Linda Ellison (POV)
I slapped the letter back onto the counter harder than I meant to. My fingers were trembling as I breathed in, face twisting into something ugly.
"An audition? For a movie?" My voice came out sharp, higher than usual. "David, are you telling me you are ignorant of what happens to kids who go down that accursed road?"
He didn't answer, just folded his arms and leaned back like he had all the damn time in the world. Like he didn't care.
And I wasn't done, not by a long shot when it comes to my baby boy. "Don't you read the papers? It's all over them." I whispered before my voice turned a notch louder, "Todd Bridges – seeing the insides of courtrooms before 20, Dana Plato's spiralling before the world, no one's stopping it! And don't even get me started on Drew Barrymore – she's ten, David, ten! She was caught drinking champagne straight from the bottle at Studio 54-"
"That's the thing, Linda." He interrupted, "He ain't Todd Bridges. He's not sneaking out to clubs or, god forbid, even a sleepover! No-no, he would rather write, what's that tell you now?! The kid's handled being on bestseller lists with more maturity than most men I have worked with! For heaven's sake, he sits at this table all day reading Dickens while half the kids his age are glued to Knight Rider." He lets out one of his long sighs… the kind that always makes me feel like I am the unreasonable one.
"Bu-but that's writing for Pete's sake!" I shoot back, softer now, "Writing's safe. Paper is safe – Hollywood?! You wanna throw our Jack-in-the-box in that meat grinder? You know that place swallows children whole, all the while everyone fuckin' claps along like baboons on booze…"
He leans forward on the counter, his hand reaching out to wipe off a stray tear as he lifts my chin. "Or maybe… It isn't Hollywood. Maybe it's the parents who aren't there to keep the rails on. Honey, Jack isn't running wild, he never chases parties, or girls for that matter-"
"Isn't that a bit concerning, though? You don't think-" I narrowed my eyes, only for him to scoff lightly.
"Oh no, I caught him looking at Dolly Parton once on the telly, he wasn't exactly admiring her eyes either if you get what I mean, so– we're safe there, I think. He probably just thinks girls his age are dumb. ALSO – let's get back on track, yeah? Point is, he's impressively grounded for his age and more importantly darling… he has the most caring mother to have ever lived… And the most dashing father to ever exist-"
It was my turn to scoff as I muttered teasingly, "In your dreams."
"Ok, jury might be out on that, but come on! We'll be right there with him, holding his soft little hands while he gets up on that stage, ready to shake the world. And if he flies too high? If he's Icarus incarnate?! We'll be standing right there, ready to pull him back before the wax melts off." He stared at me, looking rather impressed with himself, all the while, only a single thought occupied my head.
"Ica–what? What wax- what're you on about Dave–" Only for him to sigh again, shaking his head like he always does when I don't get his obscure references.
Sigh. Sometimes I tend to forget how smart my man is. Teaching history at that college of his for the last decade, one of the youngest to get tenure… He just makes it so damn easy to forget, with how he acts at home.
I know him well enough by now, though. And a part of me's always thought he doesn't rattle off about his day, to avoid making me feel dumb… To spare my feelings, almost every single day for years on end.
"You know what – never mind, just forget it. You are getting the point I was trying to make with that, right? We'll be there dear… the entire bloody way if needs us to be. We won't let him fall off his climb… And if he does, we'll pull him right back up. He thinks the world of us, you know that, right? Loves us to pieces, and I know… You don't wanna disappoint him just as much as I don't."
Damn it. As always, he's making a terrifying amount of sense right now… Perhaps it's not that bad of an idea.
He reaches out and takes my hands in his, pulling me closer around the counter. "He's never asked for anything even remotely unreasonable yet. So let's not turn that smile of his into a frown none of us wants to see…" He embraces me gently, as I reciprocate with a squeezing hug, drying hints of my tears on his silly tweed jacket.
"You saw it yourself on Carson, he's always wanted it… His dream, he called it. Let's not deny him that, shall we? Heaven knows if this chance'll come around again. You know exactly how fickle that crowd is…"
I nod against his neck as he trails off.
We stewed in the silence for a minute before I finally broke it. "Also, you think we should be getting ready now? Pretty sure Jack's in his room rehearsing in the bathroom."
"Yeah, Vince will be here any minute now, high time I say."
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Jack Ellison (POV)
"And now, we come to the Golden Kite Award for Fiction – an honor given each year to recognize excellence in storytelling for young readers. This year's recipient is truly remarkable. His debut novel has taken the literary world by storm, landing on bestseller lists and capturing the imagination of both children and adults.
With a story that uses talking animals to explore friendship, prejudice, and belonging, he has crafted a tale that is both entertaining and profound. Ladies and gentlemen, it is my distinct pleasure to present the Golden Kite Award for Fiction to… Jack Ellison, for his novel Zootopia!"
The room roared with applause as I stood up, fluffing my suit with a wide smile. The encores weren't resounding by any means, considering the strength of the room stood somewhere between a modest 100-200, but nevertheless… It was music to my ears.
My mom squeezed me tightly in her arms, while dad encompassed us both, jubilated on my behalf. Vince remained seated, but his claps could be heard distinctly from the rest, being considerably louder than those from my adjacents.
I smiled at the crowd as I got a move on, making my way onto the slightly elevated stage for long long-anticipated moment.
My first ever professional accolade. Certainly not the last, or even nationally relevant by all means, but still… You never forget your 'first' after all.
