Smoke & Mirrors (A Justin Bieber Story)

Chapter Six

Chapter Six:

Justin doesn't talk to me for two whole days. In science he moved seats to across the classroom. I have no clue what his deal is.

Now in science I sit alone. The bell rings for the end of class. As usual, Justin runs out of the class, avoiding me. I decide to run after him.

"Justin!" I yell. "Hold on." He slows down reluctantly.

"What?" He says with a weird tone in his voice.

"What's wrong with you? You haven't talked to me since-" I say, deciding not to mention the kiss.

"I don't know. I just can't trust anyone, I got caught in the moment. I thought I liked you and..." His voice trails off as he looks in your eyes. "... I was scared it would ruin our friendship, and, and-"

I cut him off with a kiss. "It won't ruin anything."

"Are you sure?" He asks.

"All you've done is make my life better," I say.

"Fine. Juliet, will you be my girlfriend?" He asks with a corny grin.

"Of course," I respond. He hugs me and kisses me flawlessly.

Justin holds my hand and we walk out of the hallway. On our way to the cafeteria people are whispering and pointing at us. I don't care, I'm too happy. However, it's seems to bother Justin.

Andrew, Ryan, and Jake see me. At first they look confused, they're probably high or something, but suddenly it clicks. "HOLY SHH-" Andrew says. "Juliet?" He questions. I simply smile and wave.

The popular, pretty, perfect girls all stare at me, green with envy. I have to admit, it feels good. Everyone who's ever put me down suddenly wants to be me.

Justin and I eat with what feels like 10,000 eyes staring at us. Justin and I stand up and join hands again when the bell rings. He walks me to my next class and kisses me. I hear a phone camera click.

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I decided to tell my dad about Justin at dinner. He places a plate of salad in front of me.

Midway through dinner, I say,"Uh, Dad. I have something to tell you." I'm so nervous.

"That you're dating Justin?" He says, winking.

"How'd you know?" I ask, shocked.

"It was the headline in 'Us Weekly,'" he says. "You do know Justin is famous, right?"

Honestly, I'd forgotten all about his fame. I guess we were too close of friends it didn't even matter.

My dad hands me the magazine. Right in the middle of the cover is mine and Justin's kiss.

"No way," I whisper to myself. I get up and dial Justin's number. "We're on the front of 'Us'," I tell him, with a bit of childhood joy in my voice. What person doesn't want to be famous?

"Oh no," Justin says. "I'm so sorry." Justin sounds really stressed about it.

"Don't be sorry, it's exciting!"

"You'll get it soon. Ugh, I didn't want

to drag you into this." I hear Pattie yell for Justin to put his phone down. "I gotta go babe, bye." He hangs up.

What was that about? I finish my spaghetti and run up to my room.

I pull out my history book and start studying for my next test. I hear cameras flashing and men talking. I figure it's some punks trying to do a bet or something, but the talking doesn't go away.

I look out my window and almost pee my pants when I see about twenty men all taking pictures of me. Paparazzi. "What the heck!" I screech as I shut all the blinds in my room. I throw a blanket over every window, just in case. It's so dark in my room, and I fall asleep with my book on my chest.

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The next morning, I walk out onto my driveway from my front door. Paparazzi ask me questions from every direction. "Are you and Justin engaged?" "Do you love each other?" "Do you smoke together?" "Is it true you're cheating on Justin with this guy?" He holds up a picture of Jake.

This question bothers me, but I ignore it and get into my car. As I back out, I'm surprised I don't run over half of the guys.

I blast some music and drive to school, followed by black vans. They snap pictures, even as I drive, which is annoying.

One van is in front of me. He takes a picture of me and the flash blinds me. The bright rainbows in my non-working eyes scatter my view.

I feel my car veering left, so I turn right, maybe too sharply, and hear and feel a crash of metal.