The Shattered Image Series (I Was a Teen Idol) Read online

  Six months after being adopted we were ready to debut as our idol personas. I was Jazzy and Mia was Melody. I thought the names were corny, but we hadn’t gotten the choice in picking them. They had us debut on our thirteenth birthday. The record label threw a huge party. We had over a million guests and over half of them had bought tickets in order to attend. I get butterflies even now, thinking about that first live performance we had to do for our guests.

  ***

  My makeup artist, Trish, combed through the pink wig on my head one final time. I stared at myself in the mirror. I had sparkles on my cheeks and headphones around my neck. I looked like I had stepped out of a Japanese anime. Mia sat next to me in her blue wig and let her makeup artist, Rose, brush more powder onto her face. I gripped the chair’s arm and bit my lip. Trish lightly patted my cheek to get me to stop or I would’ve messed up the light gloss she had just caked on them.

  “I can’t do this,” I said to Mia.

  She was as calm as ever, taking in the chaos of people running around us, and my nerves, with ease. “You’ll do fine. We’ve practiced the songs and dances a thousand times. We could do it in our sleep.”

  “That doesn’t help me. What if I trip and fall or one of the backup dancers gets in the way? I don’t think I could survive the humiliation. I’m replaceable, they like you better than me. All they would have to do is find another girl that looked similar to you and I would be out the door and back into the system. No one would know.”

  “Will you calm down? Firstly, they won’t replace you, not if they want to keep me and two they can’t replace you, thousands of people know what we look like and know that we’re identical. Someone would see the difference between me and another girl and say something. They don’t want that type of controversy on their hands.”

  She was right, but there were still butterflies in my stomach. Everything was riding on the first performance. If I blew it then we wouldn’t be able to ride the rocket to stardom and I knew that was something Mia and the record label wanted more than anything.

  Before I knew it, it was five minutes to going live. The band before us had done a good job of energizing the crowd, making them scream and jump around. They couldn’t wait to see Mia and me perform. They already loved us and we hadn’t even performed, or proven ourselves worthy of their fan worship.

  With two minutes to go before we were live, Mia and I were placed onto the stage lift and we took our opening positions. The beat to the first song began to play; I could feel the thump of it in my chest, though that could have also been the thumping of my heart.

  “Smile and remember, you’ll be fine. They already love us,” said Mia. I nodded and the lift rose, taking us before the lights and the thousands of screaming fans. It hit me then, we had fans and we hadn’t even sung for them yet. People held up signs and the promotional pictures we took as Jazzy and Melody the month before. I could hear ‘Jazzy’ being called out to me from different places in the crowd. My smile grew wider, no longer faked and strained with nervousness. These people loved me, us. My nerves floated away on the wave of their cheers and all I wanted to do was perform to the best of my ability for them.

  We performed four songs back to back that day. At the end of the last song, the crowd was cheering to the point that I could hardly hear Mia speak to them and thank them for being there to celebrate our birthday. I could see young girls crying and reaching out to us, wishing that one of us would come down and simply touch their hands. A year before, I would have never even guessed that I would be on a stage for my birthday let alone performing for a crowd of people.

  We both acted surprised and thankful when a huge cake done in pinks and blues with music notes and sparkles was wheeled out on stage for us. Each half had thirteen candles for us both to blow out. As a present from the Record Label to us, the pop singer Brass Biggs came out to sing to us. He had been the current heartthrob of girls ten and up. I wasn’t much of a fan, but I acted like one for the crowd. Mia didn’t have to act, she loved him. Several posters of his had lined the walls of our small studio apartment that we had in the beginning. He serenaded us with one of his acoustic love songs. Mia cried, as did hundreds of girls in the audience. When the love song was over, it was my turn to say something to the audience.

  Half the crowd cheered as my mic was turned on. I was nervous, but I reminded myself not to let it show. “Thank you all so much for coming out here today! Our birthday has been extra special this year because we got to share it all with you and nothing could be a better birthday present. We hope that you liked our performance today and that you will stay with us as we reach for our dreams.” Someone else had written that speech, but I seemed to deliver it well. The crowd roared as we exited the stage.

  Mia took my hand when we got into the limo waiting for us. “See, I told you it would all be fine. They loved us and will continue to love us. We’re America’s sweetheart angels, after all.”

  3.

  Money

  I don’t think either of us were truly ready for the life that came with being an A list pop star. Before we even debuted there had been a lot of attention on us for being the girls that were adopted by the president of the record label. But even with all that attention, it was nothing compared to the attention we got once we became Jazzy and Melody; the pink and blue haired idols of girls and boys five to sixteen.

  We couldn’t hardly go out even when we were dressed like ourselves, people still managed to recognize us and wanted either autographs or pictures from us. It all took some getting used to. One thing that didn’t take us long to get used to was all the money. We had become popular so fast that our merchandise was flying off the shelves. Our first album was sold-out within twenty-four hours. The record label was so proud and overjoyed at the revenue we were making them that they started to give us an allowance. It wasn’t your normal five dollars a week allowance either. They would give two thousand each, anytime we wanted to go and buy things.

