11I considered beginning to sing, then remembered what had happened the last time I had sung in a public place: people had run away.
Ah, well. All the more reason to do it now; this room could use some clearing out. I considered for a moment, then chose Avril Lavigne's "Skater Boy." A little hard-core punk rock would wake up this crowd. I opened my mouth and began the song.
People turned and stared. I finished the song with a long high C-flat chord and took a bow.
Most people rolled their eyes and looked away. I looked around the room, deflated. Just as I was about to give up any hope of a crowd reaction, a group of-I could only call them freaks-approached me.
"Dude, that was awesome," the leader of their little posse began. "Are you in a band? You should go on that show, what's it called... You know..." She looked around helplessly at her friends.
"American Idol?" one of the gang, clearly some kind of male stripper prostitute freak, put in. I mean, the boy was wearing tight pants! "Yeah, she should!"
I was unsure whether to run off screaming or act like I ran into their kind every day. "Uhh... I don't know..."
"Well, if you don't think you're good enough..." They turned around, probably to go 'hang out' at Hot Topic.
Suddenly I felt rebellious. So what if my parents forbade me to sing 'Happy Birthday' at parties? Who cared if I'd actually gotten exempted from music class in elementary school? All that was in the past now. I was in seventh grade, and a whole bunch of adolescents who were, although lower life forms who didn't deserve to exist, easily fifty times cooler than me, had just said I should go on American Idol! I would just have to try out!
I called my parents and asked if I could spend the weekend with my best friend, Mandy. They of course consented, as they always do to a weekend without me, and I was well on my way to my audition.
After doing online research, I hypothesized that the best way to get to the audition site would be to walk six blocks west and one north to the...
"I think we should tell her," a voice from directly behind me said. I turned around. If the last group of kids had been freaks, these were the most popular girls I had ever come within ten feet of. I began to hyperventilate. "T-tell me-e-te-ell me wh-h-hat?"
They stared at me. "Do you feel okay? Did those fags scare you? They scare me."
Those whats? Did she just swear? "I-I-I..." I took a deep breath. "I'm fine. Tell me what?"
"Hon, they were using you to have a laugh. We wouldn't have said anything, but Ash here, like, felt sorry for you, since you're such a nerd. You know, no offense or anything, but..." Her eyes swept down across my yellow sweatpants. "That girl? She goes to my school. And she's such a dyke... she doesn't even think Justin Timberlake's hot! Well... we'll see you..." She gave me a fake smile as her friends pulled her away.
I smiled back, seething. I had to get those mean-hearted punks back. But how?
Almost immediately, a brilliant plan for revenge came to me. I would become... cool!