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August Writing Challenge - The SongFest


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#1 CrazyClavie

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Posted 01 August 2010 - 11:06 PM

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The Song Fest

The Mission
Your mission should you chose to accept it is to write a SongFic (a short story that somehow includes the lyrics of a song) featuring any character(s) of your choice from the Meg Cabot Universe

The Rules:
* All entries should be submitted before August 25th, 7PM New York City Time (You can check what time that's where you live, right here)
* The story should be centered in the character(s) from the Meg Cabot Universe
* Include disclaimer for the song (Title, Performer, etc) - THIS IS MANDATORY!
* There is no specific word count required but try to make it no longer than 5 pages long (approximately 1000 words, give or take).
* Be respectful
* Keep stories PG-13.
* One Entry per person, please.

The Votes:
After August 25th, there will be a small voting period so everyone can cast their vote (I'll set up a poll once all the stories are in).

The Prize
* The three stories with more votes will get a button in their story, signaling their win.
* First place gets to choose the next writing challenge topic for the FF (to be held in September or October)

Ready. Set. Go!!


Darth Clavie


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Original Image Title: I can't hear the Music
Original Artist: Always Bë Cool
Original Image Upload Date: September 17, 2008
Banner Adapted by: Clavie (CrazyClavie)
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#2 suquerida17

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Posted 02 August 2010 - 03:07 AM

A/N: This fic is a bit longer than 1,000 words, though not longer than 2,000. Anyway, I chose this song because it played on repeat when I first read The Mediator's "Haunted" and has been the books official theme song for me ever since. With that being said, what would have happened if Suze had not figured out what Paul was up to in time? She says that she would have remembered Jesse no matter what, but how would that have even been possible? And what would she have done about it? I own nothing except for the words of this fic.

Posted Image


Disclaimer: Song: Angel
Musician: Amanda Perez
Words:1,472


Send Me an Angel

I’ve never been a Write-in-a-flower-covered-diary kind of girl. I’m really more of a Hold-him-by-the-short-hairs, take charge type. But he took that from me. He took that fight from me the day that he…the day that he…
See, that’s just it. The problem I mean. I can’t exactly remember what it was that he had done to make me hate him so much. All I knew, was that ever since I had met him at the Pebble Beach Golf resort, that numb, hollow hole in my chest ached more and more with every bat of those sneaky blue eyes. It was like being reunited with a first love whom had ripped your heart out and stuffed it into a meat grinder, and I knew that my best friend Gina would swear that we had had a thing in some not so distant past life. I could almost hear her voice, “Now Suze girl, you know what that fortune teller chick said about you only having one true love and all. I bet that this Paul character is him. Wouldn’t you just die, Suze? Wouldn’t you just die?”
Die. That was a better word for the feeling that I got every time Paul Stalker rested his cerulean gaze on me. It was like something inside of me had died. Like he had let it happen without even giving me a fighting chance…


♫ It’s been five months
Since you went away.
Left without a word,
And nothing to say…♫


