"Come ON, Annabeth, you know I was only joking. I would never actually mean that. Your my baby sister, and I love you!" Katy shouted, trying to catch me.
I ran up the stairs to my room, sliding across my wood floor to land in front of my walk-in-closet doors. I open them, stepping in. I dig through a small pile in the corner, retrieving what I was look for. I turn around and see Katy standing there, in her running clothes.
Being Katy Perry's younger sister isn't easy. But I can't say it isn't fun. I love my sister with all my heart, and were bestest of friends. Lately though, she's been getting ready for her upcoming tour next year. We've had this argument TONS of times, but now, since I'm 18, I should be able to go.
Her bright green eyes stand out in her black Victoria Secret jogging pants and plain black loose t-shirt.
"I'll make you a deal, K," I don't wait for a reply," if I can pass my senior year in high school, then you have to take me on tour with you."
Katy ponders about it for a second.
"Deal." She says, sticking out her hand.
As I'm about to walk out, Katy blocks the door.
"You can't have anything lower than a 75% in ANY class. You must do at least 1 club or attempt to run for something in student body. Now, you've got to get school clothes and supplies."
I follow Katy down the stairs, to the kitchen. She picks up her purse and take out a credit card.
"I'm expecting you be responsible with this. Buy a couple notebooks and some pencils." She says sternly, not quite done talking yet.
"Can I get laptop??" I question, wiggling my eyes brows and doing a little dance.
Katy's eyes soften and she says,"Yes, you can get one. Around $800, nothing more, okay?"
I squeal and dance around again.
"On your way to Target, can you drop me off at the park? I want to do a jog."
As were walking along side each other to the garage, Peter, Katy's fantastic bodyguard, steps in front.
"Where ya going now, Miss. Perry?"
"Oh Peter. Can Annabeth go to Target for school supplies and drop me off at the park for a jog? Please!!" Katy begs.
Peter is weak when it comes to stuff like this. He's like our dad. He hands me his black Tahoe's keys, and cautions us,
"Be careful. I mean it girls. Be back in less 3 hours. Understand? I'm counting, ladies. Have fun-"
We cut him off by running out to the car. I get in drivers seat. As we pull out, Katy flips the station until she settles on "Talk Dirty to Me" by Jason Derulo. She sing along and I laugh silently.