Talk:Flyna/@comment-5564816-20121229164447

MY FANFIC:) LIKE GAH!!!:)

I, Chyna Ann Parks, am a superstar.

I am a member of the band Trifecta.

It all started one fateful, rainy day.

I had just left my home in the mountains, and was going to my party, you see, today was my 19th birthday.

It had been forever since I had left Webster to join Trifecta, but some days I still missed my friends.

Like Fletcher...

Don't think, about him. I chided myself. After he had stopped answering my chat requests from my A.N.T. pad, well, let's just say we weren't in touch.

But my other best friend,Olive Daphne Doyle, was now my manager, and still my best friend.

I was wearing a black, glittery dress with matching headband and high heels.

I knew I was late for my party, so I walked down my paved driveway in the near pitch darkness, and fumbled around a little bit before my hand grabbed the handle to

my shiny sleek sports car. It was really dark out, as it was about ten-thirty.

I turned on the radio and drove down the twisting, winding road for a little bit.

I had been driving for only a short amount of time when I saw a car exactly like mine, only red, heading straight for me.

Adrenaline coursed through my veins as I slammed on the breaks, hoping for the best.

After the initial collision, the car skidded to a halt. Waiting for a minute or so for my heartbeat to return to normal, I stepped outside into the night.

The red car was behind mine, and they had been less fortunate.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">They had rolled into the ditch, and I got my phone out. I might have to call an ambulance.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">My head is still spinning a little as I walk over to the upside down car. I hear grunting and a little cursing coming from the inside of the car, so I open the car door.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">Someone falls out of the car and onto the hard concrete that is the road. I have to shiver a little bit. The wind really gets to you out here.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">My leather jacket does zilch against the freezing wind, so I'll make do.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">I see the person on the road get up.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">He looks familiar, like a half forgotten memory.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">Needless to say that he's kind of cute.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">A little taller than me, with short messy brown hair who looks at me as if in a daze.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">"Do I know you from somewhere?" He asks, in a surprised tone.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">"Not that I know of." I reply, now beginning to walk back to my car.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">"Wait! What's your name?" he asks.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">I turn around and roll my eyes. Surely he must know. "I'm Chyna Parks."

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">Suddenly I see something flash across his face. He knows me from somewhere, I know it.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">"Well, do you need a ride?" I ask, trying not to laugh at the expression oh his face.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">It starts to snow, and I look up and see that the snow is as thick as rain. Looks Like I won't be going to the party after all.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">At least I'm not that far away from my mansion.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">The snow intensifies as we drive back to my mansion and run inside to escape the cold.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">I run into the kitchen and then poke my head around the corner of the wall to see the guy seated on the leather sofa and looking out the window.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">How stupid was I? Just letting a stranger into my house?

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">I'll just have to trust my instincts that tell me that he is an old friend from somewhere.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">I just hope that he dosent't have to spend the night because of the snowstorm. That would be awkward.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">I make to hot, steaming mugs of hot cocoa and go join the man.,

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">"So who are you?" I ask, to lighten the mood, and to break the ice.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">"Well, I'm a famous artist-" He begins, but he is cut off by the intense howl of the wind.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">"Yikes, I'ts really getting bad out there." I say, a little panic creeping into my voice.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">I hand him the hot chocolate and turn on my flat screen TV. It seems like we are in a blizzard warning, according to the local news channel.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">Well, Crap. I never thought that letting the guy come over would mean that I am now facing having to spend the night with a stranger in my house.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">I curl up on the couch with a blanket and accidently fall asleep.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">"Morning Chyna." says a voice from the kitchen when I wake up, yawning, stretching and blinking my eyes.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">"Morning." I say groggily.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">One of the first things that gets to me is that he is making bacon.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">Or at least, that's what it smells like.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">"You making bacon?"I ask, shuffling into the kitchen and leaning against the wall as he drops two eggs into a pan over the stove.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">"And toast and eggs." he replies. I hear the telltale pop of toast coming out of the toaster.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">I can explain it, but his warm and fuzzy feeling comes over me.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">"You didn't have to do that." I say.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">"Oh I will, you don't have to thank me." he says, smiling.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">I blush a little and grab one of my china plates.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">For a little while, it's kust buisness as usual, and I eat the very good eggs, bacon and toast.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">All of a sudden I hear something rap on the window. My head instantly turns around.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">What I see unnerves me even further.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">It's the paparazzi.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">I turn to the Artist boy.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">"You know that the paparazzi are here, right?" I ask, one eyebrow raised.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">He shakes his head no and grabs me by the shoulder, leading me out of view of the window, and up my stairs.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">"Listen. People are probably going to think that were dating"

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">"What!?" I yell in shock.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">The Art guy tries to calm me down. "Listen, I said might. We don't know for sure."

