HAHA. I am growing seriously fond of this story, and I've decided to update you with chapter two! I just wanted to give a HUGE peanut butter and jelly sandwich to many wonderful reviewers: Starting from the top!!!! (All the first five reviewers have been put up here because you guys are just TOTALLY awesome.) Sk8tergrrl700: HAHA. I actually already have a plot line that screams DRAMA (and it actually is quite like your suggestion!!!) THANK YOU for your lovely review!
WeCan'tStopTheWorld: I LOVE YOUR STORIES, but I haven't reviewed them. (*Jamie slaps herself and runs to type up a review.*) I LOVE your review (it feels awesome to be reviewed by an AWESOME writer.) Teehee!!!
WoahOh: LOVED the simple and sweet praise! I also LOVE the penname. ;)Too-much-of-a-book-lover: Agreed. I love books and can't live without them. Haha, thank you for also reviewing on one of my other stories!!! Alex. Didio. Xox: Haha, thank you for the review!!! They mean a lot to me and YES, because you are the second reviewer, I shall update for you!!! (And everyone else who has been amazingly wonderful to contribute the waiting reader part!!!)
To the other wonderful reviewers, I'm sorry I couldn't put your names up!!!! These were the first five of this chapter!!!! THANK YOU FOR YOUR REVIEWS!!!!! Also, sorry for the typo last time-It's actually Chelsea Reimer. I used Chelsea Staub last time because this used to be a "Jemi" story. :) SUPPORT JEMI!!!!
The Secret Garden
Hey darlin'
know you making me mad…
Shane Gray
I am not selfish.
Am I?
No. I could never be.
The world is very interesting and very complex. As the stage darkens and I stare at the screaming fangirls, happiness blossoms as I'm in my element. And then I get angry. Very angry. These girls don't understand me. They only like me because I'm a celebrity and nothing else. If I was a normal, next-door-boy kind of guy, they wouldn't like me like they do now. It rather feels like they're using me. "If I had a date with Shane Gray I would just die. I'm serious." Would you? Would you really? Naw. When we all grow up to a ripe old age, you would just think of me as the nasty old senior guy from the local retirement home who did nothing but drink a cup of Joe everyday.
Sometimes, being a famous popstar in a major industry can be very exciting and thrilling. I mean, not everyone can always live their dream-and live the best out of it. Free hotel suites at The Plaza, girls trying to get all over you (that concludes why you'll always have lipstick all over your face,) and how the whole world seems to be right in the palms of your own hands. It's amazing how much effect that I have over so many people-so many people who are exactly like me, trying to live their life like normal people. Except that I'm just not that normal.
But when you're famous and can get everything through the snap of your fingers, there's something very important that you have to watch out for.
The people hidden in masks to control you, and the people who put up to masks to hide their apparantly "shameful" selves. The using, manipulative masks, who put on a stunning, beautiful face that everyone always looks at. Then they ignore the inner bitch waiting to be released to all. And then there's the modest, trying not to be extremely pretty masks, who are always the ones who are so true and realistic and the ones that everyone always dreams about but never gets. But sometimes it's really hard to tell the difference. And then you get frustrated again, and the anger wells, and, well, back to square "Jerk."
And then there's Mitchie. With or without the mask, she's just...
Wow. Damn.
Those are the two one-syllable words that I can describe her with. Oh sure, there's many others, but none that quite suits her like those. None quite, and none that ever will be. Because Mitchie doesn't need a mask-she threw hers away a long time ago and remembered to pick up one screwed up popstar on the way from the junkyard, giving him a chance. And changing him.
___________________________________________
Mitchie Torres
September 10th, 11:25
Seaforth Street
House #2
"Cassie, come on!"
"Mitchie...I don't wanna! I hate the water!"
"Aww...Cass, it's just water. We drink it every day and we need it to keep our bodies healthy-and that means cleaning, too!"
"But Mitchie!!!"
