Famous
"You have to get out of the house."
1342 Sunset Place.
A quiet, humble red and brown brick house in a suburban subdivision. Various lawn ornaments lay on the freshly cut, clean emerald grass. A fountain sprinkled on the porch and occasional drops water the magnolias in a red clay pot nearest it.
Oh, and, a teenaged girl. Locked in her room. Sulking.
Nothing out of the norm.
Sakura lay on her bed, limbs sprawled as if she were a star, head resting underneath one of her plush pillows. "You don't get it," she muttered, talking into the pillow. Her breath heated her pillow about thirty billion degrees—hot chocolate was like heaven in a mug—and she shivered with the warmth. She didn't care if Ino heard her or not, that wasn't the point; the point was that she wasn't going to be exiting her home until her stress-induced zits disappeared, her forehead shrunk, and the paparazzi got off her lawn. Sakura screeched, "I made a complete shit face of myself!"
Ino grumbled, crossing her arms across her chest. She never understood that girl and her sayings, but, however much she never wanted to admit it, the words Sakura looped together made sense and totally summed up the situation she was in. It sucked. She made a complete shit face of herself and now half of world thought she and Uchiha Sasuke were, like, soul mates, and the other half wanted her to burn, crash, die, get chopped up by a lawn mower, sizzle, crumple up, and die in salt total French snail style.
She sighed, gently removing the pillow from Sakura's face. "You don't look that bad," Ino empathized, pouting slightly.
"That bad?" Sakura whined, face shuddering and folding into the most pathetic expression. "Ino, I look like a fat war hog rhinoceros had sex with Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer on my face and gave me herpes!"
The tears ensued shortly after the journalism student's words exited her mouth. Ino's eyes widened into saucers, searching wildly for a tissue box, because, come on, Sakura had to have tissues. She was a water works factory.
The blonde bit her nail and spun around, trying to ignore the siren-like sound emanating from her best friend. She wondered shortly how her mother and father were ignoring this so easily, but deducted that they must've bought earplugs by this point in their teenager's life. It had to be a regular thing.
Ino clapped her hands together so loudly, loud like crackling thunder, booming like a bass drum, that Sakura's wails stopped abruptly. Big, wet, doe-like eyes stared at her questioningly, and Ino smiled, "Why don't we watch TV? It'll take your mind off things, yeah?"
Sakura sniffed, and nodded slowly.
"If you say so."
"I do," Ino sang, plopping next to her best friend and wrapping an arm around her shaking shoulders. "I do say so."
She pushed a button on her remote and the doors of her armoire opened automatically—which, to put matter to the fact, totally made Ino jealous and whatnot because, one she didn't have a TV in her armoire mostly because she didn't even have an armoire but still and, two, Sakura didn't even watch TV and was totally wasting the awesomeness—revealing the sparkling black screen of a flat screen Samsung digital television. Ino's heart fluttered in admiration before she pressed another button, flicking the godly thing on.
The theme song of The Dish rang in the room, a cheery song that instantly lifted the spirits in the room. "Dance with me, Forehead?" Ino asked, smiling. Sakura likes this song, she thought. No, no, she knew that the rosette loved this song and not even soft covers and expensive pillows would keep her down. "It's just an intro song. You have, like, six seconds to make a decision."
Sakura laughed, rough, throaty, but wholesome. "Come on, then, Pig!"
The girls dance and, basically, bounce around to the upbeat talents of Phoenix's Girlfriend, spinning in circles. They made faces in the mirror, and practiced their best MJ poses. More than anything, they had fun, and Sakura, even though she looked horrible in her brother's baseball t-shirt and some boy's boxers she and Ino had bought weeks ago to make it seem like they were total macks, it was fantastic.
"Hey, you guys," the bright smile of Ami Watanabe flashed on the screen. She was the host of The Dish, a girl no older than Ino and Sakura. The producers probably picked her for that reason, you know, to relate to their main audience and all.
The two best friends stopped dancing immediately, plopping on the bed, crossing their legs instantaneously. They laughed a little at their identical-ness, but shortly returned their attention back to the show.
Studio audience applause drowned out the next sentence Ami was about to say, a smile covering her mouth as she waited politely for them to stop clapping. Sakura grinned; she seemed so nice. They'd be great friends in real life—she just knew it. She placed her head on her hand and listened as she continued, "Today, we have a treat for you guys. So, you all know that new movie coming out? Psh, who cares about the movie; it's all about Sasuke's new girlfriend."
A picture of her dancing with a mysteriously blurred out blonde in boxer shorts and boys' tee-shirt filled the screen. And it looked like it was taken from her window. Of her house. Like, three seconds ago.
Sakura choked on her spit.
Ino's mouth dropped.
"No…," she whispered.
Sakura face shattered. "I'm his girlfriend now?"
"Calm down, Sakura-chan."
"I'm not that bastard's girlfriend! He's ruining my life," the rosette jumped off the bed, storming back and forth across her room. "I can't go to school, there's no way I'm ever leaving the house, and, and, what now? I'm going to end up on some 'Movie Star Wives' show our some shit like that! I'm not going down like that, Ino!"
"Sakura!" Ino grabbed her shoulders, shaking her out of her insanity. "Listen to me good. I've been locked up in your room for the past three days because you can't be alone. But, honestly, suck it up. You're being a baby."
The rosette's face convulsed, on the verge of tears, before Ino slapped her. "Seriously," she muttered, turning toward the door. "I'm leaving to go shopping. Be dressed and down in ten minutes."
Sakura stood there, confused, cheek red with the stain of a handprint, in boxers. She looked at herself in the mirror and swallowed deeply. If she was supposedly Sasuke Uchiha's girlfriend, then she was doing a horrible job at it. She was supposed to be just as gorgeous, if not more gorgeous, than he was, and, well, she looked like a pee-snow snowman.
Shopping with Ino and her dad's credit card would surely fix that.
"I'm coming, Piggy-chan!" she called, opening the doors of her closet.
A/N: I hope you all still like it so far! Right now, the story is kind of writing itself, which is a good thing. We'll see if I can keep it up.
Review!
~hotoffthefryer