Justin Bieber (19 page)

This letter really touched my heart. Sabrina says when she lost all her hair during chemo, she wore the cap I gave her. It reminded me of that old Rascal Flatts song about Sarah Beth, a girl who’s going through chemo and loses her hair, but when she’s at the prom, dancing with a guy who cares about her, she’s not afraid. I can’t tell you what it means to me that I was part of that moment for Sabrina. She’s out of the woods now and on her way to a long, healthy life, but I’ll keep praying for her. People like Sabrina and so many fans I’ve met along the road have taught me to never forget to
Never Say Never.

Every one of my fans is so special to me. I love being in the studio, but not as much as I love performing live, because that’s when I get to connect with you. One of my favorite moments in every show is when I get to walk downstage, look right into those beautiful eyes and tell you,

A lot of you have seen my adorable little three-year-old fan, Cody. Someone posted a hilarious video of her crying because she couldn’t see me. Two nights before my sixteenth birthday, I did
Jimmy Kimmel Live!
in Los Angeles and got to meet Cody and her family backstage. You should have seen her face when I
walked in the door! (Seriously, check it out on YouTube. Her eyes got as big as baseballs.) Funny thing is, I was just as excited to meet Cody. Her YouTube video had us smiling for weeks.

A couple of days later, we rocked the house with an amazing sixteenth-birthday party. Everyone was wondering if I’d celebrate by doing something crazy, but all I wanted was to spend time with my family, my friends and my team. We rented a house and filled it with the most incredible food, played basketball, swam, sang karaoke and even did sumo wrestling! It felt so good to just be a kid and be surrounded by people who truly love me for me. To top it all off, after that party I flew back to Canada and spent some quality time with my family there. And what did we do? We went bowling. I guess it’s not as extravagant as you might think from a recording artist, but at the end of the day, I’m still a regular kid. I don’t expect, nor do I want, anyone to treat me any differently.

Even though I don’t want to be given special treatment, I guess some things are a little bit different for me as I was surprised to be given a Range Rover for my sixteenth birthday.

AW C’MON!

I was feeling like it was pretty pathetic that I couldn’t drive it because I still hadn’t got my permit. I sneaked a trip around the block one day, and Mom came unglued at me.

“Justin! You know you can’t be driving that car. You don’t have a license. You don’t even have a permit.”

How lame is that? Sixteen and still hadn’t found time to get my permit.

“I should have had it a year ago,” I told Mom. “At this rate, I won’t have it till I’m thirty.”

“Okay,” she said. “We’ll clear a day next week. Top priority is you and me at the DMV.”

I cleared the day with the team. The day arrived, and I texted everyone who ever owned a cellphone to tell them I was getting my driver’s permit.

“Woo hoo! Driver’s permit! Forthcoming today! Freedom imminent!”

“Did you study for the test?” Scooter asked.

“Sure. Yeah. Well... you know... I thought about it. About driving, I mean. I’ve got it down cold. Don’t worry. I won’t fail the test.”

“You should probably study up a little, Justin.”

“I said I won’t fail the test.”

“Some people fail the test because they didn’t look at the rule book.”

“Dude. I won’t fail the test.”

So I went and failed the friggin’ test.

I walked in the door, fully expecting to walk out with a driver’s permit, hop in the driver’s seat and begin my life as a free man. Instead, I stood there staring at the woman behind the counter, trying not to hear what she was saying.

“Oopsy,” she smiled. “Close but no cigar. You missed it by one question.”

“What? No... no way.”

She handed me a piece of paper that was not a driver’s permit.

“Take a little time to review these correct answers and come back in thirty days.”

“Thirty days?”

Was she kidding me? I didn’t even know what country I’d be in thirty days from then. All I knew was I’d be thirty days older. With no driver’s permit.

I mumbled some kind of thank you, shoved my shades
on my face, and pulled my hood as low as I could. Mom was waiting out in the lobby area, and she didn’t have to ask me what happened on the way out.

“Oh, Justin... it’s okay. It’ll be fine. You can take it again—”

“Let’s just go,” I hissed.

Outside in the parking lot, it was pouring down rain, and Mom dove into the car. In the driver’s seat. Screw this, man. C’mon. This was so freaking unfair. I couldn’t stand it. I started walking. Walking ten miles in the rain seemed easier than getting in the
passenger seat when my whole heart was set on driving home.

Mom opened her window a crack and yelled, “Justin! You’re getting drenched. Get in the car.”

But I felt like I was going to cry, and there was no way I was getting in that friggin’ passenger seat, bawling like a ten-year-old. She kept calling out for me as I walked to the corner of the parking lot and stood by the street. It felt like every car that drove by was taunting me.

Nee-nur, nee-nur. We can drive, and you can’t!

Some girl drove by, yakking on her cellphone and putting on mascara as she weaved down the boulevard, but she sure as heck had a driver’s license, didn’t she? A little old lady passed by doing twelve miles per hour. She could barely see over the steering wheel of her Cadillac, but she obviously had no problem passing the stinking test. Some big dude cruised by in a pickup truck, smoking a cigarette, which he tossed out onto the street as if the world was his friggin’ ashtray. He gets to drive, and I don’t?

“Aaugh! I hate you!” I bellowed after him. It felt so good, I bellowed at the next guy. “I hate you, too! And I hate you! And I hate you! I hate you!”

Mom sat in the car while I vented my frustration on the traffic. Every once in a while, she’d crack the window and call,
‘“Justin, that’s enough. Justin? Seriously. Get in the car – now.”

I finally got in, soaking wet. Justin Bieber, world’s newest pop star without a driver’s permit. Later that day, Scooter and Kenny came to take me somewhere, and I told him, “This blows.”

“Yeah, it does,” he said. “Thirty days goes fast, though. You’ll get it next time.”

“I failed it by one question, and when I looked at the answers – this one right here – I know I had this one right.” I pulled the crumpled paper from my hoody. “When permitted to turn right at a red light, you should (a) proceed to turn right, (b) slow down before making the right turn, or (c) come to a complete stop, then proceed with the right turn.”