SHORT INTRODUCTION/SUMMARY:
Sarah Campbell: she's smart, clever, and very attractive; even though her humble, down-to-earth-self, has never admitted it. At age sixteen, she's bound to have many obsessions: clothes, denim, and her favorite books. But all of that couldn't compare to the obsession she had, with her one and only idol, Justin Bieber. Of course she loved his amazing voice and gorgeous looks-but she was no ordinary fan girl. She deeply admired his personality and talent. He was one thing that'd always make her happy: but due to her parents' recent divorce and her dad's horrible remarried family, her self-confidence she once had, was fading quickly; and the terrible treatments she has been getting, didn't make her feel better about her insecurities atall. So when she gets the opportunity to get to meet him, her life is complete. Will sparks fly the moment Justin sees her? Or will it die down with all the hate, lust, and jealous drama that would change their lives forever? Find out!
My head ached severely from twisting and turning for the past thirty minutes. I glanced up at my cherry-red alarm clock, newly bought from the electronic store. 10:36 P.M. Ugh, still no sleep. C'mon, Sarah, you can do this. Tomorrow is going to be the best day of your entire life, I eagerly thought to myself. It's not going to be great, when you wake up with a migraine while meeting the most amazing boy in the world. All right, no more funny business.I moved my legs to the colder side of the blanket, and closed my eyes fiercely: forcing them shut. I stiffly moved to the edge of my king-sized bed, covered in my exclusive customized Justin Bieber bedding, and stayed in place, not moving an inch. Just think, Sarah, if I quickly slept now, I would wake up happily in the morning eating breakfast, knowing that just hours away, I would be at the meet 'n' greet, with my bestfriend, Tory. I dented my head into my pillow a little deeper, took a deep breath, and let out a big, reassuring sigh. And with that, I began resting. A few moments passed: I was now in my halfway state, I wasn't completely asleep, but I wasn't completely awake. Almost there…and followed by that thought, was my mental state of happiness. Deep, sleep.
I felt a refreshing breeze through my hair. I opened my eyes, only to discover darkness all around me. The cold air stung my cheeks and my nostrils, but strangely, I liked it. I stared up at the sky and noticed all the stars surrounding me; it was amazing. I've never seen so many in my life, especially living in Los Angeles, where you're lucky to even spot one. I felt another breeze against my body, followed by silk brushing against my arms and wrists. I then realized I was barefoot and in my nightgown. I bent down and felt grass with my palms and toes. I was on a mountain? It was scary being in such a dark place, only seeing stars. It felt nice, but at the same time, dangerous. I was never scared of the dark, just scared of what was in it. At that moment, I heard something like a twig snap behind me. My stomach churned and suddenly, I felt chills run down my spine. I was completely still and waited for a while before taking a brave step forward. I then realized just when I put my foot down, that there wasn't any grass there. It was too late to even think, because before I knew it, I was falling in midair: my hands, grasping handfuls of dark, navy blue sky, and feeling the cold air in it. I was scared, so I tried screaming, but my dream was mute. I couldn't hear my own scream. What was going on? I kept falling for a few seconds more, expecting to reach the ground by now, but instead, was startled by a frightening jerk.
I was wide-awake by now, inhaling deeply, and checking my body to see if I really hit the ground. I hated these types of dreams. I hated falling dreams. That's what I would call them, because I would often get them, only when I was forcing myself to sleep. I got out of my bed and threw on a pair of sweats and a big, baggy, t-shirt. I quickly, but quietly, tiptoed down the stairs, so I wouldn't wake up my mom, or little sister, Kylie. I plunged into my slip-on vans, and ran out the door. It was pretty late to be going out for a run, but I knew it would make me feel better and tired, so I wouldn't have to force myself to sleep, again. One block. Two blocks. Three blocks. I still wasn't tired. I had to keep going. Running was something I secretly liked to do. Something my dad was probably good at. Running away from problems. I, on the other hand, would be proud to say that I've always faced my problems, instead of running away like my cowardly dad. Okay, maybe sometimes I would run away from my problems, but most of the time, I had no choice but to boldly face them. And by the problems I'd be obligated to face, were big things: like schoolwork, my stuffed animals, and tests…Okay, so I'd have to admit, they aren't really big problems to face, but in my mind, they were. I also had this fantasy of being normal, whatever that meant. I'd be this super, confident, brave girl, who would have a normal family, a normal life, and normal circumstances. Ha-ha. Like that would ever happen in a million years. My life wasn't even close to normal. I had divorced parents, my dad's annoying remarried family to deal with, and a lot of insecurities and expectations to carry on my back. Sure, I'm happy, content, whatever you'd like to call it, with my life, but I've been carrying an empty feeling in me for years. Like, no one loved me. Sure, my mom loved me, but my dad…he probably wouldn't care if I were gone. All he cared about was his new family, and his new daughter, who was a lot prettier, tanner, and boy-attractive, than me. I'm sixteen, and I've never had a single boyfriend, unless you'd count a kindergarten romance, that involved a 64-pack crayola crayon collection. Yeah, I didn't think so either. I would have a boyfriend, but honestly, all the guys at my high school are such dicks and tools. All they wanted to do was get inside every single girl's pants. I reached the eighth block, which meant, I ran all the way around the neighborhood, and back to my house. I was still panting when I got up to my porch. I desperately needed water. I drank my glass, and trudged up the stairs. I was sweaty, and gross, but I didn't care. I was exhausted. I fell onto the bed, and this time for real, fell deep asleep.
"Sarah, it's time to go," my mom said, leaning against the doorway, watching me get ready from the mirror, "We're going to be late picking up Tory, you know?" my mom eyed me and glanced down at her watch again.
"Mom, please, I need more time for this. It's important that I look decent today, you know?" I emphasized her exact words, "Just a few more minutes?" I pleaded.
"Fine. I'm giving you five minutes. I expect to see in the garage two more after that." She left my presence and gently closed my bathroom door, covered in Justin Bieber posters. I looked into the full-body mirror, attached to Kylie's door and examined myself carefully. I was wearing dark-denim skinny jeans, a DKNY top (I know, I was going to wear my Justin Bieber tee, but realized I wanted to be more original, since every belieber flaunts their Bieber merchandise at concerts), and a few hippie accessories from that store, Anthropology. My style was out of the ordinary. People couldn't tell if I was punk, rocker, girly, tomboyish, gothic, or hipster. Oh, well. I didn't care anyways. I liked my style. It made me unique. Or at least I thought it did. I applied a fresh coat of lip-gloss, some brown eyeliner, and pinched my cheeks to add some color. I never used powder or foundation, only because, strangely, I didn't have much to conceal. I rarely got any blemishes or pimples. I was au natural. I stared at myself through the mirror, noticing the excitement in my hazel-green eyes, with a hint of blue surrounding my pupil. I combed through my "baroon" hair (word I made up for people with a mix of brunette and maroon-colored hair), before settling the brush back down on the counter, checking for last-minute retouches, and leaving the bathroom. I ran down the steps, not too quick or too slow, so I wouldn't ruin my appearance before even getting to the concert. I was bursting with excitement and happiness. I couldn't believe this was happening. I couldn't believe my mom got me meet 'n' greet tickets for a Justin Bieber concert. I couldn't believe that in a few hours, I would be getting a picture, a hug, and front-row seats, to watch my favorite person in the whole world perform. I hopped into our Lexus, onto the comfortable leather seats, and we drove off. I was so excited to pick up Tory. I ran up to her porch, not able to control my shaky legs, and paced back and forth. The door swung open.
"Tory, are you rea—"
"Hell yeah, I am!" She grabbed my arm and we ran back into the car. The ride there was fun. We listened to all of Bieber's recorded songs, music videos, and even played Tap Tap: Justin Bieber. We finally arrived in a parking lot. We showed the security guard our passes, and they let us in. I felt so significant, getting to cut in front of people. After all, our tickets were the most expensive: like, almost three grand. I loved my mom for this. I was backstage, being lead onto an orchard in the front row. We waited for Justin to come out, but instead his DJ came out to open up for 'One Time'.
"When I say Justin, y'all say BIEBER!" He yelled at the audience through the microphone. "Justin!"
Tory and I, and the rest of the audience screamed, "Bieber!" as loud as our lungs allowed us to. "When I say ONE, y'all say TIME!" he shouted, "ONE!" –"TIME!" the audience screamed back. This time, Tory and me covered our ears. Boy, the crowd was loud. And with that, the loud music started playing, and Justin began appearing from an up-and-down platform, you know, the one that Miley Cyrus comes out of from the Hannah Montana Movie? His full body was now onstage as he began singing 'One Time'.
Aye, aye, aye, aye, aye, aye,
Me, plus you,
I'ma tell ya one time,
I'ma tell ya one tii-ime,
I'ma tell ya one tii-me,
ONE TIME!
He was so close to me. I could see his face, the details in the fabric of his g-star raw denim jeans, his gorgeous brown eyes. He was beautiful. I wasn't screaming, crying, or singing along. I was totally taken aback. I was mute. My eyes were glued onto him, as he traveled across the stage. It was like this until the song ended, and 'U Smile' kicked in. I continued to stare into his eyes, even though he didn't notice me.
Your lips, my biggest weakness… His eyes wandering around the audience while he sang.
Shouldn't have let you kno-o-oooh-oh, as soon as he sang that line, his eyes all of a sudden connected with mine, locking in it so tightly. At least, that's what I felt.
I'm always gonna do what they say-aye
If you need me, I'll come runnin' from a thousand miles awaa-aaay,
When you smile, I smile…I felt like my life was complete. He smiled at me. How did I know it was me he was looking at? Oh, I knew. I knew very well. And he kept staring into my eyes as the song quickly transitioned into 'Baby' my favorite song.
Are we an item? He smiled while singing again.
Girl, quit playin'
We're just friends?
What are you saa-yin'?
Said there's another?
Now look right in my eyes Ahhhh, he was looking at me again!
My first love, broke my heart for the first time,
And I was like, baby, baby, baby, ooooh….
