I feel accomplished ;D. I wrote this chapter on my phone, and I quiiite like it. Shit (slinky, according to spell check..), I sound drunk now. Anyway, on with the story!
Disclaimer: I don't think JP has an unhealthy obsession with Cheez-Its. So IDNOMR.
Summary: Fang and Iggy could both easily win Max's heart. Iggy, the ex-best friend. Fang, the heartthrob. Too bad Max hates them both too much to bear… But all girls meet their match in the end. The question is, who's hers? AH.
Ch. 1: Fang
"Fang, it's not healthy!" my manager, Delia, shrieked. "It's all getting to your head!"
"I'm fine," I responded.
"Tell that to the cover of Star Bright! What's up with you spazzing out on an innocent middle aged woman? Who just so happened to be Betty White's stepdaughter?"
"Well, oops," I replied with a shrug. Who cared? I didn't know her first name, so she couldn't be too important.
"'Well, oops' is right. Because of this and everything else, we lost 67% of our sponsors. In a week, we'll lose over $415,000! Do you realize there goes half of the money we need to kick off the tour? And, my phone is still ringing! Oh, great. It's the Woods Foundation." She picked up the phone. "Hello?... Okay... Oh, no. Thank you! Thank you so much!" She shut the phone, a smirk on her face.
"Wipe that smirk off your face," I cautioned. "It's freakin' weird."
Delia's smirk widened into a smile. "Yes, freakin' weird indeed!"
My face went from annoyed to confused in an instant. Delia was the only person I showed my emotions— I don't want to. It's literally in my contract.
She glanced at my expression, and obviously felt the urge to continue (I'm convincing even when I don't speak).
"TWF called. I told you that, right? They heard about our sponsoring issues. They're willing to boost the income we get from them as long as we A, make them our main tour promoter. I'll get that done ASAP. And B, you need to change your— You know what? Get the others. They need to hear it too."
I groaned, slamming open the conference room's door. It ricocheted off the wall, leaving a slight mark. I hear Delia mutter my name angrily behind me. I ignored her, and went off to find my other band mates.
And yes, I am in a band. With my two brothers, Gazzy and Iggy, and our garage-made music, we managed to get ourselves a record deal at DD Studios.
"Py's!" I yelled. Gaz and Ig managed to pull their fire-craving butts down the stairs. And if you haven't put two and two together yet, py is short for pyro which is short for pyromaniac. Do I have to talk anymore?
"What?" Iggy said tiredly. "Another nutso fangirl making accusations that we all robbed her of her innocence?"
"Seriously? Did you have the Justin Bieber dream again?" Gazzy asked.
"Guys!" Delia sang, creeping behind us. "Good news!"
Her face was staring right at my scapulas, so I turned to face her. One of my eyebrows was nearing my hairline, and I was honestly confused. Didn't she I needed to change something? That's not a good thing.
"You're going to school! Iggy, this will be absolutely spontaneous for you. The school is in your hometown! Gazzy, Fang, wasn't your private school a town over? So, it'd be your hometown too!"
Wait— does she mean Pithier? Suckish place. Iggy didn't mind public school, but Gazzy and I couldn't stand it. You're always stuck with those lacking intelligence.
I'm no genius, but seriously. It took one girl five minutes just to understand the difference between a circle a square. That was in second grade— Fang Night hit private school after that.
Call me stuck-up, but honestly, don't act like you're not.
Internally, deep deep inside, I'm freaked out. Like, piss in my pants kind of freaked. Who actually, after being tutored for five years, is excited to go to school? No one sane.
Which would explain why Iggy and Gazzy are ecstatic, and I'm stoic.
Iggy was more excited than Gazzy, surprisingly. Gazzy always regretted going to private school.
Practically jumping up and down, Iggy whips out his prototype iPhone 5. And I did mean 5 and not 4S. He then mutters a word so colorful you could throw it at a Skittle, and stuffs the phone in his back pocket. Delia, Gazzy, and I stand there confused.
"Just a, uh, friend. I would call her but her number has probably changed since 2008," Iggy explained. The three of us nodded in sync.