  We got bonuses whenever we made a cameo appearance on a TV show or did some charity event. We had even made a few TV movies that did well among the fan base.

  I’ll admit, the money and fame went to both our heads pretty quickly. We became arrogant. There was no family or true friends around to ground us, and make us see how grateful we should be for all that we had. It wasn’t until we were a year into being pop stars and miniature divas; however, that I saw how much it had changed both of us. It was a rude wakeup call for me.

  ***

  We sat in a burger joint, dressed as Jazzy and Melody. We had just finished a concert and the record label wanted us to shop around for a while as our alter egos. I don’t really know why, most of the time people knew who we were without the wigs and clothes that told them we were the pink and blue haired duo. It might’ve had something to do with the dolls that they planned on selling the week after that day. We had finally reached the big leagues of tween success with dolls that looked just like us.

  The paparazzi stood outside, waiting to take pictures of us through the glass. We also weren’t the only stars in the restaurant that day. The hot sensation boy band, Heart Maps, was there too. The tabloids were hoping to catch one of us cuddling up with one of the boys like an innocent crush. It had been gossiped for months that Mia and I were wanting to date one of the five members. I hadn’t even turned fourteen yet, I didn’t want to date yet and even if I did, I didn’t want it broadcast all over the rumor mill.

  A little girl walked up to our table, she couldn’t have been older than six. She was cautious and looked back at her mother several times before coming fully up to the table. I smiled at her. Her shyness was adorable. “Yes?” I asked, with a smile. I knew a picture of this moment was going to be taken and would earn us brownie points among parents of children three and up.

  She smiled and held up a teddy bear along with a black marker. “Will you please sign my teddy bear?”

  “Of course,” I took the teddy from her and used the marker to sign m
y name. I then handed both to Mia. She sighed heavily and I could imagine her rolling her eyes behind her pair of sunglasses. With a jerk and a huff, she pulled the teddy roughly from my grasp and signed her name. She handed it to the girl without a word and would have almost dropped the thing on the floor if the girl hadn’t caught it.

  The little girl looked and Mia with a look I can only describe as broken hearted, slowly her eyes met mine and something in me switched at that moment. It was as if I realized it wasn’t all about me anymore, children looked up to me and I needed to set an example. “Thank you,” she said softly to me before running back to her mother.

  For months, I had been walking around as if my farts didn’t stink. I would throw tantrums if I wasn’t given the right brand of bottled water, or I was asked to do something I didn’t like. I had acted as if everyone, except Mia, was below me. I did it all because I had gone from having nothing, but a black trash bag, to having the addictive power of a pop star that got anything and everything she requested. No one was there to tell me no, or humble me and tell me to get my head out of my butt when I was acting like an overly spoiled brat.

  It took having to see my sister treat a little girl like dog crap she scraped off her shoe. To understand that I had become something I had at one time no desire to be. For a thirteen-year-old, it had been one of those moments where a brief moment of clarity and maturity had settled in my brain, even though its stay wouldn’t be long.

  “What’s wrong with you?” I asked in a high whisper. I sat forward, pulling off my sunglasses.

  She gave me a look and a shrug of arms as if she had no idea what I was talking about. “What?” Before I could say anything about how she had treated the little girl, she took a bite of burger and promptly spit it out. I wrinkled my nose. “Idiots!” she snapped.

  “What? Did you find like a finger or something?” I looked at her food, but it looked fine to me.

  My words went unheard as she snapped her fingers and called over the waitress, who rolled over to us on her skates. “Is something wrong, miss?” The waitress was young, still in her teens, not quite college age. She looked frazzled and my sister’s impending tantrum was the last thing she needed.

  “Yes there is a problem, you moron. I told you well done. Does this look like it’s well done to you?” She held up the plate and showed the girl where she had taken a bite.

  “Uh…” the waitress looked confused.

  Mia dropped the plate and it clattered on the table, fries flew and the burger fell apart. I turned the plate, so that I could see where she had taken a bite out of the patty. There was perhaps a small amount of pink and it didn’t even cover a quarter of the bite she had taken.

  “Mia, chill out. This burger is cooked just fine.”

  She gaped at me as if I had slapped her across the face. In a fit, she swiped her hand across the table. Sending our food to the floor, the plates smashed as they made contact. I can still hear the gasp of surprise from several of the women in the restaurant. It was the first time in my life that I had felt utterly humiliated in front of a group of strangers. It was also the first time in my life that I looked at Mia and didn’t recognize her at all. We had been together since before birth and I felt, in that moment, as if I had never met her.

  Except for the radio music playing a slow rock balled through the speakers, everything had gone still and no one said anything as they looked at us, at her. The still moment was broken by the sound of an uproar outside. The paparazzi was going wild, taking pictures, and yelling at us through the glass windows. I looked at them, then at the mess on the floor and finally to the poor waitress who didn’t deserve any of it.

