The Shattered Image Series (I Was a Teen Idol) by Kristie Langford Page B
Authors: Kristie Langford
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they called us back to audition. “Wait here.” Was all the woman said before leaving us there. We weren’t the only ones in the room. There were three other children besides us. A boy who looked to be about our age and two girls who were several years younger than us.
Mia and I sat down. I wondered what we were doing there. Had we made the cut or were we in the room where they sent the rejects? I also couldn’t help but look at the boy who was in the room with us. He was cute. I was just getting to an age where I no longer saw every boy as a repulsive slug who rolled around in dirt and burped all day. Being ever the extrovert, Mia easily struck up a conversation with him and I couldn’t help but feel jealous at how easy she was able to do it. We were identical twins, why couldn’t I be extroverted like her also?
“So what you do for the audition?” Mia asked, looking at the boy.
“Sung and played the guitar.” He pointed to the guitar on the floor next to his feet. I hadn’t even noticed it sitting there when we walked in.
“Wow, you can play the guitar? How’d you even manage to keep something like that? How long have you been in the system?” Mia asked, like a game of twenty questions. She leaned over him and picked up the guitar. I marveled at how easily she could invade someone’s personal space without a care in the world. She went to open the case, but he stopped her and gently took it from her.
“Yeah. One of the few things I keep with me and guard with my life. Ten years.”
When you live in the system, there’s only a handful of personal things you can keep with you. Together, along with the clothes we shared, Mia’s and my life could fill half a large black trash bag and that was how we carried around our life from place to place. If there was anything personal you didn’t want stolen by another kid you held onto it 24/7. Otherwise, it was as good as gone if there was someone else who wanted it. I remember thinking the boy must be tough if he had managed to hold onto the guitar for who knows how long. Anything that big, would be hard to protect.
“We’ve been in nine years. I’m Mia and this is my sister Jasmine.” She pointed at me and I blushed when he looked at me.
“Luke.”
“Cool. Can you play us something? It’s been ages since we ran into a kid who could play an instrument and been able to hold onto one when they had it.
He looked at Mia for a second, I could see a slight irritation in his eyes, but he opened the case anyway. I watched as he moved a tiny leather book out of the way and pulled out the guitar. It looked slightly beat up, but when he strummed it to make sure it was in tune I could tell that he had taken care of it the best that he could.
He sung us a song that I didn’t recognize as being on the radio at the time. It sounded like it was a mash up between country and rock and roll. When he sang, a slight Southern accent came out in his voice that wasn’t there when he spoke. I liked the song. It was about a boy who met a girl at a roadside diner, they had good conversation and food until the sun rose up, and he had to go on the road again. We clapped when the song was over and he put the guitar back in its case.
“That was awesome!” said Mia.
“Yeah, well I just wish I knew whether or not it got me this stupid adoption thing.”
“Well, you’re cute and you sing and play the guitar. I think you’re in the running for it and if you are then this must be the right room to be in.”
“So you think we did a good job?” I asked her.
Ever the optimist, she said, “I know we did. We’re awesome and if they didn’t see that then they’re blind and stupid.”
One thing I didn’t know at the time, but later was told about, was that they had been watching us the entire time in that little room, seeing how we acted and what our personalities were like.
Two hours later, we
Mia and I sat down. I wondered what we were doing there. Had we made the cut or were we in the room where they sent the rejects? I also couldn’t help but look at the boy who was in the room with us. He was cute. I was just getting to an age where I no longer saw every boy as a repulsive slug who rolled around in dirt and burped all day. Being ever the extrovert, Mia easily struck up a conversation with him and I couldn’t help but feel jealous at how easy she was able to do it. We were identical twins, why couldn’t I be extroverted like her also?
“So what you do for the audition?” Mia asked, looking at the boy.
“Sung and played the guitar.” He pointed to the guitar on the floor next to his feet. I hadn’t even noticed it sitting there when we walked in.
“Wow, you can play the guitar? How’d you even manage to keep something like that? How long have you been in the system?” Mia asked, like a game of twenty questions. She leaned over him and picked up the guitar. I marveled at how easily she could invade someone’s personal space without a care in the world. She went to open the case, but he stopped her and gently took it from her.
“Yeah. One of the few things I keep with me and guard with my life. Ten years.”
When you live in the system, there’s only a handful of personal things you can keep with you. Together, along with the clothes we shared, Mia’s and my life could fill half a large black trash bag and that was how we carried around our life from place to place. If there was anything personal you didn’t want stolen by another kid you held onto it 24/7. Otherwise, it was as good as gone if there was someone else who wanted it. I remember thinking the boy must be tough if he had managed to hold onto the guitar for who knows how long. Anything that big, would be hard to protect.
“We’ve been in nine years. I’m Mia and this is my sister Jasmine.” She pointed at me and I blushed when he looked at me.
“Luke.”
“Cool. Can you play us something? It’s been ages since we ran into a kid who could play an instrument and been able to hold onto one when they had it.
He looked at Mia for a second, I could see a slight irritation in his eyes, but he opened the case anyway. I watched as he moved a tiny leather book out of the way and pulled out the guitar. It looked slightly beat up, but when he strummed it to make sure it was in tune I could tell that he had taken care of it the best that he could.
He sung us a song that I didn’t recognize as being on the radio at the time. It sounded like it was a mash up between country and rock and roll. When he sang, a slight Southern accent came out in his voice that wasn’t there when he spoke. I liked the song. It was about a boy who met a girl at a roadside diner, they had good conversation and food until the sun rose up, and he had to go on the road again. We clapped when the song was over and he put the guitar back in its case.
“That was awesome!” said Mia.
“Yeah, well I just wish I knew whether or not it got me this stupid adoption thing.”
“Well, you’re cute and you sing and play the guitar. I think you’re in the running for it and if you are then this must be the right room to be in.”
“So you think we did a good job?” I asked her.
Ever the optimist, she said, “I know we did. We’re awesome and if they didn’t see that then they’re blind and stupid.”
One thing I didn’t know at the time, but later was told about, was that they had been watching us the entire time in that little room, seeing how we acted and what our personalities were like.
Two hours later, we
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