Why ME?
I HATE JOSHUA DUSTFINCH
I HATE JOSHUA DUSTFINCH.
He is such a jerk.
Despite all the girls gushing on how he’s the hottest and nicest person on Earth.
And by the way that comment doesn’t help. At all.
Alright, fine, I admit he is pretty cute, and he can be really really nice at times, but a jerk’s still a jerk. Especially if that said jerk happens to be your best used to be, rather. That’s right, the one and only super-hot Joshua Dustfinch is – no, was- my best friend.
Unbelievable, isn’t it? A plain normal girl like me having a superstar best friend who has starred alongside super-hot people like Brittany Winters? Yeah I know. It would freak me out too.
Unless your dear best friend was so busy making out with a particular slut named Brittany Caroline-Winters a thousand miles away that he didn’t bother to call on your 16th birthday, when even your unloving mother who had never really loved you since the day you were born bought a car for you.
And the fact that we had been the best friends ever since the day his mum visited us on my 3rd birthday doesn’t help much. Or that he apparently has erased your very existence from his mind completely and forgot your 17th birthday as well. No, I’m not freaked out, I’m just pissed. Very very pissed.
I mean, who forgets their best friends’ birthdays? They could at least afford a short call or something. And it’s not like Hollywood actors are very poor or anything. Quite the opposite, in fact. Unless all their designer clothes and bags were stolen, that is. Ha. I WISH. But seriously.
And the worst part? I have to suffer it alone, cheesy as that sounds. Basically, I just can’t tell anyone. At all. My mum doesn’t care, I can’t tell my friends, and his mum lives 300 miles away, and I don’t bother calling any case I deleted his house number in a fit of utter fury last year, though I suppose that isn’t a good excuse since I have it memorized by heart, but you get the idea.
As for Cass and Allie, they’ve never met Josh, never even known I knew him or anything, since we only met when we stated high school, and Josh was already in LA for auditions and stuff with his ambitious mum. Even I have not seen him in 2 years. So I doubt they would be of any help. Heck, they’d probably go into useless fits anyway. Not that I’m bad-mouthing them or anythi––
“OHMIGOD! It say’s I’m 100%! Jeannie! Look!” Cass shoves the magazine at my face.
Again.
Great. Now I’m facing a stupid quiz on “HOW MUCH DO YOU KNOW JOSHUA GOLDFINCH?” in which apparently Josh’s favourite colour is red. Ha.
As if. It’s green.
Like mine, I want to say, but that would have blown my cover there and then.
So I clench my fists tightly under the table and will myself to keep my big mouth shut.
Which is not an easy thing to do; especially when your uber-cool friend Allie is squealing and going “I wanna take the test too! I wanna take the test too! Gimme! It’s mine! Cass!” and sticking out her lip like a petulant child. Cass lifts the magazine just above her reach. Allie shrieks in fake rage, trying fruitlessly to snatch the magazine from her hands and I lean back to enjoy the show.
I guess must have dozed off after that or something, for when I come to I find myself in the centre of attention of a bunch of pretty little hard-core fans of Joshua Dustfinch.
“Ooh… The sleeping beauty is finally awake.” What?
I open my eyes to see Cass cooing at me in a sing-song voice. Quiet sniggers arise from the gaggle of girls around me. Oh god. Way to make me embarrased, Cass. I glare venomously at her. She just gazes back innocently under her long lashes. Aaargh.
“What?” I give in, squirming uncomfortably under everyone’s intense gaze, directing the question at Allie, who now holds the magazine triumphantly in her black-nailed hands.
“Nothing,” She assures me. “I just did the test and wanted to tell you who I got. I––”
“Uh-huh,” I prod her on.
“I–– I got only 15%.” She admits slightly disappointedly. “I guess I’m just not good with celebrities.” She shrugs half-heartedly. I want to tell her the quiz is probably inaccurate–– heck, they even got his favourite colour wrong–– but I guess if I did that it would break many little hearts and raise more than a little suspicion. So I keep my mouth shut.
“So… now it’s your turn to do the quiz!” Cass announces brightly, snatching the magazine from Allie and shoving it into my hands. Holy mother of crap.
“Uh-uh.. I am not going to do that.” I back away in horror. Too late. The magazine’s already in my grasp, and all the girls are looking at me expectantly.
“Fine,” I sigh in defeat, looking down at the quiz. Oh dear. Here we go.
