Hogwarts has had a famous wizard for six years. Shove over Harry Potter there's a new girl in town.

" How does it feel to be the most wanted girls in the world?" asked some bald, fat, somewhat mamas' boy looking interviewer.

Its great.

"Saida, Saida"

I pointed at a lady in a matching purple jacket and skirt.

Question.

I didn't mean to sound so bitchy honest. God how I wanted a smoke. I stubbed out my last fag right before I was pushed into the hot smelly interviewing room. Mental note ask John to run and buy me some ciggys.

"Who came up with the idea for the title of the c.d.?"

That was a real lame question. Ill let one of the girls answer it.

" A man did."

That's a typical Trish answer. No offense but she is quite honestly not the brightest crayon in the coloring book of my life. I would be that crayon. And I don't just mean a smart crayon but the most noticed and most looked at crayon. It all seems to be going to my head. Whatever.

I yawned and looked at the clock. My eyes lit up. Yes only five more minutes. I feel like I need a shower after sitting in here with all these gross nobodies.

"Saida" "Saida"

I acknowledged the jumpy, shouting man.

Yes?

"Where are your parents?"

At home.

"Are you sure?"

Yes.

"Well you are all going to die."

John my bodyguard grabbed my arm and we (being Trish, Janie and I) were all escorted out of the room. Send gift basket to nice man getting me out of the interview.

Well girls that went well.

I smiled. God I look so much better then them.

"Girls they are requesting autographs."

"We'll be right out Mark."

Janie wants Mark. Mark wants me. Mark is a loser but I can't blame him, I'd want me too. I go out for some fresh air and to sign some autographs. I love signing autographs. Except for all the annoying old reporters. I don't give them any. But I love being around so much young talented and happy kids. Reminds me of when I used to practice singing in our small apartment in New York. I would beg my mum to drive my friends and I to get an autograph. It was the best part of growing up.

Hello what's your name? Georgia, that's a lovely name. She was so cute. So innocent. So naive.

About an hour later we were escorted to our rooms. We had a plane to catch in two hours. I grabbed some new clothes and jumped into the steamy shower. I threw my hair into a high ponytail and put some light makeup on. I had an hour left to pack all my crap so I turned on the radio and fished all my wrinkled clothes off the floor. Trish and Janie were finished so they barged into my room and started talking about boys.

"Mark is so cute."

I gagged. Sure he is Janie. I never told the girls that I'd never really gone out with a guy. They just assumed I have. So does the rest of the world. I was getting sickened of the 'Hollywood' life. But I didn't know what else I could do with myself. We just finished high school 3 days ago and I had barely passed. Well, tutored high school. I had just turned 17 in May. May 23rd to be exact. I had the rest of my life and no idea what to do with it.

Our song came on the radio and Janie and Trish screamed. I rolled my eyes and sat on my suitcase to close it. I left them in my luxurious hotel room. John was waiting for me in the hallway along with another muscular guy I didn't recognize. Extra security. Not bad extra security. They always have this after a death threat. I wheeled my suitcase along the tacky carpet towards the elevator.

As usual we are late for our plane. We ran to security and cut into the front of the line. Trish and Janie were talking about all the guys they had managed to hook up with while in California. I guessed none. It was going to be such a long ride to England. I sat in the squishy seat between John and Tim (the new bodyguard) much to the disappointment of Trish and Janie. They assumed I'd be sitting with them. I hate flying. I read the colorful safety manual and nervously popped my gum. I tried to fall asleep after a few hours of flying. It wasn't easy with Janie and Trish. Those two yak so damn loud. Stupid dolts.

We were the first ones off the plane. I scanned the crowd of faces. It was easy to spot my beautiful mothers face, but I couldn't find it.

Where's my mum?

John shrugged. Great, just great. I phoned the house on my cell. No answer.

Maybe they were on their way.

John went to talk to Mark our manager. They stood there talking, sneaking glances at me.

What's wrong?

"Saida, come sit."

I followed John. I was getting mad. What's wrong?

"It's your parents." My face dropped. "They are at hospital. Saida there was an accident." I couldn't say anything.

"Come on. We are going to see them."

I was ushered outside of the airport and John opened the car door. I didn't bother to wave at the rowdy crowd. Screw them. I got into the rent-a-car and stared out the tinted window.

Are we there yet?

"Almost, don't worry, they will be fine." We pulled up to the emergency doors. I yelled at the fat lady working the front desk.

What room are my parents in?

"What are your parents names?"

Mrs. and Mr. Rathe.

"They are in room 203, that's on floor 2. The elevator is that way dear." I ran in the direction she pointed. I pushed through the crowd coming off the elevator.

Move.

"Excuse me, just because you are famous doesn't mean you can push people around." I gave him the finger and jabbed the 2 on the control panel. Hurry up. Come on. I felt it lift off the ground. Ding. The fluorescent number 2 flickered. I rushed down the hallway and followed the sign. 201-249 right. I found their room and burst in.

Mum, are you and Dad all right?

"Yes honey but"

What happened? Where's Dad? Isn't he in this room?

"Baby, Dad didn't make it. He died about 30 minutes ago." My mums' eyes filled with tears. "I am so sorry honey. He told me to tell you he loved you so much."

