Shayna Taylor, Singer (More added!)

_________________________________________________________________________________

“Hey, Shay,” Mitchell said.

I sighed. “Do you have to greet me like that every time you see me?”

“Yep,” he said. Every day–without fail–those had been Mitchell’s first words to me when he saw me since the first day I’d ever met him. Me and my father had just moved into our new house in California. I was walking up the front steps of our not-really-new-but-new-to-us house, holding two medium-sized boxes in front of me while carrying a third smaller box under my arm and also trying to open the front door of the house. As you’ve probably figured out, I was having major issues. I got the door open, but the small box fell out from underneath my arm and I was stuck trying to figure out how I was going to pick it up again. Meanwhile, the door shut itself in my face. “Great, just great,” I’d mumbled.

“Need a hand?” a voice called from across my front yard.

“Sure.” I turned to see a boy about my age with brown hair and brown eyes standing at the edge of my front yard.

He started clapping. “Oh, you’re a riot,” I said sarcastically. “How is it that you’re not famous for your stunning comedic talent?”

“I’m working on it,” he said.

“Well, you have fun with that. I have to finish getting my stuff moved in. Since you obviously aren’t going to help, go home.”

So of course he moved from the edge of the yard to the porch. “Nah,” he said. “I think I’ll just stand here and watch you struggle.”

Without thinking, I stuck my leg out and kicked him as hard as I could in the shin.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“For being a jerk. If you’re not going to help, get away from me right now.”

He picked up the small box and opened the door. “Where do these go?”

“My room,” I told him. “Follow me.” I moved in front of him and led him up the stairs and down the hallway to my bedroom. I already had most of my stuff in and set up so my room looked pretty much like it would when we were fully moved in.

“What is all this stuff?”

“My own personal recording studio,” I said.

“Cool. By the way, I’m Mitchell Parks.”

“Shayna Taylor.” After that, he’d helped move the rest of the stuff in. We’d been friends ever since.

Mitchell waving his hand in front of my face and saying, “Yoo-hoo, earth to Shayna!” snapped me out of my reverie.

“What?”

“I said, do you have plans tonight?”

“Why?” I asked. I knew Mitchell wasn’t asking me out on a date, so it probably meant he had found out about some really cool place.

“You know how Three Days Grace is playing at that club in LA tonight?”

“Yeah, so? You have to be eighteen to get in. How are two fourteen-year-olds going to get inside? Do you plan on just waltzing in pretending to be old enough to actually be there?”

“No, but Mason can get us in.”

“I don’t even want to know how your brother figured out a way to get in when he’s only two years older than us.”

Haha, this story seems so cool. :3 I'm really looking forward to reading more!

Thanks, Shad!! I'll write more when I get the chance. I'm only allowed on for a few minutes right now.

Ahh, yeah, whenever you get a chance is fine! ^^ I understand what you mean.

The plan was this: I would tell my dad that me and Mitchell were doing a project and needed to do research, and since Mason needed to some research too, he was taking us to the library. If Dad asked why I couldn't do the research at home, I would tell him that the library had encyclopedias, too, in case I couldn't find what I needed on the internet. Pretty good plan, huh? Too bad it didn't turn out like that.

"Hey, Dad!" I called when I got home from school.

"I'm in the kitchen!" I heard him call from down the hall.

I walked into the kitchen and found him cleaning. Actually cleaning. Neither of us did that unless someone was coming to our house. "Who's coming over?"

"Well, I got a call this morning. It was from a record company. They saw the videos you posted on the internet and want to talk to us about maybe getting you a record deal."

"Seriously? When? When will they be here?"

"Yes. They'll be here at eight."

"Tonight? That's too soon! We have to clean the whole house! Why tonight?"

"Tonight was the only night they had the time for three months."

I started to get frantic. "I have to go clean my room," I said, and left the kitchen. Once I was in my room I headed straight for the phone to call Mitchell and tell him I couldn't go to the concert. I dialed his number and he picked up on the second ring.

"Hello?" he said.

"It's me. I can't go to the concert tonight."

"What? Why?"

"A record company called my dad this morning and they're coming over tonight to interview me."

"That's great!" I could hear Mitchell's excitement even over the phone. "I'll be sure to come over while they're there."

"No!"

"Aw, why? Don't you want someone to tell them how great a singer you are?"

"They're going to hear me sing, I don't need you to tell them. Besides, if they saw you, they'd run screaming out the front door."

"That hurts, Shayna. It really does."

"You're such a baby. Look, I have to go. I have a house to clean, and only three and half hours to clean it."

"Fine. Bye."

"Bye." I hung up the phone and started cleaning my room. When I was done with that, I cleaned the bathrooms, then the dining, then the entryway. Dad cleaned his room, the guest rooms, the living room, and the kitchen. Between the two of us, we got it all done on time. But just barely.

As we was sitting down on the couch to rest until the people from the record company got there, the doorbell rang. "That must be them," Dad said.

"Yep," I replied. I got up from the couch and answered the door.

This looks interestinnnnnnnnnngggggggggggggggggggggg.

I shall await the next chapter.

Hmm, but is it really 'them'? What if Mitchell decided to come by after all?

I shall be awaiting the answer to that little question. Post the next part soon! :3

I like it so far
My only suggestion would be to strengthen your opening line, so that it hooks the reader a little more. But I still continued reading it, so it's not bad or anything.

I love love the plot. A lot of people the whole rise to fame thing but yours def stands out!

Thanks, Grace and Ari!!

And Shad, I'll definitely write really soon!

