Thanks for re-visiting Jackris.

Translations at the bottom.

"Ugh! It's shit like this that really pisses me off."

I glared at the magazine in my hand before setting it back on the rack. Suzy leaned over to see what I was so unhappy about and then rolled her eyes.

"Not that I care to promote this Twilight thing you have, but why do you always let those covers get to you? You know they're bullshit, or at least you say they are."

I stared at her. I mean, I really just stared. Had she not been listening to me for the past six months?

"Dude, have you not been listening to me for the past six months? It's about privacy. It's about decency. It's about… Damn it, it's about Twilight."

"Oh, God. Please, not again." Suzy placed her hands together in a mock prayer and looked toward the ceiling of the music store we were standing in.

The magazine cover that had the indecency to piss me off that day had a picture of Robert Pattinson and Kristen Stewart with a headline that read "Trouble in Paradise?" I had seen plenty of these magazine covers since Twilight had come into my life, but the more I started to pay attention to what they were writing, the more they infuriated me. What right do these magazines have to speculate as to the love life of a person they've probably never met? To the magazines, they were celebrities who had given up all rights to privacy, because they had decided to become actors. To me, they were simply people, human beings who loved what they did for a living and got caught up in the craptastic frenzy that is the paparazzi. I tried to imagine how I would react if I had been put in their position. To go from a seemingly normal life of doing what I wanted and loved to do with whatever group of people I wanted to be with to being attacked with flashbulbs, running from rabid fans, and trying to get away via whatever car or cab was available was just way too much for any person to process.

"I'm not going to say anything, because you'll just think I'm being preachy again," I replied.

Suzy looked at me and raised an eyebrow in that "I know you're lying so just get it out of your system" way.

"Ok, I'm going to say something," I huffed. "Here's my thing: They're human beings, for crying out loud! Just leave them alone. Whether they're in a relationship or not is none of anybody's business. If they wanted to go public with their relationship, providing that they really are in one, then they'd do it. It's such an invasion of privacy. Let them lead their lives, man. There's no need to pry and make up lies. Bullshit. That's all it is. It's bullshit."

"You don't seem to have this problem when it pertains to a certain green-eyed man from Texas," Suzy shot back. "Anytime he's mentioned somewhere, you're all about reading what he's up to."

I couldn't help but sigh. She had me there. But in my defense, Jackson Rathbone was the totally adorable guy from a town not far from where I had grown up. And while I had started out as a Rob fan, it didn't take long for me to be mesmerized by the mop of brown hair, the slight southern accent, and those gorgeous eyes. To say I was smitten would be an understatement. It's a shoddy defense, I know, but it was the only thing I could think of to defend my actions.

"It helps that most of the stuff written about him has to do with the band or something related to the movie. Not everything about him is sprawled out on every single magazine cover or internet site. It's all small information that trickles in, and for that, I'm happy to take what I can get." I smiled, thinking that maybe I had finally said something to Suzy to make her understand my position without sounding like a total psycho.

"You need professional help," she laughed.

I guess I was wrong.

"Are you done making fun of me? Then let's get the hell outta here. I wanna see what else this street has."

Suzy and I paid for the CDs we came in to purchase, and as I was heading towards the exit, I noticed a Curious George shirt hanging close to the door.

"Hey! I wanna get that for Monkey. Gimme a sec."

I quickly rushed over to get the right size and paid for it.

"How is Rita these days? You haven't really said much about her since we got here last week," she commented as we walked out of the store and put on her sunglasses.

"She's doing fine. Still living the life in Long Island. She wants to know when we're coming back from Vancouver." I smiled widely at the thought of my other best friend, Rita AKA Monkey. "She's freaking out because of that whole mess with her dad and his new girlfriend. She wants to start plotting ways to sabotage her, and you know I'm always willing to help a friend get rid of a problem," I ended with a loud laugh.

"Chica, your cackle is going to cause someone to crash their car one day. Keep the noise level to a dull roar, would you?"

"Que te dije? I'm Mexican. We have three volumes: loud, louder, and loudest."

Suzy and I continued to banter with one another as we window shopped. She began to talk about the display at one of the stores we just passed when I noticed a little boy about four years old playing with a ball much bigger than him up ahead of us. I must have completely zoned out, because the next thing I knew, Suzy was punching me in the arm.

"Hey! Stop drooling over the babies. His mother isn't more than ten feet away, and if she sees you looking at him like that, she's gonna call the coppers."

"Sorry. But mira! He's just so adorable." And then in my best Phoebe Buffay voice said, "I want to keep one."

She couldn't help but laugh at my never-ending Friends references and just shuffled me along. We walked for another couple of minutes when we noticed that the little boy had somehow lost the ball he was playing with. It began to roll down the sidewalk, and we giggled at how he ran after it. My attention should have been on the fact that the ball was rolling right into an intersection. Thanks to sweet baby Jesus that Suzy was being an adult and noticed it. She also noticed that the stoplight allowing cars to cross said intersection was about to turn green.

I don't remember exactly how she got my attention to notice these things. All I remember was dropping my bags, running as fast as I could towards the little boy, and hearing Suzy's footsteps pounding into the pavement next to me. When we were no more than ten feet away from the intersection, I saw a car heading right for him, and I couldn't help but hold my breath.

Chica = Girl

Que te dije? = What did I tell you?

Mira = Look

Reviews are like a not-yet-introduced Jackson: I make with the grabby hands. Gimme! ;)