Aim High, Never Rest

After returning to Palm Woods from the atrocious meeting with Hawk, I decided to take time to myself and relax. During the meeting, things happened that I wished I never experienced. I learned that today is my last day of freedom, the last day for me to keep my desired image.

What we got out of the meeting involved shedding our current image for something more extreme. Our future type of extreme image will soon attract attention from the media, which can lead to our breakthrough success.

Hawk’s expectations of our new image required many things. First things first, Tyson had to rid of his square shaped glasses to destroy the nerdy appeal to him. Then my whole band is killed off of all their favorite colors. Nathan can no longer wear his colored plaid shirts that he loves so much. The guys, very alike myself, are given new wardrobes, baring the only color Hawk felt was badass—black.

Worst of all, my wardrobe change did not involve sacrificing my favorite colors or a pair of accessories. The requirements are set higher for me. I have to reach a higher standard than the three guys. According to Hawk, I am the lead singer—the center of the attention. Being the front woman, I have to provide the audience with an image that defines the band. When people look at me, they will decide if they want to listen to my band or not. A glance at the lead singer usually justifies the decisions of whether or not to give this band a listen.

What I have to do as a lead singer, as my duties, is to bring out a distracting image. I need to grab the attention of the audience and take the world by storm. In order to do that, I have to be scandalous. I have to wear short skirts and thongs instead of my comfy tight jeans and triangular-laced underwear. To further map out his wonderful plan, Hawk organized a pair of stylists to create a line of rebellious and sexy dark clothing for me to wear on a daily basis. My term of becoming a slutty but soon-to-be-famous superstar starts tomorrow, waking me up with the conclusion that the last day of being typical, normal Maxine needs to be cherished.

Collin wanted to say something during the meeting but Tyson and I shot warning looks throughout the duration of our time spent with the CEO producer. He, unlike the rest of us, felt strongly about Hawk messing with his style choices. The idiot muttered on and on about Hawk’s improper way to advertise the band all the way from the limo to the hotel. I grew irritated and eventually snapped at my best friend by the time that limo made a turn for the intersection to Palm Woods. The rest of the ride from then on was silent.

I dumped the plastic covered skirt on my perfectly made bed and walked out of my room. Tyson is already sitting on the kitchen counter with Chemistry books sprawled out across the light colored granite. His glasses are back on, face scrunched up in concentration as his eyes scanned the useless information in one of the books. Nathan is lying lazily on the soft couch with a bowl of popcorn on his lap and the television on. I rolled my eyes at his laziness as I made a conclusion to find my peace elsewhere.

“Maxine” I turned to Collin—who held out his shiny black leather jacket for me to touch.

He grimaced as I felt the fabric with my forefinger and thumb. I shrugged lightly when he retrieved the jacket back. His lips formed a frown and threw the leather material across the room to the couch. It landed on top of Nathan’s popcorn, gaining a grumbled complaint from the general direction. We both ignored him.

“I can’t believe Hawk has the nerve to change who we are” he muttered angrily, the same voice of bitterness he used in the limo.

“He is not changing who we are, dumbass. We are still ourselves but with better style, perhaps?”

He shot me a look of disbelief.

“Are you crazy, Maxine? He is expecting you to run around in a lingerie and skinny skirt, most likely requesting you to bend down in front of male audiences to get attention”

“Who do you think I am, a slut?” I folded my arms across my chest, staring at him expectedly.

He scoffed, shaking his head. His pale face darkened and I knew that my best friend, always so calm and level-headed, has reached his breaking point.

“You might as well be Hawk’s little slut” he said nonchalantly.

I growled under my breath as I eyed him down with my venomous glare. Collin, of all people, even dared to think of such low terms to refer me to. I have been his best friend for so many years and not once had he ever used such vulgar words to insult me. I get the impression that he may be jealous of all the attention I will soon be getting. He is aware that I am destined for greatness, making him nothing but a background figure in my shadows.

The only way to bring me out of the spotlight is to lead my thoughts into believing that I will soon become an attention whore. I know myself better than Collin ever will so his accusations mean nothing to me. They will not leave a concern in my head.

“Collin” Tyson called out from his spot on the kitchen counter stool.

I glanced at him slightly from the corner of my eyes. The look given to Collin can easily be identified as a look of warning. Tyson is making a failed attempt for Collin to drop this subject. Apparently, Tyson is in fear of a feud between Collin and I. To be honest, I cannot deny that this dispute will take place soon enough. After he dropped his low accusations of referring me to a sleazy whore, there is no going back.

“To the world, you are nobody. You are just as worthless as the rest of them. Cool, you can play guitar, but ten million other guitar players are out there working their butts off to get their band signed. If you can’t differentiate yourself from them, you will be just a shadow of someone else’s dreams”

He rolled his eyes at me and turned to retreat to his room. I huffed loudly before opening the door to leave the room.

Collin is so stubborn and stupid. The world does not revolve around him and his favorable needs. He needs to understand that we have to be willing to sacrifice some of our life possessions in order to get something better in return. God won’t just hand you lemonades for free. You need to make the most of your life and give him something first.

The road to glory takes more than good music and a decent producer. We have to give the media what they want, which is probably their preferred style of our band.

When I arrive to the lobby, I was greeted by another hockey puck flying at me. The small plastic object collided with the side of my forehead before I can even react. The stinging pain burned the sensation in my head as my mind automatically shut itself out from my surroundings. My shaking fingers clutched onto my damaged area helplessly. I hissed under my breath, trying to relief all the pain.