  Slowly, I dropped to one knee on the floor and started to pick up the shattered plates and food. I didn’t know what else to do. In the period of less than half an hour, I had gotten a reality check from a little girl and saw my sister in a light I had never dreamed of seeing her in. My brain couldn’t compute all the new information and still act like Jazzy. I had reverted to Jasmine, the girl that lived her life bouncing to and from foster homes and her prized possession was a tattered book from a teacher she couldn’t even remember the name of. I was the introverted girl, depending on my sister to be my voice, but she was no longer there to speak for me also.

  I barely could even register the fact that someone had crouched down next to me and had started to help me collect the mess into a neat pile. “Well, that was a whirlwind of a show.”

  I looked to see who was talking, the person next to me. It was Josh, the undeclared leader of Heart Maps. He was the main heartthrob of the band, at fourteen he could make any girl swoon. I didn’t want to date him, but that didn’t mean his smile didn’t work its charm on me and make blush.

  “Miss, sir, you don’t have to do that. I’ll take care of it.” The rest of the restaurant had returned to normal. Our waitress kneeled next to me and took over clearing up the mess at a record speed, dumping it all into a dish bin. Josh and I stood.

  I don’t even know what I should’ve done next. Mia still sat in the booth with her arms crossed, unashamed of her outlandish behavior in front of so many people. I wondered if I should apologize for her behavior, or if I should pull her by the arm out of the restaurant and to our waiting car. I chose the latter, but not before giving my thanks to Josh and throwing a handful of twenty dollar bills on the table. I hoped that it would cover the cost of the food and the broken plates, not to mention a nice tip for the poor waitress.

  As I pulled Mia out of the booth she squealed at me, but I didn’t let up. I briefly heard Josh tell me, “No problem,” as I pulled her out of the burger joint and through the horde of photographers to the waiting car. I was glad our security guard was there outside waiting for us, or I wouldn’t have gotten through the horde in one piece. I pushed Mia into the car and got in as well.

  “Have you lost your mind? Has that blue wig attached itself to your brain?”

  Like a fish out of water, she gaped at me and then tore off her sunglasses. “You’re asking me if I have lost my mind? How could you think to treat me that way in front all those people? I have never been so humiliated!”

  I couldn’t help but think that her words should have been coming out of my mouth. I took off my wig; it had suddenly irritated me beyond belief. “Mia, do you hear yourself? Is this really what we have become? We’ve been pop stars less than two years and you already act like a glorified diva manic. I can’t believe I was acting like this. Who knew it would take seeing you break a kid’s heart to set me straight.”

  “What kid?”

  I looked at her for a long second and could tell that she truly didn’t remember the little girl with the teddy bear. I shook my head in disgust for both her and myself. “I want to go back to the old life.”

  “Why would you want to do a stupid thing like that? We had nothing, we were nothing and now we’re famous and we have more money than we know what to do with and that’s just what they give us to spend.”

  “I'd still trade it all right now to get rid of this feeling. I feel like a stranger in my own skin. I don’t even recognize you right now.”

  She frowned at me. “Ditto.”

  4.

  Fake It

  After the blow up at the burger joint, my relationship with Mia slowly started to deteriorate. She continued like a selfish brat and I made more of an effort not to be one. We both got in trouble with the record label for the tantrum at the burger joint. On top of that, rumors circulated that Josh was trying to woo me so that I would go out with him. Every teen gossip mag wanted to know if I liked him in return, I never answered the question when they asked it.

  The tabloids said that the fame was going to Mia’s head, that being Melody and Jazzy were corrupting our childhood. It was being called into question whether or not we should continue to be the pop stars. They weren’t far off from what I was thinking. Between the feud with Mia--which she hadn’t let up on-- the current tour we were on and reminding myself to kee
p up a happy face in front of all the cameras… I was starting to grow exhausted at having to fake everything about me in the public eye. By our fourteenth birthday, we were secretly pulling sixteen hour days with school, rehearsals, lessons, concerts and events. By our fifteenth birthday, the record label got us a band to back us up and give us more of an edge. This only added more hours to our daily schedule. They started giving us more of a punk princess look and actually started dying our hair the pink and blue.

  I felt stuck as Jazzy; I could no longer take off the pink wig at the end of the day. Over time, Jazzy became more like me. She was known for charity work and going to hospitals to play with the children. I would request different things like that, so that I could be away from Mia. As we got older, she only got worse with attitude, divaness and an indifference to the fans. It seemed she was being scolded on a weekly basis for one thing or another that had landed her in one or all of the tabloids.

  The record label tried to punish her by taking away her allowance. The first few times they did this, she just ended up taking my card. Then they took away both our allowance and had her go with me to the children’s ward at the hospital. It was horrible. The children had been so excited to see her and all she did for the two hours we were there, was sit on a chair in the corner and look at her nails. She wouldn’t join in on anything and it made the children who loved her the most, sad. It broke my heart. I tried talking to her, but she just gave me the cold shoulder. Acting like it was my fault that she was supposed to be there.