You paced back and forth in the dressing room, your chest tight and fluttering faster than you had ever felt it before. Looking into the mirror, you caught a glimpse of your sequin blue and black outfit; your (h/l) (h/c) pulled back into a pony tail, and your skin slightly glittery from whatever Stacie had sprayed you with.

You were preforming for the president- on his birthday- in the Kennedy center- and in front of millions of watchers. Oh god, you were going to be sick. It wasn't so much of having to preform that caught you, it was just all the pressure from who was watching and why you were doing it and where you were doing it-

"(Y/N)!" Turning, you saw Chloe standing there with a wide eyed expression, "We are on in like, three minutes!"

"Chloe," you tried as she dragged you out of the room and down the hallways, "I don't think I can do this!"

"Oh relax," she stopped and turned, placing her hands on your shoulders, "You are a Bella! This is your second year, and if you want to lead the Bella's after the others have graduated, you have to have confidence! Like me!"

As she just said, you were starting your Sophomore year of College; you joined the Barden Bella's last year, and had quickly been appointed a soloist. Currently, you were studying Mythology, Art, Film, and Photography; don't ask, it simply interested you.

"Okay," you breathed, playing with the end of your pony tail a bit, "I can do this; what can go wrong?"

"I have missed thirty-nine calls from my mother," you announced dully, sitting in the small chair by the window in your motel room, "twenty-five from my father, sixteen from my sisters, and over thirty from an assortment of other family members and friends. I can never show my face again; it is official."

"It wasn't that bad," Becca protested from her bed, "It could have been worse!"

Needless to say, your performance in front of all of America would most certainly lead to your family disowning you. People always say hindsight is 20/20, and you could most certainly agree that it was right now; what the hell were you all thinking with having Fat Amy hang from the ceiling?!

She had gotten tangled in the silk ropes, and managed to turn herself upside down and- here was the best part- split her pants. Now, that itself would be redeemable by your group, but Fat Amy wasn't wearing underwear, so she exposed her -ahem- nether regions to all America, and the President.

"How," you groaned, looking at her, "How could that have been anyworse?!"

"I don't know," she groaned, flopping on the bed. You followed suit and collapsed on your own bed, staring at the ceiling, "What is going to happen now, Becca?"

"I don't know," she rolled over to look at you, "But it was an accident; so by some fault, they will have to understand."

"I don't think they have to do anything," you replied, "But what is the worst they can do?"

Suddenly, the door to your room flew open and banged against the wall; Chloe came storming in, her face nearly as red as her hair.

"What are we going to do?!" She cried, throwing herself on your bed. You frowned and patted her back, watching as the rest of the Bella's filed into the room. They gathered around your beds and you sat up, leaning against the head board.

"Nothing, but apologize," You stated, looking over to Becca who nodded at you.

"Is there anything else we can really do?" Flo asked, closing the door.

"No!" Chloe threw her hands up, "Nothing! Everything I have worked for! Just gone!"

"Chloe, chill-" Becca started, but was cut off by the buzzing of your phone. You checked who was calling and groaned, "Oh god, Becca, it's my mom again."

So, this is the first chapter. As you can obviously tell, this is around you, the reader; you are a Sophomore in Barden while studying to be either a photographer or a movie producer (maybe an artist or animator!). You are a soloist for the Bella's, mainly because you have the ability to hold a note for a very long time, also you are a choreographer.

Your nickname is "Click", because you are taking pictures of everyone you possibly can; so they are nearly always hearing your camera clicks.

Your friends with everyone, but especially close to Becca and Stacie; Becca because she helps you when you are stressed, and Stacie simply always hung around you and became your friend because she loved having pictures taken of her.

Also, you have your own blog where you publish your pictures, and such as others.

I will publish the next chapter as soon as I can!

-Sketch