Chapter Four

August couldn't stop thinking about Taylor. She couldn't. It was practically impossible. She sighed and looked at the wall, and the shadowy poster of him she had taped there, among other pictures of the whole group. With another deep sigh, she sat up, but didn't bother turning the light on. She got up, and went down to the kitchen. Food would calm her down. Besides, there was a humongous Mars bar in the fridge. She wanted to get it before her father did.

It was early the next morning that she remembered the promise she'd made the night before...she'd promised she'd try out for the Cried video that evening. She looked warily at her closet.
"Oh, shit...what the hell am I going to wear?"

(About 6:00 that evening) Taylor sat down with a sigh.
"I hate doing this," he said with a yawn. Zac collapsed beside him.
"Why do we always have to be here for video auditions? We had to sit for four hours through the Lucy video last time," he complained. Ike whacked him.
"That was your song, you buttmonkey. You should be the last person complaining about that."
Tay glanced at the group of girls that were left, who were huddled in a tight group, nervously whispering and pointing at them. He noticed August off to the side with a friend, a pretty girl with shoulder-length brown hair and blue eyes. She didn't look anything like August, but they seemed to be pretty close friends. The girl turned and shot a glance at Zac, who was now on the verge of falling asleep. She turned away quickly when she noticed Tay looking at her, and August elbowed her in the ribs.

"Dawn! Don't stare! You know better than that!"
Dawn turned around when August elbowed her, and said in a strange voice that clearly knew what it was talking about,
"August, look at these chicks. One of them is going to get this part, not you or me. I might as well stare at them while I can."
August pulled out a compact and glanced in it inconspicuously.
"Maybe you have a chance...I don't. My concealer's starting to flake." Dawn didn't respond to that, because she knew that it made August feel like shit. August, however, wouldn't have heard her anyway.
"Thanks for the hereditary acne, Mom," she said to no one in particular. She closed the compact and stuck it in the back pocket of her jeans.
"I'm sure that's not going to matter," Dawn said, trying to help August regain her confidence. August snorted.
"Wait and see, Dawn. Just wait and see."

"It's's not Serge. That sounds like some sort of laundry detergent."

-Serge, Beverly Hills Cop III

Back Home
Chapter Three
Chapter Five