The Fame Project

1. The Beginning

Another plane, another day. I was getting tired of air travel. When I first started this career, I was overjoyed at the thought of flying to places I've never been to film for movies and tv shows. But after three years of this, one can get bored of the adventures. Sure, I've been to Paris, Canada, and New York because of jobs and those places are always exciting to visit. But I thought being an actress was more than looking pretty in front of a camera and attempting to portray your roles emotions. I was wrong.

It started on a rainy Tuesday on November 15, 2011. I remember that day exactly, because it started terrible and ended terrible.

<enter Flashback>

"Put that damn thing away Rebecca and get ready for school," my mother snapped after she came into my room uninvited. I scowled at her retreating back, but reluctantly put down my Canon camera. My pride and joy, my camera held all of my memories of the past three years of middle school, and some random photography I took while walking around the park.

I walked around my room, debating about going girly or sweats and a band shirt today. The problem with me is that I have no particular style. I will wear anything that I like, whether it be a tacky cat sweater or a cute summer dress. My best friend Ryann always said that she was jealous about my confidence, but it wasn't confidence that made my style. It was not caring about what people thought of me.

I ended picking a maroon sweater with a lightning bolt on it (I used to be a complete nerd), some worn skinny jeans, and a pair of ratty high tops. I didn't bother putting on makeup, I sucked at getting it right. I brushed my dirty blonde hair back into a high ponytail and snatched my backpack from my desk chair. I tucked my camera safely in its protective case and placed it in my desk drawer.

"You know I don't like you playing with that camera, Rebecca," my mother said as soon as I walked into the kitchen. That's how it always is. No 'good morning sweetheart, would you like some breakfast?'. No. It's always an insult about what I'm wearing or about my hobby of photography.

My dad sat at the table, and as per usual, he was stationed behind a newspaper. The smell of coffee roamed into my senses and I wrinkled my nose in disgust. I hated coffee. Tea was more my style. I placed my bag onto the kitchen island and sat in one of the stools. I picked up a banana from the fruit bowl and peeled it.

"You need to eat a proper breakfast, Rebecca," mother scolded. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, knowing if I did I'd be grounded for a good month. My mother was a strict woman you should never cross paths with. She even looked strict. Her blonde hair was always on the back of her head in a tight, elegant bun. She wore a black pencil skirt that went down to her knees, a white button up that's always tucked in perfectly, and black heels. "You have a audition today after school. You should at least try to look decent."

"I do look decent," I finally spoke, getting up to throw the banana peel away. Mother clucked her tongue at me and held my ponytail up with two fingers.

"You call this decent?" She asked distastefully. She dropped my hair and walked to the table to sit across from my father. "Go put on one of your dresses or skirts. And make your hair presentable."

"If I do that, I'll miss the bus," I protested. I really didn't want to walk all the way up the stairs again, find a stupid dress, and try to tame my hair. Mother didn't look up form her hone as she answered me.

"I'm taking you to school," she said simply, typing away. Probably emailing one of her employees. I rolled my eyes finally and marched upstairs.

"Stupid," I grumbled once I was safely in my room. "Damn. Parents."

"What did she do this time?" A gruff voice asked from behind me. I turned to find my older brother, Nick, standing in the doorway, his bed hair atrocious. I groaned and kicked off my very comfortable shoes.