Blackbird.

"Congratulations, you've made it!"

Those words turn my world upside down. I literally fall to the ground, in pure happiness. But, little did I know, this competition was going to affect me in more ways than I thought.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Earlier that day ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"What if you forget the words? That would be totally embarrassing," Stephie, my younger sister, bugs me.

My stomach churns even more.

"Stephie, shut it." I grit through my teeth. If she was any more annoying, I'd kill myself. She just laughs and goes back to her phone.

The producer comes out and calls out more names. Unfortunately, mine isn't called. I jump up and rush off to the bathroom, my mom shouting after me,

"Honey, are you going to be alright?"

I avoid all the other contestants as I make a bee-line for the bathroom. I lock the stall door behind me as I lean over the toilet, emptying my stomach for the fifth time today.

There's no way I can do this. Why am I kidding myself? I'm just some girl, fresh out of high-school, with a dream too big for her.

I hear girls coming in and out of the bathroom. I even hear a girl, a few stalls over, doing exactly the same thing as me. Loosing her lunch, right into the latrine.

'No, shut-up, Olivia. You are a talented, hot, woman. And, you're going to be a star.' I repeat over and over in my head.

Maybe if I repeat it enough, I'll believe it?

I grab a toothbrush from my purse and brush my teeth again. Nothing like sickness-breath. Delicious.

As I leave the bathroom, my mom rushes over to me.

"Olive, they just called your name, hurry!" She shouts, directly in my ear.

On instinct, I take off sprinting.

"Olivia Gellar?" The producer yells out again, reading off of his intimidating clip-board.

"Here! Here, I'm here!" I shout, stumbling over to his side, completely out of breath. He looks me up and down, and his lips turn up with amusement,

"Yes, yes, you are," He nods and ushers me into the doors.

I enter a small room, with another set of doors. Behind those doors, I hear someone belting out a note that I didn't even dare attempting. My pulse begins to race, as I dance in place; I get very antsy when I get nervous.

"So, Olivia Gellar, tell us a bit about yourself," The producer says, with a camera man standing right behind him. I freeze up as I lay eyes on the lenses. Shoot. I sometimes forget about my camera-shyness when I get myself into these situations.

My eyes widen and I begin to stutter,

"It's okay. No need to be nervous," The producer whispers to me.

I nod and bite my lip. Exactly, Olivia. No need to be nervous. Just imagine that instead of that camera man, it's my mother, video-taping another one of our family events.

"I-I-I sing." I start off, still stuttering. The producer puts his hand over his mouth, hiding the fit of giggles he's breaking in to. "My name is Olivia Gellar." I continue, and he nods, hand still placed firmly over his mouth, "I like c-cats," I ramble.

The producer can't handle it any more. He throws his head back with laughter.

"You're hilarious, kid." He pats me on the shoulder, roughly. I stumble to catch my footing, but I continue to smile, awkwardly, at the camera.