Following on from The Story of Alex,we now have the back story for Annie. A short record of the childhood of a very imaginative little girl... I hope you all enjoy it xx
Annie: A Star in the Making
Annie was
born to be a star.
She
discovered her destiny on a non-specific day at age six. Sat cross legged on
the floor, small hands tucked underneath her knees, face inches away from the
TV, pupils shrinking and dilating as dancing images were absorbed by her subconscious-
cementing her fate. With the absolute certainty that can only exist in a child’s
un-faltering faith in themselves and the Universe she decided to change her
name in preparation for a life enveloped in the flashes of lights, camera and
big dreams.
Formerly
known as Anheela Shabnam Sharma, she upon realising her destiny decided she did
indeed hate her name. It caused her great stress and she was fed up of forcing
herself to laugh when the boys called her inhaler. She was growing even more
tired of the parents that really did believe that was her name and shrugged at
the ways of the strange brown people. Anheela Shabnam Sharma. It didn’t really
bother her that her initials spelt ASS; this could be modified later on. She
could drop her middle name or better still use it as a small section in her autobiography
under the section of Early Childhood Trauma. She grinned, and decided that yes,
her new name would be Annie. Modelled on the heroine of her all-time favourite film.
Whilst the
children around her perfected the cartwheel and tried to score as many goals as
possible into imaginary goal posts, Annie perfected the kind of haughtiness she
assumed was the trademark of all divas. Training to be a star was hard work.
She slowly memorised the inflections of well-to-do accents in order to have
perfect articulation and spent hours in front of the mirror trying to smoulder
after reading a magazine piece on the ability of all great starlets to execute
this trait flawlessly. She quickly realised she looked angry and constipated
and maybe smouldering was something she could work on later. In the meantime
she had to come up with a ten minute presentation in order to convince her
parents why they should spend X amount on ‘Little Stars’ after school club. She
had already been harassing them all winter but it was yet to pay off. Her
Father unable to comprehend how his daughter had turned into a little madam
overnight and for some absurd reason kept insisting they throw dinner parties.
He had become fed up and offered her an ultimatum. She had ten minutes to
present her case in any way she chose BUT she had to be able to answer the five
questions he would propose to her after the ten minutes. Correctly answering
those questions would determine whether or not she would: ‘begin a journey lighted with big dreams….Little Stars’ Annie had
work to do. Her Father’s love for riddles and puzzles meant he was infamous for
asking questions which were mind bogglingly impossible to answer. Her
presentation would have to knock his socks off and distract him from his stupid
questions which he always asked with a smirk on his face. She would have to
render him speechless. Lying on her stomach on her bedroom floor with colouring
pencils and paper scattered everywhere she began to hatch a plan.
Downstairs
in the kitchen Mr and Mrs Sharma began one of their whispered ‘discussions’. Mr
Sharma sat opposite his wife and watched mesmerised as she shelled peas.
Fifteen years of marriage and not once had he ever witnessed such a thing. He
did not think that he had actually ever seen peas in a pod. Such trying
thoughts began to fill his head as he began to wonder what other vegetable he
had probably never seen in their naked state when a pea without its pod bounced
off his forehead indicating that his beloved wife must have been talking at him
for quite some time. He smiled at her sheepishly, she glowered at him.
‘I just don’t
know what to do,’ she said. He sighed. This was an old but recent conversation.
‘She’s
definitely determined,’ he said and sighed again. This time he rubbed his face
to add affect. Truth was he liked his odd little daughter. She was certainly
different and had developed a funny accent but she was the most interesting out
of his three offspring. He didn’t worry like his wife who always seemed to have
a frown on her face these days. He didn’t understand his child but he wasn’t
worried about her; this one would be fine no matter what. Nonetheless the
Sharma’s continued their whispered ‘discussion’ and came to the conclusion,
that yes, of course, with no doubt in their minds they were good parents. Of
course they were. And their children were all fine – Annie was a little strange
and this whole ‘Little Stars’ business was definitely curious. Why they would
pay for movement classes- what in God’s name was a movement class- was beyond
them. It was a tricky situation and neither of them in all honesty could afford
it. And so they did what any good parent with a strange child and her and her
strange wish would do- they chose to ignore it.
Annie was
furious. She had been told by her hateful Father that the presentation was not
necessary as they couldn’t afford anything extra -curricular at the moment.
Covered in tinsel and glitter dust Annie listened to her parents silently and
tallied up all the injustices they had done to her. First naming her such a
silly name and not even thinking about the initials and now murdering her
dreams. This situation would definitely get a mention in her autobiography
under the title: Horrible Childhood. She watched her parents destroy her
childhood and quietly just like a true classy lady, closed her bedroom door,
fell onto her bed and cried giant silent sobs.
Her Father
stood on the other side of the closed door, his heart breaking and wondering
what on earth his glitter and tinsel covered daughters presentation would have
been like,
Fast
forward a few years and Annie was now in secondary school with all her big
dreams mostly intact. Her arrogance was executed to perfection and her ideas of
grandeur prevailed. Many would think her sense of entitlement and arrogance
would repel those around her- but there was something about Annie that was
magnetic. People were drawn to her like a writer to a cliché. It was never
anything she did or said it was simply who she was. Her energy was
intoxicating, her attention to detail dizzying, her focus on you, just you
mesmerising. The Universe had promised Annie great things and thus, her talent:
the ability to convince anyone of anything. So it never did bother Annie that
she did not make ‘Little Stars’. It didn’t bother her that to date she had been
kicked out of choir three times, drama club five times and had failed every
possible dance audition on the basis of lacking any talent. It didn’t bother
her that her parents were working class and said Fanks instead of thanks, and
couldn’t hear the difference when she corrected them. It didn’t bother her that
the only two books that were worth reading on her English syllabus were
Educating Rita and Death of a Salesman, Shakespeare was useless – dumbed down
into bite sized chunks. She was smart, she was bright and let’s face it a looker.
Annie was born to be a star and even without any real talent she would do it.
Years later
as she sat in her childhood bedroom for the final time – suitcases all packed
and ready to go she allowed the sounds of flashing bulbs and the cheer from the
crowds from her childhood dreams to overtake her. With eyes closed she thought
briefly about her life. With the skill set acquired from watching film after
film she had charmed her way into getting as much free education as possible knowing
it was her ticket out. She had received offers of full scholarships to every
University she applied to and still remembered the surprise of the Ofsted
inspector who had never thought such grades were possible from an establishment
offering such little education. She had never let go of the promise she had
felt in her bones that morning aged six watching Annie from the Universe: a
whisper that her life would be much bigger than anyone else. Sitting on the
edge of the bed she felt that strange feeling again starting in her toes and
spreading like pins and needles all across her body. Her senses tingled and she
felt as though she should sing. Quickly remembering how painful that sound was
even to her own ears she decided not to sing and quietly enjoyed the fast beat
of her heart pulsing through every pore. It was destiny, and it was awaiting
her impatiently.
The next
day in the foyer of the Grand Hall she fiddled with her notebook and pen and
observed all the new students milling around waiting for the welcome lecture to
begin. Past a throng of people she noticed him. The good looks were undeniable
and obvious. The height, the hair, the body all resembled an Adonis and he
easily had the attention of all the girls, some walking past shyly others
openly gawking. But Annie noticed something else. The little too tight grip on
his plastic cup half full of cheap wine, the fidgetiness, the constant looking
around but not for anyone or anything. The general nervousness. She looked at
the name badge: Alexander J.F. Jones.
Smiling, she walked towards him.
.
