The Gossiper

Something You Didn’t Know About Brynn

by J.K.

Brynn Westerlin, the gorgeous teenage actress, was spotted at Warbles Booksellers last night, though it actually turned out to be someone else. It was Tolly Westerlin, her twin sister.

The Westerlin twins were raised in Hollywood as the lovely little babies who could act. The first film they made was “A Romance of Sorts”, where they both played Minnie Snow, the four-year old darling. The director of the movie had heavily explained how Brynn had done most of the acting…while Tolly sat in the corner and ate from the muffin baskets. Their futures were set from there.

We all know who Brynn is. She’s the sexy eighteen-year old in all the action movies. Her luminous green eyes, black hair, and flawless body are what gets her the job. She’s starred in “Abduction”, “Jay Lee”, “Murder to Commit”, “Bonjour, Boys”, and “Turbulence”. And way more. This year, she was voted “Sexiest Teen in the World”.

Tolly, on the other hand, was exiled from her family because of her refusal to act after “A Romance of Sorts”. The day she turned eighteen, she bolted to an apartment in New York City, an lives by herself. Some question her sanity.

The movie “Arachnophobia” featuring Brynn Westerlin will be released October 31, 2009. It’s about a group of teens that go to the Congo for their high school graduation…and get lost in a jungle rich in spider anomalies.

“Wow.” I said, staring at the tabloid, tossing it into the enormous aquarium. Goldy blinked her bulbous eyes at it, and swam in the opposite direction. “That’s bull. Well, not really. But you know what I mean. It’s true…but how do they find out about this stuff? Gah!”

I was talking to Goldy. Again.

It seemed pathetic that I had to resort to speaking to a creature with a short-term memory of three seconds about my problems. I had faced reality a long time ago: I had no friends.

You see, when your sister is famous beyond all reason, there’s side effects.

Let me make a list:

1. No friends.

You are seen as a target. People just want to befriend you to then ask if they can meet your sister. Trust me, it’s happened way too many times before. They just use you for your connections. It’s a cruel world out there.

This, unfortunately, calls for no boyfriends either. All the guys that hit on me just wanted a chance to go out with Brynn. Figures.

2. Paparazzi

The press is to celebrities as leeches are to people who eat way too fast before going swimming. At least, according to “The Series of Unfortunate Events” movie with Jim Carrey. Anyway, they stalk (not the leeches. That would be creepy.), and bug you to death. The article by J.K. is a clear example. How can reliable can they be if they think I’m my sister all the time? Hello, I have an identity too. It’s just downgrading to my self-esteem. All the media says to me (or at least how I interpret it): I wouldn’t exist if it weren’t for my sister.

3. Hm. No three. But still!

Obviously, having a reputation sucks. You can’t walk out in public in sweat pants, or the media would have a field day.

Yes, I know there are myriads who would kill (figuratively speaking. As far as I know.) to be gorgeous…but it really isn’t all that it seems to be. If you’re popular, people will use you. If you’re pretty…that’s a whole story on its own.

I don’t want to be the cat-eyed brunette. Everyone basically brands me as “idiot” when they see me. I’ve learned that people react strangely to beauty.

Take this situation that happened not so long ago (yesterday, as a matter of fact):

Salesclerk: Oh my god.

Me: (hoping he hasn’t seen any of Brynn’s movies) What?

Salesclerk, who’s a pimply teen: You’re beautiful.

Me: Um. Okay.

Salesclerk: Can I take a picture of you?

Me: No! I mean, no thanks.

Salesclerk: You’re the hottest girl I’ve ever seen.

Me: (coughs) Oh.

Salesclerk: Wanna go out with me?

Me: Er, I’m…married. Seven kids. Gotta go!

How else would you have dealt with it? I have clearly been armed with attractiveness for absolutely no reason at all. Except to, like, embarrass guys (unintentionally, of course).

Brynn, on the other hand, puts it to use. She’s an airhead though, arrogant an all.

I find myself to be quite intellectual, thank you very much. I had attended a boarding since I was five, which I know doesn’t make me smart, but I still got A’s. And I certainly got more than my fair share of conceited people.

But now I was free. Truth is, I’ve always wanted to be a writer. I couldn’t tell my parents that, of course. They’d freak out and go bananas on me. Even though I haven’t spoken to them in almost a year now…I sort of miss them. Despite the fact that they made it clear that they loved Brynn more than me, pressured me to act (though it didn’t work), and attempted to push me away from my geeky side, they were alright.

