Confessions of a Backup Dancer

by Tucker Shaw

  tito eyed me with this look that said “you’re a shoo-in” and I was feeling pretty confident.

  halfway down the line we started noticing that there were, in fact, some pretty good dancers around. The ones that didn’t feel like they had to arrive at the crack of dawn to make a good impression. these two girls halfway back through the line had on these really dope black bodysuits. they were stretching out and doing spins and looking really loose. there was this one macy-gray-looking chick who was singing along to this jill scott song that tito’s always playing. her voice was incredible, like Alicia Keys meets mary j. blige. there was one girl who was there with like three adults … these two women in power suits and this guy in faded lucky jeans and a black t-shirt. all three of them were on cell phones. tito figured that was her management team or whatever. he called her “the pro.” I started getting pretty intimidated.

  when we settled into the back of the line, I took off my baseball cap to readjust my ponytail. tito gasped. Girl why didn’t we color your hair last night? Your roots!

  I glared at him. Thanks, Tito, I said. That makes me feel great. there’s not much I can do about it now.

  sorry! he goes. I’m just saying. Put your cap on.

  just then, we noticed, about thirty people up the line, this man in a cheesy polo shirt and this woman in Lee Relaxed Fit Jeans and a fanny pack—walking down the line, pointing at certain people, tapping them on the shoulder, and saying “You” to them. they were only tapping, like, every third person or something. they kept coming closer, and tito and I looked at each other like oh SHIT they’re typing people out—just sending them home if they don’t have the right look. what if I don’t get tapped?

  That was the first time I really felt it. I wanted it, and I wanted it bad. and not only that, I had a feeling I could get it.

  we held our breath as the polo shirt man and the fanny-pack woman got closer to us. my body stiffened up and my eyes glazed over. I stared into the distance, trying to avoid making eye contact with them. would they tap me? I felt my stomach tighten like a drum as they breezed up to me … and passed me right by.

  they totally ignored me. no one pointed at me and said “You.” I looked at tito, whose eyes were darting around the line trying to make sense of the scene.

  luckily, we were close to the end of the line, so when polo and fanny got to the end of the line polo turned back to us and yells as loud as he could, “If we tapped your shoulder, please form another line over to the right, behind that blue door. if we didn’t tap your shoulder, thank you very much and we hope to see you again.”

  I looked at tito. he looked at me. we both knew no one tapped my shoulder.

  I took a step to leave when tito grabbed me around the waist and led me to the new line. I was like um, tito what are you doing? They didn’t tap me. So Tito tapped my shoulder. “There, you’re tapped. Get in the line.”

  I love tito.

  anyway, everyone in the new line (there were about 30 of us now, including the girls in the black bodysuits, macy gray, the pro, and the argentinian) filed through the blue door into a huge room. it was like 5 times the size of beatz. we all sat on the floor when this guy got up to talk to us. his name was Don Dezer and I could smell his cologne from across the room and it wasn’t good. he gave us this big speech about the group they were forming, Nice ’n Easy, they said they need attitude, energy, and realness. tito winked at me when he said that. See? he whispered. Realness. Realness. You got that.

  after the speech they said that our “people” had to go. he meant the stage mothers, the managers, everyone. “the pro,” who was sitting right behind us, gasped, loud. her handlers flitted around her, chirping it’s ok, it’s ok.

  I turned to tito, who was laughing. he goes, I guess I’m your “people.” I was like, you can’t leave me. He smiled and said, “I’m here with you even if i’m not here with you. the t-shirt will bring you good luck, ok? I’ll be at CaliBurger across the street. Remember, realness.”

  that was a half hour ago. Don Dezer just announced that vocal tests were about to begin and I just realized I’ve never been so nervous in my whole entire life.

  it is taking every muscle in my body to keep me from racing out of here to join tito in the safety of the CaliBurger.

  FRIDAY MAY 24

  BUS STATION

  LOS ANGELES, 5:22 PM

  Hair: sensitive area, I’d rather not discuss, thanks to Tito.

