• Some people just can't deal with the fact that I am better. I have the best voice out of all the singers out there. My range is the best. I have the prettiest face out of all the girls; perfectly shaped pink lips, naturally unblemished tanned skin, a cute button nose, and dimples in the middle of my cheeks when I smile. I have the best body. Tall and thin. I have the perfect wardrobe. No pants, only skirts, dresses, and one of a kind shirts and coats made especially for me. I even have the best hair. Long, blonde, perfect waves. I am perfect in every way. Yet, some punk rocker boy thinks he can come and control my show! Him and his stupid untalented boy band think that just because we agreed to tour with them, that he has a say in what goes on. How dare he? I am Abigail Elizabeth Finchly. Or Abi F, as my fans call me. My single and music video have been top of the charts for three weeks. My album sold 4 million copies in one day. No pretty boy wannabe can take that from me so why would he try?

    "Abigail! Hold still! Let the ladies do your makeup." My mother hissed at me. I humphed but did what she told me. I stared into my light blue eyes. I was ready for my show. I was going to rock it, and everyone there would scream my name. Abi F; the best solo artist ever born. Destroying the competition would have to wait.