Kids filed out of that day’s final classes with thoughts of surfing and sunbathing on their minds. I, who’s past extracurricular activities and present location had officially made her the class freak, sat inside of the mission’s cemetery.
Now, before you get all sentimental, no, I don’t know anyone here. And as a mediator, you would think that I would stay far away from the final resting place of the dead. But you know what I’ve found: ghosts don’t really like to frequent their final resting places. And yes, you read that right. Ghosts. Guess cemeteries aren’t all that final after all.
See, as I’d mentioned before, I am a mediator, which is a legion between the living and the dead. I, reluctantly, make sure that ghosts reach their actual final destinations, with or without their cooperation.
Father Dom has impressed upon me plenty of times that my by-any-means-necessary method is less than satisfactory in his book. But though I love the old guy, I couldn’t help but think that my method of mediating was more effective. I have, after all, a sixteen year success rate at being a mediator.
Only now, Paul tells me that I’m not a mediator at all. He says that neither of us are, and that he has answers if ever I would get the courage to ask the right questions. Oh, I bet he had answers all right. And I had no doubt that they all lay in the back of his throat. But he was right. I did have questions, which was the reason that I was letting him take me to his house in five minutes, even at the risk of receiving the thorough tonsillectomy that I knew was inevitable.
“There she is!” My friend Adam called when he saw me coming out of the De Silva family mausoleum. It was my favorite place in the cemetery, and yeah, I already mentioned that I was a freak. Get over it!
“We’ve been looking all over for you, Simon,” CeeCee, my best friend and Adam’s secret admirer called, her long white hair flapping behind her like a cape. “What are you doing?” I made up some excuse about a student council project that I know that they didn’t believe. Still, the birds were chirping, and the sky was dotted with a never-ending arc of blindingly white clouds, so she let it go.
“Whatever. We’re going to the beach. Want to come?”
“Sorry, I…um…I have some, stuff to take care of with Paul Slater.” I stalked away quickly in the direction of the front lawn—and Paul’s car—careful not to look in their direction.
“Sleeping with the enemy,” Adam mocked in reference to Paul’s running against me for student council. “For shame, wench!”
I had been here for two hours and so far, all I had to show for it was three paper cuts, some old, wrinkly newspaper clippings of a man named Dr. Slaski, and a purple bruise on my hip from every time Paul pressed it against the ancient silver belt buckle—that I had stolen from him when he went to get us sodas—in attempts to jam his tongue down my throat. The last time that he did it, I kneed him in the groin and demanded that he take me home. Or at least I tried to, but he had taken to wearing a cup during our lessons.
“Just for that reason,” he had informed me.
“You know that I hate you, right?” So why do you still try so hard?” I had wanted to know.
“Because, I know it might sound crazy, but after all that, I still love you,” he teased putting on his Ray Bans and sliding that sleek little car of his out of the drive way. Oh yeah, I am so sure!
That night, after another one of Andy’s, my new stepfather, fabulous meals—chicken and shrimp carbonara, I sat on my bed and stared at the silver belt buckle. It reminded me of the time that Doc, my youngest and only tolerable step brother, had given me a history lesson on our house. I closed my eyes, and tried to picture this house, even my room, as a boarding house, and when I opened my eyes, I was there.
Ok, so I admit. I was a little slow on the draw at first, as I didn’t actually know where I was when I first opened my eyes. At first, I just thought that I had fallen asleep. Rubbing my eyes, I reached for my wall light and found an oil lamp. Wait, what?
The oil lamp spilled dim yellow light into the room. Outside, I could hear voices and decided to follow them. The voice—turns out, it was only one voice. Well only one human one anyway—was deep and laced with only a small hint of an accent.
“Cuidate, cuidate,” the man soothed, and I instantly wished that I had taken Spanish instead of French.
I stepped further into the barn, unable to resist seeing the face that belonged to that voice, when the horses that he was tending to started whinnying out of control.
“Who’s there?” I started to run back to the house, but then he turned around. And my heart stopped.
Yes, that heart that I had blamed Paul for somehow ripping out of my chest was beating wildly. Let’s not even talk about the condition of my hands, which were both cold and sweaty at the same time.
“Are you okay, Miss?” Where did I know him from?
I nodded slowly, and he continued, “My name is Jesse. Can you speak?” Jesse. The name itself sent shivers down my spine. Never mind what his liquid, chocolate eyes—framed by inky black eyebrows, one of which had a deep white slash through it—were doing to me. Caught up in the moment, I dropped the lamp. Flames sprang up out of the hay and spread around the barn at an alarming rate. The horses cried out, and black smoke billowed from the open barn doors. It was enough to alert the house’s inhabitants, and I could hear footsteps rushing toward us. But as I stated earlier, I am more of a take charge type of girl. So I did the only thing that I could think of. I grabbed Jesse, closed my eyes, and thought of my house.
The blast of the shift, sent us both spiraling through the air, the fall knocking the wind out of him. Worriedly, I shook the stunned man beside me. I dealt with death every day, but that still didn’t mean that I had wanted this man to die right before my eyes.
Then, his breathing slowly picked up, and his face returned to that deep tanned color that I had come to—and probably always had—love. His lips twitched as he struggled to form words, and when he finally did, I instantly knew that I had found what was missing in my life in that one word, “Querida.”

♫ God send me an angel
From the heavens above.
Send me an angel to heal
My broken heart from
Being in love.
‘Cause all I do is cry.
God sent me an angel
To wipe the tears from
My eyes. ♫

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#3 CrazyClavie

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Posted 02 August 2010 - 12:02 PM

bookwormwriter98 - Um, it's supposed to be about a character from the Meg Cabot universe, as here is FanFiction only, that's more of an original work, so that belongs up in Fiction and Poetry.
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#4 bookwormwriter98

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Posted 02 August 2010 - 01:27 PM

bookwormwriter98 - Um, it's supposed to be about a character from the Meg Cabot universe, as here is FanFiction only, that's more of an original work, so that belongs up in Fiction and Poetry.

aaaaah. okay...........
well then can i edit it and repost????
pretty please????? because i got an idear........
:)

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#5 CrazyClavie

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Posted 02 August 2010 - 01:50 PM

aaaaah. okay...........
well then can i edit it and repost????
pretty please????? because i got an idear........
:)


all right, I'll give you time to copy this story and then I'll delete the post, so you can re-post your entry.
ok, just let me know when you have it saved. once deleted there is no turning back.