Q1. What’s his favourite ice cream flavour?
a) Chocolate
b)Mango
c) Rocky Road.
Answer: Chocolate. DID YOU GET THAT RIGHT?
WTH. It’s neither of them. His favourite ice cream flavour is vanilla. Anyone who knows him would know that. Hmph. Next question.
Q2. Does he have a car
a)Yes
b)No
Answer: Yes. DID YOU GET THAT RIGHT?
Okayy... Seriously that's just a dead giveaway. I mean, every single newspaper that has shown his picture at least ONCE, and he's always driving a silver Lexus. Even if that particular quiz-taker doesn't read newspapers, the giant blown-up picture of him in his beloved car at the background of the quiz page would have told them the answer. I think those magazine printers seriously need to look over the contents before they put in random backgrounds.
Q3. Which sport brand does he like?
a) Mizuno
b) Puma
c) Nike
Answer: Nike. WERE YOU RIGHT?
WHICH IDIOT WROTE THIS?! He likes Adidas. Adidas shoes, Adidas windbreakers, Adidas caps… Are they blind or something? Phhsh. Aaargh. Next question. Crap.
The rest of the questions are pretty much the same: stupid question with no correct answer, stupid answer that is totally wrong. Don’t they know him at all? Only two questions out of the THIRTY was right. But then again everyone knows Josh’s full name is Joshua Alekander Dustfinch, and everyone's seen him driving a car around LA. This writer definitely needs more observatory skills.
“So? What did you get?” Cass asks me curiously once I’m done.
“I–I ––” Aw crud. I forgot I was supposed to count the number of answers I got correct and find the percentage. That’s what comes out of being too engrossed in criticising the idiotic questions.
“ Hey, Jeannie, you alright? You look really pale. Do you want to go home or something?” Allie saves me from further embarrassment unconsciously.
“Huh? Wha–– Yea I’m fine. Just exhausted.” I smile weakly at them, deciding to play along. “maybe I should go home and rest or something.”
“Yeah okay. See you tomorrow!” Cass and Allie wave at me as I made my escape.
“Bye!” I call over my shoulder as I step out of the doors and into freedom.
Yeah. I’m fine. Just fine.
He is such a jerk.
Despite all the girls gushing on how he’s the hottest and nicest person on Earth.
And by the way that comment doesn’t help. At all.
Alright, fine, I admit he is pretty cute, and he can be really really nice at times, but a jerk’s still a jerk. Especially if that said jerk happens to be your best used to be, rather. That’s right, the one and only super-hot Joshua Dustfinch is – no, was- my best friend.
Unbelievable, isn’t it? A plain normal girl like me having a superstar best friend who has starred alongside super-hot people like Brittany Winters? Yeah I know. It would freak me out too.
Unless your dear best friend was so busy making out with a particular slut named Brittany Caroline-Winters a thousand miles away that he didn’t bother to call on your 16th birthday, when even your unloving mother who had never really loved you since the day you were born bought a car for you.
And the fact that we had been the best friends ever since the day his mum visited us on my 3rd birthday doesn’t help much. Or that he apparently has erased your very existence from his mind completely and forgot your 17th birthday as well. No, I’m not freaked out, I’m just pissed. Very very pissed.
I mean, who forgets their best friends’ birthdays? They could at least afford a short call or something. And it’s not like Hollywood actors are very poor or anything. Quite the opposite, in fact. Unless all their designer clothes and bags were stolen, that is. Ha. I WISH. But seriously.
And the worst part? I have to suffer it alone, cheesy as that sounds. Basically, I just can’t tell anyone. At all. My mum doesn’t care, I can’t tell my friends, and his mum lives 300 miles away, and I don’t bother calling any case I deleted his house number in a fit of utter fury last year, though I suppose that isn’t a good excuse since I have it memorized by heart, but you get the idea.
As for Cass and Allie, they’ve never met Josh, never even known I knew him or anything, since we only met when we stated high school, and Josh was already in LA for auditions and stuff with his ambitious mum. Even I have not seen him in 2 years. So I doubt they would be of any help. Heck, they’d probably go into useless fits anyway. Not that I’m bad-mouthing them or anythi––
“OHMIGOD! It say’s I’m 100%! Jeannie! Look!” Cass shoves the magazine at my face.
Again.
