The Secret Garden
Run like you do
I'm chasin' you…
Shane Gray
Does life quite have a meaning? Or is life to conquer above all in a category that only you succeed in? Is it a game of competitiveness, with the sole meaning selfishness? Or is life just brought to us so that we can live in happiness around those who are hurt-so that we can gloat in everyone else's misery that we've brought down to them? I'm Shane Gray. Popstar. "Big jerk." Asshole. The Current King of Pop. A Womanizer.
Those are all titles that mean nothing to me, and they never will. They are shallow and inconsiderate. But hell, these words are coming from me when I am shallow and inconsiderate. Everyone who knows me well calls me "inconsolable" and ruthless. Like a damned king sent to the throes of prison. When I stand upon the stage, I feel like everything's all right. The feel of the guitar, the melodies, the fans-everything is brilliant, and I cannot deny that. But there is something more to all of this.
It is the passion that I hold in music. I feel like an innocent child again, when I stand on that stage. The light beams down on my hair, and I feel like a million dollars- who knows, perhaps even more. And then reality sets in. Photo shoots. Make up. Movies. Directors. Inaugurals. I hate it. I really, really hate it. Sometimes, it's just best to be a normal person.
Because sometimes reality isn't really all that truthful.
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Mitchie Torres
September 5th, 3:45 PM
Seaforth Street
House #2
I put my fingers in the earth and pulled up a long weed. "Uck. Bad bad weed. You're ruining my beautiful plants!" I said, pointing a finger at it. I started shaking my head when I noticed that I had just talked to a plant. With a sheepish smile, I sighed. It really was quite saddening to know that the only living things you could talk to were plants in your backyard. Suddenly, the gate in front of the house opened with a small creaking sound, and I turned around, glancing to see whom it was. I realized that it was my older sister, Leslie. She'd just come home from her work as the fashion critique for Connect Three.
It was quite weird, knowing that your older sister, had, well, connections with one of the hottest bands around. Personally, I couldn't care less, since the frontman, Shane, was such a huge jerk. It was about time for him to learn his manners. "How was school?" she asked, starting off a conversation of rather meaningless small talk, which cut me off from my thoughts on Connect Three. "It was okay, you know, usual." I said.
I wasn't going to worry her by telling her I had no friends, was a loner, my life really sucked, and that the resident queen of mean was making it a goal in her life to pick on me. "Any bullies?" Ever since my mom and dad died from a car crash last year, Dallas had taken over as a full time mom. I guess it's hard for her two, as she's in charge of me and Cassie, her younger sibs, and we're pretty tight on budget. If mom and dad were still alive, she'd been partying her ass off, like a normal twenty year old. "No. How was work?" I ignored the nagging feeling that told me to tell Leslie about Chelsea (who picked on me because I wasn't like, rich or pretty to her standards.) My sister, luckily has a great job. She's a fashion designer, and has worked with Kimora Lee and Stella McCartney. "Oh, it was great. That girl at your school-Chelsea Staub, wants this new dress created by me. She's promising a lot of payment, so we'll be able to get the new guitar you wanted!"
I was excited, knowing that Leslie had paid attention what I had asked for my birthday, but still peeved at the fact that her new client was Chelsea Reimer. Figures. Beside having the perfect bod, beau, house, life, and family, Chelsea also was mega rich."Oh. That's cool." I said. "So where's Cassie?" Leslie asked, looking around for our little ten-year-old sister. "Oh. She's inside, but I'm not really sure what she's up to." Leslie nodded, and then sat down on a rock beside the gate.
"Mitchie...I need to tell you something, but I'm not quite sure if you'll like it."
"Just spill it, Leslie."
"Well...The Gray brothers are moving into the mansion next door." The mansion was beautiful. It looked was in the style of a modern spanish villa, with large palm trees dotting the perimeter of the grand and elegant home. However, the family next door had been trying to sell it since they were in debt, but it had stayed on the market for almost a year and a half now, much to the old owner's distress.
