Fic: 'Little Superstar' Part 3/3
Title: 'Little Superstar' part 3/3 (Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2)
Fandom: Glee future!fic
Pairings/Characters: Rachel/Jesse, Kurt/Puck (vague implied), Maria Melanie Berry-St.James (OC), random appearances by some old friends.
Challenge/Prompt: A super late response to x_clemonlemon 's prompt on the glee_fluff_meme: Rachel and Jesse realise their daughter cannot hold a note and is completely tone-deaf. Cue the horror. Bonus! for their reasons as to why she's tone deaf.
Rating: PG, for the odd unexpected f-bomb.
Word Count: (This part) 2426
Genre: Gen
Copyright: I don’t own ‘Glee’ or anything to do with it.; I just have vivid hallucinations.
Summary:
Author’s Notes: Ok, so, this was meant to be a ficlet and turned into an epic fluffy multi-part behemoth that ate my brain. It’s probably not as fluffy as you wanted, but I hope you like it anyway :).
The day dawns bright and sunny-- although since it's LA, that's not a huge surprise. Rachel would have preferred something cold and wet-- maybe a surprise blizzard-- but alas: the weather is being uncooperative and the show must go on.
Maria's dancing-- it was decided last night, amongst temper tantrums and a hail of sequins. The toddler tried her best-- her adorable pouty face is agonisingly hard to say no to-- but her mom had had far more practice throwing diva-strops, and the littlest Berry didn't stand a chance. In compromise, her parents promised to let her put extra sparkle onto her outfit, and even glitter in her hair, and let her pick her own music, and they assured her over and over again that it was all going to be so much more fun this way... but in the end, no-one looked very convinced.
"She's going to hate us forever." Rachel murmured, as they watched her stomp away to find her legwarmers.
"She'll hate us till tomorrow evening." Jesse corrected, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. "Think how much more upset she would be if she got laughed off the stage."
Rachel nodded. But she couldn't help thinking that her daughter really wasn't the type to run away weeping.
*
"She all ready?" Jesse asks, leaning back to catch Rachel's eye as she picks her way over the rest of the audience to get back to her seat. Rachel notices their programme ripped into twelve perfect pieces in his lap.
"Yes-- Well, as ready as she can be." she adds darkly, smoothing her skirt so she can sit down. Automatically their hands intertwine.
"Does she look like an ostrich?"
Rachel glowers at him.
"It's not funny."
"Sorry."
"And no-- now she looks more like a particularly fluffy peacock. I don't know if that's better."
Probably wisely, Jesse doesn't answer.
The kindergarten hall isn't particularly big, and half of it is taken up with a big movable platform like McKinley used to have for pep assemblies, swathed in heavy curtains that may have once been vibrant purple and now looked depressingly lilac. The other half is filled with thirty or so mis-matched chairs that are currently occupied by thirty or so equally mis-matched parents.
(Aside from Rachel and Jesse of course; they always look outstandingly complementary together.)
"Isn't it adorable?" comes a familiar voice, and Charlotte O’Callaghan twists around from her seat in the row in front to gush at them. "It's so exciting-- their first show!"
"Isn't it." Jesse responds non-commitally, glancing over and noticing with alarm how much effort his wife is putting into gritting her teeth.
"Vic's been practicing ever since they first announced it-- he's like, so enthusiastic about everything, just everything, he's going to do so well at school, you can totally tell with children who's going to do well can't you, even when they're so small, if they're going to be amazing or just really awful, it's--"
"--What's Vic's act?" Jesse interrupts, forcing a politely enquiring look across his face.
Charlotte grins, but makes secretive eyes at him and presses a finger to her unnaturally pink lips.
"Oh well, that would be telling...Wouldn't want to let slip any ideas to the competition now would we--"
"-- He's got jump ropes." Rachel supplies, finally snapping, smiling sweetly as Charlotte's face falls: "He's going to jump over them. It will be an epic illustration of one boy's triumph over the force of gravity."
Jesse stares at his wife with something akin to wonder on his face. Charlotte stares at her with something akin to brain trauma.
"I love you." Jesse says earnestly, and Rachel smiles weakly at him like they're clinging to the wreckage of the Titanic.
"Good morning ladies and gentlemen!" Miss Jenny announces suddenly from the front of the hall, silencing the squalling parents with a screech of feedback as she steps in front of the speakers. The entire audience cringes but Miss Jenny's smile never wavers: a true childcare professional.
"And welcome," she beams "to the fourth annual Crestwood Hills Preschool talent contest!!"
