Tori. The golden child. The perfect angel. The pretty one. Tori.
She was all Trina ever heard about.
Tori had the perfect voice. Tori was the perfect actress. Andre loved Tori. Beck loved her, too. Of course, that hardly mattered. They weren't Trina's type.
Andre loved Tori. Beck loved Tori. Trina didn't care.
Robbie loved Tori. That was what ripped her apart.
Fourth period was always Trina's favorite class. It was the only time when she was the star pupil. The only time she wasn't being overshadowed. While other kids attended Hollywood Arts because they could sing, dance, act or some combination of the three, Trina attended because she was an artist.
Most people didn't think Trina was good at anything, much less great (Or terrific. Or awesome. Take your pick). They spent a small fraction of time wondering why she was accepted into the prestigious school, but no one asked her. No, most people were smarter than that. After all, wasn't she infamous for being crazy? Besides that, they were way too busy fawning over Tori.
Tori was the devil. Freaking brat.
Trina took a deep breath. The smell of oil paint was relaxing, and God knows Trina needed to be relaxed. She spent a moment surveying her blank canvas, imagining what it could be turned into. With her eyes closed and her mind almost cleared, one image came to mind.
Robbie.
She never stopped thinking about him. Not since that kiss. It was a stage kiss, but it was a kiss, nonetheless. Those soft lips on hers, his hands in her hair, it was perfect, and she cursed herself every day for letting him slip away.
Now he loved Tori. Just. Like. Everyone. Else.
She couldn't paint Robbie, that would be more creepy than Trina was willing to be. So she decided to paint an ocean.
The ocean was just like him.
He was so intriguing yet so simple, at least on the surface. You had to dive deeper to find the treasure. The ocean was supposedly filled with beautiful reefs ; Robbie had a golden heart.
She bets Tori didn't notice that.
After stroke upon stroke, the seemingly simplistic ocean formed, but for some reason it wasn't beautiful. It looked empty, lonely and maybe the slightest bit miserable.
That wouldn't do. Not at all. It wasn't Robbie.
Trina added more detail to the white capped waves, it wasn't enough. She made the sun a bit brighter; it was not what the painting needed. She made tens of hundreds of small adjustments, but none of them made the painting more "Robbie-like." Frustrated, she made a slight flailing motion and accidently left a green smudge in the left hand corner of the page. It almost looked like a mermaid tail.
Then it hit her, life. That was the missing link. Robbie was filled with life, the way he smiled at his own corny jokes, how he always went on group outings, whether the group wanted him to or not. Robbie lived.
She gave the smudge a more definite shape. It became a fish tail. Trina meticulously formed the upper-half of her mermaid; it wore a gleeful expression, and had loose wavy brown hair. The girl/fish was stunning, and Trina was proud of her handiwork, until she noticed something.
It looked just like Tori. Just freaking like her.
How ironic. How poetic. The sea that was Robbie was inhabited by Tori. It was repulsive. Trina resisted the urge to mark out the beautiful creature, and scrap the painting all together. She had spent well over an hour working on it, and the thought of an hour wasted was horrific. Maybe she would burn it, that wouldn't be a total waste. It would be rather amusing to watch. So she simply put her paintbrush down, and stared her art. It wasn't the worst thing she had ever painted, nor was it the best. She glided up to the art teacher and demanded in that Trina-like way, that her art be examined. The teacher stood, the only acknowledgement that Trina spoke, and walked over to Trina's canvas.
Mrs. Lincolns studied the painting, her expression unreadable and unchanging. Without warning she sharply turned and strutted back to her desk. Trina knew better than to expect praise from the strictest teacher at Hollywood Arts, but she was always hopeful.
The bell rang in the next five minutes, and Trina couldn't wait to get the canvas home, even if it was wet. Wet paint still burned, probably. The thought of watching her sister's face get eaten by flames made excited chills run down Trina's spine.
When she heard the familiar pattern of the Hollywood Arts bell, Trina was out the art door in two seconds flat. She didn't get much farther than that though, before colliding with some kid standing in the middle of the hall. Her picture fell out of her arms and landed with a thud on the floor.
"Watch it!" Trina yelled, she didn't want the painting to get all messed up before she set fire to it, that wouldn't be nearly as much fun. She hadn't realized who she had run into, until he stuttered a reply.
"S-sorry, Trina," Robbie's voice wasn't soft and smooth like Andre's but it was music to Trina's ears. He was empty handed today; Rex had to go to the shop.
"Whatever," Trina sounded nonchalant, but she couldn't calm the butterflies in her tummy.
Robbie glanced down, "Um, here you dropped this," he bent down and picked up the canvas. His brown eyes grew twice their original size, "Trina, did- did you- I mean is this," he just stared, "Wow."
"Yeah, it's mine," Trina didn't really know what else to say. What else was there to say? Somehow, Yes Robbie I know it's good, and guess what? You were my muse, wouldn't really work in this situation.
"This is phenomenal, I mean wow. You know this mermaid, she's gorgeous. She looks just like-"
"Tori?" Trina interrupted. She couldn't bear to hear that awful name come from his those beautiful lips.
"That's not-"
"Cat?" The painting looked nothing like Cat, but some people had really weird art interpretations.
"No, I think-"
"Jade?" Trina probably would've cried if she was right.
"I- never mind." Robbie turned and tried to run away, but not before Trina caught him by his shirt collar.
"What is it, Robbie?" She was curious now, genuinely curious.
"I was going to say it looked like you," Robbie said it all in one breath. Then he braced himself for a slap or a smack, or a kick in the shin. Of course, Trina did none of the above.
"Thanks," was all Trina could mutter. She let go of Robbie's shirt, and watched him run away.
Maybe she wouldn't burn the painting after all.
A/N: My first fanfic, yay! Hey guys, so I posted this a long, long time ago, and decided it needed edited. I like it a lot more now. I promise I'll write another story, I'm working on it right now. Please review, feedback is the best thing anyone could ever do for me! Even if you hate it. Please. Pretty, pretty please.