Lights, Camera, Action!

"Rose wants a donut!" one of the stagehands shouted as he walked away from me.

I sat in one of those cool looking director-like chairs while the make-up artists suffocated me with a cloud of powder and killed my taste buds with excess amounts of waxy lipstick. This was the only thing I hated about being a child star. Everything else, to put it mildly, was awesome.

See, my mom was a big time movie actress. As soon as I was able to form full sentences on my own, she enrolled me in infinite acting classes. She wanted me to lead a life as a glamorous as hers one day. My father really had no objection, but even if he did, his opinion didn't really matter. My parents were divorced by the time I turned six and my mom had full custody. The judge found her more capable of raising a child, which I agree with honestly. Don't get me wrong; I love my dad, but he was just…he's the stereotypical Hollywood serial dater. I didn't want to constantly ask "So will she be my stepmom?" every time he started dating one of his co-stars. I guess Mom and Dad still got along, but they didn't go out of their way to communicate.

"Donut?"

I blinked and glanced in the direction of the speaker. There stood my co-star, Dimitri Belikov. He was only a couple years older than me and I saw him nearly every day. Most importantly, he was my Russian best friend, my comrade. We looked out for each other, made fun of how unbelievably stupid and overweight our director was, and we even had a couple movie nights each month when filming the TV show. These past few months I've kind of developed a crush on him, but let's be realistic. I was eleven, and he was thirteen. He wouldn't have give me the time of day. And, if my parents were any indication, relationships in Hollywood do not last very long.

I grinned. "Do you even have to ask?"

"No I suppose not. I forgot who I was talking to for a minute." He raised an eyebrow as he reached somewhere off to his side and grabbed a box of donuts. "You'd best hurry and get one before Zhopa finds them."

Zhopa's the Russian word for ass. When we were first cast, we agreed that Zhopa would be code name for the director so that no one would have any idea who we were actually talking about in the first place.

I giggled as I reached for a simple glazed donut. "Why not hide them? More for us if we do."

"I don't want to face interrogation." He set the box off to the side and then gracefully leaned against the vanity table. I gnawed on the inside of my cheek so I didn't sigh audibly. "And I want to keep this job for a little while longer."

"Just a little while?" I asked, stuffing almost half the donut in my mouth. I was just assuming he meant he was leaving the show and moving onto something else. Boy, was I in for a big slap in the face…

…Then again, everyone knows what they say about making assumptions.

Dimitri shrugged. "Yeah. It'd be nice to have a semi-normal life again. Go to school, college…"

"Do you think you'll act again?" I really tried not to sound desperate, but it was proving difficult. I mean, I didn't want to not see my best friend but once in a blue moon.

"I suppose." He light punched my shoulder, a smile playing on his lips. "Don't worry, Roza. I'll keep in touch."

I mock-glared at him. "You better."