*
Rachel kind of hates Jesse for tearing their programme up. After sitting through her fourth garbled recitation of the First Amendment, Vic's jump-rope extravaganza, and one little boy who thought blowing bubbles into his milk was an achievement, she picks the pieces out of his lap and starts rearranging them again in her own, hoping to find an estimated finishing time.
She almost doesn't notice when's Maria's name's called, and it's only Jesse's sudden vice-grip on her hand and the expectant hush of the crowd around her that make her look up.
Maria toddles out into centre-stage, spine straight and head held high, glittery braids catching the afternoon sunlight.
She stops; positions her feet carefully into her first position.
Rachel takes a deep breath.
A neon-green marabou feather--dislodged from one of Maria's pumps-- tumbles across the stage and floats serenely down into the first row.
"Well, she certainly has... presence." Jesse whispers, a valiant effort to break the tension.
Rachel bites her lips hard together, sliding unconsciously down a little further into her chair.
There is the longest moment. Then-- the music begins: a dramatic staccato of strings, expectant drums; an intro so very, very familiar…
And all the air rushes out of Rachel's lungs.
It's the WRONG music.
"Oh no oh no oh no..." she mutters desperately, suddenly sitting straight up, staring at her girl; staring at Miss Jenny, in charge of the sound system; staring at Jesse, who has never looked more horrified.
And before they can stop it, Maria's voice soars out into the audience: loud, powerful, passionate... and sharp enough to rip apart the ceiling tiles.
“Don’ tell me not to live, just sit and putter…”
"Oh no." Rachel whimpers; buries her face in her hands.
"Life’s candy and the sun’s a bowl a’ butta..."
Jesse clenches his teeth, physically wincing away from the sound. Oh god, that's his daughter up there: his daughter, mangling Streisand.
Maria struts across the stage; pirouetting perfectly so the glittering frills of her tutu flair around her; flashes a smile at her audience that is the epitome of show-business.
"Don't tell me not to fly, I simply got to, If someone takes a spill it's me and not you, who told you you're allowed to rain on my parade..."
Someone sniggers.
Rachel's perfect ear for pitch hears it over the brass section and her head snaps up again, turning slowly as she searches for the source. She hears it again-- from another direction this time-- and when she turns to Jesse she can tell he hears it too.
"They're laughing at her." she mouths, despairingly. Jesse gazes back at her, lost for a reply. He's ashamed that for half a second the words 'no wonder' flash through his mind.
"At least I didn't fake it, hat, sir, I guess I didn't make it…"
Maria continues to glide across the stage, gesturing meaningfully at the crowd, pulling all the right expressions. It's bizarre: like a dubbing over of the most perfect performance. There's no way such an agonising voice can come from such an enchanting little girl.
Jesse sets his jaw, making a decision, reaching once more for Rachel's hand. He squeezes it tightly.
"It's perfect." He whispers.
Rachel frowns at him, taken aback by his meanness.
"It's perfect." He repeats, more emphatically. Then he turns back to the stage, settling comfortably into his chair, letting his expression fall into a familiar, accomplished, slightly smug smirk.
Rachel blinks at him. Then, she understands. It hurts: but not as much as the giggles of the parents around her hurts. The parents who are laughing at her daughter.
Rachel lifts her chin and lets a proud, confident smile push across her lips.
Maria is oblivious to it all. She keeps dancing-- keeps singing-- as if she's in her bedroom at home and no-one else can hear her. She twirls and skips across the stage like she owns it, glancing every now and again at her audience to see if they share in her joy, but young enough that she doesn't understand the rigid lines of their faces; the hands clapped over mouths; the whispered comments.
Jesse forces himself to keep breathing, focusing on the graceful lines of his daughter's pas-de-basques, and trying to force her singing into ambient background noise. Certainly her beginners' ballet classes have paid off: look at how perfect her toe-points are, and how she doesn't lose balance for a second when she spins... And the whirling arms thing? Maybe Rachel really did try and teach her flamenco.
Her costume isn't actually that horrendous. Well, ok. It is. But she's three-- she's allowed to be ridiculous. She bobbles her head, making the feather in her hairband dance and the glitter on her cheeks sparkle. She's so cute (not an original thought of course; hello, impeccable genetics). But like this? So cheerful and silly? she's adorable.
Jesse bites his lip. She also has no idea how bad she sounds-- she's entirely tone-deaf; she doesn't realise she sounds like a cat caught in a garbage disposal.
