McKenzie sat in her plain room, on a plain bed, in a plain room, inside a plain house, built in a plain town, with anything from plain people. Mackenzie lives in Bethel, Connecticut. However it’s known as the ghetto of Danbury, the biggest city nearby, it’s far nicer than Danbury. Her dull pink walls hadn’t been painted since the day she was born, although her parents had offered many times to redo her meant-for-a-newborn room, she preferred to leave it as plain-Jane as her life. Now however, she is left with no choice but to paint her kitten room an ugly shade of artificial cheese yellow to attract potential buyers to their $2.1 million dollar mansion so that the Acista family will be all set and ready to move to Los Angeles come fall. You see, McKenzie’s little sister, McKenna, is en-route to being the next Hannah Montana. The casting director has had his eye on McKenna since the day she was first brought in to audition when she was only five years old. I guess he could already see a teen star bound to fall down the Lindsay-Lohan-Amanda-Bynes-Miley-Cyrus Mental Breakdown express.
McKenna is a little brat.
So off to Los Angeles they go.
Sure McKenzie isn’t the most wild paryt girl ever, in fact she’s a good-two-shoes with a straight A’s, no criminal record, smut free lungs, and all her brain cells, but she isn’t the loser you’d except her to be. She had a lot of goody-two-shoes friends, and she plays Volleyball. She spends most of her free time doing homework, going to practice, and shopping with her friends at plain yet expensive stores like J. Crew and Anthropologie. Her plain brown mascara and light pink lipstick combo goes great with her plain dark brunette hair. McKenzie is the epitome of normal, certainly no art-freak, punk-rock loser. And she didn’t want to move. She hated most of the crazy bitches in her school, but she has some really great friends here. Though she has three more years of high school to suffer through, she has made her whole life in this small town and moving to a hip city like LA is like losing a bar fight to the local drunkard, diluting.
But does she have a choice?
No. Why?
Because McKenna is a little brat.
McKenzie was supposed to start packing an hour ago, but instead she sat on her white down comforter and played with the feathers in between the thin fabric. She didn’t want to think about having to leave everything she worked for behind and she didn’t want to be sad about it, but it was hard when she imagined what the girls in Los Angeles would be like. They’d probably be ten times more beautiful than anyone here, with extensions made of real hair, and tans, and personal trainers, decked out head-to-toe in Versace. They're probably models and actors, or tumblr famous, or something cool like that. Maybe they have famous parents and friends and go to clubs to hang out in V.I.P. rooms and twerk with Miley Cyrus. McKenzie would be an even bigger lame-o in LA
Avoiding packing, McKenzie started reading an old copy of Seventeen from April, 2007. Avril Lavinge was on the cover. She had bleach blonde hair with pink highlights and a ton of eyeliner. Her clothes were always skimpy, and black, and ripped. Is that would girls in LA would be like? Rocker-chick meets skater-hottie? McKenzie promised herself she’d never become one of those girls, although her parents always told her they’d support her no matter what she wanted to do. In fact McKenzie’s mom had been “quite the scandal” herself when she was younger, but coming from her mother that probably just meant that she forgot to make her bed a few times.
“MC-KENZ!!!” a certain eight year-old shrieked from the kitchen. Not even ten seconds later, she was shrieking again.
“MC-KENZ!!!”
Reluctantly, McKenzie walked to the top of the steps were her sister was still shrieking for her.
“What do you want?” McKenzie shouted back.
“COME DOWN HERE AND HELP ME.” McKenzie rolled her eyes and trotted down the steps, wishing for the day when McKenna’s voice will drop at least three octaves.
When McKenzie walked into the kitchen, McKenna was sitting on the floor with a single line of blood flowing down her leg from a cut in her knee.
“I got a boo-boo.” McKenna loudly whispered in the most innocent tone of voice. Although she could be the biggest brat, she was always good about using her cuteness to be manipulative. McKenzie carried her little sister up to the bathroom, cleaned her cut, and put on a clean band-aid. Without even a thank you, McKenna skipped out of the room, down to their state-of-the-art entertainment center built for the kids.
McKenna is a little brat.
McKenzie always assumed that her parents had put so much money, time, and effort into a great big entertainment space for herself and her sister not only out of love in their hearts, but also out of guilt set in their stomachs they felt from not being able to spend a lot of time with their only daughters.
McKenzie unlocked her phone and looked at the date.
June 21st. School was over now. Only one week more until she moved into an even more extravagant house in Los Angeles. She didn’t know how to say goodbye to her friends. She didn’t know how she would fill her time or if she’d find new friends. What if she had to spend her last three years of high school a complete nobody? Although she has everything she could ever want, McKenzie was a chronic seeker of social acceptance. She craved approval like a baby craves it's mothers embrace, and constituted that it could only be truely achieved by being the perfect picture of uniformity, not once taking a step off the commonality super highway. She turned her cheek to indivisuals with a backbone and brashness, who made her question her brainwashing. Without her friends, she was an insecure wreck, trying to hold together her cement shell of self-assurance, but her fuel was praise from others, and so loneliness became her enemy.
She hadn’t bothered telling a lot of people that she was moving because she didn’t want their symphony. McKenzie was determined to stay positive about this unfortunate event. Tonight her volleyball friends were throwing her a going away party. They invited a bunch of decent looking guys and a few other girls who weren’t from their team, but McKenzie knew that this wasn’t going to be the kind of party she wanted to be out. Majority volleyball team was desperate for some action, seeing as they weren’t considered the “popular” girls so this party was bound to become one huge seventh-grade-in-the-same-room-make-out-session. McKenzie knew what they’d say,
“Oh-Ma-Gawd McKenz, you gotta let loose sometime! Let this be your last hoo-rah in Bethel!”
But this whole party was simply for their own selfish needs. Even so, McKenzie appreciated her friends for their efforts.
