About three months later, I sat on a sofa in a dressing room at Americal Idol in Hollywood. Thanks to Bridgette, she got me an audition at American Idol, and I'm going to the Finals!!!!!! I'm against this one girl named Aleishya Marie Torres, and I'm very nervous, because she has the voice of a thousand angels.

I grabbed a blusher and dabbed a thick brush in the little container and patted some on my cheeks. I wore a long dazzling rose dress and white open-toed high heels. I got up off my siège and walked over to a little secret closet that no one but me knew about-not even Aleishya. It was all the way in the back of the room hidden behind three layers of Michael Jackson wallpaper. I pressed a small button on the wall, also under the wallpaper, and the door swung open. Inside there were shelves adn shelves of colorful fashion wigs, ranging from luciously delicious lait chocolat brown to dazzling paparazzi hot pink. A couple of shelves were lined with mics and headsets. Another shelf was filled with hair ties, streams, bobby pin packets, conditioners, hairspray, and perfume and glitter. This seemed plus like a child pageant to me than a competition. But, I grabbed a bottle of Hairspray and perfume, and a dark chocolat brown long curly wig.

I sat at a small chair at the makeup bureau (I was the only one in there, Aleishya had already started her song) and I tied my hair up into a net and shook up the bottle of hairspray, and sprayed the netting around my hair. Then, I slipped the wig on, and stared at the shelf of lipsticks suivant to me, ranging from pêche, peach rose to cerise wine. I picked up a tangerine-looking lip color and did my lips, and I heard Aleishya ceinture a long, high note. A high note? I listened closer, then gasped.

She a volé, étole my song! I planned to sing Already Gone par Kelly Clarkson. That was the only song I knew fully! Damnit, I thought to myself. I walked out of my dressing room, grabbing a mic off the makeup desk. I stood suivant to Ryan Seacrest, adn squaled a bit. Ryan Seacrest! I was backstage, looking out towards the audience as Aleishya finished the song and they clapped so loudly that I heard a few people coughing from struggling. Ryan walked out onto the stage and congratulated Aleishya.

"Well, well, well! I know, she was amazing!" He said. "Ok," He silenced the audience. "Next, we have the performance of a seventeen an old girl, who, recently Lost her boyfriend."

The audience "awwwed" in sadness for me, and a tear dropped down the tip of my nose.

"So, let's give a big round of applause for, miss Courtney Williams!" Ryan shouted and walked offstage as the audience clapped. I sighed and walked out onto the stage and stood in the middle of the stage. I sighed.

"Well, my song was stolen, toi guys." I a dit into the mic, and the audienced "awwwwed" again out of dissappointment.

"BUT, I have a solution!" I said, and the audience clapped, and I ran over to the DJ who was playing the musique to the songs.

"Hey," I dug into my pocket and pulled out my iPod and handed it to him. I knew I could get disqualified for doing this, but I HAD to perform. "Can toi play this? Track 14. Drums only, please." I spoke to him, not in the mic. He was rather young, about eighteen ou nineteen. He had long black hair down to his shoulders, some covering his right eye, a tilted purple fashion fedora, and sparkling blue-green eyes. (And no, he is not Trent)

"Sure." He took my iPod, winked at me, and plugged it in. I walked back out onto the stage and spoke into the mic to the audience "Does anybody have an acoustic guitare with them?"

A lot of people's hands in the audience shot up. "UM....." I skimmed over the audience. "You!" I pointed to someone. A girl, about twenty four, stepped onto the stage and handed me a red wood polished acoustic guitar.

"Thank you." I said, and she walked back offstage.

I put the mic in a stand, and sat on a tabouret perched wich it. I took a guitare pick, and started strumming.

Now it seems to me
That toi know just what to say
Words are only words
Can toi montrer me something else
Can toi swear to me that you'll always be this way
montrer me how toi feel
plus than ever baby

I don't wanna be lonely no more
I don't wanna have to pay for this
I don't want to know the lover at my door
Is just another heartache on my list

I don't wanna be angry no more
toi know I could never stand for this
So when toi told me that toi loved me
Know for sure
I don't wanna be lonely anymore

I saw the smirk of confidence on Aleishya's face drop to a gawk at me, and I knew that meant I was doing better than her. I smiled, I wasn't nervous anymore, and most of my sadness from Duncan's death washed away. The audience clapped to the beat of Rob Thomas's hit as I strummed harder.

Now its hard for me with my cœur, coeur still on the mend
Open up to me, like toi do your girlfriends
And toi say to me that I'm harmony
Oh, what toi do to me is everything
Make me say anything; just to get toi back again
Why can't we just try?!

I don't wanna be lonely no more
I don't wanna have to pay for this
I don't want to know the lover at my door
Is just another heartache on my list

I don't wanna be angry no more
toi know I could never stand for this
So when toi told me that toi loved me
Know for sure
I don't wanna be lonely anymore

Oh-whoa, oh-whoa, oh-whoa
Oh Oh Oh Ohh

I looked out of the corner of my eye and saw the DJ smiling at me.

I got up off the tabouret and set the guitare on it, as the DJ played a guitare solo on my iPod. I put on a headset and motioned for two guys to come. They did, and then, they grabbed my dress, and tore it off. I wore a rockin' black and rose punk dress under it, long high-heeled black boots with white paint splotches all over them. I did that all, within five seconds. I ran over to the DJ, grabbed an electric guitar, and grabbed the mic stand, and threw if offstage. Five guys in war-torn punk outfits dnaced in sync behind me, my backround dancers. I inhaled deeply, and yelled out the shout chorus of...er.....my performance.?

I'm your biggest fan
I'll follow toi until toi l’amour me
Papa-paparazzi
Baby there's no other superstar
toi know that I'll be your
Papa-paparazzi

Promise I'll be kind!
But I won't stop until that boy is mine
Baby you'll be famous
Chase toi down until toi l’amour me
Papa-Paparazzi

I couldn't beleive how good I apparently was. A medley is DEFINATELY better than a single song.

Now, wait wait, wait I held my hand up and took a breather. I pointed to the DJ as I belted out a long, high note. The musique playing was a pop mix. Party in the USA.

My tummy's turnin' and I'm feeling kinda homesick
Too much pressure and I'm nervous
But when the taxi driver turns on the radio
And the Britney song was on
And the Britney song was on
And the Britney song was on!

So I put my hands up, they're playin' my song!
The papillons fly away
Nodding my head like 'yeah'
Movin' my hips like 'yeah'
Put my hands up, they're playin' my song
They know I'm gonna be OK
Yeah, yeah, yeah!
It's a Party in the USA!
Yeah, yeah-eah
It's a Party in the USA!

Now, hold it up! I put my hand up again. The audience cheered lously and I breathed heavily. Ryan came back out onto the stage with a folded paper. The winner results. Aleishya came onto the stage and stood par me, wearing a golden sparkly drop tank, black flare jeans, and sparkly or flats. Her long black hair was tied in a ponytail. She was really tall, nearly six and a half feet.

The audience quieted down, and the serious lights turned on. I felt confident, but my cœur, coeur still pounded like a drum.