I stared at my mum. It couldn't be true. She isn't in her right mind. I ran to find the nearest nurse.

"Yes dear, he did pass away." My knees gave way. "Passed away" Daddy. No daddy. Don't go. I cried into the cold, hard linoleum floor. The young nurse went and got the lead detective on the accident. He tapped me.

"Saida, I need to tell you what happened." I don't remember getting up and walking to a chair. "So Saida this wasn't an accident. It was murder." I gripped the silver handles. "It was murder, murder, murder." I closed my eyes. I hadn't heard what else he said.

I stood up and walked toward my mums' quiet room. I sat on the edge of her lumpy bed and watched her sleep. I held her hand and told her I loved her. I shut my heavy eyelids and brushed the tears off my face.

I woke up to the annoying buzz of a monitor. Id heard this noise on thousands of movies. Something's wrong. Help her, nurse. I yelled as loud as my voice would allow. A doctor and 3 nurses rushed through the door. I stepped back and watched them work, without really seeing. The room went quiet. "Time of death, 5:23 am." My birthday.

"Sweetheart, you should not be here."

I have nowhere to go. She doesn't listen and ushers me into the hallway where John is waiting. "Come on Saida. I'll take you home." I don't argue. I can't do anything.

I stare at all the old castles and red double-decker buses. I hate England. I hate that I moved my parents here. I hate myself. "You are all going to die." I wake up, cold and sweaty. We are almost at the house I bought my parents.

"Saida, you're home."

I know. I get out of the car and walk in through the huge wooden door. I turn and punch in the alarm number. Night John. "Wait Saida."

Night. I walk up the twirled stairs to my comfy room. I jump onto my bed and hug my pillow. I lay there staring at the slanted ceiling for a few minutes. I open my eyes and sit on the edge of the bed and slide my feet into some slippers. My parents gave me these slippers for Christmas. I open my door and peer down the long hallway. The house feels so empty, so scary. I run in the dark to my parents' room. When I open the door I inhale a huge whiff of my mothers best perfume. My eyes start to water. I start at the door and walk along the wall touching everything. Her vanity. His dresser. Their wedding picture. I stand in the walk-in closet and smell their clothes. I drop the shirt and grab another. I run my fingers along all my mums' purses. I find my mums favorite shirt and grab it. I keep walking around the room. The wooden floors creak under my feet. It's so quiet I can hear my salty tears hit the ground. I pull the blanket off the king bed and drag it to the windowsill bench. I wrap myself up and stare out the window. I press my hand into the window and close my teary eyes.

I open my eyes and listen to the tiny birds sing in the tree. The phone pierced through my concentration. I stare at the door waiting for my mum to run in and tell me my friends on the phone. I wait and wait, and then I remember. I'm in their room. She will run to the wrong door. I walk to the door to tell my mum I'm over here. I open the door and see John downstairs. He turns around and sort of waves. My mum is gone. She won't be running to my room. I lean against the wooden frame. John hangs up the phone.

"Morning Saida."

Morning. Slowly I make it down each stair.

"That was detective Rayne." Okay. "The guy at the interview had an alibi, it wasn't him." I nod. "I'm sorry Saida." I look at him and nod.

I am going to go for a run. Don't follow me.

"Okay."

I trade my warm slippers for some runners and grab a light jacket. I close the door and stand on the porch. I start running. The harsh wind hits my face. My eyes water and I know it's not just the wind that is causing it. I stop at the edge of the forest and lean against a tree. I stood there for hours until I made up my mind and headed for home.

I am quitting the band. When I got home I told John to call Mark and the girls and ask them over. Now they all sat around my dinner table.

"Look Saida you are upset, you don't mean it." I mean it Mark. I quit. I am done. "The new c.d. just came out you just can't quit."

I already did. I walk out of the room. I sit on the step and listen to them argue. Mark phones some people and gets mad. Stupid git. I walk in and tell them to organize a press meeting for tonight. I am going to tell the public.

I look in the mirror at my hair. This is it. I turn out the light and walk into the press conference.

"Saida, we are sorry about your parents."

I put my hand up. Everyone keeps talking. Excuse me. I whistle. Everyone looks my way and I sit down. I am retiring from the band and any future band or business opportunity in this field of work. I stand up and turn to leave.

"Why Saida?" "We want answers."

I close the door and drive to my empty house. As much as I hate it I fired John. He understood and told me to be careful. I opened the door and dropped the keys on the table. I went up to my parents' room and pulled out the trunk my mum would never let me see. There has got to be something in here. I sat there all day, wishing and praying it would open. I tried everything to pick the lock. I finally gave up and sighed when I heard it click. I stared at it and opened the lid. What is all this stuff? I grabbed a picture and blinked. It was my mum and some older man. I dropped it. They didn't. I picked it up again and watched closely. Yes they did. They were smiling and waving. I closed my eyes and opened them again. They were still moving. I put the picture on the floor and grabbed something else out. It was a magazine. A magazine called 'Witch Weekly'. Witch? I put it on the floor on top of the picture. I stared into the trunk. All the pictures were moving and there were dark weird clothes. I pulled out a long jacket and something fell out. It was a long stick. I waved it and green sparks sprouted from the tip. I screamed and dropped it. I grabbed everything on the floor and threw it into the trunk. I slammed the lid tight and bolted out of the room.