-C
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#6 bookwormwriter98

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Posted 02 August 2010 - 01:54 PM

i got it. and there actually weren't many changes. but here we go:

Posted Image


Concrete Angel
Based on the song by Martina McBride
*Note: this is supposed to be in a six-year-old’s POV
The Meg Cabot character is the Jack Slater from Mediator


I sit in my room and get ready for school. I see the clock and head out the door with my lunch bag in my hand. I am wearing the dress that I wore three days in a row now, partnered with my only pair of socks and my pair of scuffed shoes that I barely fit into. I can see everyone else’s mommies and daddies hug and kiss them good bye. My mommy had kicked me out the door with a cigarette in her hand. Daddy wasn’t home from the place with the bottles and the ladies yet.

I look down at the concrete as I walk, my legs aching from when daddy hit me before he left last night. My arms and neck hurt too. I almost wish I wasn’t born when daddy hurts me like that. That way I wouldn’t have to be hurt. But I pray to god every day. And then I hope things get better. But nobody notices. Because Mommy always buys me the really long stuff so that it covers the blue and purple splotches. But I still smile and pretend I’m not hurt. I pretend that my daddy doesn’t hit me and my mommy. I pretend so much . . . .

I finally arrive at school and I walk into class silently. I don’t have a best friend. Or even a friend. I think I’m really shy, like the bunny rabbit we read about last week. But I do have one friend. Jack Slater, the little boy who sits with me at lunch. I think he is nice, even though I can never see him all the time. But he lives next door to me. So I can talk to him sometimes.

My teacher looks at me with a questioning look. She seems to not be able to understand something about me. I wonder what she is thinking.

But she just shakes her head and looks back at yesterday’s assignment.

Now it is time to go home. It’s raining, and it’s even kind of windy. But I don’t have an umbrella. So I have to walk through the storm. It is very hard, I have to lean forward and stomp to walk a step, but I finally make it. As I shake myself dry I notice Daddy’s car in the front of the house. I hope he doesn’t hurt me again.

I grabbed a box of crackers on my way to my room. I notice that Daddy is asleep on the couch. I was quiet enough that I didn’t wake him. I think I am going to stay in my room. Because now I have food, so I won’t bother Mommy and Daddy any more. I was able to sneak past mommy while she was fumbling for her red stick that makes fire. I’m not supposed to play with that one. I only get to play with the dolly grandma sent to me last year.

I talk to Jack through the window. We have some fun, we make each other laugh.

Then Mommy comes in. She shakes me and squeezes me and I want to cry, but I don’t. Because Jack is still watching us through the window. I look at him and hope he doesn’t tell anyone. But before I can say anything Mommy moves me from the window and shakes me some more while she yells at me. And because Jack can’t see me, I do cry. Mommy hurts me a lot. And Daddy comes in too. And he helps Mommy hit me. They hit me so much I tingle. I tingle a lot. I hurt so much. I have black on my arms and legs and on my tummy. My face is red from when they slap me and my tears come out harder and harder. I almost scream, but then I get hit harder. I hope Jack isn’t still watching. I hope so very much he isn’t still watching . . . .

Mommy and Daddy leave after a very long time. I look at the clock. It’s bed time now. I crawl inside my sleeping bag that uncle Marty got me for if I went camping. I dream that I am an angel with pretty butterfly wings where I fly to see my happy family. My happy family is really nice. They bake me cookies and give me hugs and Daddy is always home. Mommy always makes me pretty dresses and I have a lot of friends. I like the happy family.

***


It is now morning. The little girl that got hurt last night, Angela Carter, is now dead. The boy who lived next door, Jack Slater, watches as the police arrest her parents and bring out the girl to an ambulance in the hopes of reviving someone that won’t survive. He had told his parents to call the police last night even though they didn’t believe him.

Jack had loved the girl. When they had the burial, all that they did was write her name on a stone. He smiles for her. He hides his hurt much like she did and smiles. He turns away from the plaque that reads out Angela Carter, 1995-2001. As he does, he is in a world where she is still alive. He hugs her dearly, as he knows how much she went through. He was her only friend. And he doesn’t mind that he is only seeing her ghost.