  Mood: don’t ask

  so here’s how it played. No one seemed to notice that I was typed out. Which was awesome, but it meant I had to work extra hard to keep it that way. they had us do some really easy vocal tests in little groups, mostly just reading music, matching notes, stuff like that. it was really pretty simple stuff. I mean it’s not like they were looking for a champion vocalist or anything. but even still, I was nervous and screwed up the first few bars. I asked to start again, took a deep breath, reminded myself that I’ve sung in front of 2,000 people before (at that a cappella competition in 10th grade … I came in 2nd), and more importantly, that worst-case scenario, I’d never see these people again, and gave it another shot. I sounded pretty good.

  “The Panel,” as they referred to themselves, were weird … they never gave anyone any feedback or anything. the five of them just sat there taking notes. it was like in that really old movie Flashdance. Don Dezer just kept saying “thank you, next” when people were done. I guess they were just trying to get rid of the totally tone deaf. I’ve been to a million trillion auditions before but I’d never come across producers who were so cold before. they were just like pushing people out of there. they didn’t push me out, though, which I figured was a good sign.

  after the vocal tests, they told us they were taking a 5-minute break. I plugged my discman into my ears, lay down in the corner, closed my eyes, and listed to some darcy barnes. I went through the routine in my head a couple of times. it was solid, I really knew the moves. And like tito said, I pulled it off pretty well yesterday. I bet I could do it again.

  45 minutes later I woke up—that kind of waking up where you didn’t even realize you were asleep in the first place. I couldn’t believe I’d fallen asleep. my headphones were still on even though darcy barnes had way long ago stopped singing. I chugged the red bull that Tito had stuffed in my knapsack.

  I realized all the girls were gathered around the door, where they posted a list of 20 names who would move on to the next level of the audition. the bodysuits were on there, macy gray. the pro. And yup, there was me: “Kimball, K.” I needed another red bull.

  They broke us up into two groups. my group went into another studio where don dezer and two of the other judges had set up a video camera. the judges showed us a few routines and had us do them. none of them were that hard at all (even though I tripped over myself more than I would have if I had been dancing at home). most of it was stuff I learned in hip-hop class last fall. but there were no mirrors, which was really weird. I’ve almost never danced without a mirror. it’s a lot harder. but even still I caught myself sliding THERE once or twice and improvising a little. I mean, not in an annoying overachiever way or anything, at least not as far as I’m concerned. I was just giving them some REALNESS, just like tito told me to.

  the macy gray wannabe gave me a totally dirty look and it pissed me off. I really wished tito could be there right then.

  anyway, they did another cut and there were just 10 of us left. me, the bodysuits, macy gray, the pro, and a few others. (not the argentinian. they sent her home after she came on to not one but two of the judges.) Anyway, I knew we were getting down to the wire, for real. it was time for our individual routines.

  those two girls in the bodysuits went before me and even though they were dressed like they knew what they were doing, they both did these surprisingly dorky dances, like something they’d learned in a funk aerobics class together or something. the judges gave them no reaction, just a thank you, you’re free to go, we’ll post our decision afte
r 6, next please. macy gray stepped up and threw down a disco routine, which she was obviously really into because she was throwing herself around like some freak in a good charlotte video. but it was obviously not very well choreographed. I wondered what the judges would think of her, but again, no reaction.

  then it was my turn. all eyes on me. including macy gray, who had gone back to scowling at me.

  I wasn’t exactly sure how I was doing. I mean, I think I was pretty good. I mean, I don’t know. I definitely hit all the steps and was on tempo and everything, but I felt a little stiff. I kept looking up, and because there were no mirrors I’d get stuck on seeing that macy gray’s mean look and I couldn’t get THERE.

  but I finished, on cue and on balance. as far as I could tell, I’d done ok.

  no reaction from the judges. don dezer was just writing stuff in his notebook and futzing with the video camera. he goes, “thank you Miss … um … uh … Kimball, yes. you’re free to go. we will post our decision after 6. next?”

  then it happened. the pro girl went right after me, took the center of the floor, and waited for her music. halfway through the first beat, I knew I was in trouble. this girl was dancing to darcy barnes!!

  and not only that, she was doing the EXACT SAME routine that I did! I couldn’t believe it. I watched her like a hawk. was she better than me? worse? is this good for me? bad? am I screwed? I kept looking to the judges for any reaction, any sign, any emotion in their stony faces.

  the song was over fast, and I concluded that I did just as well as the pro.

  no reaction from the judges.

