Never Forget

Katherine Leighton. A normal girl, unless you consider the fact that she's an international superstar. Katherine of all people knows that a celebrity status doesn't fix problems. It doesn't erase the fact that Maria is dead. Or that Maria knew. A collaboration with One Direction is a major boost in her career, but falling in love could be what brings it to shambles. Maria's death starts to look less like a death, and more like a curse, and Katherine will have to give up everything to be able to survive...

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2. The Fame

 

First of all, it isn't as cool as a normal 16-year-old girl would think it is to have paparazzi probably full of hot guys chasing after you. In fact, it's not even cool to have a bunch of flat out hot guys chasing you. Most just want to date me, kiss me, spend my money, then break up with me and brag to his friends about being with the oh so great Katharine Leighton. I only make mistakes once, and that was one of them.        Second of all, money isn't that great, because my mom stores it all in the bank. I'm not allowed to spend a single penny until I hit 18.       Third, Hollywood is not glamorous.       "Ms. Leighton, we have landed," says the flight attendant. I woke from my nightmare of Maria and shook my head.        "Thank you Carrie."       "Sweetie, your hairbrush." My mom handed me my old Cinderella hairbrush from when I was a kid. I pulled it through my bleached blonde hair a couple of times to keep it as straight as possible. I had to do this before stepping into the guaranteed mass of cameras waiting outside the door for sure. I'd better look good in gossip magazines, or else they'll find some way to twist the story so that my messy hair means I don’t care about appearances.       Finally, I stepped out into the flashing lights, nearly falling down the steps of the plane because they were so bright. I went through, careful not to tear my new strapless dress. Maybe I should have worn my classic shorts, t-shirt and wedges ensemble. If some reporter trying to get a good story pulled down this one, that would be god-awful. I adjusted it in case of the occurrence.       "Katharine, can you tell me about your new song?"        "It's a surprise," I told the reporter. That was my answer to every question it worked with.        "Katharine, honey." A firm hand clasps my shoulder.       "Yes, mom?"        "This is a big day for you, I mean possibly getting a collaboration with One Direction? Not every girl gets that opportunity.” I shrug.       “I know, I know. ‘Don’t blow it.’”       "KATHARINE, can I get a photo with you and mom?" I growled internally towards that reporter. Don't use my first name if you don't know me! I thought.        "KATH! Is it true that Carrie Hughes’ song 'Stars' is about you?" Great, that's even worse. A nickname I don't even use. They think they know me so well that they can call me a nickname and it's all good. I hate them.       "Miss. Leighton! Over here!"       I shriek a bit in despair at the swarms of paparazzi. A claustrophobic celebrity? Not so good. I then see the bulletproof glass door up ahead to Lakeview Records. With a burst of energy and a firm slam, we are inside the studio.         I sigh loudly in relief. "They don't get any better, do they." Mrs. Leighton gave a sympathetic smile.        "Hun, you don't get any better as the superstar, Miss California, aka Katharine Leighton." She squeezes my hand. "Let's go to the recording session. Might take your mind off things."       Yeah, okay. Like recording a hit song won't remind me of my celebrity status. But then I'm in the room and five amazing British guys are looking at me. Fine, this may not be so bad. I know, I get it. You thought I wasn’t the “likes boys” girl. But just because I'm not a 'fan of fan boys' doesn't mean I don't like guys at all. And singing pop stars who know what fame isn't what it's cracked up to be? Kind of my type.        "Ello, there. Rough crowd today, yeah?" says one of them. I'm not sure of there names, but I don't want to screw up.        "Uh, yeah." Red face time. That was the most awkward statement I've said today. My agent/manager Posie might've prepared me for screaming reporters, but certainly not a cute boy band.        "Get used to it." At this I have to laugh.       "Does anyone EVER?"        A few of them laugh and the speaker reaches out his hand.        "Niall Horan."       I return with a shaking hand.        "Katharine Leighton."       He smiles. “I know."       I blush again and stare at my feet a bit. "Um, sorry if it's offensive I don't know your names by heart. I think it’s Niall, Louis, Liam, Zayn and Harry, right?"       "Hah. It's all right, and something different for once. I’m Niall,” says the blonde in a friendly tone.        A darker haired boy pipes up. "Yeah, someone who doesn't know our names before we know theirs." Niall elbows him and he blushes. “Um, I’m Zayn.”       I frown. That didn't make since. "But-you know MY name before I knew yours'."       The one with curly hair laughs. "Come on, you're the biggest star, and have been for longer than us. Give us a break. And my name is Harry.”       I bite my lip. "Well, let's hope you're not the crazy fan boys who write me those love letters."       "You bring one?"       "Yeah, I just got it thrown at me 5 minutes ago." I shrug nonchalantly.       "Read it, read it, read it," they chant.       I clear my throat.       "Dear Katharine,   Roses are red   Violets are blue,   Flowers are sweet,   But not as sweet as you   I love you,   Dave Reno."       One Direction bursts out laughing. I roll my eyes.        "Guys, that's not so funny."       "But it's cheesy," says Zayn through semi-contained laughs.       "I know THAT," I snap.       "Defensive much?" calls Harry.       I sigh. "Guys, that's my friend Maria's 'secret admirer' name. She joked about it, always pranked people...." I get choked up. Whoever did this had a seriously sick mind. Or was it actually Maria? The letter was typed, so I had no idea.This scared the absolute s** out of me. I wanted to freaking kill that person.   
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