“Maxine, I am sorry once again” the unpleasant familiar voice coated my nearly unconscious hearing aids.

After the pain in my head died down, I whipped my head upwards to come face-to-face with Kendall. The hockey hooligan, again, is dressed in his baggy, orange and red colored hockey uniform with a guilty looking stick in his hands. A look of fear coated his expression—hazel eyes widened slightly.

Just at the glance of his face makes me cringe. My lips formed in an uncomfortably tight thin line as my eyes twitched slightly in uncontrolled outburst. I gritted my teeth, mentally reminding myself to not lash out on him. It is hard, because this guy has impacted on my life in a way that tested my sanity and authority.

Since the incident of Jordan’s departure, I considered shoving Kendall down the pool every time I caught him in the certain location when I passed by the lobby. I am forever blaming him for what went on between Jordan and me.

Maybe I do believe that his feelings for me were sincere and honest, but I can’t help but feel that Kendall plotted this against me. Jordan might have liked me, but Kendall was smart enough to consider the fact that Jordan wouldn’t stay in Palm Woods for long. For an idiot, collecting this fact of information is quite clever.

His assumptions, however, reminded me that his stupidity got the better of him. I was supposed to feel hurt and a helpless over-pour of unwanted emotions. In fact, I did experience what he might have been assuming. But in all honestly, I will never show it because that is what he expects.

Either way, Kendall will never win.

“Why is it so hard for you to stay away from me? Your presence irks me to a point where I may vomit” I rolled my eyes at him, narrowing my eyes—and ignoring the fact that my head pain nearly got the best of me.

Kendall looked at me helplessly and opened his mouth. When no words sounded out, he closed it quickly. His look of uncertainty confused me but I have no time to waste waiting for his explanation of whatever he has to say. I will not spend my last day of freedom with him or in his presence for more than one minute. Maybe my long string of contemplation cumulated the minute already.

I pushed past him to make my leave for the lobby but not before he pulled me back with his unworthy hands. Both of his hands tugged at my leather clad shoulders forcefully, yanking me backwards into him. A wave of disgust washed over me as I shuddered.

How dare he touch me and find himself worthy of pulling me back? He has no authority telling me what to do. Wherever I am, I call the shots.

“Can’t you just disappear?” I shouted, letting my irritation and anger out intolerably.

He jumped back in slight fear but then he turned all serious, hazel eyes piercing intensely into me.

“I just want to make it clear that I did not encourage you to date Jordan with the intention of hurting you” he said.

Of course, I am not stupid enough to fall for his lies.

“Kendall, we both know that’s bullshit” I spat out at him, glaring through his stupid little head.

“Of course” Kendall muttered at me with an easily identified tone of sarcasm, “oh, I’m Maxine Johnson and I am so much better than everyone else. No one is ever good enough for me because I rule the world. I am a superstar and I don’t care how I reach my fame because I am stupid enough to believe that my tricky producer can make me famous. I wear leather jackets because that makes me cool. I am a superstar and definitely not a rock star wannabe”

His little hand motions are simply pathetic and lame as he attempted to mock me with his unbearable high pitched voice. He stared at me with this bitter look and I made it my cue to leave.

I turned without looking back at the scumbag because I know I am better of a person than he is. My time spent is precious and it shouldn’t be wasted on such a wave of negative energy like him. Honestly, I can easily conclude that he is jealous of the work I put into to achieve my future fame. Of course I am a superstar and unlike Kendall, I actually do something as an attempt to make it.

As I left the hotel, countless possibilities of my future activities bombarded my head. I looked up and saw a large billboard of Kandi Jenkins and Dak Zevon with the luscious red font of Varsity Vampires 3 plastered on the bottom. Even though the movie isn’t due out until next year – as I skillfully predicted – advertisements for the movie already began.

One day, I will achieve that fame. Pictures of my band and I will be all over the magazines, billboards, and television. My band will be recognized for our great music, amazing work ethics, and the unbelievable effort we put into creating our identities.

This urging drive to become someone is something Jo, Kendall, my parents, and anyone who ever doubted me would never understand. When my fame blows up, they will be sorry for everything they’ve ever said or done to me. My parents will regret ever crossing me and tossing my hopes and dreams aside like vermin. No one will ever doubt me again and I will be truly invincible.

I fished my set of keys in the pocket of my black leather jacket when I found my beloved motorcycle. Just at the sight of that beautiful angel helped me decide the final activity before I start dedicating myself to Hawk’s design. To relax and calm my nerves, I will ride out in the city until nighttime. I climbed onto the leather seat and placed my hands on either side of the rubber handle bars. The appropriate key fit in the ignition perfectly and my motorcycle roared itself to life.

Kicking the petal and turning the power handle, I swiftly pulled out of the parking space with swagger. As I drove out of the hotel parking lot, I took time to enjoy the feeling of the wind colliding into my face and the backwards motion of my dark hair flying in the air. Of course, I can’t see how badass I am from another person’s perspective but I know I wouldn’t be able to handle someone as amazing as myself.

A loud laugh escaped my lips as I zoomed past all the big fat cars and pedestrians on the streets of Hollywood. This feeling of happiness was something I haven’t had in a long time. I can’t even remember the last time I even mustered up courage to laugh.

Nothing in this world can rid me of this feeling—the feeling that will no longer be there when I leave my motorcycle in the Palm Woods parking lot to return to my room.

Meanwhile, I will learn to enjoy this quality time spent with the motorcycle and I. I will cherish my collision against the wind.

I will forget about all the trouble to come tomorrow and the starting of my road to fame.