Only for Publicity

Chapter 1

The lights from the stage are blinding, my voice is reverberating through the speakers, and suddenly, I get a sinking feeling in my stomach. Maybe I shouldn't have eaten that chicken that had been sitting in the fridge for longer than a few days. Without a thought and without the time to turn around the stage, the contents of my pre-concert meal end up on the stage. Suddenly, the crowd stops singing along with me and gasps in horror. Apparently, celebrities aren't allowed to get sick. I look around the stage, scanning the wings for Morgan, my stage manager. She's nowhere in sight. I wish I could just sink into the stage, like the character of Elphaba does after the song 'For Good' in Wicked.
"Well, that was unexpected." I say, hoping to interject some humor into this exceedingly uncomfortable situation. What I'm hoping to mask is my discomfort. I really wish I didn't have to finish this concert out, but unfortunately, I do. All I want to do is go home and snuggle my heating pad onto my aching abdomen.
The audience laughs. Instantly, I see a t-shirt being handed to me from the crowd. I bend over the stage and grab it, being mindful to cover my chest so I don't end up in the magazines with headlines written about my chest. The shirt says something about peace and love. Honestly, the shirt could say anything (within reason), and I would be eternally thankful.
"Should I change into it now?" I reply in thankfulness.
The crowd screams in answer to me. I am tapped on the shoulder by Morgan. She pulls me off of the stage and helps me remove the soiled dress. She yanks the Velcro off of the top part of the dress. Instantly, it's transformed into a non disgusting skirt. I feel self-conscious around Morgan, who's tall with brown hair and glasses and basically super hot. Too bad I can't date her. That, and she probably doesn't like me anyway. And besides, I'm totally not into her. It's just a friendship.

I don't know if I feel self-conscious around her because I think she's attractive (and I'm not sure if it's necessarily in a friendly way or not), or if it's because I'm currently standing in the wings in a skirt and my bra.
"There you go, Jessie Nayeli Bello. I also went back into your dressing room and grabbed the shirt that hadn't just been thrown up on." She says, patting my shoulder.

I throw my shirt on top of my upper body, feeling relief for finally having something clean on the upper half of my body, and also for having my body covered around this girl that makes me nervous.
"Thank you so much." I reply.

"I stick a piece of gum in my mouth, hoping to deaden the taste. I allow the taste of the spearmint to permeate my mouth and after it starts working, I spit out the gum and head out to the stage again. As I step out from the wings (again), the bright light becomes like the sun to my eyes, blinding me to anything else around me except this moment in front of me. The audience screams as I near the center of the stage.
"I'm sorry, y'all. Maybe I shouldn't have eaten that leftover chicken," I say.

The audience laughs. I pick up my mandolin and I begin strumming it. My hand begins to cramp as I form chords, but as long as my fingers aren't bleeding, I'm fine.
"They just want you to be a player in their game,
They treat you unfairly, so you think you're lame,
But there's a world of people that love you,
Just wait and see
You'll see that there are people to cry for,
To fight for, and to smile over.
There's a world that loves and respects you,
So what are you waiting for?" I sing, accompanied only by my mandolin.
The crowd begins to sing along with me, note for note. I finish the song, and then, I ask the audience what their dreams are. I hear a mix of words, and the words I hear are anything from an actress, to a politician, to an ambassador of the U.N.
"Go and chase your dreams," I tell the audience, "because there is no greater regret than wishing that you had done something and didn't do. Don't be afraid to be who you are. There's only one you, and you should be the best 'you' in the galaxy."