Okay, my
mom definately did not prepare me for this situation in any
way. What the hell am I even doing here? I have no desire
to be a paparazzi person. In fact, I don't want to be a
paparazzi person so much that I don't even know the
legitimate job title. Maybe they're called celebrity
journalists, or something fancy like that. Either way, I do
not want this as a career and I am only sixteen, and WHY
THE HELL DOES MY MOTHER THINK THAT I WANT TO DO THIS?
Although, I suppose I could be blamed, a little. I
volunteered to do this. God, why am I so nice?
I climb higher on the gate. I'm supposed to get to the
top, look through this guy's back window, and try to
get a picture of Justin and Selena. Mind you, I have no
interest in Justin Bieber, nor Selena Gomez. I am doing
this out of the pureness of my kind, kind heart.
The camera hanging from a strap around my neck swings, left
to right as I grasp the gate for dear life. Honestly, is it
really nessesary to have a gate this high? It's hard to
climb too, since it's not one of those metal gates.
It's a wooden gate-a freaking wooden gate. I've
already gotten a few splinters. There aren't many
places on this gate that I can grab to pull me up, so I
have to work extra hard, grabbing the tree I'm climbing
beside.
Finally, victory! I think as I reach the top, pulling
myself up. I swing one leg over the side so I can sit on
the narrow thing. It's not comfortable at all. My heart
is pounding, I'm nervous, I realize. I grab the camera
with my sweaty hands and look around. Ah, I spot the glass
sliding door that my mom assured me would be back here. I
peer inside, ducking my head to see the couch in the room
beyond the glass door. Bingo.
There's Justin, and Selena. Sitting on the couch. With
another dude and girl; it appears they're all watching
a movie of some sort. Well. I don't recall being
invited.
I'm trying to balance the camera to get a good shot of
this, while balancing myself so I won't fall. Why a
group of people watching a movie is so important is beyond
me. But then I remember: it's the amazing Justin
Bieber. I roll my eyes.
I can see just fine, but it's hard to tell if the big
bulky camera is catching anything. I lean down futher, and
the dumb gate creaks, loudly. I let out a yelp and hurridly
reach up to grab the top of the gate. It's hard to see
because it's getting dark, and the gate creaks again. I
find the top of the gate, though, and finally pull myself
back up.
After a second of recollecting myself, I try to peep in the
house again. Uh-oh.
The guy I don't know the name of is alarmed. He's
standing up, pointing in my direction-in the backyard. He
seems to think there's something out here. Boy, is he
right.
I freeze, and grasp the camera in one hand. The other is
permanently attached to the gate. The dude walks toward the
door, ignoring Justin's and Selena's and the other
girl's confused expressions. Wow, Justin has pretty
eyes. I focus on them a second too long-light from inside
is spilling across the backyard. Then, it's all a
blur.
The mystery dude screams and points at me. Justin rushed
off the couch to assist the mystery guy. In case it was a
murderer, I imagine. Pft, yeah. I can barely open my Capri
Sun.
In the midst of all this I gasp and fumble to get out of
here-quick. Instead, I swing my leg off the side of the
gate closest to the backyard, and clumsily loose my
balance.
I am falling backwards, I seem to realize a beat too late.
I scream a loud scream and I am mildly aware of Justin and
Mystery Dude running towards me.
I hit the ground. Hard.