"Well," Delia said. "The Woods Foundation has offered to pay for half the tickets. The catch is that I'm
not paying for the other half. You three are, but the money can't be coming from your singing career. You have to use your own money."
And then, Iggy's rainbow word was said once again, yet this time it came from yours truly.
Delia stifled a laugh. "Don't worry. It's only $85 each. Most people make that much with a job at McDonalds in 9 hours."
Gazzy smiled. "I don't have to work! You guys do! Ha!"
Iggy and I turned to face the little devil. "What?"
"I used to work at Wendy's before we started recording, while you guys were waiting for your money to be handed to you, I earned it and saved it," he said smugly.
I glared. Iggy rolled his eyes. What? I hate working. I have people to do that for me.
Iggy then practically saved the day. "Wait— how can we get a job? We'll be recognized."
"Easy," Delia replied. "You'll be working for me."
Hey, I did say practically.
I stepped right in front of the shower. Fully clothed, mind you. I leaned forward, clasped my hair in my hands, and then twisted. A river of sweat poured from my midnight-colored hair. Who knew Delia could be so cruel?
She had us clean every single instrument in the studio. Over 75 instruments we had to clean. Then, we had to run 3 miles to get her some milk. Not just any milk, Silk. I stand corrected— Silk isn't milk.
Darn, Delia's weirdness is contagious.
But the worst part was that she tied Iggy's left leg to my right, so during our three mile joyride, we tripped about 20 times.
But, she paid for our tickets, so it was worth it (actually, it really wasn't. But for your sake, I'll just say it was).
My hair was still damp and putrid, so I did was any sane guy would do.
I went to the cabinet, and took out one of Gazzy's towels (why waste one of my own?). It was a... Care Bear?... design. I leaned over again, and wrapped the towel around my head. At that same moment, Iggy opens the bathroom door.
He goes hysterical. Tears stream down his face. In between laughs and the occasional giggle, he says, "What color bra are you wearing?"
Fang groaned. "It's not a bra. For God's sake, it's a freakin' undershirt!"
Iggy replied, "More like a manoobie holder."
I scowled. "This is why I want to go—."
"Solo?" Iggy scoffed. "We know. You're so focused on your bags of money that you can't afford— no pun intended—a little fun." He stormed off.
He thinks I wear a bra. Well, I think he's on his period.
We were all settled onto the plane. A public plane, no less. I was forced to wear a red wig and sunglasses. I looked like a drunk hippie. Or Hannah Montana. In reality, there is really no difference.
Squirming uncomfortably in my rock hard seat, I nearly spilled my drink. I almost wish it'd fallen so the flight attendant would pick it up and bend down and... Yeah...
What? She was only, like, 6 years older than me. It'll be legal in two years...
Please, just shut me up. Please.
Two hours into the flight, I heard the captain say, "This is your captain speaking. In about ten minutes or so we'll be landing at the Pheonix International Airport. Thanks for flying with us."
10 minutes, 43 seconds later, we were in Phoenix. There was a man holding a sign that read, "Knight". Big change, Delia. You added a K. And it's silent.
Apparently, I was now dubbed Nick. Iggy was James. And Gazzy wanted to be Captain Terror (he spelled it out for us... and he spelled it wrong), but Delia and him agreed on something a little less stupid. Zephyr. What? I did say a little.
According to Iggy, we'd be staying across the street from his ex-best friend's aunt's girlfriend. Yes, I said aunt's girlfriend. Iggy was obsessed with the supposed best friend, talking about him every five minutes. God, I think I've heard the guy's life story. I think I was right about Iggy. On his period. And stuff.
We all walked toward the guy, who seemed quite familiar. I don't know how I know him or his face, but I do. Apparently, Iggy does too.
"Mr. M!" he exclaimed.
"Hey Ig-I mean, hey James. How's your aunt?" the man, Mr. M, responded. "Max'll be psyched to see you."
Wait— did this middle-aged man say psyched? Whoa.
"I doubt it," Iggy replied. "Wasn't too happy when I left."