Maria seems to notice her daddy watching. For just a brief second, her smile widens even more, pushing against her cheeks, eyes shining. Jesse feels his own smile widening in reply. He recognises Maria's smile-- he got the same one the first time he stood in the wings and watched Rachel sing 'Tonight' to a packed house. A dream-coming-true smile.
That's his daughter up there-- his and Rachel's-- her dream coming true.
Rachel's eyes flick to her husband. Jesse likes to think he's a fabulous actor, but honestly? After all this time she's more than well-acquainted with his show-faces.
And that easy sparkle in his eyes? That isn't one of them.
She looks back at Maria, trying to see what it is he's seeing to make him grin like that. But she can't focus. Maria's mangling the crescendo now, almost yelling the lyrics-- certainly not lacking passion but definitely lacking control. Some in the audience have actually started talking now, chattering away in whispers. Every now and again Rachel can feel their amused glances on the side of her face, but she refuses to turn around for them, keeping up the appearance of the proud mother.
She remembers singing with Shelby, that first time, way, way back in high school. She'd picked an incredibly inappropriate song for their first mother/daughter duet, but-- knowing how much it meant to her-- Shelby had gamely sung along anyway, giving it everything. It had been magical, and heart-wrenching; and the idea that Maria and her might never have that moment?
Rachel curls her free hand into the hem of her skirt.
It's unbearable.
She blinks, clearing away sneaky, unexpected tears. She focuses instead on Maria's glittery hair, braided on either side of her cute little face with ribbon neatly tying the ends.
Her cheeks are bright pink from exertion, and from the force of the smile on her face. Rachel doesn't think she's ever seen her look so enthusiastic, so... carelessly happy....
Rachel's always had a problem being carelessly happy. It never seems to end well for her. Even now-- so much more comfortable in her own skin than she used to be-- she worries too much, and no amount of spa weekends or lavender-scented pillows or hypnotherapy sessions seem to help.
The only thing that always works-- always works-- is being on the stage. Being on the stage, in front of an audience, singing her heart out. Pouring everything she has into something else's lyrics, belting out her emotions; her soul bursting as her last note gives way to thunderous applause...
Maria will never get to feel that. She'll never stand in front of an adoring crowd, every one awestruck by the immensity of her talent, their applause validating the effort, the emotion of it all.
The sudden silence jolts Rachel out of her reverie. She refocuses her eyes. The song's ended. Maria stands centre-stage once more, little chest heaving as she tries to catch her breath, feathers and glitter scattered lazily around her. Beaming ecstatically at her stunned audience, she tucks one foot neatly behind the other and does a perfect curtsey.
Without even thinking, Rachel leaps to her feet, Jesse just a second behind her, and they applaud Maria until their hands ache. They applaud and applaud and whistle until their little girl starts jumping up and down in excitement and takes another encore bow, and comes running out into the audience to be swept up in her mom's arms and covered in kisses by her daddy, and neither of them have ever, ever been more proud of her.
*
Everyone's a winner at Crestwood Hills, so she doesn't officially come in last. But by the time Miss Jenny hands out Maria's certificate, the crowd of cramped, twitchy parents are obviously bored of polite clapping and hardly bother at all. Rachel and Jesse make up for it.
They pile back into the car, Maria shedding glitter all over the seats and chattering nineteen-to-the-dozen about the other contestants as she alternately holds her certificate up to the sunlight and clutches it to her chest like it's a Grammy and she can't believe she's won it.
"Here cookie-- you did so well today you can have as many as you like." Rachel says giddily, digging in her purse and offering Maria her roll of sticky gold stars. Maria squeaks: "Thankyoooo!!" and instantly drops her certificate onto the seat beside her, the sparkly stickers so much more entrancing.
"Hey, Finn's been calling me." Rachel says, checking the screen on her Blackberry. "Four missed calls... How strange--"
"--I'm sure it's nothing important." Jesse says quickly, snatching her phone away and tucking it in the pocket in the car door.
"Mommy!!" Maria calls, and Rachel twists round to find her daughter with gold stars decorating each cheek and a line of them all across the neckline of her tutu. And one each on the toes of her shoes. And one on the nose of her Hello Kitty backpack.
"Yeah baby?" Rachel beams at her "Wow, you look so pretty Ra-Ra..."
"I'm a star mommy." Maria explains, bouncing up and down in her seat.
"A superstar." Jesse amends, catching his daughter's eye in the rear-view mirror.
"A soopastar!"
Rachel kisses her fondly on the forehead, before turning back to fasten her seatbelt.