"And...Well...I offered you to help them to show them around your high school and to help them unload their boxes while moving."
I wondered how Leslie could have known these certain "Gray Brothers."
"Okay...What are their names? I'd be happy to help, but I can't be there calling them "boy" and "you."
"Jason, Shane, and Nate, in that order of age."
"They sound awfully familiar."
Nothing could have prepared me for what was coming next.
"The Gray Brothers is another name for Connect Three."
"WHAT?"
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Shane Gray
September 6th, 11:12 AM
Seaforth Street
House #1
I pulled a gray tee over my head and pulled up my trademark black skinny jeans. A pair of white sunglasses sat on the bridge of my nose, and my hair had been sprayed with enough hairspray for twelve other heads of hair. I was ready to see this "girl." Apparently, our secretary, Leslie, had informed us that she had two little sisters, one seventeen, three years younger than she was, and the other ten and "three quarters." Leslie was pretty, alright, with her blonde hair and blue eyes, but she just wasn't my type. Perhaps her other sis would make do.
I walked out the front door, the sunlight streaming its hardest yet. Nate, dressed in a black long-sleeve (he must be sweltering by now) had set a large box and was talking to a-
Damn.
That was one very hot brunette.
She was gorgeous. She had brown eyes, and wavy, reddish brown hair pulled into a knot at the back of her head. She had on a black spaghetti strap tank, jeans, and unlaced converse. "Hi. I'm Shane. But you know that," I said, cutting into this girl and Nate's amiable conversation. I was getting prepared for the screams and excitement (which was one big high factor when you're the frontman of one seriously rocking band.)
"Hi. I'm Mitchie. And you're a jerk."
My jaw dropped and Nate sniggered, high-fiving Mitchie. She pushed her gloves in her back pocket and high fived back, grinning. "What?" I exclaimed, still in shock. No one had ever had the guts to speak to me like that. EVER.
"I said, you're a jerk. Are you hard of hearing too, or are you just retarded?"
Damn. Damn. Damn.
"Well, hello to you, bitch!" I half-shouted, glaring at her. She now had her hands on her hips and Nate was trying to conceal his laughter behind the large box that held my stuff. "Nice. I guess you forgot about formality and politeness when you were choosing your attributes in the gene pool." Nate was howling now, "Bitchie" was smirking, and I was left seeing streaks of red all over the place. "I'm a person too, you know. You don't have to put up your asshole attitude in front of me." She continued.
"Damn you." Damn was starting to really be one of my favourite words now. I strode back to house, flinging my glasses on the couch as Nate tagged along, still laughing uncontrollably. I groaned as I heard his chuckles. "Dude, she TOTALLY owned you." "Shut up." I spat, pushing him. I went into my room and flung the door closed, making sure that it set off with a nice, crisp slam, to show that everyone just sucked. Of course, this was another cry of attention, but I could care less.
Because this "Bitchie" is going to have some fun with Shane Gray. Oh, it's going to be very enjoyable, all right.
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Mitchie Torres
September 7th, 3:20 PM
Seaforth Street
House #2
This is possibly the worst day of my life.
If I had a say in this, I would have let someone else do the dirty work. Someone else to be chucked food at by the "Almighty" Shane Gray. Someone else to show the Gray brothers the ropes instead of me. Because now I have three very major problems in my life, all revolving on these three brothers. Screw the fact that they are infamous and look like angels, they are actually little devils in disguise (well, except for Nate and Jason. There's only ONE band member that has been having some serious PMS mood swings.)
My problems go like this:
A) Chelsea is set on pretty much pulverizing me now that I was the first girl to talk to Shane. She thinks that I'm trying to steal him from her (even though she says that I have absolutely no chance and that I wish that it would happen.) I literally barfed in her face when she theorized the "whatever" between Shane and I.