"Meh, no one in this family can hold a grudge that long," Mr. M replied with a chuckle. "Well, maybe Max can, but..."
Gazzy decided to butt in. "So where are we staying?"
"Well," Mr. M said, "The house you were going to stay in was... contaminated... So you'll be staying at your old house."
"Wait— So Max'll know who we are?" What? Fang can't butt in?
"Yeah," Mr. M scratched his head uncomfortably. "It kinda... slipped..."
Iggy laughed. "Nice one."
Mr. M chuckled, then escorted us to his car. Not too bad, it was a Mustang, but my Lamb is much better.
This is city life, folks. Decent cars, grubby people, and it's only the beginning... Lord, help me...
We pulled into the— our— driveway. We all get out, unload our luggage, and walk to the door. There's a note on the door. Gazzy plucked it off.
"Dear guys," he read. "Here's your house. Stuff's in the fridge. I'll be back in an hour or so, maybe. After your settled, go to Isaac's, okay? Bubz, Delia."
We snickered, and I opened the door. We all went to our old rooms, threw our stuff down, and headed back downstairs.
We all had met up in the kitchen, and then I asked, "Wait, who's Isaac?"
Iggy rolled his eyes. "Mr. M."
"Oh."
Gazzy ignored us, and walked out on his own. Shrugging, I followed him, and Iggy lagged behind. Mr. M or Isaac or whatever was waiting for us.
"Ready?" he asked.
I nodded. Gazzy said, "Yurp!" and Iggy muttered a, "Duh."
We all went back into the car, driving only five houses down. Waste of gas, but at least I didn't have to walk in the heat.
Stepping out of the car once more, I follow Mr. M into his house. Once inside, I immediately smell cookies. Hmm. Bakers.
Then, walks down a girl. So Max had a sister? Sweet.
"Hey Max," Iggy says. The girl scoffs.
Oh, so she's Max. Even better. Seriously. No sarcasm!
"What? No hug?" Iggy says, feigning hurt.
"Oh, congratulations!" Max said sarcastically. "You figured it out!"
I snickered. Mr. M soon back away, earnestly scared.
"Oh? You think you got a chance, pretty boy? You must've just played a round of beer pong, 'cause you haven't got the hottest rep with me either," she snides.
"Do I even know you?" I ask. Let's check Fang's total word count, real quick. 50, I think. For all day? Not too bad. If I were Eddie Murphy, spoke 50 words a day, I'd live 20 days. Sweet.
"Oh, wow. Someone's an idiot. I'll let you remember, Fangles," she said, voice getting icier by the minute.
"What about me?" Gazzy said innocently.
Max's voice turns sweet. "You? You're fine."
Gazzy beamed. God, kid, you're four years off. Then again, that flight attendant was pretty worth it...
Anyway, enough of my hypocritical rants... I really need to remember why this 'not perfect but worth it' girl hated me oh-so-much. I could understand why she hated Iggy, but I don't even know her!
I rolled my eyes at her response. "If you won't tell me what I did to you..."
She nodded. "Well, someone finally got four!"
I ignored her outburst. "Why not tell me what Gaz never did to you?"
She pondered for a moment. "It's not what he didn't do. It's more what he never was."
"Which is?" Iggy asked, pretending not to be hurt.
She looked at Gazzy and smiled, "Play-Doh."
Gazzy beamed at her again. "What do you mean?"
"You'll find out soon enough."
She walked off. Well, that couldn't have been weirder.
Then, Iggy and I quickly exchanged a glance. Knowing what he would do, I rushed to say it first. But instead, it was said at the exact same time. After that one word was spoken, the game would begin.
"Dibs."
A/N; 2,136 words. I'm so proud. :3 Well, this is my first story, on this account. I had another FF account, but I forgot the email I signed up with. This is based off my most successful story :3. So, enough of blahblahblah FanFiction, how 'bout the Hunger Games? I saw the movie on Saturday. It was OK. They missed really key parts.. Meh. Whatever. #BWTHDIK AND UNC LOST! My bracket's screwed.. Meh.. 5-10+ reviews, so I stay (somewhat) sane?
~Alli c: