The new 50-inch plasma TV shines brightly in the living room, almost pulling me in. I walk through the wide doorway, my hand brushing the smooth white trim. My mother is sprawled out on the red couch, her gaze focused on the wide TV.
"Hey, Mom," I say, feeling a little uneasy. My mom has been working extra this past week. Her main TV show, Blessed and Cursed, has been pressed for time lately with a season special coming out, and she has been at the studio almost 24/7.
Her tired attitude has left me to fend for myself, and I haven't been doing very well. I rub my brown, boring eyes and I can feel the dark circles surrounding them.
"Come and sit with me, sweetie," my mother requests.
I instantly obey, plopping myself down next to her. She smiles at me in a motherly fashion and I force a small grin back at her.
The TV is showing a commercial for a facial cleanser, and I can see the beautiful, perfect face of my mother smiling in the advertisement. So many companies have hired her to display their product, and she is happy for more fame.
It's incredibly embarrassing to have your mother's face everywhere you look. It's like she's always watching you. Then there is the paparazzi. I refuse to let my mother take me to school anymore because she is always hoarded by the paps. I always make sure her bodyguard Alex takes me instead. Alex is basically my father. Even though my real father is some random one-night stand for my mother to put on her belt.
When your parents live apart you realize there is a difference between "father" and "dad".
The next morning, I'm sitting at our huge granite island bar. I'm finishing the soggy remains of my cocoa puffs and milk when Alex saunters into the white-and-black-tiled kitchen. He tilts his blue baseball cap to me and grins sheepishly.
Resting his elbows on the gray table, he leans in toward me.
"Are you excited for school today, dumpling?" he inquires, flashing his perfect white teeth. My mother has spent so much money on him, even though that's not required. He gets paid enough already by my mother's rich manager.
I sigh and look away. "Sure," I reply, remembering today's event. The prom is next weekend, and today is the prime time for finding a date. Frankly, I'm more excited for the end of school rather than the dance.
"Think you'll score a date?" Alex teases. He pokes a finger at my tricep, then stands up, jingling his car keys in his big hands. He knows I won't answer. "Ready to go?"
I nod silently, then follow him out the mansion's door. My mother bought the huge place right after her first Oscar nomination. I really wish it could have been a little more subtle, but she, of course, had to buy the flashiest property in Beverly Hills.
She also bought Alex a black Mercedes last year, which I hate even more. At least, it's better than her driving me to high school in her bright yellow Porsche. When I turn sixteen, I will burn whatever car she tries to give me.
The drive to Beverly Hills High School is short, but it gives me the chance to admire the residences of other famous people. Some are small, but still expensive while others are almost as extravagant as my mother's place. I've seen these houses a thousand times before, as the drive to school is always the same.
Soon, Alex pulls up at the large brick building, and I quickly hop out of the hot car. The metal on the door almost burns my fingers from the heat of early June. After waving goodbye to Alex, I dash down the pathway to the school's double doors.
The moment I push them open and slide inside, trying my best to not attract attention, one girl comes up to me, holding up a shiny magazine cover of Glam Weekly. This week's headline article is yet another stupid rumor about my mother dating her bodyguard.
"What do you think of that, Micah?" Austin asks, mocking. The girl has been my mortal enemy all through junior high, and now into high school. And she's always been in pretty much all of my classes. Just my luck.
"It's great, Austin! Really great. Good job," I say with immense sarcasm.
"I knew you would be proud," comes the snarky reply.
I sigh, then push past Austin on my way to 1st period. She doesn't bother to follow me. 1st period math is the only class I have without her this year, and I have come to consider it my safe haven.
I hear quieted whispers, most likely about me, as I stalk down the long hallway. Other students have always been so impressed with the fact that my mother is the amazing and beautiful Lauren Tanner, the star of Hollywood. If I wanted to, I could be the most popular girl in school. I'd have tons of friends, and every boy crushing on me. I could have almost anything I wanted if I was like my mother. I probably could have gotten homework passes and free cheat sheets for tests. The only problem was that people referred to me more as Lauren Tanner's daughter than Micah.
At lunch a few hours later, I sit myself down at the table at the back of the cafeteria, where I sit every day. My iPhone 6 dings with a text message from my mom. It says 'Honey Cakes, Alex is picking you up early from school for a party'.
I roll my eyes. Another attempt by my mother at being a good parent.
After desperately gobbling up the remains of my sandwich, I stand and scurry out of the lunchroom. Alex is waiting for me by the school's front doors, and he leads me to the Porsche. At least, school is still in session. Why isn't he driving his Mercedes?
Alex begins driving quickly through the streets, passing by all the wonderful houses.
"So where are we going?" I ask.
"Some B&C party," he replies blandly, eyes focused on the road. "I believe your mother wants to introduce you to a boy."