I felt as if my life was absolutely complete. He looked at me and smiled…four times! The time passed real slowly. Our eyes still locked on each other while he traveled the stage. I think I was spacing out, because before I knew it, the concert was over.
And I'll never let you go…
"Thank you all, I love you!" he blew kisses to the audience and made a heart sign with his hands, and with that, he left the stage.
"Sarah, come on! We're supposed to go backstage now!" she exclaimed with her wide, brown, eyes.
"Let's go" I replied, briefly. I couldn't wait.
We waited in line while other girls got their pictures, hugs, and left. We were next! I felt a swarm of butterflies in my stomach, flying around everywhere, like they were going crazy. I was within 3 feet of Justin Bieber! Somebody kill me right now, and I'd die happy. I grinned at Tory. I could tell she was shaking with excitement as well.
"Hello, ladies," his smile up close made me melt inside, "Where would you like an autograph?" he glanced at his pen for a split-second, and turned back up to us again.
"I-Uh, Um…" I stuttered so badly. He looked into my eyes and laughed a little. My face was turning red and my lips were as dry as the Sahara Desert. An awkward moment passed.
"Right here," Tory cut in, suddenly, answering his question, without a sweat. Thank, God. She took her hand out of her bag and handed him four CDs, her cellphone, and her photo of him. After he was done signing, he handed us the stuff, and smiled again.
"Here you go." He handed Tory the handful of stuff politely and turned his attention to me again. "And you, Beautiful?" He asked in his extra-velvety, sexy voice. Talk normally, damn it! A feverish feeling overwhelmed me.
"Um, uh, here…" I weakly handed him my CD and iPod touch, for him to sign. I smiled at him while he was signing. He handed them back to me, while he stood up from the chair and the table. "Smile for the Polaroid camera, girls." He grabbed onto both our shoulders from each side and we positioned our selves for the shot. After it finished printing, he handed it to Tory and gave her a nice, bear, hug. Darn, why not me first? She melted into his arms. Suddenly, he turned to me and gave me a hug. For some reason, it wasn't just a hug; it was more like an I-really-actually-love-you hug. Not a hug you give to someone when you first meet him or her. Ugh, get over yourself, Sarah. You're probably imagining it. I expected to let go of him after 2 or 3 seconds, but instead, this hug lasted a pretty long time. Finally, he released me and smiled. Before we turned to leave, he tugged on my arm and whispered in my ear, "You're very beautiful, by the way," he let go and smiled. I walked off, feeling dizzy. Did that just really happen? Or was it in my head again? I caught up with Tory, already getting into the car. I followed right behind her and got in. I couldn't believe what just happened. He hugged me…for 6 whole seconds. That's got to count more than what Tory received…a 3 second, brief, bear hug. The ride home seemed a lot shorter than getting here. I looked at Tory and she looked at me. We were both extremely happy. My mom asked us about the concert, and mostly Tory had to answer. I was too busy, thinking about that hug, how amazingly perfect he was, and if I would ever in my life have a chance with him. He called me beautiful. No one ever has. Sure, some guys would call me hot, but that's not even close to beautiful. Beautiful was what he was. Not what I was. We pulled up into Tory's huge driveway. She got out and waved at me, while she hopped onto her extravagant porch, and into her big-ass house. I missed the days. The days before my dad decided to be an asshole and just leave. Before we moved into a smaller house. Before, when we had an even bigger house than Tory. Not even a house—an estate. But now it was just I, my mom, my sister, and my dad's child support money, and her okay-paying job. It was hard, changing lifestyles just like that. But it didn't bother me too much. It would just bother me, seeing his other family, who isn't even blood-related to him, receive so much, love, the love my dad never gave to me. And seeing his other children being spoiled, and his remarried wife, sucking the money out of him like a parasite—or worse, a bloodsucking leech. And that was exactly what she was. I tried to avoid his overbearing, whiney, new-wife, Margaret. We arrived at my house, just 2 minutes away from Tory's. I hopped out of the car, into the garage, cluttered with all sorts of junk we should've gotten rid of a long time ago. I ran up the stairs and into my room. I threw everything onto my desk. My bag full of Justin Bieber goodies and merchandise, his autographs, pictures, and concert CD, and flopped onto my bed. It was only 5pm, but I was pretty wiped out. So I rested on my bed for about an hour and decided to wash up. I hopped into the shower, threw my dirty clothes onto the floor and rinsed away. After I was done, I got out of the shower, slipped a towel on, and removed my makeup. I walked over to my closet, where my jeans were, lying on the floor. I was about to go into the bathroom again, until I saw a ripped piece of paper tucked into the pocket of my jeans. I lifted it up slowly. It was a note? I don't remember putting a note into my pocket…I opened it up and read it.
Hey, Beautiful. I still didn't get your name. Call me 308-8759
He called me beautiful. Again. I couldn't believe my eyes. He wanted me to call him? I dialed his number on my cell and stared at it for a while. No. This was obviously a prank. Would Tory do something like this? No way. I pressed the send button. I paced nervously back and forth. I should hang up, like, now…my finger hovered over the 'end call' button, but it was too late. Someone picked up on the 6th ring.