"Zoe, this is the third time this month," the man said calmly. She could barely hear him over the traffic, but his bass voice seemed to resonate in her.
Zoe lifted a perfectly shaped eyebrow as if he were saying something important to her. Charles Davis, her manager and publicist, was having on the brink of having another heart attack. She could tell. His big stomach fell over the waistband of his pants and the tie that was knotted around his neck looked as if it were cutting off the blood flow to his head; which would explain his pale face and rosy cheeks. He looked more like a young version of Santa Clause rather than a forty year old man.
"Well? Do you have anything to say for yourself? Here you are, on the front page, smoking, and drinking for Pete's sake!" he yelped with an incredulous look on his face.
Zoe couldn't help but flash her trademark, devilish grin. "Well, you know, you have one life to live; might as well live it." She said it as if it were a fact. But it wasn't. The fact was, she was seventeen, and the Hollywood bad ass for the moment. She drank like there was no tomorrow, smoked like a chimney, and cussed like a sailor.
"This is not a joking matter Zoe," Charles began. He leaned forward in his chair and let a hand glide over the tabloids in front of him, "This is serious. Do you think Hollywood wants to keep seeing you like this? How long do you think it will last?"
Zoe sighed and leaned back in her chair. She began twiddling a piece of her dirty blonde hair and looked at the pink tips. "Well Charlie, it's kept me in the spotlight this long. And can you honestly tell me that Mandy Moore or some innocent virgin is better reading material?"
Charles shook his head at the girl. She was almost like his daughter; that's how long they had worked together. "Zoe, Paramount is about to pull the plug on you. And the Fox is about to as well," he said softly. He watched her reaction slowly morph from playfulness to seriousness.
Zoe's eyes widened, "What?" She blinked at him and leaned forward, "Pull the plug? You mean fire me?!" She yelped.
Charles nodded solemnly, "Yes, fire you. And by the looks of things, I don't blame them." He frowned at himself for saying that to her, but she needed to hear the truth.
Zoe pursed her lips and locked her jaw. "Fine," she said and stood up, "Ill show them." She grabbed her sunglasses and slid them onto her face. "Give me a month," she said pointing a finger at them, "I'll be back in a month, and I will be different!" She barked and turned on her heel. She began walking out of the restaurant and heard the snapping of cameras. She growled and shoved a reporter off, "Back off!" she roared and slid into her limousine.
One Week Later...
Zoe rolled her eyes at her surroundings. What the hell had she gotten herself into? Slamming the door to her truck she leaned against it and pulled out a cigarette. She put it in her mouth and lit it, inhaling deeply. She let out a breath, along with a puff of smoke and pushed herself off of the car.
She looked at herself in the reflection. She looked completely different than the old Zoe. Her dirty blonde hair was now auburn and the pink tips she was known for were gone. Her makeup was very natural looking and she looked somewhat normal. Her normal attire of scandalous tops and skirts were replaced with jeans and cute, conservative shirts. Her green eyes were shielded by a pair of glasses with thick black frames.
"Pleasantville High?" she repeated as she read the sign outside the old brick building. She watched as students hurried into the building, laughing and smiling gaily. She was here to change right?
She flicked the cigarette onto the ground and stepped on it with her shoe. She sighed and put a cheesy smile on her face. She shifted the shoulder strap on her messenger bag and grunted at the weight. Were was her assistant when she needed her?
She walked through the parking lot and heard the sound of a loud engine. She turned and saw a mustang speeding towards her and frowned. She stood her ground as it skidded to a stop in front of her. She slammed her fists down on the hood, "Watch it next time you stupid asshole!" she yelled. Change! She yelled at herself.
A boy stuck his head out of the car and wrinkled his nose at the smell of burning rubber. "Excuse you! Get out of the way," he said with a look of contempt on his features.
Zoe lifted an eyebrow, "I don't know who you think you are, but pedestrians have the right of we you ignorant little…"
"Is there a problem here?" a voice interrupted.
Zoe opened her mouth with a quick retort but stopped when she saw the man in a suit. He was the principal, she assumed. She shook her head and shifted the bag once more. Five minutes here and she already hated school, and change. The old Zoe would have drug the boy out of his car and beat the shit out of him in the blink of an eye.
"Good, now Mr. Brewer, I suggest you go park before you're late for class," he said to the boy with a nod. The boy slid back into the car and Zoe stepped onto the sidewalk. She stuck her tongue out at him as he sped off towards a vacant spot.
Zoe turned back to the man, only to find him walking off, barking at another student. She rolled her eyes at the authority figure and made her way into the building and into the throng of students. She walked into the office to receive her class schedule and frowned at the chipper people she met.
After getting her schedule she walked out of the office and searched for her class. She was looking up at the room numbers and felt herself collide with something, someone rather.
She looked up at the figure, Oh shit, she said to herself. It was the guy from the parking lot. His eyes widened in recognition and a scowl appeared on his face, "You again. Look nerd, stay out of my way," he said.
A pretty girl with blonde hair popped out from behind his massive shoulder and looked at the girl, "Oh Steven, look at the little maggot," she laughed.
Zoe quirked an eyebrow, "Maggot?" she repeated. Be nice! She screamed to herself, "Is that all you got?" she asked.