  I was starving. I went to find tito at the CaliBurger. I needed the biggest double double cheeseburger ever made. I hadn’t eaten all day and I was STARVING! I told tito I didn’t want to talk I just wanted to eat. he totally understood.

  after scarfing for a half hour I looked up to see Don Dezer and two other members of the panel walk over and take the booth right behind us. they didn’t see me, thank god, but I could totally hear them talking. I gave tito the “shhh” signal and listened to Dezer and his crew, who were in mid-conversation:

  “What about that Kimball girl?”

  “She’s good on the floor and her voice is ok but there’s nothing original about her. She’s a poser. she’s not REAL at all. she’s a clone, everything she did was a darcy barnes ripoff and that’s the last thing we need.”

  “she’s good, though.”

  “yeah she’s good but she’s not very real.”

  “yeah you’re right. she’s a darcy barnes clone. Strike her off the list.”

  “Ok, Kelly’s off. So we have Tracy, Thelma, Roni, and Dale. We still need a fifth.”

  “Well, our fifth definitely isn’t here today. We’ll have to hold more auditions. Go put up the list.”

  tito and I just stared at each other in shock with our mouths open. a bite of burger actually fell out of my mouth onto its paper wrapping. I wanted really bad to crack up with tito right now and laugh at ourselves, laugh at how silly the whole day had been, laugh at the other girls who’d been auditioning, laugh at Don Dezer’s cologne, laugh at the burger falling out of my mouth, laugh at the humiliation of it all. But the humiliation didn’t feel funny right away. I felt like a complete loser. I mean, the ONE thing I thought I had to offer, the one thing tito said I had, was some so-called realness, and they didn’t get that at all. Not to mention that they compared me to darcy barnes, which would have been exactly what I wanted five minutes ago, but now it sucked. tito grabbed his backpack. “c’mon, we are totally out of here.” he stood up and walked around to my side of the booth, grabbed my arm, and went, really loud, “let’s go!” I wonder if “The Panel” heard him.

  we took off. we didn’t even bother to wait until after six to go up to the studio to see some stupid list without my name on it. we just raced back to the bus station. tito kept going off about how they don’t know what they’re talking about and they don’t even know what real is and blah blah blah until I had to tell him to shut up.

  he just showed me the new Darcy Barnes milk mustache ad in US Weekly. I grabbed it out of his hand and tore it up. I’m so not a clone of her.

  SATURDAY MAY 25

  MY ROOM, 9:59 AM (And I’m not coming out. except maybe for ice cream.)

  Outfit: cloud pj bottoms and one of dad’s old tees.

  Hair: haven’t checked.

  Fortune: you can’t step in the same river twice.

  by the time I got home it was almost 2. way after curfew but it’s not like it’s the first time I’ve snuck in after curfew. I was brushing my teeth when staci came into the bathroom to pee. I was like great, she’ll probably tell. but she looked half asleep so I figured she wouldn’t remember.

  when I got up I was seriously bummed.

  I mean, not that I really really wanted to get picked or anything, it’s just, well, I don’t know. I wish I’d been able to say no to THEM, instead of the other way around. kinda like how it’s better to be the one who does the dumping instead of the one who gets dumped.

  I signed on and Evan IMed me from the basement. he got to move to the basement last week when he turned 15 and finished his community service sentence (300 hours of picking up trash) and get this: his parole officer’s wife, this software executive or something, gave evan an old computer from her office that they were throwing out. I think it was for like some outreach to troubled teens program or something.

  Anyway, it’s gross down there in the basement. I can’t figure out why he’d want to move there. god only knows what he does down there. ew. boys are retarded.

  his latest IM name is SlipKnotRules933111. he can’t even get our zip code right. freak.