Great. Now I’m facing a stupid quiz on “HOW MUCH DO YOU KNOW JOSHUA GOLDFINCH?” in which apparently Josh’s favourite colour is red. Ha.
As if. It’s green.
Like mine, I want to say, but that would have blown my cover there and then.
So I clench my fists tightly under the table and will myself to keep my big mouth shut.
Which is not an easy thing to do; especially when your uber-cool friend Allie is squealing and going “I wanna take the test too! I wanna take the test too! Gimme! It’s mine! Cass!” and sticking out her lip like a petulant child. Cass lifts the magazine just above her reach. Allie shrieks in fake rage, trying fruitlessly to snatch the magazine from her hands and I lean back to enjoy the show.
I guess must have dozed off after that or something, for when I come to I find myself in the centre of attention of a bunch of pretty little hard-core fans of Joshua Dustfinch.
“Ooh… The sleeping beauty is finally awake.” What?
I open my eyes to see Cass cooing at me in a sing-song voice. Quiet sniggers arise from the gaggle of girls around me. Oh god. Way to make me embarrased, Cass. I glare venomously at her. She just gazes back innocently under her long lashes. Aaargh.
“What?” I give in, squirming uncomfortably under everyone’s intense gaze, directing the question at Allie, who now holds the magazine triumphantly in her black-nailed hands.
“Nothing,” She assures me. “I just did the test and wanted to tell you who I got. I––”
“Uh-huh,” I prod her on.
“I–– I got only 15%.” She admits slightly disappointedly. “I guess I’m just not good with celebrities.” She shrugs half-heartedly. I want to tell her the quiz is probably inaccurate–– heck, they even got his favourite colour wrong–– but I guess if I did that it would break many little hearts and raise more than a little suspicion. So I keep my mouth shut.
“So… now it’s your turn to do the quiz!” Cass announces brightly, snatching the magazine from Allie and shoving it into my hands. Holy mother of crap.
“Uh-uh.. I am not going to do that.” I back away in horror. Too late. The magazine’s already in my grasp, and all the girls are looking at me expectantly.
“Fine,” I sigh in defeat, looking down at the quiz. Oh dear. Here we go.
Q1. What’s his favourite ice cream flavour?
a) Chocolate
b)Mango
c) Rocky Road.
Answer: Chocolate. DID YOU GET THAT RIGHT?
WTH. It’s neither of them. His favourite ice cream flavour is vanilla. Anyone who knows him would know that. Hmph. Next question.
Q2. Does he have a car
a)Yes
b)No
Answer: Yes. DID YOU GET THAT RIGHT?
Okayy... Seriously that's just a dead giveaway. I mean, every single newspaper that has shown his picture at least ONCE, and he's always driving a silver Lexus. Even if that particular quiz-taker doesn't read newspapers, the giant blown-up picture of him in his beloved car at the background of the quiz page would have told them the answer. I think those magazine printers seriously need to look over the contents before they put in random backgrounds.
Q3. Which sport brand does he like?
a) Mizuno
b) Puma
c) Nike
Answer: Nike. WERE YOU RIGHT?
WHICH IDIOT WROTE THIS?! He likes Adidas. Adidas shoes, Adidas windbreakers, Adidas caps… Are they blind or something? Phhsh. Aaargh. Next question. Crap.
The rest of the questions are pretty much the same: stupid question with no correct answer, stupid answer that is totally wrong. Don’t they know him at all? Only two questions out of the THIRTY was right. But then again everyone knows Josh’s full name is Joshua Alekander Dustfinch, and everyone's seen him driving a car around LA. This writer definitely needs more observatory skills.
“So? What did you get?” Cass asks me curiously once I’m done.
“I–I ––” Aw crud. I forgot I was supposed to count the number of answers I got correct and find the percentage. That’s what comes out of being too engrossed in criticising the idiotic questions.
“ Hey, Jeannie, you alright? You look really pale. Do you want to go home or something?” Allie saves me from further embarrassment unconsciously.
“Huh? Wha–– Yea I’m fine. Just exhausted.” I smile weakly at them, deciding to play along. “maybe I should go home and rest or something.”
“Yeah okay. See you tomorrow!” Cass and Allie wave at me as I made my escape.
“Bye!” I call over my shoulder as I step out of the doors and into freedom.
Yeah. I’m fine. Just fine.
♠ ♠ ♠
Hope you enjoyed that(:Sorry if it's a little bit lame and stuff. Comment and rate, no? :D