The group entered a dressing room where a few people were getting their makeup done.
"Ah? Are we starting already?" a lady who was getting her makeup fixed froze, staring at Hugh. Her hair was styled in a cute bob with a yellow headband that sported a yellow and white flower.
"Not yet," Hugh waved a hand at her, "but these boys brought Stacey to me, worried, because she doesn't have an ID and may be unable to register. She's one of the lost kids that Marvel must have found to join the program. She'd make a good feature story, so I thought I'd bring her early so that you guys can get started on her first. She hasn't done any auditions yet. These two boys have already auditioned, so you can just tick them off."
"Oh, oh, oh!" the woman clapped her hands with excitement and sprung up off her chair as soon as the makeup artist by her side signalled she was done. "Leave them to me. I suppose the boys will want to stick around and be her moral support? Great! I can see that she's already got individuality by the way she dresses. There's probably quite a pretty face under that layer of dirt. Let's see if we can also dig out a great talent. Don't worry, dear. If you turn out to be more of a science stream or fine arts person, we'll send you to the relevant place where you'll be supported with scholarships. You'll just end up as a part of a different program that will air later in the year. 'Let Me Entertain You' is more focussed upon stage careers."
"Kids, I'll leave you with Mindy. She's our main writer."
"Come and get your makeup done, kids," Mindy beckoned them to take a seat on any one of the empty stools in front of the mirror.
"We did our interviews and auditions over in CC," Ken told her. "We only just met Stacey but I reckon we'll get along great with her. She doesn't seem to fit in with the other girls very well. She kinda got pushed out of their circle earlier."
"I can see why. She's not like many of the other girls, is she? I like the unique ones. If you play things right, you'll stick out and make enough of a splash that people will love and support you just because you are you. Alright. Sit. Let me just get my laptop open," Mindy said, sitting down in an armchair while the boys and Stacey perched themselves on stools. The makeup artists surrounded them. "Hey, Tonton, keep the girl's make up as natural as possible, ok? Just highlight her main features after you've washed her face. I want her looking pretty much as she is, so that people can see what she originally looks like. Writing the episodes and short clips for her individual channel will be great."
"Close your eyes," a make up lady told Stacey, washing her face and neck with a warm, moist wash cloth.
"We'll do your registration first," Mindy told Stacey. "Full name and date of birth, please."
"My name's Anastasia Wright," Stacey said and hesitated when it came to her date of birth. What date system did they use here? They still used the same calendar, right? Should she reveal her actual age or pretend to be younger? "My date of birth... date of birth..." Stacey faltered and clenched one hand into a fist.
What should she do? What should she say?
"You don't know?" Mindy asked in a soft voice. "Never mind. Do you know how old you are?"
"Umm," Stacey hesitated again. She couldn't decide how she should reply. How old did she look? Would they believe her if she said her real age? Would she be kicked out of the program for being too old when everyone else were obviously still teenagers? If she got kicked out, there was no way she'd have food or a bed. If she didn't join this program, she'd definitely end up sleeping under that staircase again and starving to death.
"Then do you know how long you were lost for?"
Stacey fidgeted. She couldn't exactly say that she didn't know how she got here, could she? She had literally arrived less than a week ago, but if she said that, she had no way to explain how she had found her way here. Nor would she be able to explain where she had come from or been doing before hand. Was pretending to have some sort of dementia or amnesia too cliché? Would anyone believe her if she decided to go with that story?
"Hoo boy," Mindy gave a sympathetic sigh. "Your area must have been among one of the first hit in the war if it's been so long that you don't remember anything at all. How have you been surviving? You must have built up some pretty impressive survival skills, right?"
Stacey shook her head and the makeup lady paused, stepping back for a moment to search her equipment for something. Stacey opened her eyes and bit her lower lip.
"I don't think I have any survival skills," Stacey said with a trembling voice.
They were going to find out she was a fake. They were so going to find out she wasn't suitable for this program and kick her out of here. She wanted to eat. The hunger pangs were eating at her. How was she going to explain how she had survived to this age and still looked relatively healthy but without a clue about the world, culture or language?
"Then how have you been living?"
"I don't know," Stacey said slowly, purposely seeming to slightly misunderstand the question. "One day at a time, I guess. I mean, I can't make a fire or anything."
"How did you find out about our program and get here then?"
"I, uh, didn't - don't know," Stacey's voice trailed off, sliding off her stool and keeping her eyes glued to the tiled floor. Her conscience pinched at her chest and twisted her guts into a knot. She backed toward the door.
She wasn't even meant to be here in the first place. Stacey felt bad for lying to them. Maybe she should just get out of here. There was no way for her to explain any of her past or ignorance to them. If they kept questioning her, she'd look like someone who had escaped from a mental hospital or someone suspicious who needed to be reported to the police. Admitting that she didn't know anything was so frightening that it made her forget how hungry she was.
"I'm sorry. I - I don't think I'd make a very good candidate for this program. I'm not supposed to be here in the first place. Maybe I should just go and not waste any of your time."
"Don't go," Mindy held out a hand to block her and the single male makeup artist gently pushed Stacey back onto her seat. Anxiety had brought tear to Stacey's eyes, but Mindy dabbed them away with the corner of a tissue. "Sit back down. I can see why you're lacking in confidence after all those years on your own. It looks like you may have memory issues or something. Some short and long term memory loss. That means everything must be really confusing for you. Don't worry. We'll work through this. We'll get a doctor involved in your care. Even if you're not suitable, we'll at least ensure you get the medical care you might need. I noticed you don't have a bag. Is this everything you've got?"
"Uh, yes," Stacey said, allowing herself to be sat back down. "You've got what you can see. This is me. I don't have anything or know anything at all. Sorry."
"No, no. Don't be sorry. Why are you apologising? It's us that should be apologising that nobody found you or helped you sooner. I'm guessing someone has been taking care of you from the look of things though, or you wouldn't be looking so healthy. Hopefully they're looking for you. Let's see. I guess you don't know your address? Parents? Emergency contact? School level and grades? Do you know if you have any talents in singing, dancing, acting? Anything at all? No? Don't know? Nothing? Alright. Nevermind then. In that case, I'll make a few guesstimates. Going by your looks, you look like you're about sixteen."