"Cass, I can't stay here forever. Come on, I'll help you if you promise not to jump out and make the bathroom all wet. That's wasting water, and water costs money."
"Okay, Mitchie. I won't waste money."
It's quarter past eleven, which is very late for a ten-year-old to be having a bath. Especially for a ten-year-old who is heading off to school tomorrow at eight thirty. However, Cassie had managed to avoid bathtime using her "Trademark Cassie Puppy Dog Face" to procrastinate for a while, using excuses such as "I'm reading a really, really, good book!" and "I'm hungry." After the last excuse, something about her stuffed monkey not wanting her to take a bath, Leslie got fed up and literally put Cassie in the bathtub, soaking her clothes. They're now hanging on a rack in the kitchen, the little drip drip sound being the only company to Leslie while she sketches out Miss Resident "I-Stuff-My-Cleavage-In-Boys-Faces" dress.
Cassidy Marie is the youngest sister of the three daughters that my mother and my father gave birth too. However, she wasn't the last. That's right. She wasn't. Before the "incident" happened almost a year ago, we had a little five year old brother, Keenan. Keenan was the cutest boy ever-he actually resembled me more than blondes Leslie and Cassie. Mum and Dad had were taking him to this "Kindergarten Orientation," where everyone was going to meet each other and talk about the rules in school and such. That was probably scary for shy Keenan.
It was a dark, raining night. However, scarier than Keenan's first meeting was the fact that they didn't come back. Ever.
"Bzzt. Bzzt."
The buzzing of my phone shook me from my depressing thoughts, and I pulled it from my pocket, while Cassie glanced up at me with her big, green eyes. I pulled the slim device from my (soaking) jeans pocket, and pressed a couple buttons, realizing that I had a new text. I was rather estatic, as no one ever sent me a text, which was one of the major cons when you didn't have any friends in one of the largest high schools in the vicinity.
Hey there, Mitch.
xN
I grinned at Nate's text and his "subtle" hug.
Yello, Natey.
*Punch*
There was no way I was sending a kiss back. I mean, I know that Nate's cute and all (they don't call him Fro Bro for nothing!) but he's just more brotherly than I'd considered. And I'd promised myself that I was just showing the "Brat Brothers" around the place and was in no way going to become attached. Although I was going against my word right now, texting Nate. And calling him Natey. I hoped Nate wouldn't take my emotions as romantic...
OUCH! Jeez! Watch the fist, woman!
Texts are expencive, so I'm going to spill. Whatcha up to tomorrow?
xoxo Nate
So much for trying "Not to become attached."
Haha. Love you too, Nate. Anyways, I'm working in the backyard. And you can't even spare a couple cents for me? :(
xoxo*PUNCH* Mitch
WAS I FLIRTING WITH NATE? God. I am doing some serious backing up with the "no flirting, no loving, absolutely no kissing the Gray Brothers" rule. I'd "technically" just kissed Nate, and I "technically" just flirted with him. Let's just hope that the kiss was a "sisterly" one.
I have the all the cents that I need (in my brain, too.) :P SO muahahaha...Neways, Shane and I can drop by to help you tomorrow. :O
xoxo "Helpful and Charming" Nate
I laughed, getting a kick out of the "Shane and I" part. It was going to be hilarious watching the "Ultimate Popstar of Our Time" doing some gardening work.
Laughing at the garden kicking Shane's pretty-boy butt ;P Kay, g2g. Lil' Sis having some trouble with her bathtime :D
xoxo "Wondefully Wet" Mitchie.
I snapped the phone shut, grinning. Now that I'd mentioned gardening, I should get started around the cleanup of the area so that it wouldn't look like a major mess. I pulled Cassie out of the bathtub, drying her off, and sent her to her room as I grabbed my gloves and my watering can. I noticed that the sky was a dark india ink colour as I walked outside, the silence almost scaring me.
And then I heard the definite strum of a guitar.
