The Real Stella Smock

Why Me?

I sigh and slap my hands on my cheeks.

"Why?" I ask myself.

"I know you hate giving light to things like this Stella, but you need to do something about this. You're losing fans."

"Not my fans." I pout and Peyton just nods before going on to my profile.

"I'm verified?!?!" Peyton laughs.

"You've been verified."

"Since when?!?!"

"Oath."

I wonder why I never noticed.

But I definitely did notice a decrease in followers. Around one fifty thousand!

"Guess I don't have 500k followers anymore." I say and Peyton shakes her head.

"Log out. Let me go on." I tell her and she does.

After I'm logged on I decide to send out a tweet. But then my phone starts ringing.

"Go on Perez Hilton's website." I hear Scooter tells me before I can even ask hello?

"I'm already on it." I tell him while scooting back over to Peyton.

"Ok. What the hell is this about?" Scooter asks.

I can picture him in my head rubbing the creases in his eyebrows with his eyes closed like he does when he's frustrated.

"It's absolutely nothing what it looks like." I say quickly.

"Explain."

"Justin picked me up from Jaden's house after the AMA's. He was just giving me a ride home."

Scooter sighs a sigh of relief.

"Ok, good. That's what I thought it was. But that's not what I was talking about." Scooter says and I blush.

"Oh! The Selena thing! Yeah, she doesn't really like me bu-"

"Stella." Scooter warns in a half playful tone.

"Hmmm. I'm not sure. It looks like a bruise or maybe a-"

"Stella!"

"Ok, ok. It's a hickey, geez!" I say.

"Really Stella?" Scooter asks.

"Blame Jaden."

"Or blame Justin like the rest of the world."

"Atleast he's getting the good side of this. He's basically getting pat on the back while everyone's bitching at me!" Scooter laughs.

"This isn't funny Scooter!"

"Ok. But we gotta do something about this, soon."

"I was about to tweet something." I tell him.

"That's a good idea, but not what I was talking about."

"What do you mean?" I ask Scooter.

"What if I told you someone contacted me and told me that they want an interview and you to perform... on their show."

"Show... who?" I ask him.

"Ellen."

"Don't play with me Scooter." I tell him warningly.

"I'm not. I'm one percent serious."

"OhmyGod!!! No freaking way!"

Peyton looks at me like I'm crazy and Scooter laughs while I freak out.

"I'll tell her yes then. I'll ask her when."

"Scooter, I love you." I tell him.

"I know. But I gotta run, so I'll talk to you later."

"Ok. Bye."

"Bye." He hangs up.

"OhmiGodohmiGodohmyGodohmiGodohmiGodohmiGod!!!" I scream running downstairs.

"What?" My mom asks.

"Guess who wants me on their show?!"

"Who?"

"Ellen Degeneres." I wait to see her reaction.

"Ah!" We hug and I laugh.

"Really?" Mom asks to make sure I'm not joking.

"Yes, how freaking insane is this?!" I ask her.

She makes a noise of agreement as we continue hugging and jumping. But then her phone rings.

"Hello?... Ok. I'll start driving now." My mom says while she hangs up.

"What?" I ask her.

"The Miller's are waiting."

An excited noise builds up in my throat, but I don't open my mouth to let it out.

"Can I come?!"

"No!" Peyton and mom say at the same time.

I give them a look, suprised by their answer.

"Do you really think your name needs to be in the tabloids anymore than it already is?" My mom asks and I sigh.

"No."

"Good answer. We'll be back."

My mom takes her keys and Peyton follows her out.

I make a face at the closed door before sitting down in the living room and turning on the tv...