My World;; A Justin Bieber Love Story
Jenna Hamilton is a 15-going-on-16 year old girl, living in apartment 2B with her mom in thier building in Manhattan, New York. She's a perfectionist with a secret trust problem and a hidden love for animals, mainly because the only animal she sees where she's from is birds. Her best friend, Brianna, is the only friend she truly trusts, and she confides in her for everything, whether it's drama, excitement, love, or secret popstar boyfriends.
I don't honestly know what I'd do. Probably all of those. Well, no, maybe not. I think I'd want to be a sophisticated as possible in that situation without being a killjoy. Maybe it would go a little something like this: "Jenna...." this is where my mother would sigh, since she's a college proffessor that just so happens to own the apartment building we live in, I'll explain later, "you won that contest. I guess you're going to see Justin Bieber!" Killjoy: "Yay, mom. Whatever, he's just a popstar." Sophisticated: "Well, that sounds nice. I guess I'll go listen to his album on replay a few times and call all of my friends now." Insane: Screaamming, then "OH MY GOSH! Are you KIDDING?! I can't believe this is happening! He's so AMAZING! I'M GOING ONA DATE WITH JUSTIN BIEBER!!!" Tears.... obsessively calling my friends... you know.
Aside from that, you don't really need much of a description of me. I'm your basic girl-next-door. Blond hair down to my armpits that curls inward at the ends, big blue eyes, straight teeth, pale, and I guess I'm pretty skinny, if 105 pounds is skinny. I'm 5"4, I get A's and B's, I'm a Sophmore at Beacon high school. So, that's pretty much me. I'm not exactly interesting, but I kind of like it that way. Anyway, to explain my home-life, my dad works in Ontario, Canada, and found a girl there on a buisness trip one time. The rest is kind of self-explanitory. My mother's a mess, so the divorce wasn't pretty. We got the apartment building he owned, and he got to leave without worrying about custody of me. That's right, he didn't want me. It hurt when I first found out, but I got over it after a while. I figured if he didn't love me enough to want me, why worry about it? I never did anything to him. He said I was a mistake and he didn't want kids. I just forget about his existance except for when my mother the traits in me that are like him. My blue eyes, my blonde hair, my perfectionist attitude. My mom has straight brown hair and green eyes, and she's beyond smarter then I'll ever be. Our conversations usually go something like this: "Jenna, what are you working on in math?" I shrug and tap my pencil on my trig homework, "Triangles." She turns around from pouring herself a glass of wine and stares at me, "You mean trigonometry?" I bite the end of my pencil and mumble, "Yup." She'd look over at my homework and take a sip of her wine, "So if your hypotenuse is..." blah blah blah. I hate trig, even though math's my best subject. It's really simple, there's only one answer, it's black or white. Anyway, I did face the scenario of winning a contest to go on a date with Justin Bieber.
"Jenna," my mother sighed as I climbed into the car after school on a Friday in September. "Mom," I sighed back. "I got a call this morning, and I understand you entered a contest?" I got kind of excited, and sat up, "Yeah, why?" She took her foot off the brake, and we slowly nudged forward as a car behind us honked. "Don't get your britches in a bunch, I'm going," she mumbled at the driver. "Mom, the contest." She blinked a few times, "Right, well, you won." A chill rushed up my body and my shoulders felt like James Branton, the biggest player on our football team, was sitting on my shoulders. I couldn't freak out infront of my mother. She listens to Bach and plays the violen, which basically means she thinks the modern popstar craze is stupid. I held in a scream, and my eyes rolled back in my head as I spiralled into darkness.
Next thing I knew, my mother was lightly slapping me awake, "Wake up, Jenna. We're late." I sat up with a jerk, and unbuckled my seatbelt, "Where are we going?" My mom pulled me out of the car by my arm. I was in a daze. "I told you I have a presentation to do. I got a Sudoku book at a gas station this morning for you to finish while I present. It'll only be two hours, then when it's over I'll check them for you. Sound good?" I slipped my messenger bag onto my shoulder without my mom noticing. I had a magazine and my iPod in it, actual entertainment, "Sure, mom." My mom fixed her black-rimmed glasses onto her face. She didn't need glasses, she just says they make her look more serious. I say they make her look old. I sat down on a bench at the back of the room she was presenting in, and pulled out a pencil to make it look like I was actually going to work on the Sudoku book. The answers are always in the back of the cheap gas station ones, I'd just copy them in on the ride home. I pulled out my magazine, and when I saw Justin Bieber's face on the front, I screamed. I'd totally forgotten and began hyperventilating. I tried to calm down. The room was huge and noisey, so I figured no one was paying any attention to me. The icy feeling came back and a small smile rose on my lips. My life was amazing, no matter how much it sucked.