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Chapter One
Becca
The road is only half visible with the sun angled the way it is, but there’s nowhere to pull the car over right now—not unless I want to pull it into the ditch. So I just keep driving, like I’ve been doing for the past three days.
Hasit really been three days?
To be honest, they’ve all kind of blended together.
Well, whatever day today is, I know one thing for sure: I’m not going back to the life I was living before. Nope. My old life is over. I tried to make it in L.A. and I failed.
Now I just need to figure out what the hell I’m going to do with my life instead.
It’s both exciting and terrifying, the idea of starting all over. For so long—literally since I was a little girl—I’ve been convinced that I was meant to become an actor. When I was young, there was nothing more fun to me than writing and putting on plays for my parents, and when I was in middle school and high school, my life revolved around drama club.
No one was surprised on my twenty-first birthday when I announced that I was moving to Los Angeles.
When I moved out to L.A., I knew it wasn’t going to be easy. I kept my expectations low and braced myself for the inevitable rejection I was going to face.
And, oh, did the rejection come.
But I kept showing up to auditions. I kept my chin up. And, eventually, I booked a job. It was a low-budget commercial for a pizza delivery company, and I literally had one line (“It’s soooo cheesy!”), but still.
It was something.
In the six years that followed, though, it never really got any better than that. I booked more gigs, but they were always tiny, and always led nowhere.
Then, one ordinary Tuesday, I landed a small part in a blockbuster action flick. Finally, I felt hopeful that my luck was about to change. I prepared for the role like crazy; I showed up to set early every day; I did everything within my power to make a good impression on the rest of the crew. Even when I was terrified about one of the big action scenes I was in the background for—a scene involving a speeding car and a bunch of explosions—I just took a deep breath and pushed through.
Several months later, the movie premiered. I showed up to the premiere giddy beyond belief. The day felt like it was going to be the start of a new chapter of my life.
Then it all came crashing down.
Before the movie started, while all the red carpet stuff was still happening, I was talking to one of the assistant film editors and learned that my part had been cut during editing.
I wasn’t in a single frame of the movie.
I knew it was just one little role. That it was just another setback. There was even this really nice stuntwoman from the movie who offered me encouragement, and for a little while, I stayed optimistic about the whole thing.
But in the weeks following the premiere, several other potential projects fell through, one after another, and my optimism wavered. I became unable to concentrate on anything. I felt trapped and weighed down.
Eventually, after yet another rejection, I packed a bag, got in my car, and just started to drive.
I didn’t have a clue where I was headed. All I knew was that I needed to get out of there. I needed to breathe different air into my lungs. I needed to see something other than palm trees and billboards.
And now here I am in the middle of nowhere, no idea where I am anymore, half-blinded by the afternoon sun.
The road curves to the right and I ease off the gas a little. When I make it around the curve, the angle of the sun is even worse. I can hardly see anything now, just the faint outline of the road, and then a strange, large shape ahead of me.
It almost looks like there’s something in the middle of the road.
Wait.
Shit.
Thereissomething in the middle of the road!
A scream bursts out of my throat as my foot slams down on the brake. The car starts to shimmy and I spin the wheel, frantically trying to stay out of the ditch. Beneath me, the tires squeal as I screech to a stop.
