George, Ella and Me- X Factor Comp!

Dawn has lived next to George for as long as she can remember. She was there for him when he didn't get through to judges houses on X Factor, so when George gets the call to join boy-band Union J, Dawn is ecstatic. Now George is on the live shows, and another contestant seems to have taken a shine to him. Will Dawn and George be the couple she's always wanted to be? Or will fame, paparazzi and Ella Henderson get in the way?


3. Everybody Wants To Be On TV...


“What’s your name?”
It took me a minute to register what the woman had asked me. I was captivated by the atmosphere here. There was people everywhere, interns with clipboards checking lights and stage effects, make-up artists dashing from dressing room to dressing room, coffee people delivering the much needed caffeine to the ‘stars’ of the show. It was like nothing I had expected. It struck me how much it actually took to put the show together. I felt stupid and naïve to think there only was the acts, the judges and maybe a cameraman. When really, it took an army of people to get Saturday Night’s X-Factor UK ready.

“I’m Dawn Crawley” I said, finally tearing my eyes away from the mayhem happening in front of me.

“Yes, you’re the new production assistant”

I nodded. The title the woman gave me made my job sound much more important than it really was. I took it because it was the only one going, and I wanted to be closer to… Never mind. Basically, I had to do whatever job needed doing, whether that was getting someone coffee, marking the big X on the stage (although I wasn’t high up enough to be trusted with that job) or attaching microphones to contestants clothes. Nothing too complicated, even I couldn’t screw it up.

“Okay, tomorrow night is the second live show. We want to stir up more of the Gary Barlow and Louis Walsh conflict…”
She saw my blank expression.

“Did you not watch it last week?”
Of course I did. But as soon as Union J got through, I rang George to congratulate him. I didn’t care who went home, as long as it wasn’t him.

“Well…” She said in an excited whisper, happy to be gossiping about onstage shenanigans. “Carolynne Poole and Rylan Clark were in the bottom two. Carolyn was Gary’s act, one of the best voices on the show. Rylan was the entertainer, but more of a novelty act than anything else. Gary and Tulisa voted for Carolynne, and Nicole for her own act, Rylan. Louis just couldn’t decide, so he sent it to deadlock. Carolynne got the fewest votes, so she left the competition. Gary was so mad, he stormed off!”
Who was Rylan, who was Carolynne? Nicole? Like, Nicole from Girls Aloud? Or was that Nicola…? It occurred to me that maybe I wasn’t as clued in with the celeb scene that I should have been. I refrained from asking who the people were, because I already sounded like a ninety-year old granny who can’t turn on the TV. Scratch that, my grandmother was talking about how much she fancied the Gary Barlow guy only last week…

“So, are you up to date?”
“As much as I will be” I muttered, as the woman turned around, and led me to the stage.

“This is where the contestants rehearse” She said, gesturing to the huge stage out in front of us. It certainly didn’t look like the one on television. There was no flashing lights, smoke machines, crazy (and distracting) dancers, random choirs or coloured images in the background. There was just a choreographer overseeing MK1, another band in the competition, as they walked around the stage singing to each other. Although I’ll always be going for George, or Union J if you want to get technical, MK1 was stylish and sleek in their performance, and I couldn’t help wish they went far in this competition.

“So, are you ready to get started?” She asked me, handing me a t-shirt that said ‘Member Of Crew’. I held the light, polyester material in my hand. ‘Member Of Crew’. It had a certain ring to it

"You're going to be working with Lucy Spraggon first, just getting her water and things. Poor girl had a rough week. Her grandmother died earlier on in the week"

A familiar pang of hurt hit my chest. My own grandmother (not the one that fancies Gerry Beerlow) died only a month ago, and I still shed tears of her absence sometimes. She always smelt of Chanel No. 5, and was the best dressed woman at Bingo. Although she detested Bingo, because she said: 'what a ridiculous game, scribbling over numbers'. The real reason she had a hatred of Bingo was because she couldn't keep up with it, and my Nana didn't like not being able to keep up with things.

"I'll go now" I said, not wanting to enter another scandalous gossip. I hurried along to the staff toilets, changed into my t-shirt, and looked in the mirror. I flicked my reddish brown hair over my shoulders, which cascaded down my back. My green-blue eyes added to thee confusion of my looks. My eyes couldn't just be brown, or blue, or green. They had to be two colours. And my hair couldn't decide what it was either, it was brown at the top, got reddish in the middle and was a light brown at the bottom. My lips were a little two plump, and I had to be careful not to look like I was constantly pouting. My freckles lightly spattered my cheeks. I splashed water on my face, and shook my head. Snap out of it. Just because you're in a world that is image controlled, shallow and commercial, doesn't mean you have to be that way.

I came out of the bathroom and sighed. Here's to staying me.

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