B) Shane has just egged me at lunch because he bitched out on me yesterday (Nate calls this post-embarassment.) He really likes eggs now, especially raw ones.
C) Shane has intended to also make my life as miserable as possible, and it is working since he is now "KING OF GRANT HILL HIGH" and I am a "LOWLY PEASANT UNDER HIS TOTAL COMMAND." Those are his words, unaltered, and that is a fact. He whispered those exact words in study hall today.
This is so unfair.
I mean, I HATE THIS GUY. I didn't even want to show him around the school! Now the majority of Grant Hill despises me when they knew absolutely nothing about me before! The only good thing is Nate. He's been extremely sweet and kind about me throwing disses at Shane yesterday, especially because he declared that Jason and he had actually been trying to kick Shane's spoiled brat of an ass for a long time. Yep, that's Nate, a real gentleman.
So when Leslie asked me the "how was school" question today, I told her that Shane threw eggs at me at lunch and humiliated me in front of the 1,200 teenage population of Grant. And all she told me was that I should give him some time, as Shane has always been like that. Especially near pretty girls that reject him. Which I'd just done-I rejected him and I was pretty (That's in Leslie's words. I personally think I am a clumsy monster who is never going to be very endowed.)
I gently ease a potted plant into the ground and grasp at another weed angrily in the garden, releasing all my anger into the pulling of the plant. I love my garden, and whenever I'm feeling sad or angry, I love to just let go and garden until my hands feel detached from my body and I whimper in pain. Okay, to describe it nicely, it's my passion-
A lovely melody fills my ears as I push the dirt around the newly unpotted plant.
It's my passion next to singing. That's what I'm hearing. Singing.
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Shane Gray
September 7th, 3:20 PM
Seaforth Street
House/Mansion #1
I don't wanna fall asleep, 'cause I don't know if I'll get up,
But I don't wanna cause a scene, but I'm, dying without your love...
My hands rush over the guitar chords as I sit on the balcony, thinking of her and eggs. Eggs cracking like crinkly foil wrappers and falling onto the head of a little Miss. What a wonderful image that's going to become planted forever in my head. Especially since I know this Little Miss personally.
Okay. Of course, the "Eggsident" was immensly hilarious and perhaps a little mean, since I have offically brought the most of the school against her. If not all. However, she was the one who was ranting like hell to me yesterday, and I really hated that. I mean, seriously, calling me an asshole? I am a hard-core rocker, bringing the world lovely music that drowns out the sounds of terrifying shrieks that are considered a talent these days.
I couldn't help it. Okay, maybe I could, but I couldn't stand her. Not at all.
Fine. I think she's beautiful and amazing. She's not like that mean, well, "bitch" that was trying to rub her chest across my arm-oh yes, Chelsea. What does she think I am, a perv? Anyways, she's just so...hard to understand. Like a mystery covered in a shadowy shroud. And she always puts her guard up whenever I come along. I'm not mean-am I?
Once I think about it, I am an ass.
I was a big jerk. I mean, I'm surprised that she saw through my A-list stardom and instead went for the inner guy. I'm not bad. I don't think so, anyways. But I am a jerk and have been for most of my career. I think I got too carried away, and thought that everyone was against me. When they say that only the closest people say things that you don't like, it's completly true. I was just too much of a spoiled brat to notice that, and to notice how carried away I got in my celebrity status.
Is...Is Mitchie making me rethink myself?
"SHIZ!"
I look down to see a very familiar brunette working around in her...wow...
Her amazing garden. It's beautiful. Gorgeous. Like her.
So we live closer than I'd thought, Mitch.
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So...How was my story? Good? Bad? Also, if the storyline is familiar, I just wanted to let you guys know that I have a channel on youtube (xoCookieDoughxo) and that I had this story on Youtube, also. So please REVIEW!!! I need at least 10 reviews for the next chapter (because I actually have another story, but it's not doing very well.) THANK YOU FOR READING!!!!