___________________________________________
Shane Gray
September 10th, 11:45
Seaforth Street
House/Mansion #1
-
I'll make every second count
cause I miss you, whenever you're not around...
-
The house wasn't quite silent yet. As the building was fairly loud, pretty much every sound amplified and echoed in the hallway. Especially the sound of a guitar. I could hear Nate toying around with his phone in the room next to mine (which is rather inhuman, if you asked me, since a phone could really not be louder than a couple of decibels) and mum and dad downstairs, watching The Exorcist or something with enough screaming for a lifetime.
I quickly slipped on a jacket and gently pulled at my guitar, trying to make as little noise as possible. I tugged open a door, and stepped outside, the cool breeze whipping my face and the silvery moon reflecting in my hazel eyes. I sat on an old armchair that I'd lugged onto the balcony a while ago, and then my fingers ran over the fingerboard, my eyes closed, and I was in Heaven.
You're the missing piece I need, the song inside of me...
You could say that I was a huge chicken once you knew the reason behind sneaking out at almost twelve in the evening to play my guitar. You could also say that I was scared, scared to play in front of others because I was ashamed. You could say both of those reasons because they're true. They're completly true, and even I'm admitting it. I'm scared to let people know that I like this kind of music, and not the screaming/shouting mix that Connect Three is used to playing.
But who would like this music? Probably no one. We were used to doing the Slash/Van Halen guitar solos and rock/pop music, not girly "soft" "80's rock" music. Of course, I had tried to change our sound once. It was a while ago, when I sung to our producer. He didn't encourage it, saying that this song could possibly be the downfall of Connect Three, and that was it. Nothing else. Nothing like "That new tune is interesting." Just a flat out "no," and this was coming from our producer who loved us to bits.
I opened my eyes and quickly scanned Mitchie's house. Hey, it wasn't my fault that my balcony was adjacent to a "pretty, yet unreachable" girl's home. That's when I saw a shadowy figure lying on the grass, head tilted and listening to my music. Was that-was that Mitchie? As soon as she had seen me, she quickly ducked and ran back into the house, hoping and praying that I'd hadn't spotted her.
Mitchie. Mitchie Torres.
An utterly intoxicating and beautiful mystery.
___________________________________________
Mitchie Torres
September 11, 4:00 PM
Seaforth Street
House #2
"So here are the gloves, and you put them over your hands, Shane, not on your nose."
"Who said I was going to do that?"
"Guilty. I told Mitchie about your incident a couple years ago."
"THAT WAS WHEN I WAS FIVE!!! I was trying to be Elephant Man! NATE!!!"
"Stop being mean to Joseph Carey Merrick, Shane. He's just got a deformity and his nose is flat, not long."
"Okay, Mom!"
Shane stepped over the rocks and wrinkled his nose in disgust at a cluster of weeds surrounding a couple of my tulips. "Yuck. I can't believe you like gardening, Bitch. It's literally torture for white skinny jeans!" I laughed and groaned softly at his exclamation (and his nickname for me) while Nate smacked him on the back of his head. Shane was dressed in, well, white skinny jeans and he looked utterly out of place in my garden. Nate skipped the apron I'd let him borrow, as he wasn't quite fond of the Martha Stewart style.
I leaned down to water some other flowers while walked around, glaring at each plant as if he was mad that they were there to attack his poor clothes. Nate was trying to pull a weed out, but ended up pulling the choppy leaves while the stem stuck up, like a stake protruding from the ground.
I laughed. "Guess this isn't really working out for you guys, huh?" Nate grinned sheepishly while Shane glared at me, probably still pissed at our encounter yesterday (which was no surprise, as his "colourful language" had still stuck) was now even more pissed at the fact that Nate had dragged him here to take care of my precious plants. "Is not working out? Dirt and white jeans are like you and me, Mitch!"I was about to snark back at him, when I realized that he had called me "Mitch" and not, for once, "Bitch." That was a complete and utter first-so strange, that, in fact Nate stopped gripping at a leafy stalk and gaped at him. "WHAT?" He now looked irritated and he was blushing, completly redefining the phrase "red as a tomato." Nate and I started laughing.
