AN: I was going to publish this earlier, but then I ended getting paranoid that no one would like Andre with anyone else but Tori, and ended up deleting it. But then, I read Fearless by WhatIfAngel93, saw how amazing the story was, and it gave me the courage to put this up. So THANK YOU, WhatIfAngel93!
First, I want to say that I'm still continuing the stories Love Bites and Fireflies and Fireworks. Whoever's following those stories, I'm so sorry that I haven't posted any up in a while. I'm just still trying to figure out what other conflicts I should bring in...
Second of all, this chapter doesn't have any of the Victorious characters yet, just my O.C. I know, this may be kind of boring, but this is what gets the whole story going.
Third, I personally believe that Tori and Andre make a great couple, and I love all of the FanFics on them, but I just want to experiment with Andre and my O.C., so please no hating on my couple choices.
Okay, I'm done rambling, so read and enjoy!
"What Started It All"
"I NEED THE FOURTH ACT ON STAGE LEFT NOW!" I called out again, increasing the chance of waking up tomorrow without a voice, which is almost always common for the stagehands. With all of the costume changes, curtain calls, and observing the acts of the talent shows from right behind the curtain...I absolutely love the stage life.
Except for the bitchy primadona that never failed to show up and ruin my whole night. Gigi Hollins was one of them.
"AWWWWW!" she exclaimed with her usual voice that was so high-pitched, I was surprised that dogs weren't the only ones that could hear it. "Brad is sooooooo SWEET!" She was rummaging through her phone, swooning at the texts sent by her ignoramus boyfriend, obsessively raking her pale fingers through her chocolate-colored hair. She was purposely standing a foot away from me so that she could boast about what I didn't have.
"I'm sorry, you know how boyfriends are, Char- Oh! That's right, you don't!" I'll admit, I've never had a boyfriend before, but I was in no mood for GiGi to throw it in my face.
"Grow up," was all the comeback that I could think of at the moment. "Maybe I don't have one, because I don't want one."
"Don't want one or can't get one?" she smirked. At that comment, I was dangerously close to wrapping my fingers around her throat before I saw Ms. Jamal, the producer, shoot me a threatening look causing me to pull back.
"So, Charlie," she exclaimed with her nauseatingly sweet and ridiculously high-pitched voice. "I heard that the Principal of Hollywood Arts is in the audience tonight. Probably looking for potential students."
I rolled my eyes in annoyance. Hollywood Arts High School was an elite performing arts academy in Los Angeles. Once the students graduated from there, they were immediately thrown in the land of the rich and famous, playing in huge movies, composing million-dollar musicals, blah blah blah...
To even be considered into the school, you needed to be talented, gorgeous, and, from what I've seen... ultimately conceited.
"So?" I replied to her.
"So, right now, you have the privilege. 'cause right after he sees my dancing, I'm sure to be the next..." she stopped for what she thought was a dramatic pause," ...Tila Tequila!"
I stared at her, wondering if brown was her natural hair color. "Gigi, Tila Tequila's not a dancer, she's a singer."
"Whatever, same difference." She stretched down the skirt of her ridiculously skimpy costume. "As much as I love to sit and chat with school rejects, I have a performance to get ready for." She smirked, and began to walk downstairs which led to the dressing rooms under the stage, but before she did, she gave me one last look. "You know, maybe they'll pick you to be a new student, too."
I was shocked by what seemed to be a compliment coming out of the mouth of the stage brat. "Really?" I replied skeptically.
"Yeah. I heard that their next play is going to be 101 Dalmatians, and I think you'd be perfect at playing one of the dogs."
From hearing her sick little laugh, I could feel the blood pounding in my ears, and my fingers inching toward one of the jagged sword props on the table beside me. Figuring that she wasn't worth it, I came up with a new approach.
"No, I think you should go for the part." I said as sickeningly sweet as she did. "After all, you have so much more experience in playing a bitch!"
The look on her face made me want to die laughing.
About 3 seconds after she stormed downstairs, I, along with the rest of the stagehands and possibly the rest of the audience, heard an earsplitting crash and the sound of a girl wailing in pain.
My heart stopped at the sound of it. "Not again..." I said to myself, my voice shaking.
I ran underneath the stage, practically tripping over each steps, and sprinted through the maze of underground hallways that the screams were leading me to find...
"Oh my God..." was all that my voice could hiccup out once I saw Gigi, laying on the cement ground, with a wet, dark red gash in her left leg.
All of the stagehands and performers were crowding around her, including the other dancers in Gigi's performance, making attempts to calm her erratic bawling, and mumbling different things to each other.
"What the hell happened to her?"
"Somebody call 911!"
"Does anyone know who did this?"
"Sure as hell wasn't me!"
"I knew she deserved something like this, but..."
"Did anybody see what happened?" I asked to anybody who was listening.
"We don't know," one of Gigi's fellow dancer's replied. "She was going to the costume room to look for something to shove in her bra, and-"
"Hey!" Gigi screamed at her, getting her focus off of her bleeding leg. "No one needed to know about that!"
"Anyway..." the girl groaned, ignoring her. She paused to hypothesize what might have happened. "...I guess one of the windows on the shelves fell on her." I looked to where she was pointing, noticing where they put the spare glass window inserts, and saw that, not only was one of them missing, but I was standing on the broken glass that apparently had fallen on Gigi.
After the paramedics took Gigi away, I noticed that the other performers that she was with were less concerned about her and more concerned about their act.
"What are we supposed to do now?" one of them said. "Gigi was the lead dancer. We'll look like idiots dancing with only two people."
"Can't we get someone else to replace her?" the other one said.
"No. Nobody else knows this dance except for-" she cut off her sentence the second she saw me standing in the doorway, and smiled as if she just had an epiphany. A Cheshire cat grin appeared on her face as she said slowly, "Chaaarrrlliiiee..."
I already knew what they were thinking, causing my stomach to turn into a knot. "No, no, and NO!"
"Charlie, come on!" she begged. "You were there for every single practice session we had. You know this routine backwards and forwards!"
"I don't dance!"
Before they could protest, Ms. Jamal walked up at the worst timing ever. "Girls were you able to find a replacement?"
They both looked at me, and I shook my head nervously and begged them not to say anything.
"Yes, Ms. Jamal. Charlie agreed that she would do it."
She looked at me in disbelief. "Well, Ms. McKey, I had no idea you were...interested in this particular stuff." She turned back toward the girls. "You're up in one hour, girls. Make sure you're all ready by then." And with that she walked away, leaving me with whom I believed were destined to kill me.
"I'm not doing this!" I protested.
"You heard her." The other girl said, with a mischievous grin on her face. Before I tried to run away, they grabbed me by my legs, dragging me to the costume room, letting my nails make cat-like scratch marks on the wooden floor.
That's it for now guys. Thanx for reading!