America's Next Star

by Katie Dozier

  “Does it hurt?” I asked him, pointing towards where the top point of his hair practically met the ceiling.

  “Not really,” he said. “About like wearing these Beams on our wrists. It’s annoying but you get used to it I guess.” He picked up a piece of raw fish and crushed it between his teeth as if it might try to escape.

  I struggled to put a bite of an egg-white omelet to my mouth without scratching my face. “Here,” said the Chef. “Let me help you mademoiselle .”

  He fed me a bite of the omelet full of low-fat cheese—which apparently doesn’t melt. All the while Levi seemed to be staring at me.

  “Let’s face it. I think you look hot, Ella. A real badass.” Levi said.

  What?

  Carrie and Preston put down their sheet music to look at me, then back at Levi.

  “Uh, thanks?” I said.

  “Don’t worry, I’m not trying to hit on you or something.” He cleared his throat and did the thing where he inexplicably turned to an invisible camera again. “Attraction is just a construct that dissolves as soon as the air escapes my lips.” He closed with the rock sign.

  I guess some people’s Beam instructions were even more weird than mine.

  But nothing really could be more weird than how I looked after the makeovers. Just as I’d feared, my hair made me look like Draco Malfoy’s long lost sister, with white hair down to my butt. My nose had the same spike coming out of it that was affixed to my fiberglass fingernail.

  “ Merci ,” I said to the Chef. Who said I would never get to use my high school French?

  If this had happened a few months ago, being fed by a man I hardly knew would have made me feel like an invalid, but now—well I felt odd all the time anyway.

  “ Mais Oui . The price of fame has many different receipts, yes?”

  My Beam beeped a warning to get to my next voice lesson, but I was nervous for Chris to see me looking like I was about to star in some gothic sci-fi movie.

  “Uh, hi, Ella…I’d forgotten makeovers were this week,” said Chris.

  I hid my freaky black eyebrows under a claw.

  “You look…different.”

  “I hate it too,” I said.

  “I didn’t say I hated it. And what does my opinion matter anyway? The closest I ever get to being stylish is the day I wear matching socks.”

  He inched up the bottom on his jeans to reveal a Mickey Mouse sock on his left foot, and then a starry pattern on his right.

  “Guess today is not that day!”

  I hoped to one day have his superpower of unforced humor. The kind that instantly makes the people around you feel at ease.

  Why was I ever nervous about coming here when it was the only place on the show where I ever felt like myself?

  “So, I have a little bit of bad news,” Chris said. “I was hoping this week that they would assign you a slower song, since that is where I think you are the strongest. Which, by the way, I told them. But we have to work within the confines of entertainment and certain Astronauts up top. I like the song, but for you it seems a bit odd.”

  “How bad is it?”

  “You’re singing ‘Toxic,’ by Britney Spears.”

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  ♪ The Greatest SHow ♪

  * * *

  “ W hy hello, my little licorice,” said Katherine, as she ravished me with air kisses. She pulled out her bedazzled measuring tape. “You have lost weight, good job!”

  It turned that there was one benefit to having long nails as a bulimic.

  “So we have the fitting for Supernova Schooling this week. You will literally be my little licorice.”

  So that wasn’t just another one of the many creative terms of endearment created by Katherine.

  She leaned in to me with her black hat, which had a nest of spun sugar, and a Hershey's Kiss for an egg. She smelled like putting my nose into a pillowcase full of Halloween candy.

  “I wanted to give you a different theme, but the Astronauts pick those, you know.”

  In a louder voice, she said, “And you will be the best licorice the world has ever seen!”

  Just a few hours later, in the place where, only a week ago, there had been a green rectangle of soft grass lined with flowers, there now stood something entirely different.

  A giant red and white striped tent erupted into the air, with hundreds of fans screaming outside. Planes flew high above it, dangling glittering streamers.

  I couldn’t help but feel like Frankenstein in my costume. My hair—and the hair on my head that had once belonged to someone else—was braided and forced with wire straight up in the air.

