Chapter 2: Outcast at Boot Camp

First day at boot camp. A lot of the contestants already knew each other. Not me.

The hallways smelled like hairspray and nerves. Laughter echoed from the girls clustered in corners, but when I walked in, the conversation died. I kept my chin up, pretending not to notice.

When I dragged my suitcase in, everyone avoided me like the plague—no one offered to help. It was as if just brushing against me meant you’d get flamed online. Nobody wanted to risk it.

I tried to make eye contact, but people either looked away or found something fascinating on their phones. It was like being back in high school, only worse. Ugh, at least in high school you could hide in the library.

People whispered about my arrival. Of course they did.

“Wait, isn’t she an actress? Why’s she here, trying so hard for a reality show?”

“I heard her agent gave her an ultimatum. She has to debut as center or she can’t act again.”

“What’s with the dramatic makeup? Is she about to do some Shakespeare?!”

I caught a few side-eyes, some snickers. I could feel the judgment in the air—thick enough to choke on.

None of that mattered to me right now. Soon, I’d be meeting the mentors and judges, then jumping straight into my first performance—no orientation, no warm-up, just straight to the spotlight.

I took a deep breath and reminded myself why I was here. The only thing that mattered was the stage. Everything else was just noise. Just noise.

Looking in the mirror, I felt nothing but nerves and unease. God, my stomach was a knot.

My headpiece was freshly set, my costume a light pink embroidered robe, cross-collared and tied at the chest—like something out of a Rodgers & Hammerstein period musical.

I’d spent all night planning this performance. My brain was fried.

I straightened my collar, checked my lipstick one last time, and tried to steady my hands. I told myself that tonight, I’d make them see me as more than a punchline.

“Let’s welcome our next contestant, Autumn Blake from Sunrise Talent.” My heart skipped. Here we go.

My name echoed through the studio. I walked onto the stage, heart hammering, hoping my legs wouldn’t give out.