Chapter 1: Every Story Has a Beginning
Life can be hard
Or life can be great,
It depends on your choices
And what lies in your fate.
You can be loyal and caring,
Live life with laughter and love,
And do just what is wanted
From the heavens looking out from above.
Or you could be different,
Rebellious, regretful, and sly,
Hurting yourself and others
When you cheat and lie.
It’s all up to you
And the decisions you make,
What you do with your time
And the friends that you take.
So now I hope as you go
Through life knowing this,
You make the right choices
And don’t regret what you miss.
Bella Beckham stopped writing. She stared at the last line she had written and then shook her head, pen hovering over the small book with the blue velvet cover. Then, with a sudden gesture, she lifted her head and threw her pen and book at the big bay window, where they bounced off harmlessly and landed on the upholstered window seat in her English classroom. When she was fifteen she knew exactly what she wanted. She had wanted the same at twelve. Everything. But now she had made up her mind how to go about attaining it. She was going to trade on her looks, her best and perhaps only talent as far as she was concerned. She thought she could act, or at least learn how. It had to be easier than algebra, or English lit, or any of those other dreary classes in school. But one way or another, she was going to be a star. And she was going to make it on her own.
***
Bombshells. Sex kittens. Pin-up girls. In Hollywood, such creatures would always be in plentiful supply. But just about once in a generation, a bona fide sex symbol would come along to stand out from the pack: some beautiful sex-bomb goddess whose mere photograph was enough to flutter the collective pulse and whose appearance on a red carpet caused both flashbulbs and eyes to pop. Such women were synonymous with the S-word because they made men think impure thoughts rather than associate them with any particular movie role, product or publicist-constructed persona. Every era got the sex symbol it deserved, but was pop culture truly ready for a literature-devouring teenager from a small and utterly unknown town?
Bella Beckham was not exactly Hollywood material. She was the kind of girl who laughed loudly, smoked incessantly, and appeared to be hell-bent on destroying herself, but stylishly. Truthfully, she should have tragically overdosed by then. Or else succumbed to some harrowing disease brought on by vodka tonics and Tic Tacs. She was Marilyn Monroe minus the adoring fans. Britney Spears minus the pesky paparazzi.
When Bella Beckham was ten years old, she told her mother she wanted to be a famous actress when she grew up. At the time, her mother was fighting through depression and seriously regretted ever having a child. Bella never forgot her mother’s words.
“Oh Bella,” she had said, hurriedly stuffing papers into her briefcase. “Can’t you aspire for something realistic? Dreams are nice and beautiful but they don’t put food on the table or keep the house warm on a cold night.”
Bella went into her bedroom, took out a sheet of paper and a pencil, and wrote a letter to herself in the future.
Dear Bella:
Never give in, never give in, never; never; never; never- in nothing large or small, great or petty. If at first you don't succeed, take another direction. For every obstacle there is a resolution. If you advance confidently in the direction of your dreams, you will meet success eventually. The greatest mistake is giving up.
Bella locked the letter inside an old wooden chest with brass handles at the foot of her bed, and she never spoke of her dream of becoming a famous actress again.
Life can be hard
Or life can be great,
It depends on your choices
And what lies in your fate.
You can be loyal and caring,
Live life with laughter and love,
And do just what is wanted
From the heavens looking out from above.
Or you could be different,
Rebellious, regretful, and sly,
Hurting yourself and others
When you cheat and lie.
It’s all up to you
And the decisions you make,
What you do with your time
And the friends that you take.
So now I hope as you go
Through life knowing this,
You make the right choices
And don’t regret what you miss.
Bella Beckham stopped writing. She stared at the last line she had written and then shook her head, pen hovering over the small book with the blue velvet cover. Then, with a sudden gesture, she lifted her head and threw her pen and book at the big bay window, where they bounced off harmlessly and landed on the upholstered window seat in her English classroom. When she was fifteen she knew exactly what she wanted. She had wanted the same at twelve. Everything. But now she had made up her mind how to go about attaining it. She was going to trade on her looks, her best and perhaps only talent as far as she was concerned. She thought she could act, or at least learn how. It had to be easier than algebra, or English lit, or any of those other dreary classes in school. But one way or another, she was going to be a star. And she was going to make it on her own.
***
Bombshells. Sex kittens. Pin-up girls. In Hollywood, such creatures would always be in plentiful supply. But just about once in a generation, a bona fide sex symbol would come along to stand out from the pack: some beautiful sex-bomb goddess whose mere photograph was enough to flutter the collective pulse and whose appearance on a red carpet caused both flashbulbs and eyes to pop. Such women were synonymous with the S-word because they made men think impure thoughts rather than associate them with any particular movie role, product or publicist-constructed persona. Every era got the sex symbol it deserved, but was pop culture truly ready for a literature-devouring teenager from a small and utterly unknown town?
Bella Beckham was not exactly Hollywood material. She was the kind of girl who laughed loudly, smoked incessantly, and appeared to be hell-bent on destroying herself, but stylishly. Truthfully, she should have tragically overdosed by then. Or else succumbed to some harrowing disease brought on by vodka tonics and Tic Tacs. She was Marilyn Monroe minus the adoring fans. Britney Spears minus the pesky paparazzi.
When Bella Beckham was ten years old, she told her mother she wanted to be a famous actress when she grew up. At the time, her mother was fighting through depression and seriously regretted ever having a child. Bella never forgot her mother’s words.
“Oh Bella,” she had said, hurriedly stuffing papers into her briefcase. “Can’t you aspire for something realistic? Dreams are nice and beautiful but they don’t put food on the table or keep the house warm on a cold night.”
Bella went into her bedroom, took out a sheet of paper and a pencil, and wrote a letter to herself in the future.
Dear Bella:
Never give in, never give in, never; never; never; never- in nothing large or small, great or petty. If at first you don't succeed, take another direction. For every obstacle there is a resolution. If you advance confidently in the direction of your dreams, you will meet success eventually. The greatest mistake is giving up.
Bella locked the letter inside an old wooden chest with brass handles at the foot of her bed, and she never spoke of her dream of becoming a famous actress again.