But this, is not what I think...

Chapter 1-- Farrah oh, Farrah

                  My best friend, Farrah, adores Mr. Tom Figeur.  It seems as though everything about him fascinates her, for example what restaurants he dines at or who he talks to.   But, then again, the paparazzi has been on all that before, including who he dates. 

                   Farrah has possibly read every magazine out there about him, from teen magazines to the ones you find at the doctors office that are around a year old.  They never update those.. Back on topic, she is basically obsessed or as others like to call it, dedicated. 

                    Sometimes I think it gets out of hand a slight bit.  If I were to be at the local mall with her she would rush over to Tah' Cipat, which is a clothing store, but there is a specific area just for Tom Figeur.  Filled with his Music, Bobble heads, and other merchandise.  Then she would stay just contemplating for fifteen minutes on whether she should get the T-shirt with his name on it or the shorts with his logo bedazzled on the back pocket.  I would, of course, tell her to get what she wants more, but she would end up getting both of them.

                       After, I would offer to go to a sensible store, like Le' Reviraf, they sell Clothing, Jewelry, and some C.Ds; my favourite part, there is none of Tom Figeur.  But, she would say she was hungry and change the topic.  It is pretty obvious she despises the store for not selling Tom Figuer, even though she loves the stuff they sell there.

                       So, we would then head to the food court and order our usual from Kang Poi.  Farrah would get Sesame chicken, fried rice, an egg roll, with a Diet Coke to drink and I would get Sweet and sour chicken, lo mien, a small amount fried rice, with a sprite to drink. 

                       I do not think I have mentioned this yet but I am real in love with the Chinese culture, also Japanese too.  In my spare time hours are spent drawing on end, anime, if you are not caught up.  Ever since I was young their culture has drawn me to go to visit that region.

                     So, of course, my food has always been eaten with chopsticks, when offered.  My friends call me, "Fiung Jessai."  Which essentially is something they made up, to mock my passion.  But, it does not bug me, because I can take a joke. 

                    *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

                     I wake up as my phone's ringer goes off.  When the screen turns on, it assaults my eyes with it's bright light.  When my eyes focus, it reads, "Missed call from, Farrah."  That is ordinary her, calling me at the middle of the night when beauty sleep is necessary, and trust me, I need all I can get.  Bags, dark circles, and what not, but I am not going to go on.  

                    "What?" Is typed angrily.

                     A Few minutes later, "GUESS WHAT?(:"  Dang, that was fast, who texts that quickly at 3:00 AM? Farrah, apparently.

                     "What?" I repeat.  "It is to late to be texting me."

                    "Forget your beauty sleep!  I have us tickets to see TOM FIGUER!"  which was said, in my opinion, to excitedly.  But, I guess it works for her.

                     "YAY! :D" I lie, my careness level is at, lets say, a seven.  And a half.  I have not even heard his music.  Though, I have heard him as a visitor on talk shows, or other things Farrah forces me to view.  Like Youtube videos.  

                   *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

                   The songs of birds, makes waking up very peaceful.  At least, in my opinion.  Luckily today is a Sunday.  Right now, you might be wondering about church? Well, my mom does not like going to church, even though she was raised a Christian.  I am not sure why, she says that she was made to go as a kid.  Sometimes I have went with Farrah and her family, but it gets considerably awkward when her younger brother starts squealing in the middle of the service.

                   The church we used to visit always served food and beverages out on a table in a special room.  In that room, they have television, which lets you view the service and still enjoy yourself with a snack.  Which is what I, most of the time, prefer to do.

                  Reaching my hand out toward my phone, it is not there.  For a about a second, I have a miniature heart attack before I realize it was on the floor the whole time.  Thank God.  It must have fell off my nightstand when I was sleeping. 

                   My phones light is blinking, which means a text message, it reads, "Hey, I think I forgot to mention, it is front row and we have VIP Passes!"

                   Now, my careness level has bumped itself up to eight.  "OMG YAY?! I am sooooo excited(:" I reply, a little over exaggeratedly.

                  Some of you out there might be thinking I am two-faced, or I lie to my friends a lot.  Well, I do lie, but, I do not see it that way.  I see it as though I do not want to let down my best friend by rejecting her request, let us get serious, she already bought tickets.  Plus, there are VIP Passes, who does not want to meet someone famous?

                 Worst part in the morning, rolling out of bed; even if it is the weekend.  I plop on the floor and hit my head on the nightstand.  Next thing I know there is a lamp next to me, and light bulb glass shards are everywhere.  I try to get up but everything hurts.  When I finally get up, I cut my finger.  That was NOT the best idea..  I clean everything up and put the lamp back where it was.  I do not know how I am going to explain this to mom.  

                   *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

                    Around noon I hear the front door open and close.  "Hello?" I call.  "Hey, Babe," it is Dillan, my boyfriend.  I walk nonchalantly down the stairs, like I did not just break a lamp with my stupidity.

                   "Hey," I say while smiling.  "What are you doing here?"

                   "I came to see you," he says, I blush and look down,  "I could not wait to see you at school tomorrow."

                    "Awh, Dillan," I say, "You know my mom does not like you to come here after what happened last summer."

                   "Well.." he says while taking my hips and pulling me close, "I love what happened last summer."  We stare in each others eyes, and he holds me; I feel safe as the warmth of his fingertips trace my back. We lose a hint of reality, my then mom walks in. 

                  "Oh, hey mom," I say while dusting myself off with a fake smile.  She was unamused.

                  "Hello Mrs. Williams," he says while my mom gives him a look, "I was actually just, uh, leaving."

                  I looked over at him, and he looked at me as he left.  I could tell I looked sad because I, I just felt that it was.  After he leaves, my mom gives me the, 'how dare you' look.  So, I go to the bottom of the stairs to go to my room, but my mom stops me.

                  "Where do you think you're going?" she says with disapointment, "young lady."   The devil look in her eyes.