The New National Anthem (Vic Fuentes fanfic)

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KATRINA'S POV

"Excuse me? Are you, um, Katrina Fuentes?"

I turned around to see a girl with dark purple in a ponytail and black sunglasses. She looked sweet and probably wouldn't try to get me to take her backstage.

"Yeah. What's your name?" The girl looked surprised that I even asked, but really, it's just common courtesy

"Taylor. Could you maybe sign this?"

I nodded and took the notebook from Taylor's hands. After signing my name with a flourish, I paused.

"Can I draw a picture too?"

"Yeah, that'd be awesome!"

I smiled and quickly drew the outline of a cat face. It wasn't that great, but she looked like she might pass out when I handed it back to her. After saying goodbye and telling her to have a nice day, I sighed in relief. Taylor was polite and not over the top, but Jesus fuck, why do people want my autograph? Like, whoop-dee-fucking-doo, my dad is a musician. He just does his own thing, and I really wish it didn't affect me at all.

This is sorta the reason I never contacted him earlier. I like to be alone and fangirls would frown upon what I do in my free time. Yay for fighting, smoking and underage drinking! If I actually said that and was just nobody, not one person could care less. But since I'm Vic Fuentes' daughter, *insert fangirl scream here* everyone would piss themselves and dig up shit that shouldn't be found up. There would already people up my ass about how I always wore long sleeves and how skinny I was. Just...ugh.

I continued to wander around Warped while swearing revenge on fangirls, and nobody else bothered me because I kept my head down and wore a bitchy expression. I couldn't care less if everyone insulted me on tumblr and called me ungrateful, it didn't affect me at all. I already knew there were huge debates online on whether I'm nice or not. If you bother me, I'm not. How hard is it for people to realize that I didn't sign up for this?

A little lost in irritation, I walked over to Pierce the Veil's merch table, where Chelsea was working. Their tour manager, Ben, sometimes gave me $30 to help her for a few hours, but occasionally I would just go to sit in the shade or visit Chelsea.

"Hey"

Chelsea glanced up at me from the box of shirts she was organizing and grinned.

"Hey, kitty!"

Mike wasn't the only one that loved calling me kitty; Chelsea and Hannah (Snowdon) both thought it was adorable. I sat down at one of the chairs behind the table and watched Chelsea get a bunch of bracelets and shirts for two girls with their parents wallets. Both of them easily put down at least $100 and wore way too much fucking eyeliner, especially since they were what? 13? It was whatever and totally didn't affect me, but I made sure to keep my head down so I wouldn't be noticed. They walked away, shrieking to each other about the guys' faces on their new shirts. Yep, totally not weird at all. I'll admit, I own my fair share of Eminem and band merch; but I don't walk around with their faces across my boobs.

A sharp blow of pain shot through my skull and I winced. Physically, I was getting worse, with more headaches and still being insanely underweight. I felt completely fine though, aside from still getting up in the middle of the night and having memories of Austin stab my poor little heart. Reaching into my front shorts pocket, I pulled out a tiny clear ziplock bag, like the kind drug dealers put pills in. Except mine had my prescription pain pills for my headaches. Slipping two in my mouth I swallowed them drying like I'd done so many times before.

"Hungry?" Chelsea held out half of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich to me. She hadn't seen me take the pills, thank god.

"Yep. Thanks" I accepted the food and took a large bite