The only movie I made was “A Romance of Sorts”, which I barely remember. After that, it was insane tantrums whenever my parents brought Brynn and I to auditions. Brynn is successful because she’s got looks and a craving for the spotlight. I, however, lack in the latter.

Her favorite place is the red carpet (if that even counts as a “place”), and mine is Warbles Booksellers. It’s a bookstore with a café and musty books. It’s my paradise. When I go there, though, I have to put on sunglasses, so the media won’t, you know, think Brynn has brains.

I quickly donned a black t-shirt and jeans, running a straightener through my hair, getting ready to head downstairs.

The apartment complex I live in is very similar to a hotel. It’s basically a hideout for models, which makes me the outcast, considering I am not, you know, a model. I’m quite sure they would accept me with open arms (*cough*skinny, little stick arms*cough*) if I asked to hang out with them, though. Again, I don’t want this because they’d only want my company because I’m a Westerlin. Anyway, the complex has a breakfast buffet every morning until 11:59 am (like, honestly , why is it that exact? Would the cooks kick you out if you served yourself a cup of OJ at 12:00? Really.)

I always pick the food I want quickly because all of the male models are lounging in the lobby. That may sound great to you, but all they do is talk about how hot they looked in the latest tighty-whitey commercial. And the fact that they totally harass me when I walk by. The female models, however, are in their rooms starving themselves.

You can see why I don’t make friends. Besides Goldy, that is.

I opened the door and headed down seven flights of stairs. When I reached the lobby, I sped-walk to the coffee machine, ignoring the wolf whistles.

“Whatcha doin’ tonight, babe?” one called obnoxiously.

“Goin’ out with me!” yelled another.

A rumble of low laughter followed. I grabbed a muffin from the basket, took my mug, and raced back upstairs. If you’ve ever tried running with a hot mug in your hand up the stairs…you’ll know that in the end, you’ll be cowering on your couch, gaping at the new brown stain on your pants. Which was exactly what I was doing now.

“Whatever,” I mumbled, and scarfed the muffin. It was then that my laptop made a beeping noise, signifying a new e-mail. The only people (if “they” actually count as people) that e-mailed me were the sites I subscribed to. When I looked at the screen, an article had opened up. On it, was a full-blown picture of me in deep thought at Warbles, clutching The Odyssey.

“We’ve been compromised,” I groaned to Goldy, “My hideout.”

Goldy dashed into the castle of her tank.

I pulled up the document containing the piece I was working on. It was a short story about the rawness of true love. Basically, it was my version of all of the fairy tales containing princesses. Those stories were written about rich snobs who believed the Prince had to save the girl. And I wanted to write a collection of stories in which the people are normal, everyday human beings. Not girls with freakishly long hair.

I know if I turned it in to a publishing company, it would hit the shelves in less than a month. Not because I think it’s that good but because I’m a Westerlin.

Really. It’s ridiculous how much Brynn interferes with my life when I haven’t talked to her in, like, forever.

*^*^*

After I graduated high school, the argument happened, or World War III, as I like to call it. My parents versus me. They were insisting I become an actress or model, or something, as long as it resulted in eternal fame. Brynn, of course, was in Canada, promoting “Bonjour, Boys”.

I had taken Goldy, and got a commodious apartment the second it was up for rent. My parents pay for it, of course.

Honestly, how can they agree to pay for a place for me to live in, but refuse to talk to me?

Seriously messed up.

This is my attempt at humor. It basically is whatever I immediately think, I type. You can clearly see I overuse the words “really”, “honestly”, and “like”…which my friends are well aware of.

Anyhoodles, this is my newest story, called “Stardom” (you’ll see why soon…dun dun DUN). If there’s enough interest, I’ll continue. The main character, Tolly, is quite different from my other leading roles (Naomi in “Blood Immortals” is a reserved girl, and Lorraine in “Sick Soul” is a curious, silent type, and Courtney in "Damsel in Finesse" is nuts). Tolly is…unique. If you were wondering how to pronounce it, it’s pronounced: TAUL-EE. Like “tall” with an –ee sound at the end.

So, please review, because I’d like to hear some feedback. If you could give me your thoughts and predictions, that would be cool too.

I have to admit, Goldy is my favorite character so far. She’s so in-depth (*bad joke alert goes off*).

~Alice