"First time that I've actually been called something decent!" I said, rubbing my dirty palms on my shorts. Shane crossed his arms and started grumbling about "not being able to be polite without people being amazed." Nate was shaking his head, his face brightly beaming a subtle smile. "Aw, we didn't mean to embarrass the little Shaney-Boo," I grinned, trying to knock off the tension starting to build up like a hazy cloud in front of us. The situation was now a tad awkward, and I retreated back into my little plants world, whilst everyone else did the same, trying to avoid each other's gazes. However, this seemed mostly like something between Shane and I-that something was going to change between us very soon.
___________________________________________
Mitchie Torres
September 11, 11:45 PM
Seaforth Street
Backyard of House #2
-
-
When I was young, I'd listen to the radio,
Waiting for my favourite song,
When they played I'll sing along,
It made me smile....
-
I kissed Cassie's head gently, looking at her for a couple seconds, taking in my wonderful little sister who looked quite at peace lying on the bed. It also scared me a little, knowing that perhaps my mother and father looked like that, lying on the car seats, blank, listless emotions plastered on their faces. The screaming that left me, the drop of the phone clattering on the linoleum floor, and the drop of my weak body...
"Miss, your mother and your father have been the victims of a...terrible car crash down on Highway #2."
"What?"
"They...I'm sorry. They will not wake."
"Mother? Father? Where are, you mother? Father? MOTHER! FATHER! COME BACK!"
I shook the past memory away. I was scared and not ready to think back to it. I was now huddled on the couch, my heart racing, and my arms wrapped around my legs that I'd pulled up to my chest. I think I was almost crying at this point-who wouldn't, when they'd had to endure the pain of their seeing their own parents, slumped, with the life taken out of them by a stupid drunk? I was lost after I'd lost them, since I had always taken them for granted and never thought about them twice. I suddenly felt something falling from my eyes as the result of remembering. I touched my cheeks and found drops of water left on them, the salty tears staining almost down to my chin. Once I'd gathered some tissues, I was about to head to the freezer to check if there was any ice cream to binge on. My hand had already touched the vinyl surface of the handle, when I heard it again.
I grabbed a jacket, but made sure to take extra precautions on the boy who was best friends with his guitar. This time, when I listened to Shane strumming away on his guitar, I'd make sure I was more careful. I have an apple tree in my backyard, and I'd decided at once that I would shelter under there, where Shane couldn't possibly see me. As I heard his notes, they seemed to soothe me, but they also seemed nearer than usual. As I mused, once again, about what happened while gardening, a thought struck my brain.
Could he really have finally identified me as a real, normal person?
No. That was undeniably impossible. Shane would never, ever treat me differently than the way that we were to each other now-it just wasn't in his "List of Rockstar Things to Do." That could never be true-Shane was such a jerk, an inflamed egomanic that he would never have the care to think about some small town girl who used to adore him.
But when I opened the door and crashed, leaning on my apple tree, all my doubts were erased. Shane Gray knew the whole time.
___________________________________________
-
Haha. I wrote this a while ago, but I just didn't post it up. ;) So, anyways, there are two songs in here-can you list them? If you can list both songs correct, YOU GET A WHOLE CHAPTER DEVOTED TO YOURSELF!!!!!! (Is that even very exciting? I'm very bad at prizes =.= And if you bother to guess, you get a cookie or a cupcake. :D SO YAY!) Please list as song #1 and song #2!!!!!!!
HAHA. I can't help giving you a hint!!! The first song is by FABER DRIVE...Is it helping? :) Also, no, you don't have to guess Gotta Find You (HAHAHA. Obviously everyone knows that it's Gotta Find You.) ALSO, this chappy has a cliffy (Which most of you might be unhappy about, haha) and it's the longest, I think, at 3,600 words! YAY!
