Female narrating male POV
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Young Adult (18-35)Accents
North American (General) North American (US General American - GenAM)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
Lost Souls Audition read by Erica Hilliard James. My eyes opened slowly than my heartbeat quickened, and I shot up into a sitting position. One hand flew out to silence my alarm before I realized it was my dad yelling from downstairs and not the annoying blaring from my alarm. James, get your *** out of bed. You're going to be late for school. I pressed a pillow over my face with a silent, grown cursing the sun in all its Southern California consistency, cursing the addictive video game that had kept me awake until just a few hours before my feet hit the floor and I answered before he could call again. I'm coming. Give me two minutes. The routine was simple. Brush the teeth, wash the face, give up on the hair. Lucinda, our housekeeper, had come by yesterday afternoon and left a stack of clean clothes on the top of my dresser. I threw on the first thing in the pile and made it downstairs with 30 seconds to spare. My dad was pacing back and forth in the kitchen. It was only 7 30 but already a phone was glued to each hand. He lowered them slightly in, gestured at a bowl of fruit. Finally, get yourself some breakfast. You need to eat something before we head out. I headed automatically to the Cabinet and pulled out a mug. It was just Azadeh Matic Lee snatched from my hand. Food. James, not caffeine. You don't need coffee. You're a kid. The man barely ever looked at me, but he always seemed to know exactly where. Iwas I waited until his back was turned before filling up a thermostat, slipping it into my bag. You ready? He asked impatiently, clicking off both phones and slipping them into his briefcase. I'm giving you a ride in today I paused where I stood, giving him a strange look. Since when do you care? He seemed to ask himself the same question but hurted me toward the garage with an impatient wave. Just get in the car. When I say garage, it probably conjures a certain image. Two cars grease stained, floor cluttered shelves of personal memorabilia long ago surrendered to spiders. Ours was different than that. My father didn't seem to have much passion in his life, but the one thing he did care about was his cars, he cared fiercely. Our garage had been custom built to house four frickin parking bays that were as long as the house shined like a showroom and polished to the point where it was dangerous to walk on the floor. There was the Porsche, the bends, the Lamborghini and something else so exclusively Italian that even I was unable to pronounce its name. For a teenage boy, it was like living adjacent to a small piece of heaven. But under no circumstances was I allowed to touch these cars belong to my father. They were not for me, ever. He considered his choices for a split second and then unlocked the door to the bends. I slid into the passenger's seat and tossed my bag into the back, careful not to scratch the leather upholstery. The garage door came up, the phones were magically back, and he argued his way through two separate conversations as he shot backwards into the sun, almost killing the girl who lived next door. In the process, I shot an apologetic glance over my shoulder, but we were already speeding down the road towards the school, breaking every speed limit. Along the way. There was only one high school in Ceron Toe, California, a private school so ridiculously overpriced Onley the residents of the exclusive seaside community could afford to send their kids there. There was another school for the Children of the working class, 20 miles down the road. None of us ever went there. We didn't even play them at sports. The Benz pulled up beside several others as he dropped me in the student lot. Usually I'd be parking there myself, just a few spaces down. That meant walking home. No biggie. But he insisted on taking me himself this morning. I was about to find out why. So I'm leaving tonight. Catching the red. I have to take a quick trip for work. I wasn't sure if it was technically considered a red eye if it was on the company jet, but I admired his efforts to blend in with the common man. How long will you be gone? The questions were routine by now. I'd ask them many times, two weeks. I nodded robotically, and then it all suddenly clicked. The anemic display of guilt, the strange gesture of affection he was making by allowing me to ride in his precious car. I know you have that big game. He pre empted distractedly running a hand through his hair. We haven't been able to spend much time together lately. Sorry about that. I didn't say anything. I was no longer expected to. I just nodded again, staring out the window at the entrance of the school, wishing he would unlock the door so I could leave. The neighbor girl came rushing along the sidewalk and into the school. Maybe we can go somewhere over the holidays. He offered trying to sound friendly, infusing his voice with a false sense of cheer. You're almost 18. That opens some doors. We could go to Buddha, Pashto or Guam. Those were some pretty random places to choose for a vacation. I swung my head back to look at him. I wondered if he had work there to do when I was just his excuse or more like his cover. Yeah, maybe the bell rang and I reached for my bag and had it over my shoulder gripping the strap. I have to go. Don't want to be late, right? Of course. The lock's came up. I'll see you soon, James CIA. I was mentally gone before my feet even hit the curb, walking across the pavement and long, sweeping strides. My thoughts a 1,000,000 miles away, already fantasizing about my coffee and strolling through a mental list of music, I about had a heart attack. When he called out my name James, I froze and then slowly turned around, wondering if I'd for gotten something in the car. He was leaning over the passenger seat, studying me carefully with the window rolled down. After a second of silence, all the hair started prickling on the back of my neck. Then he flashed me an unexpected smile. After your game, Do something fun. What the something fun. My lips parted as they stared at him and honest surprise. I couldn't remember the last time he suggested such a thing, Nor could I recall the last time he'd instructed me to do something just for me without having some bigger agenda. As I stared back at him, a strange kind of nostalgia started stirring deep in my chest. I had actually managed a smile in return by the time the car went tearing out of the parking lot, leaving me standing alone on the curb. That's when the bell rang again, and I closed my eyes with a sigh late again