A Popstar's Love

Chapter 1

The loud buzzing of my phone's vibrating against the dark oak of my nightstand is what I woke up to. That, and Grayson Striker's new song 'Lover Gone' singing melodiously in my ear.

A low groan came from the sea of pillows and blankets that was me as my arm snakes out only to throw my hand haphazardly onto my nightstand in search for the offending object. Once my hand meets the cool, rough texture of my cracked iPhone screen, I'm quick to turn my head to the side and hit the snooze button. Just five more minutes.

Only seconds later, or what seemed like it, the insistent buzzing started up again followed by the same tune.

"Lover gone,
I wrote you this song,
To prove to you,
But now my lover's gone,
Gone, gone
Lover gone, gone, gone."

There was only so much I could take before I would glare at my phone and snap at it. "Oh shut up Grayson. No one wants to hear about your heartache this early in the morning."

It's too early to get up. It's to early to start getting ready for school... Ugh. I have an English test today, don't I? Damn. But it can't be helped. A low hiss sounded in the still of the room as I swing my feet out of bed and hit the cold hardwood floors.

A quick flick of the wrist sent the rest of the covers sliding off before padding down the hall to the bathroom. It's part of a familiar routine. Get up. Go to the bathroom. Get dressed. Grab breakfast and head out the door. Almost always in that order. Sometimes I like to change it up a bit and go to the bathroom first. Exciting, right?

After 'doing my business' I pull on a worn in pair of jeans and a faded tennis camp t-shirt that I usually like to sleep in. Today would be a comfort over fashion type day. A quick look in the mirror warranted a hand through light brown hair in an attempt to tame it in a way I would like. Thankfully it wasn't putting on its own rendition of fireworks this morning. That would have taken quite a bit longer.

A quick trip down the stairs found me in the kitchen and throwing open the pantry door. "Poptarts... Poptarts..." I run my fingers over the many boxes and and cans within the pantry much like one would do the spines of a book. "Aha! Trying to hide I see."

My fingers dig into the cardboard box and wrap around the foil before tugging it out. "Mom," I call up the stairs. When no reply comes my shoes are quickly shoved on and my backpack slung over my shoulder. Looks like she already went to work. Guess I'd be walking.

I quickly brush my teeth, grab my keys and phone, and head out the door before locking it behind me. I start down the walkway before waving to my neighbor. "Morning Mrs. Anderson!"

She waves back at me before setting the bowl of cat food down on her front porch. I don't think she realizes the dogs usually get to it before the cats do. I don't think anyone has the heart to tell her either. "Looking for Bruce again?"

"Yes, I fear he's run off again and he hasn't come home." She said it mournfully; as if it didn't happen every other week.

"I'm sure he'll turn up sooner or later." I dig into my backpack and pull out a pair of earbuds. "He can take care of himself for a little bit, I'm sure."

The old woman nods her head, her white curls bobbing around her face. "I suppose you're right... But I don't want to keep you waiting. You'll be late. Now shoo."

I look up at the sky as I start walking towards the school. It was overcast today, the sun just barely managing to peek through the puffy clouds that sped past. It would probably rain by the end of the day. We'd be inside for seventh instead of out on the tennis courts.