Chapter Thirty-One: Wishing, Sheila, and Talking.

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"Okay? Ready?" Alex asked me. 

"I don't know if I can do this..." I trailed off uncertainly. 

"You can! Come on, it'll be fun!" He assured me, smiling. 

"Peer pressure," I muttered, but nodded. "Fine," I sighed.

"Now, go," he shooed me of in the direction of the teenage boy. He was gangly, with long shaggy black and gray eyes. I stumbled over to him, where he was leading against a wall, reading a comic. 

"Hey!" I said cheerfully to him. 

He looked up. "Can I help you?" 

"Remember me? We met at Justin's party..." I lied, waiting for him to catch on. 

"Justin? You were at his party?" He cocked his head, confused. 

He has a friend named Justin? Who had a party? 

What are the odds?

"Yeah, remember what we did..." I dropped my voice to a low whisper and moved closer to the boy, leaning on the wall next to him. I snuck a glance at Alex behind my shoulder, who was bending over, laughing his head off. The guy was blushing and actually slightly tremebling.

I'm betting he is quite the lady's mad. 

"Uh, er," the boy stuttered. "I-I think you have the wrong person..." 

"Oh no. I would remember those lips anywhere." I said suggestively. I moved my face closer and closer to him, until our lips were a centimeter apart. The boy blushed a furious red and opened his mouth to say something. 

"Oh, well, bye!" I moved away and skipped back to Alex, leaving the flustered and confused boy behind. 

"That. Was. Awesome!" Alex clapped me on the back, laughing. I laughed too, but also felt bad for that poor boy. 

Not really. 

Hey, call me what you want, but that was funny! 

"OMG! I have a great idea!" I grinned. 


After a quick drop at the costume shop, Alex and I headed into Tiffany's. I was dressed in a long, shimmery gown with huge sunglasses. Alex had on a suit with a fake earpiece. 

AKA, I was a celebrity and he was my bodyguard. 

As we stood by the entrance, I told Alex in a not-so-quiet voice, "Make sure that no fans bombard me." Alex nodded, a stern expression on his face. I drifted to the confused worker, who was examining every inch of my face, trying to figure out which celebrity I was. 

"Can I see your collections of diamond rings?" I asked, in the most snobby voice I could muster. 

"Y-yes, miss." The lady stuttered. 

"Thanks, darling," I replied. She turned around to open a display, but then she did a double take. 

"Selena Gomez?" She whispered, her eyes wide. 

Well, apparently I looked like Selena Gomez. 

"Shh," I whispered. "I'm trying to keep low for a while," I leaned over the counter.

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