Hate Being Him

By request

"Hate Being Him"

Mmm. I want cereal. I can't think without cereal. Must be out of bed and meet Kenny in mess hall. Right. One blue eye opened, long lashes fluttering as he blinked. Then both eyes opened. The body under the covers stirred, forming an unobtrusive lump beneath the formerly crisp and wrinkle-free hotel sheets. Jade sat up, rubbing his eyes, curls in disarray around his head resembling a very crooked halo. He looked around, saw the suitcase on the other side of the room, glanced at the clock on the nightstand on his left. 5:30 am, on the dot. With a moan he flopped back down on the bed.
"I have to kick this habit," he muttered. He'd been kicked out of bed so early for so long, and now when he was allowed to sleep in later his body's internal clock rebelled.
He forced himself up again, staring sullenly at the mirror that hung on the bare white wall opposite the bed. "Hi, Justin," he told his reflection dully. Because he didn't look like Jade anymore. He hated looking like Justin, he didn't want to be Justin, and yet he'd been Justin for so long. It wasn't like Justin had a bad life or anything.
Face it, Jade, you must be schizophrenic if you talk about yourself and your real-world persona as two different people. You need to see a shrink, he told himself.
But no, he was Justin now. He had Justin's halo of bronzed curls, Justin's money (he needed it for his Sector - after all, he was the financial provider for Sector Nine), Justin's weird clothes (maybe that was the stylist's fault) and Justin's 'secret but long-time' girlfriend, Britney. He also had Justin's old friends and family. But inside he was Jade. Right now, he'd give anything to be allowed to be Jade, crop these awful curls and throw the earrings away and wear his flyboy blues and run through battle formations in his Falcon. He hated acting like some sissy wuss who believed in world peace and lived to perform and loved having thousands of prepubescent girls screaming the name that wasn't his and telling him that they loved him when they'd never even met him.
The make-up thing before TV shows and interviews was something he'd grown to hate, if not more so than pretending to love Britney. Not that they could be together much anyway. That was one reprieve in this life that wasn't his.
The only thing that was his, the only thing that belonged to the old Jade, was his real job. Well, he had his thoughts to himself, but it wasn't like he could tell the rest of the guys how a job had gone, how easy it had been to break in and sneak out with the prize. But sometimes, just for fun, he would steal one of the guys' wallets and look through it before putting it back in the owner's pocket. In all these years, he'd never been caught. Jade Rendell was a thief in his true life, and he liked it that way.
He stood up and crossed the room to where the suitcase lay on the floor. He nudged it open with his foot and leaned down to pick up some clothes.
As he stood in the bathroom and slid the studs into his ears, he glared at his reflection. He was Justin again and he hated it.

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