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">This does make me feel just a little better, and I relax, for now.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">We hang out in my room for a little, watching TV and even making popcorn. Honestly, hes not a bad guy at all.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">And a little, itty bitty part of me hopes that they mistake us for a couple.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">The thought brings a red hot blush to my cheeks, and the art guy notices. "What?" He asks, surprised.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">"Oh nothing." I try to answer nonchalantly, but I do fail a little bit.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">"Listen. The paparazzi are probably gone by now." I say the sooner the art guy is out of my house, the better.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">We are walking downstairs when I get a text that will change everything, forever.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">I usually get texts to my phone whenever my name is mentioned on the internet, so I click the link, and my I-Phone loads the page for me.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">It's taking longer than usual, and I look up for a second to confirm that the paparazzi have left.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">Relief washes over me, and I turn to face the art guy, and am about to say something when the website finally loads.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">The main headline jumps out at me like a sore thumb, and I panic, although in my heart of hearts there was a small part of me,

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">admittedly the part that kind of wanted this to happen, that knew exactly what was going on.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">The headline reads:

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">Superstar Chyna Parks now dating Artist Fletcher Quimby?

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">According to our sources; rather than go to her party last night, Chyna instead spent the night with the artist Fletcher Quimby.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">Apparently Mr. Quimby got up early to make her bacon, toast, and eggs.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">And the pair looked cute last night when they drank hot cocoa together.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">The worst part was, there was a picture of us with the hot cocoa, and there, another picture of Fletcher making bacon.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">And also, wow. How weird was that. We so called it.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">Ahh crap. What will my boyfriend say.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">I think about this only a little bit before I get a call from Nigel.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">"You saw the article?" I ask, just trying to get to the point."

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">"Well, yes it's all over the internet. But I just called to ask you if it was real."

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">For a second I glance at Fletcher.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">I always liked him. And I know that he likes me.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">I think. Nut do I break up with Nigel over it?

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">"Hello? Chyna?" I hear Nigel's impatient voice from the other end of the line.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">I think about how Nigel gets seems to get upset about everything I do, and criticizes me often.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">"You know what? For get it. If you can't say no without hesitating than were over." said Nigel.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">What? Did he just break up with me? I feel sadness well up in my throat like a knot.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">"Listen.. Fletcher.. you have to go."I say, nearly in tears, trying to point him out the door.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">"Wait, can't we at least talk about his?" He asks, his voice conveys that hes hurt.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">"There is nothing to talk about." I lie, and he walks out the door, slamming it on the way out.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">I walk over to the couch and slump down. What have I done?

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">Well I guess it's not entirely my fault. You just don't ignore someone and then turn up, expecting them to be your girlfriend.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">Whoa. how do I know that's what Fletcher wanted? Now I feel bad.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">I should have given him a chance.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">I do what I usually do in these instances and call my manager/BFF Olive.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">As I expected, she answers on the first ring.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">"Hiya Chyna. Whats up?" she asks, popping the "p".

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">"Well, Fletcher kinda sorta showed up last night and now everyone kinda sorta thinks were dating."

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">There was silence on the other en of the line for just a brief second, and then Olive spoke.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">"Chyna, I know that you have a crush on him." she says.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">"Pfft What? Me have a crush on him.. that's totes hilar."1.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">"Don't deny it Chyna. The only reason you date Nigel was because you and Fletcher stopped talking."Olive says.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">"Well, used to date anyway." I say sadly.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">"What? you guys broke up?" Olive asks, her voice surprised.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">"Yeah. Apparently he thinks that I like Fletcher too." I say, my voice cracking up."

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">Olive's sympathetic tone came over the phone. "Ahh. Well, if he can't trust you about this then maybe it's for the best." she says.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">I start to tear up, and Olive must have heard my silent sobbing because she says. "Listen, I'll be over there in a little. Just hang on." And then she hangs up.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">The worst thing is, Trifecta performs tonight. I'll have to be in tip top shape.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">I grab my songbook and begin to write. ( I wrote this song:) Please review it even if it's to say it's horrible)

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">Who am I?

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">Time to shine; time to show them what your worth

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">Your sparkling, shining like a diamond

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">And there's no denyin'

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">Once this is over, the answer will become clear

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">Who am I?

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">Listen' to your heart, 'It's worth the trouble

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">Rise above the rest, act like a star

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">It's the only thing that will take you far.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">Who am I?

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">Time to shine; time to show them what your worth

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">Your sparkling, shining like a diamond

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">And there's no denyin'

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">Once this is over, the answer will become clear

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">Beautiful, incredible.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">Time to turn the tables

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">See the path stretching ahead, take a lot to make it.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">But it'll be worth it in the end, yeah.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">At lot of work, and a lot of time

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">And it might cost a shiny dime

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">Who am I?

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">Time to shine; time to show them what your worth

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">Your sparkling, shining like a diamond

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">And there's no denyin'

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">Once this is over, the answer will become clear

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">Yeah, become clear.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">Right as I get done with the song, I hear my doorbell ring, and I go to answer it.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">"Hello?"I call outside.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">"Chyna! Are you okay?" says Olive, engulfing me in a huge hug.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">"Yeah! I'm fine" I say, although in truth I'm close to tears.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">"And you want to know what the worst part is." I say, and Olive nods

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:Verdana;line-height:16px;">"Well, I actually do like Fletcher, and I know that he likes me."