They run together to her happy family. She is forever a concrete angel.

-----


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#7 bookwormwriter98

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Posted 02 August 2010 - 01:55 PM

my reason for that story^^^^^
this song is one of my favorites. it is probably the saddest song you can hear. Martina McBride wrote this song about child abuse and how it affects children. i used to listen to this song whenever i could and it broke my heart, the story behind it.
here is a link to the video: http://www.youtube.c...h?v=KtNYA4pAGjI
and here is my story that i hope relates to it enough. the story isn't quite 1,000 words, but it almost hit it!

Edited by bookwormwriter98, 02 August 2010 - 01:55 PM.

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#8 CrazyClavie

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Posted 06 August 2010 - 09:47 PM

Come on girls!!

Lets see some more entries!!
I'll even put on of my old song fics :D
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#9 CrazyClavie

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Posted 17 August 2010 - 07:09 PM

I wrote this one a long time ago... So I just edited a bit 'cause my grammar used to be even worse.

Anyway, it's set at the end of Haunted (before the release the Twilight, so things happen differently).

The song is Iris by the Goo Goo Dolls

Until I Hear It From You

Opps I did it again.

Yeah, that song suited Jesse, or so Suze thought.

It had been a week since that kiss in the graveyard and he had vanished right after. How could he keep doing this to her, how it was that she allowed it!

"Jesse be dammed!" She kept thinking, but deep down she knew she didn't mean it. She loved Jesse too much, and now she was certain he loved her back. But then why was he being such a jerk?

Suze sighed, that was something she couldn't answer.

So she closed the door of her room, made sure he wasn't around and grabbed the miniature of him from the drawer where she had hidden it.

"Oh, Jesse," She said. "Why do you do this to me?" she sounded so close to tears, it was heart breaking.

Little did she know that Jesse was right there. Watching, always by her side.

Invisible, but right there.

And when Suze started to cry, Jesse felt as if his heart was being torn apart. He couldn't take it anymore.

"Querida?" his voice was barely above a whisper as he materialized and approached Suze. Trying not to scare her but knowing she had every right to be mad at him, Jesse slowly put his hands on Suze's shoulders and spun her around so she was facing him.

And I'd give up forever to touch you
because I know that you feel me somehow
You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be
And I don't want to go home right now


"Jesse?" she asked shakily, lifting her face. Her green eyes were shinning with tears.

"Susannah, I-"

"No, don't you dare!" Suze half yelled, knowing that her family was just downstairs. "Don't you dare to say you're sorry..." she added punching him on the chest.

"I am sorry about this," he said, his words making Suze hit him harder, "And trust me, querida, nothing hurts me more than seeing you cry but that's not what I was going to say," his hands went from her shoulders to her arms, Suze stopped hitting him, her hands resting against his chest – as to push him away – and suddenly Jesse had her in a tight embrace.

"What was it then? What are you going to say?" Suze asked over the lump in her throat.

And all I can taste is this moment
And all I can breathe is your life
because sooner or later it's over
I just don't want to miss you tonight


"I was going to say that I love you," he said sincerely, "And that I'm sorry I made you suffer. That I've been acting like the biggest jerk in the planet."

"Say again?" Suze asked in a panicked voice.

And I don't want the world to see me
because I don't think that they'd understand
When everything's made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am


"I said I was sorry and..." Jesse started but Suze stopped him by placing a finger over his lips. A finger to which Jesse gave a gossamer kiss.

"Not that part," she said. She wanted to hear it again. Jesse hadn't said it before.

One of his hands went to Suze's check, cupping half of her face, his thumb brushing away some of her tears. His other arm still keeping a dead grip on her waist. And his eyes were lost in those twin pools of emerald that Suze had for eyes.

"I said that I-"

And you can't fight the tears that ain't coming
Or the moment of truth in your lies
When everything feels like the movies
Yeah, you'd bleed just to know you're alive


"... That I love you." He said softly and the most beautiful smile spread across Suze's lips. "I love you, querida," In his voice there was love, passion and surrender; for him the battle was already lost. "I can't exist without you."

"And what are you going to do about that?"

"Pardon?"

"Are you going to stop being a jerk about it and actually accept it? Because I'll tell you right now, Jesse De Silva, I can't put up with your mood swings and guilt-driven episodes." Suze said seriously.

"I'll do whatever you want me to do," Jesse said finally.