"Of course you are baby, you're a Berry-StJames. Our little superstar."
Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3
xxx
Fandom: Glee future!fic
Pairings/Characters: Rachel/Jesse, Kurt/Puck (vague implied), Maria Melanie Berry-St.James (OC), random appearances by some old friends.
Challenge/Prompt: A super late response to x_clemonlemon 's prompt on the glee_fluff_meme: Rachel and Jesse realise their daughter cannot hold a note and is completely tone-deaf. Cue the horror. Bonus! for their reasons as to why she's tone deaf.
Rating: PG, for the odd unexpected f-bomb.
Word Count: (This part) 2426
Genre: Gen
Copyright: I don’t own ‘Glee’ or anything to do with it.; I just have vivid hallucinations.
Summary:
Author’s Notes: Ok, so, this was meant to be a ficlet and turned into an epic fluffy multi-part behemoth that ate my brain. It’s probably not as fluffy as you wanted, but I hope you like it anyway :).
The day dawns bright and sunny-- although since it's LA, that's not a huge surprise. Rachel would have preferred something cold and wet-- maybe a surprise blizzard-- but alas: the weather is being uncooperative and the show must go on.
Maria's dancing-- it was decided last night, amongst temper tantrums and a hail of sequins. The toddler tried her best-- her adorable pouty face is agonisingly hard to say no to-- but her mom had had far more practice throwing diva-strops, and the littlest Berry didn't stand a chance. In compromise, her parents promised to let her put extra sparkle onto her outfit, and even glitter in her hair, and let her pick her own music, and they assured her over and over again that it was all going to be so much more fun this way... but in the end, no-one looked very convinced.
"She's going to hate us forever." Rachel murmured, as they watched her stomp away to find her legwarmers.
"She'll hate us till tomorrow evening." Jesse corrected, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. "Think how much more upset she would be if she got laughed off the stage."
Rachel nodded. But she couldn't help thinking that her daughter really wasn't the type to run away weeping.
*
"She all ready?" Jesse asks, leaning back to catch Rachel's eye as she picks her way over the rest of the audience to get back to her seat. Rachel notices their programme ripped into twelve perfect pieces in his lap.
"Yes-- Well, as ready as she can be." she adds darkly, smoothing her skirt so she can sit down. Automatically their hands intertwine.
"Does she look like an ostrich?"
Rachel glowers at him.
"It's not funny."
"Sorry."
"And no-- now she looks more like a particularly fluffy peacock. I don't know if that's better."
Probably wisely, Jesse doesn't answer.
The kindergarten hall isn't particularly big, and half of it is taken up with a big movable platform like McKinley used to have for pep assemblies, swathed in heavy curtains that may have once been vibrant purple and now looked depressingly lilac. The other half is filled with thirty or so mis-matched chairs that are currently occupied by thirty or so equally mis-matched parents.
(Aside from Rachel and Jesse of course; they always look outstandingly complementary together.)
"Isn't it adorable?" comes a familiar voice, and Charlotte O’Callaghan twists around from her seat in the row in front to gush at them. "It's so exciting-- their first show!"
"Isn't it." Jesse responds non-commitally, glancing over and noticing with alarm how much effort his wife is putting into gritting her teeth.
"Vic's been practicing ever since they first announced it-- he's like, so enthusiastic about everything, just everything, he's going to do so well at school, you can totally tell with children who's going to do well can't you, even when they're so small, if they're going to be amazing or just really awful, it's--"
"--What's Vic's act?" Jesse interrupts, forcing a politely enquiring look across his face.
Charlotte grins, but makes secretive eyes at him and presses a finger to her unnaturally pink lips.
"Oh well, that would be telling...Wouldn't want to let slip any ideas to the competition now would we--"
"-- He's got jump ropes." Rachel supplies, finally snapping, smiling sweetly as Charlotte's face falls: "He's going to jump over them. It will be an epic illustration of one boy's triumph over the force of gravity."
Jesse stares at his wife with something akin to wonder on his face. Charlotte stares at her with something akin to brain trauma.
"I love you." Jesse says earnestly, and Rachel smiles weakly at him like they're clinging to the wreckage of the Titanic.
"Good morning ladies and gentlemen!" Miss Jenny announces suddenly from the front of the hall, silencing the squalling parents with a screech of feedback as she steps in front of the speakers. The entire audience cringes but Miss Jenny's smile never wavers: a true childcare professional.
"And welcome," she beams "to the fourth annual Crestwood Hills Preschool talent contest!!"
