Swifty Appledoe embarks on a new mission: to become just like the most annoyingly perfect girl in school This is the first installation of a novella that we will be publishing in three parts in the April, May, and June 2021 issues of Stone Soup.   “Be yourself; everyone else is already taken.” —Oscar Wilde   Chapter 1 “And that’s exactly why you should try Milky’s chocolate ice cream!” I conclude, bowing as my excited audience showers me in a standing ovation. It’s Saturday night, and my parents are sitting on our squishy velvet sofa, watching me rehearse for the big advertisement audition coming up in a month-and-a-half’s time. It’s important that an actress is very prepared because, as they say, the show must go on. The TV is blaring softly behind me, showering me in a spotlight effect and bathing the living room in a cool glow. If I look down, I can see the glassy surface of the coffee table covered in a sea of audition papers, a lone clipboard floating at the surface. You see, when I grow older I want to become a famous actress. I want to go to the Oscars and win incredible awards, go to the Met Gala and wear a spontaneous-but-stunning outfit, pose and give daring looks to the press as they photograph me, live in a massive— I can suddenly hear the familiar sound of the Candyland theme song. Obviously an ad break. The actors’ voices start moaning sorrowfully from the TV. I know what they’re going to say. I auditioned for this ad but didn’t get in. “Oh no!” a woman cries. “My cat ate my pet bird!” “Come on!” an old man wails. “My walking stick snapped!” “Whaahhhh!” A stereotypically bratty toddler, wearing one of those caps with propellers on, shrieks like a hawk. “My cart broke!” “Don’t worry,” a familiarly dainty voice serenely assures. “I’ll take you to Candyland, where all of your dreams will come true.” In fact, this voice is very familiar. I spin around and stare in utter horror at the TV screen. A young girl around my age is dressed in a poofy, light-pink fairy costume, a sparkly rainbow belt slapped around her waist. The sleeves of the dress are Cinderella-like, and when you look at her feet, they have been slipped into slim silver high heels. Rainbow ombré fairy wings hide under golden locks of silky hair. She clutches a candy cane wand. But the one thing that stands out to me the most is the rosy, pale complexion of none other than Stella Chichester- Clark. My mouth hangs open like a door on loose hinges as I gape in envy and anger. The rest of the ad passes by. The woman adopts a candy bird made out of pink marshmallows. The old man is gifted a candy cane walking stick. Mint-flavored. And the bratty young boy is presented with a candy cart with lollipop wheels. I don’t pay much attention otherwise. Once it has finished, I slowly turn back around to face my parents. They stare at me with sympathetic grimaces. I can feel jealousy and hate crackling like fire in the center of my torso. Flames shoot through my veins, heating up my body. My head hurts— it feels like a grand piano has fallen from the sky, landed on top of it, and then exploded. My throat tightens. I can’t breathe normally. Something’s rising up in my throat. What is happening to me? Am I a dragon in disguise? “AAAAAAAAHHHH!” I scream to whatever deity is listening. Maybe the stupid universe can take yet another hint. “AAAAAAAAAAAHHH!” Then, without thinking, I slam my right hand down onto the coffee table. A sickening crack from the clipboard startles me, but I continue. I swipe at all my audition papers and they soar into the air, fluttering to the carpeted floor. “Zendaya Appledoe! Stop right there!” my mother gasps in anger. I stamp, stamp, stamp at the papers, tearing a few pages into shreds. I don’t care what happens to them. My life is over once again. I slump to the floor. My breathing is ragged and sharp. It feels like I’m sucking in spears. Strong arms hold me close. I sob into my dad’s shirt. My mum comes over and joins the hug. “Don’t worry, sweetie,” my mother’s voice says. “Listen, you have so many talents that this Stella doesn’t have,” my dad reassures me. I don’t bother to correct him. Stella is perfect at everything—from appearance and clothes to grades and sports, singing and dancing, acting and making friends. She’s annoyingly amazing. I once heard a rumor that she said her first word only a few weeks after she was born. Adding onto that, her first word was “honorificabilitudinitatibus,” a word that appears in one of Shakespeare’s plays. It’s probably true because she also won the Year Eight Spelling Bee at the age of three. I didn’t speak until I was four. My parents guide me upstairs to bed. A sense of calm has somehow overcome me. It was probably my overdramatic tantrum that did it. The last thing that I see before I drift off to sleep is Stella dressed in a fairy costume, waving a candy cane wand mockingly at my face. Chapter 2 The rest of the weekend passes by in dull form. My mind rages with fury at the ad that Stella appeared in. Finally, but unfortunately, it is Monday. A school day. When I arrive at school, I can see at least twenty kids outside the main brick building crowding around someone, probably Stella. A few of them walk away every now and then, clutching notebooks and grinning like crazy. For every one person that leaves, at least three others eagerly join. I gaze in envy. Soon enough, the large crowd starts heading up the steps to class chattering away, swarming the building like a plague of locusts. When I walk into class, the