  SlipKnotRules933111: are you up

  KellyKelSoCal321: dude I’m online. I’m up

  SlipKnotRules933111: staci or traci or one of them said you were out all night

  KellyKelSoCal321: no way. I didn’t think her little nine-year-old brain would remember. If she even has one.

  SlipKnotRules933111: well, she did. Knowing her, she probably ran straight to carl.

  KellyKelSoCal321: ugh. carl just LOVES busting me. why did mom have to marry him? he’s so annoying. whatever. it wasn’t that late. I was in LA. Staci would spontaneously combust if she knew what I was doing.

  SlipKnotRules933111: ha ha what were you doing

  KellyKelSoCal321: nothing. auditioning to be in a pop group. it was stupid.

  SlipKnotRules933111: well, you missed the best scariest police videos last night

  KellyKelSoCal321: are you sure you’re allowed to watch that? I mean dude, you’re still in the system. shouldn’t you be confined to only watching the Disney Channel or something? lol. wait … Mom’s at my door.

  KellyKelSoCal321: ok I’m back. she’s like where were you last night and I was like hanging out with tito (which is totally true)

  SlipKnotRules933111: wait she’s yelling down the stairs, what does she WANT? she probably hasn’t taken her medication yet today

  KellyKelSoCal321: that’s not funny evan. depression is a real disease. I looked it up. and you know she doesn’t want us to know about it.

  SlipKnotRules933111: whatever.

  KellyKelSoCal321: how is school anyway

  SlipKnotRules933111: this week we’re doing “Anger Management” and “Taking Responsibility” and stuff but whatever.

  KellyKelSoCal321: when are you out for the summer

  SlipKnotRules933111: we aren’t. delinquents like me stay in school all year. that’s why carl hates me … my special education is too “expensive.”

  KellyKelSoCal321: ha ha. carl just hates me for the fun of it. dude I made it to the final round yesterday at the audition in LA. I was almost in a group! but then they cut me.

  SlipKnotRules933111: what group. what are you talking about.

  KellyKelSoCal321: in LA dipstick. I just told you. a new pop group.

  SlipKnotRules933111: like on that TV show? and you blew it?

 
; KellyKelSoCal321: that’s a really nice way to say it. thanks a lot.

  KellyKelSoCal321: hello?

  KellyKelSoCal321: DUDE?

  SlipKnotRules933111: sorry i’m downloading. quit calling me dude.

  KellyKelSoCal321: whatever I’m signing off

  SlipKnotRules933111: i bet you were too good or something and that’s why they had to vote you off. ha ha.

  KellyKelSoCal321: like i’m so good everyone else would look bad? awww. thanks dude. I think. :-) don’t play with matches. later sk8r.

  I worry about the kid sometimes. I mean, he doesn’t have much in the way of a role model. Dad’s been gone for over eight years, and mom, well, the best I can say is that she thinks she does her best. I don’t know if she’s ever gotten over losing dad. it was pretty sad the other night when I heard her humming to herself in the kitchen. it was “California Dreamin’” by this old group The Mamas and the Papas … and I realized she was crying. Which of course made me cry too.

  that was dad’s signature song. actually, it was our favorite song together. he sang melody and he taught me the harmony and we sounded pretty good. I think about that sometimes before I sleep.

  mom also thinks she needs a man to get by, but I’m not sure how being with carl, who smells like farts and watches the Golf Channel all weekend every weekend, is better than being alone.

  and don’t even get me started on Staci and Traci, carl’s twin daughters. between their 22 pageant titles (from Little Miss Junior Citrus San Diego to America’s Junior Twinkle-Miss West or whatever) and their refusal to wear any shoes without taps, they are truly, deeply evil and must be stopped. if anyone gets this diary and I’ve been killed, they did it.

  the thing is evan’s a really good kid. really smart. but when he doesn’t have someone telling him what to do, he comes up with really bad ideas. like burning down organic markets.

  Well, I better go brush my teeth. I never get why they taste gross in the morning. I mean I brushed them before i went to bed and it’s not like i’m eating pizza in my sleep but whatever.