*
Rachel kind of hates Jesse for tearing their programme up. After sitting through her fourth garbled recitation of the First Amendment, Vic's jump-rope extravaganza, and one little boy who thought blowing bubbles into his milk was an achievement, she picks the pieces out of his lap and starts rearranging them again in her own, hoping to find an estimated finishing time.
She almost doesn't notice when's Maria's name's called, and it's only Jesse's sudden vice-grip on her hand and the expectant hush of the crowd around her that make her look up.
Maria toddles out into centre-stage, spine straight and head held high, glittery braids catching the afternoon sunlight.
She stops; positions her feet carefully into her first position.
Rachel takes a deep breath.
A neon-green marabou feather--dislodged from one of Maria's pumps-- tumbles across the stage and floats serenely down into the first row.
"Well, she certainly has... presence." Jesse whispers, a valiant effort to break the tension.
Rachel bites her lips hard together, sliding unconsciously down a little further into her chair.
There is the longest moment. Then-- the music begins: a dramatic staccato of strings, expectant drums; an intro so very, very familiar…
And all the air rushes out of Rachel's lungs.
It's the WRONG music.
"Oh no oh no oh no..." she mutters desperately, suddenly sitting straight up, staring at her girl; staring at Miss Jenny, in charge of the sound system; staring at Jesse, who has never looked more horrified.
And before they can stop it, Maria's voice soars out into the audience: loud, powerful, passionate... and sharp enough to rip apart the ceiling tiles.
“Don’ tell me not to live, just sit and putter…”
"Oh no." Rachel whimpers; buries her face in her hands.
"Life’s candy and the sun’s a bowl a’ butta..."
Jesse clenches his teeth, physically wincing away from the sound. Oh god, that's his daughter up there: his daughter, mangling Streisand.
Maria struts across the stage; pirouetting perfectly so the glittering frills of her tutu flair around her; flashes a smile at her audience that is the epitome of show-business.
"Don't tell me not to fly, I simply got to, If someone takes a spill it's me and not you, who told you you're allowed to rain on my parade..."
Someone sniggers.
Rachel's perfect ear for pitch hears it over the brass section and her head snaps up again, turning slowly as she searches for the source. She hears it again-- from another direction this time-- and when she turns to Jesse she can tell he hears it too.
"They're laughing at her." she mouths, despairingly. Jesse gazes back at her, lost for a reply. He's ashamed that for half a second the words 'no wonder' flash through his mind.
"At least I didn't fake it, hat, sir, I guess I didn't make it…"
Maria continues to glide across the stage, gesturing meaningfully at the crowd, pulling all the right expressions. It's bizarre: like a dubbing over of the most perfect performance. There's no way such an agonising voice can come from such an enchanting little girl.
Jesse sets his jaw, making a decision, reaching once more for Rachel's hand. He squeezes it tightly.
"It's perfect." He whispers.
Rachel frowns at him, taken aback by his meanness.
"It's perfect." He repeats, more emphatically. Then he turns back to the stage, settling comfortably into his chair, letting his expression fall into a familiar, accomplished, slightly smug smirk.
Rachel blinks at him. Then, she understands. It hurts: but not as much as the giggles of the parents around her hurts. The parents who are laughing at her daughter.
Rachel lifts her chin and lets a proud, confident smile push across her lips.
Maria is oblivious to it all. She keeps dancing-- keeps singing-- as if she's in her bedroom at home and no-one else can hear her. She twirls and skips across the stage like she owns it, glancing every now and again at her audience to see if they share in her joy, but young enough that she doesn't understand the rigid lines of their faces; the hands clapped over mouths; the whispered comments.
Jesse forces himself to keep breathing, focusing on the graceful lines of his daughter's pas-de-basques, and trying to force her singing into ambient background noise. Certainly her beginners' ballet classes have paid off: look at how perfect her toe-points are, and how she doesn't lose balance for a second when she spins... And the whirling arms thing? Maybe Rachel really did try and teach her flamenco.
Her costume isn't actually that horrendous. Well, ok. It is. But she's three-- she's allowed to be ridiculous. She bobbles her head, making the feather in her hairband dance and the glitter on her cheeks sparkle. She's so cute (not an original thought of course; hello, impeccable genetics). But like this? So cheerful and silly? she's adorable.
Jesse bites his lip. She also has no idea how bad she sounds-- she's entirely tone-deaf; she doesn't realise she sounds like a cat caught in a garbage disposal.