  My top was actually a corset braided out of red and black Twizzlers, and my leather skirt was dotted with licorice spirals. Pieces of licorice had even been glued to my eye lashes, which turned blinking into an athletic endeavor. It was a fascinating spectacle, or would’ve been if it wasn’t all attached to me.

  “Hey,” Preston said, as he strode up beside me. “I happen to love licorice.”

  “And I love popcorn,” I said, with a fake bat of my eyelashes. “But so does everyone else.”

  Preston wore a red and white striped suit, and a yellow sash that read, “Poperific.” His hair had been molded into a bowl, and one of his shoulders was a bit higher than the other—like it was hiding something.

  “Just wait till you see this thing in action,” he said.

  Inside, I realized this was the biggest tent I’d ever seen—including that time Mom and Dad took me to see the Ringling Brothers . I heard the distant noise of cages rattling.

  Levi appeared, with a giant red and white striped straw extending out of every one of the spikes on his mohawk. Around his waist was what had to be the world’s biggest fountain soda cup.

  “Want to try it?” he asked. “Believe it or not, it actually works.”

  He bent down, and curiosity forced me to try a sip.

  “Diet coke!” I said.

  “Duh,” he said, gesturing to the logo on his cup costume. He turned to an invisible camera again. “Because calories are just an illusion, man.” Cue rock symbol.

  Did everyone have a costume that did something except me?

  “Yeah, it’s like magic. Might have to try to take this costume with me for Halloween, after I crush this show, I mean,” Levi said.

  Diana entered the tent, with a fountain on top of her head. Her chocolate-colored gown grazed the ground with every curvy step. Lining the top of her deep V were the biggest strawberries I had ever seen.

  “Alright everyone,” said E.T.. “First we’ll film those of you that have sponsored—I mean active costumes. Everyone gather ‘round and don’t forget to react! First the Poperific one.”

  Preston thrust himself into the center of the group, and Tyler clicked a button on a remote.

  A long tube rose from under the costume on Preston’s right shoulder, and before I saw the effect, I noticed the aroma. Hot, buttered popcorn. The kernels poured from the tube and neatly landed in the bowl made out of his hair.

  “Hope you guys don’t mind a little hair in your popcorn,” he said, as he bent down and Carrie snagged a piece.

  “Delicious,” she said.

  Carrie was wearing a confectionary bikini, her chest barely covered by two giant rainbow lollipops. Her ringlets were crafted into a swirl that held the biggest lollipop on her costume.

  “Great,” said E.T.. “Now Lolly’s promo spot.”

  Carrie’s lollipops began to swirl like wheels on a sports-car.

  “Preston, your line!” E.T. said.

  Why hadn’t I been given any lines for today, or come to think of it, ever?

  “I’d sure like a lick of that lolly,” he said, in a mock whisper.

  Gross. But none of the other Comets seemed to think so. I rolled my eyes both because I knew I had to act annoyed and, because I was.

  “ Driscoll’s b erries?” E.T. asked.

  Diana stepped forward, and her fountain turned on,
causing chocolate to cascade down her skin, and covering the strawberries on her chest.

  Frank stepped forward and a glob of pink on his head enlarged like a massive bubble of gum.

  “Alright. Now Lil’ Jay .”

  “Really, man? Can’t we just skip this? I don’t see what my jams have to do with this crap.”

  Jay gestured to the giant hot dog strapped along his torso.

  “I get it,” he said. “I’m short. Ha, ha—there. You’ve had your joke. But really man, you dressed me up like a weenie?”

  “Jay! Now!”

  The smell of a roasted hot dog filled the air in the circus tent. The giant dog burst open, sending the mustard on top of it flying onto my face. Seconds later, Jay fell to the floor, peeling off the sausage.

  “The damn thing’s burned me!”

  A man arrived and lifted Jay up like a baby and took him out of the tent. I wiped the mustard from my eyebrows.

