TO HAVE AND HAVE NOT

7

Olivia

Traditional school was out of the question, a reality that weighed heavily on my shoulders as I desperately sought an alternative path. A strange sense of urgency drove me to sign up for acting classes, as they represented both an escape and a gateway to the world I so intensely longed to be a part of. By immersing myself in this environment, I could hone my craft and cultivate relationships with like-minded individuals who shared my aspirations, all while keeping the truth of my situation from my father for a bit longer.

It was at this turning point that I first met Sam Sin Claire. She occupied the seat next to mine on my inaugural day in the class. This petite girl radiated infectious energy, with strawberry blonde hair that seemed to catch the light and bright blue eyes that sparkled with ambition and dreams of stardom. "Excuse me," I managed to say as I grabbed her attention, my heart racing with the usual first-day jitters. "Is this seat taken?"

A wide smile spread across her face as she replied, "No." I took my place beside her, feeling a strange mixture of excitement and anxiety. Turning to me, she introduced herself, "I'm Sam. What's your name?"

"Aaliyah," I replied, my nerves momentarily quelled by her warm demeanor.

"Nice to meet you, Aaliyah," she said with a smile that felt like a reassuring hug, easing my tension and making me feel a little less alone in this new and intimidating environment. "First day?"

I nodded, suddenly aware of how every word and gesture could shape this budding friendship. "Where are you from?" she asked, her enthusiasm evident.

"New York," I replied, unsure how my age would fit into the conversation.

"That's so cool. I'm from Oregon and escaped from that dreadful place the day after I turned 18."

We shared a laugh, and while I felt a ripple of panic at the thought of revealing that I was, in fact, only 15, I decided to keep that little detail to myself for now. Sam was so confident that I didn't want to risk shattering the moment.

Looking down, I admired her designer sneakers and, feeling emboldened, I paid her a compliment. "I like your shoes."

Her initial discomfort was palpable but quickly melted away as she looked up at me and asked, "Do you want to grab lunch after this?"

The enthusiasm in my response was genuine as I exclaimed, "I'd love to!" In that instant, a wave of relief washed over me—I had finally made a friend, a connection that felt like a lifeline in an unknown world, igniting a flicker of hope for what lay ahead.

Over lunch that evening, Sam and I unexpectedly forged a bond that felt both exhilarating and comforting, as though I had finally discovered a kindred spirit in the city's vastness that had once felt so isolating. It dawned on me that Sam was the first real friend I had made since I arrived in Los Angeles, a place teeming with ambition yet often cold in its facades.

As we shared a plate of fries, her eyes sparkled with excitement as she unveiled her near success in landing her first acting role, a milestone she had been tirelessly working towards. I confessed my struggles while searching for my debut, and we found solace in each other's aspirations, both aspiring actors navigating a labyrinth of auditions and rejections. The conversation flowed easily, transitioning from our lives back home to our shared love of cinema, an escape from the hustle and bustle around us.

With a playful bravado, I asked, "Who is your favorite actor?" punctuating my inquiry with a teasing smirk that suggested I anticipated her answer. "Has to be male," I added with a laugh, eager to know who inspired her.

Her eyes lit up as she bit into a crunchy French fry, exclaiming with certainty, "Easy! James Stamos, a.k.a. Uncle Jesse!" Her declaration rang out, and we both erupted in laughter, the kind that felt light and carefree, a momentary reprieve from the tension of our careers. Then, sensing the friendly pressure of my gaze, she turned the spotlight back on me, her curiosity piqued. "What about yours?" she asked, and I felt a rush of shyness wash over me as I named my long-time idol, Johnny Depp, with a hint of blush creeping across my cheeks.

The playful banter continued as she responded with dramatic flair, "Ohhhh!" followed by a cheeky wiggling of her eyebrows, making me laugh even harder. "Can I change my answer?" she teased, and at that moment, amidst shared fries and laughter, I felt a warmth in our camaraderie that reaffirmed my belief in the magic of genuine connection, a rarity in a city as big and daunting as LA.

As we stepped out of the bustling restaurant, the sultry Los Angeles air enveloped us, heavy with the scent of grilled meats and faint hints of jasmine from nearby gardens, the afterglow of our indulgent meal still tugging at my senses.

Sam turned slightly, her eyes glimmering with secret knowledge as she scribbled furiously on a crumpled napkin, her pen dancing across its surface like a magician weaving a spell. "Go here. They'll help you out," she declared, handing me the napkin urgently, making my heart race. It was a small, flimsy piece of paper now feeling like the key to a mystery far greater than myself.

My curiosity was piqued, and as I glanced down at the barely legible scrawl of an address and a name, I couldn't help but ask, "Is that where you went?"

The moment the words slipped from my lips, I could feel the charged atmosphere shift; Sam's gaze darted away, her expression clouded by nostalgia and caution. "Yeah. Sometimes you have to do whatever it takes to get inside Hollywood," she replied, her voice dropping to a whisper, laced with an intensity that spoke of her struggles. "If you're willing to do what it takes, go there."

Chills ran down my spine at her cryptic words, my instincts screaming that they hinted at a darker side of ambition—one that I wasn't sure I was ready to confront. I wrestled with my decision, imagining the vibrant streets of New York crying out for me, filled with safety and familiar love, while Los Angeles lay ahead like a vast, unpredictable ocean.

Yet desperation clawed at me, urging me to reach for the dream that felt so tantalizingly close, so I gritted my teeth, my resolve hardening. I folded the napkin carefully, slipping it into my pocket, and despite the unease burrowing deep within me, I steeled myself for the journey ahead, convinced that perhaps, just perhaps, pushing beyond my limits was the only way to claim my place in the lights.