Emerald (Home Run Edition)

Chapter 1: A Sea of Blonde

I awoke after sunrise on a warm spring morning. Sitting up in bed, I yawned and smiled at the same time. Then I opened the curtains. California sunshine poured in through my bedroom window. I was excited to start my day. In a few hours, I would be auditioning with Silver Note Records. This was my chance at a record contract. I felt certain that this audition was going to be different--today was going to be my big break.

I stayed in bed for a few more minutes. I was daydreaming about my future life as a star. I imagined myself in a packed stadium, in front of thousands of fans. I was belting out the number one song in America. I could picture the awesome outfit I was wearing, too.

The thought of clothes brought me back to reality. My audition was getting closer by the minute. I hopped out of bed and went over to my closet. Flipping through my clothes, I sighed loudly. What am I going to wear?

Fashion was a big deal at auditions. You needed to look cool, hip and unique. I live in Anaheim--which is in Orange County, California. A lot of people say that Orange County is not a unique place. All the houses look the same. All the people look the same. All the clothes look the same. Luckily, I always dress a little differently. So, in a way, being unique is easy for me.

My audition was taking place in downtown Los Angeles. Mom and I made our way up in a little over an hour. Before I knew it, I was standing in the Silver Note Records waiting room. I was in a sea of near-perfect girls. I felt like I was in some alien movie: Pretty Blondes Take Over the World. Most of the girls who stood around me were my age, about 15. They all looked much older than that, though. They wore tons of makeup. I bet 90 percent had perfect bodies, too. Have they ever heard of chocolate?

Without realizing it, I caught myself staring at one beauty. She was putting on a fresh coat of red lipstick. She smoothed down her miniskirt and belted out a tune from Beyonce Knowles. She was good. She had beauty, confidence and talent.

What am I doing here again? The door opened and the girl at the front of the line went inside. I counted the girls ahead of me: 73 more. The audition process was painfully slow. I had been standing in this line for two hours. My feet were killing me. I knew I should have worn my old army combat boots instead of these brand-new ones.

I reached for my backpack and pulled out my compact mirror to check my hair. I knew that I stood out like a sore thumb. My hair is neither blonde nor brunette. I'm a redhead. I've always been proud of this. I'm not saying that kids didn't tease me when I was little. Since I've gotten older, though, I like it that not a lot of people are redheads. It gives me an original look. I also have green eyes, so my parents did a really cool thing--they named me Emerald.

I dress differently than many popular young singers, and most other girls in Orange County. Today I wore a red plaid kilt with black knee socks--and, of course, my boots. I wasn't into the tiny, show-everything tank tops. Instead, I wore a plain black t-shirt. My red hair was in a ponytail. My freckles are impossible to cover with makeup, so I just slapped on some lip gloss and dotted my lashes with mascara.

"How are you feeling?" I heard my mother ask. I whipped around to see her standing there. She was holding a bottle of orange juice. She handed me the juice and I drank it in one unladylike sip.

"I'm nervous," I admitted, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

My mother smiled. "You've been to lots of auditions, Emerald. Just try to relax," she encouraged me. Spoken like a true mother, I thought.

I did feel a little better. The line was starting to move quicker. This was good for my stiff legs and my nervous mental state. A fast-moving line could only mean one thing: The company wasn't impressed with what they were seeing. I didn't look or sound like the girls who had already walked through that door. If what the company had seen so far was not what they were looking for, maybe I was. This thought made me feel confident. Maybe I wasn't going to leave here as regular old Emerald. Maybe today I would be leaving with a recording contract!

As the line grew shorter, I decided to run over my song. I started humming the tune in my head and soon lost myself in the music. With my eyes closed, I sang in perfect pitch. Once I finished, I opened my eyes and noticed that I had an audience. Girls began whispering and giving me dirty looks. Good, I thought. Let them know there's a little more competition out here. I may not be blonde but I can sing.

Before I knew it, another hour had passed. At this point, I was only about five feet from the door. That's when I heard four words that nearly made my heart explode: "Emerald Johnston. You're up."

I nodded weakly at the woman who called my name. She led me through the door and down a hallway. Just as we were about to enter another room, I straightened up and pushed my shoulders back. Seated behind a long table were two men and a woman. The woman smiled at me and I began to relax.

"Hurry up," the older man yelled. Just as quickly as I'd relaxed, I tightened up. Then I realized that I was standing still, not hurrying up and not singing. Finally, the woman who had led me here gently pushed me forward.

The woman behind the table smiled at me again. "Emerald, that's a very pretty name," she said. I nodded but didn't speak. I let my eyes travel to the two men seated next to her. The gray-haired man who had yelled at me to hurry up looked bored. Sitting beside him was a younger man. He didn't even bother to look up at me.

"We'd like you to sing a chorus from anything you'd like," the woman explained. "Begin whenever you are ready."

I nodded, took a deep breath and cleared my throat. Focusing on a spot above the woman's head, I began to sing. I knew I sounded good. My raspy voice was great for singing--definitely unique. I was able to control it really well and reach a wide range of notes. On a good day, I thought of my voice as a cross between Janis Joplin's and Pink's.

I let the song take me away. Soon, I forgot that I was even in an audition. My short memory only lasted so long. When I finished my last note, I quickly remembered where I was. I let my eyes rest on each of the three people in the room. The woman and the older man were smiling at me. But the younger man's face showed no expression. His eyes seemed to stare right through me. It felt like forever before anyone spoke.

"That was wonderful, Emerald," beamed the woman. I knew today was the day! I was about to thank her when the non-smiling guy interrupted. "Yes, you have an unusual voice," he stated.

Sweat formed on the palms of my hands. I could feel the but before he even said it. "But, unfortunately, you're not what we are looking for," he said. Two heads turned toward him, clearly disagreeing with him. He looked at them firmly. Even though he was younger, you could tell he was the one in charge.

He looked me up and down. "I do have a bit of advice for you," he went on. "Dye your hair and update your look. I'm sure you will benefit in future auditions." With that, he closed my file.

It took every ounce of strength I had just to say thank you and walk away. I've been turned down many times before, but never because of how I looked. By the time I reached the door I was crying. I tried to hold back my tears, but I just couldn't. Maybe I wasn't supposed to be a singer. Maybe he was right. How many famous stars were redheads, anyway?

My mother met me at the exit. When she looked into my teary green eyes, she knew that things hadn't gone well. I threw myself into her arms and cried. I didn't care that the entire waiting room was staring. I had just given my best audition ever, and it wasn't enough.

An hour later, Mom and I were stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic. I stared out the window as we crawled back toward Anaheim. Around hour two of the traffic jam, I decided that today was the worst day of my life. In the middle of this thought, Mom said, "You'll get it one of these days, Emerald."

I didn't respond at first. I just kept staring out the window. After a few minutes of silence, though, I started to think about Mom's comment. That's when I turned and said, "There isn't going to be another day. I'm tired of not being chosen. I'm tired of being told I'm not good enough!" My voice started to crack, but I held back the tears this time. "I quit," I said, sadly. "I don't want to be a singer anymore."