Ray of Hope - 1. Chapter 1

I was never fond of Spring. I was told by Dr. Loren, my shrink, that it was most likely a result of PTSD caused by my mother's mental breakdown and subsequent suicide while at the dinner table. Insider's note? That never happened. I hate Spring because I'm extremely allergic to pollen, but my shrink doesn't care about actual facts, she just wants fodder for her god-awful book, and I don't care about telling some debutante with a degree from Only-I-Know-Where-It-Is college my actual problems, she gets patient zero and I get to make up wild stories while the State pays through the nose for these sessions. It's like a creative outlet that yields more, I mean screwing the system is fun, screwing with Dr. Loren's mind? That's just priceless.

There is nothing like being a ward of the State. Jumped from foster hell to foster hell, enduring endless and varied amounts of abuse, having your hopes constantly dashed by an archaic bureaucratic system that services the afflicters and neglects the victim; yea it's heaven on Earth alright. My mother may not have offed herself at the dinner table, but she definitely shot herself to death, she shot enough heroin into her veins to drown Australia. My father? The term deadbeat was made up the day he was born, I've no idea who he is and I've never wanted to know. I've been a ward of the state since I was 4, so of course what I know about my parents is simply what I've learned from sneaking peeks at my file while my social worker is busy doing something outside his office. A file so incomplete that my last name still ends with a question mark, almost 12 years after they inducted me into the system. A file with six years worth of holes that I can't fill, and that no one except my dead mother can attest to.

I live inside my head, a constantly chaotic place where everything swirls in a never-ending dance that I was never taught the steps to. The bright light at the end of my tunnel? In 2 days I will be 18, and I will be auditioning for a talent show, and I know I have the chops to win. I'm Raymond Heathrow Johnson, my friend calls me Ray and this is my only truth worth telling: I am this year's American Idol. Coky? Yes, but justified. I have the vocal range of Celine Dion with the deep, pure tone of Josh Groban, and the soul and diction of Etta James. I have this in the bag. I've watched every season, and I know that I can do this.

The Auditions are tomorrow, and by the time I get to go to Hollywood I'll be 18 and no longer a ward of the State. My destiny was finally opening up and I was ready for my life to start. The phone rang somewhere in the Collins' household, I knew better than to try and answer it, after all I was just a "long-term guest" in their nice home. How nice that they had one, how nice that they'd taken me in, how nice I was nice blah blah blah.

"Ray, it's for you, it's that Ryan guy!!" Came Camilla's voice from the intercom that ran through every room.

I picked up the handset and spoke through it "got it Mrs. Collins, thank you."

"You're welcome Ray"

"Hey Ry!! Long time!! How are ya?"

"Going insane, and yourself?"

"I'm doin--"

"Have you noticed that my left eye is a whole millimeter farther from my nose than my right? It's such a disaster!!! As soon as I land a part on Broadway I'll have to have surgery, no one ugly is ever truly successful, right Ray?"

"Always such a deep--"

"Ooohhh!!! Guess what?!?! A.I. is holding auditions at the stadium tomorrow!! I can't wait for this new season, I hope there's some eye-candy, that Phillip Phillips was one smoking babe!! Oh listen I've gotta go, the parental units want me. Love chatting with you!! I'll call tomorrow 'Kay? Kisses!!"

Ryan Wallace-Green, née Anderson, was one of the lucky few teens who got adopted. The guys who'd adopted him had just been bowled over by his energy and crystal clear vocals, and being the theater queens that they were, they'd adopted the rising star(lett) and moved him into their mansion in Tulsa; Ryan was leading the life, even if he was an unstoppable chatterbox. I hung up the phone and turned my attention back to my own mind. I saw the next few weeks clearly; auditions, Hollywood, eliminations, top ten, final 2, and the winner is... I went downstairs to get a drink, the auditions kept swirling through my mind, endless possibilities kept cropping up and I kept having to talk myself down. I was so ready for this, so ready to leave the troubles of my past and give into the possibilities of my tomorrow.

I ran into Camilla as I was heading out of the kitchen, her auburn hair was pinned up in a messy bun, her brown eyes were wet, and tears streaked her cheeks.

"Camilla? Are you alright?"

"Oh pay no mind! I was watching some stupid show and got sucked in!" We shared a small laugh and I side-stepped to let her pass. She was a pretty woman, entering her mid thirties, with a fit body and a lot of life left in her. Her husband, Andrew, was entering his forties but had managed to preserve himself well. His ginger hair was still full, his freckled skin was still well-kept, and they were both healthy eaters and constant runners.

I lied down and tried to focus on a single song to audition with, but nothing seemed to fit. I grabbed my iPod and began scrolling through my library, seeking one song that would showcase my voice well but wouldn't mark me as a strong contender early in the competition. I heard the strings play and I knew I'd found it. This was the perfect song.