Hatin Justin Bieber is harder than it looks
Katy Bubbly is an ordinary sixteen year old. Funny, sweet, sorta-pretty... but the only thing adnormal thing for her is that she hates Justin Bieber, which is weird for a girl from Los Angeles who just about can get into any club because of her busy father. Her sister loves him and also two of her friends, but will she be able to stay immune to the Bieber Fever when she comes to an unexpected (and to Katy, unpleasent) surprise visit.
I was just strolling in my house, minding my own business, when I hear a girl’s singing voice. I recognize it instantly. Justin Bieber. Burn… lol. I smirk as I follow the sound and go into my little sister’s room. I roll my eyes and I say, “Tay, shut that crap off.”
Taylor was dancing when I came in. She looked up at me and stuck a thumb up behind her towards her bomb-box. “That’s crap?”
“Yes, Justin Beaver is crap,” I smirk when I say “Beaver”.
She rolled her eyes at me, irritated, and pointed to her one of 36 posters of Justin and said, “For the millionth, zillionth, time… It’s Justin Bieber.”
“It’s called sarcasm; look it up, sis.” I love our sisterly relationship. I turn around to go out the door, when Tay grabs my shoulder and spins me around to face her.
She smirks at me devilishly, and I know something’s up. When I say nothing, she explains her sneer. “You better clean up that attitude by Saturday night, Katy.”
“What’s on Saturday?” I said, completely confused.
“Dad got me, should I say us, front row seats and backstage passes to Justin’s concert this Saturday. And since you’re 16 and have a license, you’re driving us to the concert without Mom. You’re also in charge of bringing me backstage to get autographs.”
I almost screamed, not of joy, of hatred. Mom backstabbed me. Couldn’t Mom take her, and couldn’t Mom get her the autographs? I mean, Taylor’s 13 years old, not 8!
Without a response, but a red face, I stomp out of the room and plop on my bed across the hallway in my purple zebra room. Not a Justin poster to be seen, only Taylor Lautner, Lady GaGa, Taylor Swift, and Katy Perry. Those were the good, successful singers (and actor) that I love, and I cherish. I look up to those people… not some 16 year old boy who sings like he just got in the balls. I don’t cry, but I do mumble curse words in my pillow.
********************************************************
Mom finds me there in that place, just flopped on my bed face down, and she’s worried. She turns me over and is glad that I’m awake. I suddenly heat up, because SHE caused this mess! I shove her away and cross my arms, glaring at my so-called, “mother”.
“I can see you heard the news.” She faintly smiled, as if it would make me feel better.
“I’m not going to take Taylor to see that douchebag.”
“Yes you actually are, because Dad is on a business trip, and I’m going out of town during the time. And since you’re 16 and she’s 13, you’re the only one who could take her. Aunt Maggie is watching you the rest of the month I’m going to be gone.”
“Why can’t Aunt Maggie take her?” I whine.
“Because you need to learn responsibility, Katy. We also need to learn to trust you. You just now told me that you had a boyfriend for 4 years, and frankly, going to Justin’s concert might be the punishment that you can’t sneak out of.” And with that, she slammed my door shut.
I walked over to my zebra pattern beanbag and I fall in it. There is no way of getting out of the concert. The only good part out of all of this is that Aunt Maggie will really just not show up and just mail us 50 bucks to not tell Mom.
I have until Saturday until my life is hell for one day. I turn to my calendar and I realize hellish results… It’s Friday, and it’s 7 pm. Saturday is coming tomorrow. Dammit.
Taylor was dancing when I came in. She looked up at me and stuck a thumb up behind her towards her bomb-box. “That’s crap?”
“Yes, Justin Beaver is crap,” I smirk when I say “Beaver”.
She rolled her eyes at me, irritated, and pointed to her one of 36 posters of Justin and said, “For the millionth, zillionth, time… It’s Justin Bieber.”
“It’s called sarcasm; look it up, sis.” I love our sisterly relationship. I turn around to go out the door, when Tay grabs my shoulder and spins me around to face her.
She smirks at me devilishly, and I know something’s up. When I say nothing, she explains her sneer. “You better clean up that attitude by Saturday night, Katy.”
“What’s on Saturday?” I said, completely confused.
“Dad got me, should I say us, front row seats and backstage passes to Justin’s concert this Saturday. And since you’re 16 and have a license, you’re driving us to the concert without Mom. You’re also in charge of bringing me backstage to get autographs.”
I almost screamed, not of joy, of hatred. Mom backstabbed me. Couldn’t Mom take her, and couldn’t Mom get her the autographs? I mean, Taylor’s 13 years old, not 8!
Without a response, but a red face, I stomp out of the room and plop on my bed across the hallway in my purple zebra room. Not a Justin poster to be seen, only Taylor Lautner, Lady GaGa, Taylor Swift, and Katy Perry. Those were the good, successful singers (and actor) that I love, and I cherish. I look up to those people… not some 16 year old boy who sings like he just got in the balls. I don’t cry, but I do mumble curse words in my pillow.
********************************************************
Mom finds me there in that place, just flopped on my bed face down, and she’s worried. She turns me over and is glad that I’m awake. I suddenly heat up, because SHE caused this mess! I shove her away and cross my arms, glaring at my so-called, “mother”.
“I can see you heard the news.” She faintly smiled, as if it would make me feel better.
“I’m not going to take Taylor to see that douchebag.”
“Yes you actually are, because Dad is on a business trip, and I’m going out of town during the time. And since you’re 16 and she’s 13, you’re the only one who could take her. Aunt Maggie is watching you the rest of the month I’m going to be gone.”
“Why can’t Aunt Maggie take her?” I whine.
“Because you need to learn responsibility, Katy. We also need to learn to trust you. You just now told me that you had a boyfriend for 4 years, and frankly, going to Justin’s concert might be the punishment that you can’t sneak out of.” And with that, she slammed my door shut.
I walked over to my zebra pattern beanbag and I fall in it. There is no way of getting out of the concert. The only good part out of all of this is that Aunt Maggie will really just not show up and just mail us 50 bucks to not tell Mom.
I have until Saturday until my life is hell for one day. I turn to my calendar and I realize hellish results… It’s Friday, and it’s 7 pm. Saturday is coming tomorrow. Dammit.
2 Comments
LOL awesome story. JB is a beaver! XD
Awesome!!! Do more!!