  “Happens,” said E.T.. “And I’m sure he’ll be fine. We’ve gotta keep our sponsors happy. Even if that means changing the Supernova Schooling theme last minute…Anyway we’re done with the promos, on to filming the Supernova Schooling.”

  That was when I stopped being so mesmerized by the spectacle of it all for just long enough to see that all of the other Comets had way bigger sponsors than me. Most of them with elaborate stores in the Universe, but also with stuff I bought from Publix back home.

  I waved to Kara in the distance, who was following closely on the heels of E.T. She waved back and smiled but I was too afraid she’d get screamed at if I tried to chat with her. That’s when I heard a familiar bark, and saw Blondie pulling towards me on a leash attempting to be held by another one of E.T.’s assistants. She pushed her head up at me, and I tousled her hair. At least she still recognized me. But she took one sniff of my licorice and recoiled.

  From a distance, former Miss New Mexico Maria, could have just been wearing an elegant white evening gown. But up close, as she filmed a spot for Sundae Shop, she was actually wearing whipped cream and shredded coconut. Her chocolate hair was done up in a swirl that made it look like hot fudge with a giant illuminated cherry on top.

  I was a bit more okay with being a candy that most people hated after seeing Maria practically beg her whipped cream to stop dripping off.

  Zelina stood in front of us all, scratching at her Beam, and wearing something that could only be described as a slutty concession stand attendant costume.

  “We thought long and hard about which exciting talent the world would most want to see on the second week of America’s Next Star ! And now, I would like to introduce you to this week’s talent expert, Andrew McFling!”

  From the top of the tent, a piece of flesh bigger than a dozen steaks was released. When it splattered on the ground, Zelina scurried away from it.

  We heard a growl, and saw the lanky strides of a leopard which took massive bites out of the carcass.

  I only managed to fight the urge to flee the tent when I noticed the barbed collar around the animal’s neck, and the four-hundred pound man that held the end of the leash.

  “This is Lilly, the leopard,” said Andrew, with a Scottish accent so thick that I was sure the Astronauts would add in subtitles for it.

  “ Lilly ?” Levi asked. “She looks more like Lacerate, the leopard.”

  “Oh this is no joke,” Andrew said. “And I assure you that given the chance, Lilly would lacerate you quicker than even that carcass.”

  “This week, you will all become expert animal trainers, each with your own, unique animal!” Zelina said. “And because of the nature of this particular talent, you will each be trained individually. But to find which animal you’ll be training, all you need to do is hold out your hands, and look up.”

  A stuffed flamingo fell from the sky into Carrie’s outstretched hands. Preston caught a little bull, and Diana an elephant, which was soon covered with chocolate from her costume.

  “Yes, I love penguins,” said Frank , as he took it by the wings and began singing “Come Fly With Me” directly to the bird.

  “And look out guys, ‘cause I already know how to ride mine,” said Levi, clutching a black horse over the rim of his giant cup costume.

  My outstretched arms began to shake. What would they give me? I mean, I’m from Florida, so maybe a dolphin?

  Beside me, Maria gripped the neck of a stuffed giraffe.

  “Only one left,” said Zelina. “What animal do you think you’ll learn to train this week, Ella?”

  “Maybe a dolphin?”

  And then, the biggest stuffed animal yet fell in a tangled heap into my arms.

  A giant white snake with orange spots.

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  ♪ All Apologies ♪

  * * *

  “ I ’m sure that thing is very well trained.” said Chris.

  “Do you mean me, or the snake?” I asked.

  I didn’t tell him, but throughout our vocal training session, I’d had only one thought: If a hot dog on America’s Next Star could cause a third degree burn, then what kind of damage could a deadly animal have?

  Jay was okay, and somehow seemed undaunted by his animal of the week turning out to be a Rhino. “At least it can’t burn me,” he had explained over a studio lunch one day with shrug.

  “Ella, come on, focus. ‘Toxic’ is not going to come as easily as your backup song did.”

