Siren

Prologue

(so like, hi ! in this story all of the songs 'written by nova' will be sza songs because it only makes sense for niggers to sing nigger music. thank you.
- management.)

Third Person

"Oh, I believe you when you say it like that, you must really love me." Nova concluded the song, softening her tone as her voice faded out. "I don't like it, scrap this song and start over." Richard Kingsley. Her longtime manager was, for lack of a better word, an absolute dick. They'd met when Nova was singing karaoke with her friends and he'd taken a liking to her voice as well as her appearance. Her fox ears were 'exotic' in his words. As well as the fact that she'd been scouted, she was a little desperate for money when she'd accepted his offer and didn't read the fine print. So now she was stuck with a shitty label and a fuck ton of music she hated topping the charts.

Not to sound cocky, but her song was great. She'd spent a week perfecting it and it was supposed to be her favourite song on her upcoming album. But now she'd have to start over and write some catchy pop bullshit that she'd been sick of before she even started her career.

"Fine, I'll start over. Again." she huffed, annoyance clearly etched onto her features. Walking over and resting a heavily spray tanned hand on the girl's shoulder his brassy voice breathed out, "Come on Nove, don't be like. You know I only want what's best for you and that's not the type of music you want to put your name to. Listen, maybe start with something that's like, 'Oooooh' then transition into a 'Yeaaaaaah' and end w-"

Yeah she'd stopped listening already. She had to hand it to him, for a middle aged, balding, white man with no sense of rhythm and a velvet purple suit, he knew how to make money. "I'm sure that'll work, but I should head out. See you." she quickly made her way out of the cramped studio, her chauffer, Ray, already waiting at the front of the building. Opening the door she slid into the back seat, sinking into the soft leather with a deap sigh. "Another rough day huh ?" "You have no idea Ray." And with that the black Land Rover's tires squealed as it pulled off.

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Coming home was definitely the best part of her day. It was the one place where she had complete control. Contrary to popular belief, she lived in an apartment. Granted the amount of money she had people assumed she had a mansion, or a castle of some sort but she'd rather a cozy flat. She'd hate to come home to a cold, empty building.

Flinging off her shoes at the door she briskly walked towards her room before falling face first into the plush, linen sheets. She felt like shit. She'd been forced to change damn near everything about herself for this career and she fucking hated it. Her naturally black, coily hair and ears had been bleached, and her hair straightened, her clothing style was all sparkles and dresses, everything had been turned to shit. But she was in way too deep to go back now.

Fishing into her pocket she gripped her phone, dialing the familiar number of her favourite Chinese restaurant and ordering her usual spring rolls and orange chicken. After ending the call, before getting the chance to turn on her T.V her generic ringtone blared out of her phone. It was an unknown caller which wasn't all that unusual, answering the call she was greeted by a high pitched, slightly maniacle (???) voice.

"Hello ? Is this Nova Blanchard ?"
"This is she, who might you be ?"
"Oh I'm Principle Nezu from U.A highschool, nice to meet you."
"Nice to meet you too Mr. Nezu, was there anything you needed ?"
"Well Miss Blanchard, I was hoping to ask a favour." "What is it ?"
"Would you possibly be able to put on a show for the school ? As you probably know the Sports Festival is coming up in the next few weeks and I was hoping you'd be able to perform for my students the day after as a kind of prize for their hard work. We'll throw in a seat in the stadium free of charge as well as whatever fee you charge."

This wasn't what she'd expected but she was excited regardless. She'd been homeschooled since middle school and, as trivial as it sounds, seeing a highschool in person was on her bucket list. "Of course, I'd love to. I'll text you my manager's information, he's who you'll need for the details." "Thank you very much Miss Blanchard ! I'll keep in touch, goodbye." "Bye Mr Nezu, thank you !" the call was ended. This was the first gig she'd been excited about in a while.