That's really, really good. ^^ More soon?

Here's more:


When I opened the door, I saw three men--around age thirty or so--standing there. "Hello," I said pleasantly.

"Are you Shayna Taylor?" one of them asked.

"Yep. That's me," I answered, holding the door open wider. "Please come in."

"Thank you," said a different man, as he walked inside.

"My dad's in the kitchen." I pointed down the hall.

They started heading that way, and I followed them. When we got there Dad stepped back from the stove. "Hi! I'm David Taylor," he said, sticking his hand--which he had just wiped on his jeans--out to the first man.

He shook my dad's hand and said, "Dean Masters."

"Howard Noel," said the second man, also shaking my dad's hand.

The last man hesitated before shaking hands with my dad, as if he could catch something from it. "Gary Jones," he said.

"Well, welcome to our home!" Dad said. "Shayna, show them the rest of the house while I finish making dinner."

"Okay, Dad," I said. I turned to Gary, Dean and Howard. "This way for the grand tour."

I showed them around the house leaving my bedroom for last. I was kind of hoping that my dad would say dinner was ready and I wouldn't have to show it to them but that didn't happen. I opened the door and said, "And now, the last stop on the tour: My room."

The three men stared around in astonishment. I guess they expected it to be more like a regular teenage girl's room than it is. Almost every inch of wallspace is covered in equipment for recording my songs, making videos of me singing them, even stuff for making music videos.

Gary, Dean and Howard were still staring at my walls when Dad yelled that dinner was ready. I hustled them out of my room and shut the door behind us.

We walked into the dining room and found that dinner was already on the table. It was some kind of stew that looked and smelled delicious. We all sat down and ate and talked.

"Alright, Shayna," Dean said when we were finished, "we would like to hear you sing now."

"Now?" I asked. "Like, a capella?"

Dean nodded.

"Okay," I said. "But I think I sound better with music."

"That's okay," Howard told me.

I took a deep breath and started singing "My Immortal" by Evanescence. It was the first song that popped into my head, and it's also one of my favorite songs.

When I finished, four men started clapping. I blushed a little and sat back down.

Gary spoke first. "Okay, you're good, Shayna. Very good. The question now is, are you ready for fame?"

I'm liking this. Ooooh, I really do. I agree aith Ari about maybe strengthening the opening line, I have no clue how, but like her, I kept reading anyways, so really no biggie.

"Whoa!" I said. "Really? You think I'm that good?"

"Yes," said Howard.

"Wow, thanks!" I turned to my dad. "Dad, can I talk to you?"

"Of course, honey," he said, and followed me to the kitchen.

"Do you think I should do this?" I asked him.

"I think you're definitely good enough, but I also think it's completely up to you."

I sighed. "That's not very helpful, Dad," I said.

"Well, I don't want to force you to do something you don't wanna do. I also don't want you to do something just because you think I want you to. This is your decision, Shayna."

I thought for a couple more minutes before I made up my mind. "Okay. I've decided that I wanna do this."

Dad nodded. "Okay, honey. Just be completely sure this is what you want."

"It is."

"Alright then. Let's go tell them that." He walked out of the room.

I followed him down the hall and back to the dining room.

"Did you make your decision?" Dean asked.

I took a deep breath. "Yes," I said. "I want to do this."

"Okay," Gary said. "You've got a record deal."

I couldn't help myself and squealed with delight. "Thank you so much! I really can't believe this!" I squealed again.

They laughed at that. "You're welcome, Shayna," Howard said. "But really, if we didn't, we'd be depriving the world of an amazing singer."

I blushed. "Really? Thanks!"

"Don't thank me. You're really that good."

I was about to thank him when I suddenly realized something. "I have to go call Mitchell, Dad."

"Who's Mitchell?" Dean asked.

"My best friend," I said. "I'll be back." I ran to my bedroom and grabbed my phone. I dialed Mitchell's number and waited while it rang. And rang and rang. Then it went to voicemail. I tried again. This time he picked up.

"Hello?"

"It's me," I said. "I got it!"

"Got what?"

"A record deal!"

"That's awesome! I'm happy for you, I really am."

"Then why do you sound so disappointed?"

"I'm not!" Mitchell said. I knew he was lying. I could always tell.

"You're lying. Why?"

"I'm not lying. I'm happy for you."

"Then why does it sound like you're lying?"

Mitchell sighed. "I'm not lying. Believe me, I'm really happy for you."

"Fine, I believe you." I heard a voice in the background on the other end of the line. I couldn't quite make out what it was saying, though.

"I gotta go," Mitchell told me. "Apparently my mother has decided that I have to go to bed now."

"Alright. Goodnight."

"Goodnight. See you tomorrow."

"'Kay." I hung up the phone and went back to the dining room. My dad was cleaning up bowls off the table. "Where'd Howard, Dean and Gary go?" I asked.

"They got a call from someone and had to leave," Dad answered.

"Oh. Do you need help picking up?"

"Sure."

I grabbed some dishes and headed for the kitchen. I put those in the sink and went and got more. And More, and more, until the table was completely cleaned off. "I'm gonna go to bed," I said walking toward my dad.

"Okay, sweetie," he said.

I gave my dad a hug and kiss goodnight, said, "Goodnight, Dad," and went to my room. Once there, I changed into pajamas and crawled into bed. I was asleep almost before my head hit the pillow.

Sorry I haven't posted more on this in awhile. I'm kinda stuck as to where to go with it next. If you've got any ideas, let me know. I really like writing this, but, like I said, I'm stuck. Sorry to any people who were actually reading this.