  “I’m sorry, Chris. So what do you think about adding a cascade of trills at the end of the first line? ”

  “I like it. Just remember the breathing breaks we notated. It’s fine to look at the music until you have it totally down.”

  “Ok.”

  “And I know the days—and the nights—are long for Comets on the show, but I want you to read the music like you’re a devout catholic and it’s the Bible . I want you to have it so ingrained in your mind that you literally sleep with it under your pillow.”

  I nodded.

  “I’m not losing you to nerves in week two, like I already came close to last week.”

  “I’m sorry. Thank y—”

  “Don’t be sorry, and you don’t need to thank me all the time, even though it is refreshing to have a Comet that actually values politeness. But the thank you I actually want is you still being here for next week’s vocal training.

  “And remember, sometimes you have the tendency to slip into something that sounds like a Britney impersonation. It’s her song, and yeah, it’s famous for a reason, but remember that, underneath all this…” He motioned to my white hair and crazy nails. “It’s Ella Windmill in there, and that’s who I want to hear sing in Solar Stadium.”

  I smiled, and Chris had managed to make my day bearable yet again.

  “Now this time, I want to see it with the choreography. It’s not just that I’m curious what Mack is having you do, I think it will help make your breathing right.”

  The only thing that may have been an even bigger nightmare than the python was the fact that Mack expected me to move better than a dancer in Chicago .

  A couple of hours later, as I made my way into the tent for my solo training, I passed Lilly the leopard in her cage. She looked like an entirely different animal in her sleep. As one of her eyes opened, I couldn’t help feeling sorry for her, living in a cage, traveling all over the country in the hopes of getting another carcass.

  Really, she and I weren’t so very different—and not just because we both had claws.

  Standing only a foot away from him, Andrew McFling seemed even bigger.

  “Hi, I’m here for my snake training.”

  “Mr. McFling, if you please. I didn’t graduate middle school fer nutin.”

  His stomach protruded over the belt of his cargo shorts like a river threatening to break through a dam.

  “Oh, sorry, Mr. McFling.”

  “Now yer talent, is not just a ‘snake’ as you call it. It’s a beauty of a beast. The biggest show snake in the world.”

  Th
ree handlers emerged carrying the writhing white cylinder of my nightmares.

  “Now, Abe’s a star already. Been in so many horror films I’ve lost count. But my bank account hasn’t!”

  When he chuckled, it shook the ground under my feet as I stared into the yellow slit eyes of Abe.

  “Now let’s just put ‘er on the girl,” Mr. McFling said to the handlers.

  Breathe , I told myself as I closed my eyes and felt the approach of wet scales on the back of my neck. Just as I began to feel the weight of Abe along my neck, there came a bark.

  “Aye! Back, back ye mutt!”

  I opened my eyes, and Blondie ran in the tent. The three helpers pulled Abe back as I leapt forward, and struggled to contain him as he tried to break free.

  Blondie ran between me and the snake, then presented her head to pet. By the time I had pet her, the assistant had caught up and reclipped her leash.

  At this point, Mr. McFling looked like a red Christmas ornament.

  “Get that thing outta here!”

  Blondie trotted out of the tent, looking like she’d just won best in show. Hours later, I left the tent looking exactly the opposite.

  Chapter Sixty

  ♪ Torn ♪

  * * *

  “ I just don’t think I can do it,” I said over breakfast in the mansion. I was having a harder time than normal remembering that part of playing the game was to not expose my weaknesses—even if they were already obvious.

  Preston slipped his hand over mine for a second, and then quickly retracted it, as if he had forgotten something. His eyes were lit by the purple flames dancing in the middle of the table.

  “Well, with an attitude like that, you won’t be able to. Come on. If I can be a matador for this episode, you can hold a snake for a few lyrics. I actually think you got off kinda easy. I mean, I heard Lil’ Jay got charged by his rhino at rehearsal.”

  In comparison to facing a giant horn, suddenly forty feet of slimy scales didn’t seem so bad after all.