"Anything?"

"Anything."

"Then say that you love me,"

Jesse smiled too. "I love you, querida."

"Good. I love you too, Jesse," Suze said playfully but huskily. "Now kiss me."

Jesse leaned down and Suze closed her eyes, feeling like a tribe of Ewoks was dancing around inside her head...

Could this get any more perfect?

It did, when she felt Jesse's lips –warm and soft – over hers.

And I don't want the world to see me
because I don't think that they'd understand
When everything's made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am


That kiss made clear a lot of things.

Happy things.

It was sweet and soft, then not so soft as it got more passionate, wet and hot and tongue-y. Suze sneaked her arms around Jesse's neck and held him close, feeling as if her blood had suddenly turned into molten lava.

There was a little sparkle of fear, fear that he would leave as it was his custom, but there was something in the way he was holding her that told Suze that Jesse wasn't going anywhere.

Not this time.

Not ever again.

There were things that they needed to figure out.

Why could she feel Jesse' heart beating against her own? for example. Yeah, that was a very good question. Like many other that pushed themselves out of their minds, unwanted and unneeded.

There would be time for questions the next day.

Future might be uncertain.

But tonight... Tonight would last forever.

The End.

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#10 x--JinxedAngel

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Posted 19 August 2010 - 09:54 AM

Wow! Everyone's entries are awesome! (: Good luck to everyone. I decided to do one as well and I hope it's okay... I don't really write in present tense.

-*-

Posted Image


Song: So What
Artist: P!nk
Album: Funhouse

I’m Still a Rock Star




I stand outside the door feeling disorientated. I can hear Tania inside with Jordan murmuring something but I still can’t bring myself to leave. I didn’t expect our break up to be as dramatic as this. I had braced myself ever since I suspected while we were on the tour in Japan. I gave him a chance. He didn’t take it. Once the paparazzi gets a whiff of this big baby, we’ll be on the front page in a second. Maybe his father would be proud—more publicity.

“Heather! It’s not what it looked like—come back, we should talk.” I hear him walking around, outside the door. Why isn’t he opening it? I’m right here. Maybe that stupid Tania’s stopping him. Or maybe his pants aren’t even up yet. That would be typical Jordan, pleading with me behind a door stark naked.

I decide not to answer him. Seriously, where am I supposed to stay now? I have basically no relatives. My mom escaped with my money years ago, my dad is locked up and I just caught my fiancé –well, ex-fiancé now- getting a service from Tania Trace. I suppose Magda would let me stay for a few days with her. I think of Patty but I brush away the thought. She has a kid now, and a family, I wouldn’t want to intrude.

“Really! Come on, Heather! I know you’re still out there—your guitar is still here. You wouldn’t leave without your guitar!”

He got that right. Then I realise with a sinking feeling that I would have to walk back inside there. I still have the keys and I use it to open to door with as much force as I possibly can. If I damage the door somehow, I’ll leave the penthouse happy. Besides, if Jordan ends up paying for it, he can’t exactly say I have to pay half of the expenses—he was the sole reason I ended up slamming it anyway.

I wanna get in trouble, I wanna start a fight

I don’t look at him as I walk back in with my head held high. I especially don’t look in Tania Trace’s stupid direction. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her dressed skimpily in Jordan’s baggy t-shirt. The t-shirt I happened to have worn once or twice after a lovemaking session with him. What a bony cow. Still, I couldn’t help but glance at the floor to see where the engagement ring had fallen after I ripped it off my finger at them. It was nowhere to be seen.

Feeling a hand on my shoulder, I look up. Jordan is standing there looking immensely guilty, reminding me slightly of a puppy. I feel bad but he fully deserves it. I just found out that he cheated on me! With Tania no less! His hair is tousled and his touch reminds me of the good times we actually had together. His blue eyes are actually sparkling with something.

“I’m sorry, Heather—you have to believe me,” he cries, moving me by the shoulders not entirely gently, “I was going to tell you, honest.”

I’m gonna show you tonight, I’m alright

“Move out of my way Jordan, I need to get my things,” I say in my calmest voice. Jordan freezes and drops onto our couch. Well, his couch now. I quickly go into the bedroom, my eyes skirting past the large king size bed in the middle of the room. I take my large duffel bag in the wardrobe and begin stuffing my clothes inside. After that, I retrieve my guitar and its case. I sit on the bed, feeling sort of sorry for myself. You know, being homeless and all. The front door slams and I realise the murmuring has stopped.