Maria seems to notice her daddy watching. For just a brief second, her smile widens even more, pushing against her cheeks, eyes shining. Jesse feels his own smile widening in reply. He recognises Maria's smile-- he got the same one the first time he stood in the wings and watched Rachel sing 'Tonight' to a packed house. A dream-coming-true smile.
That's his daughter up there-- his and Rachel's-- her dream coming true.
Rachel's eyes flick to her husband. Jesse likes to think he's a fabulous actor, but honestly? After all this time she's more than well-acquainted with his show-faces.
And that easy sparkle in his eyes? That isn't one of them.
She looks back at Maria, trying to see what it is he's seeing to make him grin like that. But she can't focus. Maria's mangling the crescendo now, almost yelling the lyrics-- certainly not lacking passion but definitely lacking control. Some in the audience have actually started talking now, chattering away in whispers. Every now and again Rachel can feel their amused glances on the side of her face, but she refuses to turn around for them, keeping up the appearance of the proud mother.
She remembers singing with Shelby, that first time, way, way back in high school. She'd picked an incredibly inappropriate song for their first mother/daughter duet, but-- knowing how much it meant to her-- Shelby had gamely sung along anyway, giving it everything. It had been magical, and heart-wrenching; and the idea that Maria and her might never have that moment?
Rachel curls her free hand into the hem of her skirt.
It's unbearable.
She blinks, clearing away sneaky, unexpected tears. She focuses instead on Maria's glittery hair, braided on either side of her cute little face with ribbon neatly tying the ends.
Her cheeks are bright pink from exertion, and from the force of the smile on her face. Rachel doesn't think she's ever seen her look so enthusiastic, so... carelessly happy....
Rachel's always had a problem being carelessly happy. It never seems to end well for her. Even now-- so much more comfortable in her own skin than she used to be-- she worries too much, and no amount of spa weekends or lavender-scented pillows or hypnotherapy sessions seem to help.
The only thing that always works-- always works-- is being on the stage. Being on the stage, in front of an audience, singing her heart out. Pouring everything she has into something else's lyrics, belting out her emotions; her soul bursting as her last note gives way to thunderous applause...
Maria will never get to feel that. She'll never stand in front of an adoring crowd, every one awestruck by the immensity of her talent, their applause validating the effort, the emotion of it all.
The sudden silence jolts Rachel out of her reverie. She refocuses her eyes. The song's ended. Maria stands centre-stage once more, little chest heaving as she tries to catch her breath, feathers and glitter scattered lazily around her. Beaming ecstatically at her stunned audience, she tucks one foot neatly behind the other and does a perfect curtsey.
Without even thinking, Rachel leaps to her feet, Jesse just a second behind her, and they applaud Maria until their hands ache. They applaud and applaud and whistle until their little girl starts jumping up and down in excitement and takes another encore bow, and comes running out into the audience to be swept up in her mom's arms and covered in kisses by her daddy, and neither of them have ever, ever been more proud of her.
*
Everyone's a winner at Crestwood Hills, so she doesn't officially come in last. But by the time Miss Jenny hands out Maria's certificate, the crowd of cramped, twitchy parents are obviously bored of polite clapping and hardly bother at all. Rachel and Jesse make up for it.
They pile back into the car, Maria shedding glitter all over the seats and chattering nineteen-to-the-dozen about the other contestants as she alternately holds her certificate up to the sunlight and clutches it to her chest like it's a Grammy and she can't believe she's won it.
"Here cookie-- you did so well today you can have as many as you like." Rachel says giddily, digging in her purse and offering Maria her roll of sticky gold stars. Maria squeaks: "Thankyoooo!!" and instantly drops her certificate onto the seat beside her, the sparkly stickers so much more entrancing.
"Hey, Finn's been calling me." Rachel says, checking the screen on her Blackberry. "Four missed calls... How strange--"
"--I'm sure it's nothing important." Jesse says quickly, snatching her phone away and tucking it in the pocket in the car door.
"Mommy!!" Maria calls, and Rachel twists round to find her daughter with gold stars decorating each cheek and a line of them all across the neckline of her tutu. And one each on the toes of her shoes. And one on the nose of her Hello Kitty backpack.
"Yeah baby?" Rachel beams at her "Wow, you look so pretty Ra-Ra..."
"I'm a star mommy." Maria explains, bouncing up and down in her seat.
"A superstar." Jesse amends, catching his daughter's eye in the rear-view mirror.
"A soopastar!"
Rachel kisses her fondly on the forehead, before turning back to fasten her seatbelt.
"Of course you are baby, you're a Berry-StJames. Our little superstar."
Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3
xxx