Accepting the gleaming trophy from the announcer and mouthing a quick thanks to him, I walked over to the mic and waited for the ovation to die down.
When it did, I cleared my throat, gripping the podium for balance and tip-toed, having to make a visible effort to bring my face closer to the mic.
"Thank you… Thank you so much. I'm honestly still trying to figure out how I got here. A year ago, the biggest thing I'd written was a book report on Charlotte's Web, and now I'm holding this- which, let's be real, is way cooler than a gold star sticker."
And cue the roaring laughter, exaggerated all the more by the irony of it being delivered by the pint-sized me.
"I've been asked a lot lately how an eleven-year-old—well, now twelve—could write a book like Zootopia. And the truth is… kids notice things. We notice when people are unfair, or when someone gets left out, or when rules don't make sense. We may not always have the words, but stories give us the chance to say what we feel in a way people actually listen to. So if my book has done anything, I hope it's shown that even a story with talking animals can be about something very real. And if not, at least it proves I can sit still long enough to write 300 pages, which shocked even my parents."
Chuckles followed, mixed in with the occasional whistle- Is that my Dad?!
I shook my head to refocus, trying desperately to get that image the hell out of my head.
Spoiler alert… I failed. But I powered through anyway, forcing my eyes to become misty… Oh yes, it was definitely intentional.
I shall deny any allegations against it with prejudice.
"I want to thank my mom and dad – mom for reminding me to eat and sleep, and my dad for not stealing my typewriter. And to this esteemed society, thank you for proving that sometimes, even the grown-ups let the kids have the microphone. I'll try not to let it go to my head… though I do plan on bragging about this at recess. Thank You!" I finish with a flourish, raising my hard-earned trophy overhead as the ballroom erupts with a standing ovation.
I quickly wiped off the sweat in my eyes with a drag of my sleeve before heading back to the roundtable, where I was smothered once again, contrary to my will. My cherubic profile was peppered with smooches before I was finally allowed to take my seat.
And then, decorum returned to the hall, and ceremony continued while I quickly made myself busy responding to felicitations from my neighbours.
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Jack Ellison (POV)
'All right Jack, this is it. The big day. The potential commencement of your exodus in the world of entertainment.'
I glanced at my side profile in the mirror from the corner of my eye, stroking my developing cheekbone as I flashed a quick, confident smile at myself.
'Who's the man? That's right, I am. And today… I shall engage in the long-standing ritual of breaking a leg.'
And with that inspiring bit of self-talk, I made my way down to the parked car, where I found Vince waiting for me leaning against the door.
"Only 4 minutes late… Congratulations, your vanity's being reigned in a little today. Be sure not to lose your hold over it." He smirked, looking down at his pocket watch.
I didn't even bother scowling or formulating a scintillating comeback even, just opened the front door and took my seat, strapping myself with the belt.
His eyes widened a fraction, "What's the matter, little man? Losing your touch, or have you finally met your match in stuffy auditions?"
"Nah, just trying to stay focused man. I have been in control of most outcomes in my life, but this? Entirely out of my hands. And honestly- I have never wanted anything more in my life than for this to go right… So yeah, forgive me, but you'll find me a tad more serious for a change today." I stare into the dashboard, rapidly recycling through my memories of the movie and the book, and of the character I was auditioning for.
The thing that had me feeling a bit tepid to be frank, was the fact that 'Chris' had already received a masterful portrayal by one, River Phoenix, and I had been thumping my brain to figure out a way to enhance it further without simply going through the motions.
Suffice it to say, I had come up short.
Oh, I had ideas, several as a matter of fact. Each took my interpretation of the role in vastly divergent directions, but for the life of me, I couldn't figure out which one would eventually work in my favor.
Not only in securing my spot on the roster, but also in adding a new dimension to the character itself. What was the potential X-Factor I could bring that would make my role's temperament more relatable?
While the world at large would be exposed to my performance for the first time, I knew exactly how legendary River's was considered to be, and if I don't surpass him here and now with all of my gifts and experiences… then could I even be satisfied with myself?
Should I lean into my literary sensibility and bring a quiet bookish gravity to Chris? A kid who thinks more than he lets on, maybe leaning harder into internalized pain rather than outward bravado for an additional layer of nuance?
Or should I project a rawer childlike innocence that makes his tragic arc all the more sadder?
Should I lean more into my jokier side with my knack for witty, precocious quips, which would give him more of a sly, playful charm – a kid who covers pain with humor, which if done right, could hit harder emotionally.
What about the chemistry with Gordie then? Instead of the friendship being shown as that of a cool kid + shy kid, it could be two kids who see something in each other that no one else does… it would feel more equal if nothing else.
… Sigh. So many options.
And with the answer being subjective, it gets all the more complicated to simply pick one and stick with it.
Perhaps… Just maybe – I could combine a few into a unified persona? A coterie of characteristics if combined effectively and in the right ratio… could just work I suppose.
Or am I just overthinking it all?
Nah, it's like the proverb, ain't it?
Better safe… than fucking sorry.
And with that merry train of thought, the car took off towards the direction of my destiny.
Author's Note: Apologies for the inconsistent updates. My pursuit for betterment keeps making me delete my chapters until I whip something better, but soon enough, it'll stop. I have managed to outline a significant part of the story, so while the journey ahead won't exactly be smooth sailing... I'll manage to steer clear of the storms.
As always, don't forget to add this to your library if interested in future updates, and do leave a review if you feel like it, no pressure.