Their clothes must have been on the floor outside already before they entered the bedroom. Why me? Seriously, my life has never exactly been easy—first I get a fairly dysfunctional family; I also got dissed by my ex-boyfriend’s dad for wanting to write my own music but he claims they are “angry-girl rocker shiz” not a while back and to top it all off, I also have no home. It’s comforting that I’m still thinking rationally after the image of Jordan and Tania burned permanently in my mind.

My cell began to ring. I numbly reach for it and pull it out the back pocket of my jeans. The name Cooper flashes in front of my eyes in white pixel letterings. I answer it immediately, not even thinking about why he would call me.

I mean, I’ve seen him around—I was engaged to his brother after all. The times we have been thrust in to each other’s presence have been quite interesting. He’s much different from the rest of the Cartwright family and that’s everything that makes him appealing. Cooper's actually a man of very few words but he's easy to talk to.

“Hi Cooper,” I say, fingering the waistband of my jeans. I’ve been meaning to look for new ones ever since these ones felt tight—its hard when you get distracted and instead walk into one of those bakeries wafting with the smell of freshly made baguettes. Hmm. Yum. Still, I bet Tania Trace doesn’t have to wear stretch fit jeans.

“You looking for a place to stay? The top floor apartment of my brownstone is open,” Cooper says conversationally. Wait—what?

“I—”

“I mean, I was just asking you know? If you already have a place to stay its fine by me,” he says quickly.

Still feeling shocked, I clear my throat, “How did you know?”

“Know what?”

I know that Cooper’s just playing dumb. He had to know. Why else would he offer me a place to stay? I didn’t exactly want to hear it coming from his mouth though. Talk about embarrassing.

“Never mind. I do actually need a place to stay. It’s just that I’m broke at the moment,” I confess. I sink even lower on the bed. It’s true though, I have nothing in the bank, especially now I’m not even singing anymore.

He didn’t miss a beat. “Well, I need someone to do my client billing at the moment because I don’t want to have to pay my accountant $175 an hour. You in?”

“You mean I can earn my keep by doing the billing?” I ask excitedly. Maybe everything is going to be all right after all.

“Yeah,” he says with a laugh. My spirits soar and I pick up my duffel and guitar case in one hand, still clutching the phone tightly to my ear in the other.

“When can I move in?”

“Anytime.”

I tell him I’ll be there in as soon as I can and hang up, squealing. The last night I felt this happy and relieved was when I was fifteen and my debut album Sugar Rush shot up to number one on the charts. I don’t look back as I close the bedroom door and make my way out to the hallway. Surprisingly, Jordan is still there.

“Can we talk, Heather?”

I ignore him pointedly and slam the door in his face as I walk out.

So what? I’m still a rock star
I got my rock moves
And I don’t need you

And guess what? I’m havin’ more fun
And now that we’re done
I’m gonna show you tonight
I’m alright, I’m just fine and you’re a tool so

So what? I’m still a rock star
I got my rock moves
And I don’t want you tonight


----

-Amy
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#11 CrazyClavie

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Posted 22 August 2010 - 10:03 PM

Thanks for the entries!!
And, please! Keep them coming! only a few short days until the contest ends!!
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#12 CrazyClavie

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Posted 27 August 2010 - 09:38 PM

Hey guys, the contest should be over but I'm having trouble with my computer so I can't close it right now, but if you want you can post more entries. I'll give you notice once I get my computer back.
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#13 CrazyClavie

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Posted 10 September 2010 - 09:29 AM

Okay, so I'm closing this for now and adding the buttons over the weekend.

We got three entries so all of you are getting a Song Fest button!
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#14 bookwormwriter98

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Posted 14 September 2010 - 04:55 PM

yay! i get a button ^_^

~bookie :mgbumblebee:

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#15 CrazyClavie

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Posted 26 September 2010 - 12:19 AM

*grins*

Buttons are up! I hope you like them! and sorry for the delays :( School has been a cruel mistress lately.
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#16 x--JinxedAngel

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Posted 29 September 2010 - 03:59 PM

Aww, they are awesome! Thanks! I really think you deserve one as well Clavie! For being a cool mod and writer. ;D

-Amy
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#17 bookwormwriter98

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Posted 30 September 2010 - 03:25 PM

^^^agreed :)

~bookie :mgbumblebee:

Edited by bookwormwriter98, 30 September 2010 - 03:25 PM.

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#18 CrazyClavie

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Posted 22 October 2010 - 12:47 AM

*hugs*
Thanks girls! You're so sweet.
:D
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