamstress who had worked on my dress. I cracked open the first ginger ale. “Now dear, be careful, you don’t want to have to use the bathroom...” “Honey, be sure to use the straw, you don’t want to ruin your lipstick...” “That dress is expensive, be careful.” Straw between my teeth, I nodded, taking in the carbonated goodness.

I thought about how excited and bubbly I’d be if I didn’t have a headache throbbing in my temples. I’d be ringing my freshly manicured hands, giggling up a storm. But right now, my hands gracefully held my precious can of ginger ale. The other can sat in by lap. My ornate purple, beaded lap. My dress resembled some sort of fairie’s attire. The bottom was dark purple and hit me mid thigh. As it got closer and closer to my neck, it became lighter purple until it became sheer at my collarbone. The whole dress was speckled with purple crystals. The stylists had glued some crystals to my shoulders to make the dress look like it was part of my skin. The overall effect was rather dazzling. Surprisingly, it played down my large breasts rather well. In  junction with my makeup and my soft red hair that had been pulled into a romantic updo, I looked strangely ageless; both young and old simultaneously. And innocent, wildly innocent.  It was no wonder the stylists were worried about my ginger ale. You’d think my age would be enough for them. I was 18, after all.