A Directioner's War

What would the world be like if there was a war between Directioners and Beliebers? Meridia O'Day lives in the United States, and would do anything to go to a 1D concert. When she meets Niall Horan, her entire life changes.


7. Preparations

*Meridia’s P.O.V.*  

When I got out of the shower, I felt much better. My hair didn’t hurt anymore. That’s a defect of having curly hair, I had to put holding spray in it to keep it from frizzing, but after a day of not washing it, my head would hurt and so would my hair.  

I found a nice plush towel to dry off with and a soft fleece robe to wear. Listening closely, I heard the music had changed in the living room from a static radio to a smooth CD.   “Truly, madly, crazy deeply in love, with you…” they sang as I steeped into the room.  

“Looks like somebody stashed their CD’s.” Lacie grinned slyly.  

“It sounds absolutely beautiful.” I said, “You can go shower now.”  

“Okay,” she stood and passed me in the doorway.  

“Hey Sparkle,” I called, and saw her come from her room.  

“Yeah? Oh who brought the awesome music?”  

“Lacie stashed it in her things. Can you help me with me hair?” I saw hers was already styled to perfection.

“Did you just say me instead of my?” her eyebrow raised.  

“I guess I did. I don’t know.”  

“That’s too funny! Not three days here and your Irish is coming out. I’ll help you in a second.”  

“Alright thanks.”  

I left the bedroom door open, so the music could drift through, and saw Lacie had hung our dresses and pulled the plastic bags off. She had also layed out all of our make-up jewelry, and shoes out on the bed.   I pulled on some sweat pants and a tank top so I could take the robe off.  

“Okay, I know what to do, but with your curls, I have no clue how to braid it.” Sparkle said coming in the room.  

“How are you thinking it needs to be braided?” I asked.  

“Two little parts on each side going around the back like a crown.”  

“Like normal ones or fancy ones like you do?”  

“Normal, simple, you.”  

“Oh, I can do that. You have to pin it though, because there is no way I can get it right.”  

“Okay.” She sat on the edge of the bed.  

Standing in the mirror, I did as she said to do, then she pinned it in the back for me in such a way you couldn’t tell.  

“See perfect, and I didn’t do a thing.” she smiled and went back to her room while Lacie came from the bathroom.  

“Hair looks good,” she complimented, wringing her own out with a towel.  

“Thanks.” I said, taking my hairspray and making sure nothing would move, frizz, or anything else for that matter.  

“Lord, you could’ve warned me about the storm cloud of hairspray.” she joked.  

“Sorry, but my hair isn’t going anywhere tonight. I don’t care if I have to use the entire bottle. Its going t be perfect.” I laughed.  

“Wow… You’re getting serious about this. Who knows if we’ll even see them though.” she tugged on some sweat pants and already wore a tank top.  

“We have to see them… I didn’t come this close to not see them or anything.”  

To many things have slipped through my fingers, this is not going to be just another thing. This will be different.   

I kept reminding myself that as I started going through the jewelry I was going to wear. Claddagh ring on my right hand, my grandmother’s onyx rind on my left, my London charm bracelet that would match my dress, and my silver clover necklace.  

“No earrings?” Lacie asked, putting her black-brown hair in a French twist.  

“I’ll have my mask…”  

“Good point.”  

“Why are you putting your hair up? Not that it looks bad, but wouldn’t you want to leave it down?”  

“My dress has this thing that goes back around my neck and its like my necklace.”  

“Is it like a halter?”  

“Not really, it goes around my neck, then down my back and connects to the skirt in different places.”   I nodded, when she finished with her hair, she promised to do my make-up.

Sitting in one of the chairs, eyes closed, while she worked, I started thinking back to when I first heard One Direction.  

It was close to the end of 2011, maybe it was even the beginning of 2012. Whichever it was, their song “What Makes You Beautiful” had just came out.  

The fact that it’s catchy, preppy, and makes pretty much everyone happy, was enough to get me hooked. When I heard it, it immediately got stuck in my head. Not that that’s a bad thing, but I didn’t even know their names back then.  

Right when I started high school, everything pretty much went to hell. By that I mean, my best friend moved away, all my other friends started hating me for unknown reasons, my boyfriend I had at the time wouldn’t talk to me, and I plummeted into depression.  

To save all the details, I’ll just say that I have my share of scars up my arms. Some more visible than other, but it seems sometimes I can see every single mark.  

At the time that I heard, “What Makes You Beautiful”, I was pretty deep into depression. I was working on getting “Cut clean”, as one of my friends says. The one friend I really had, the same one that had moved away.  

I remember some nights I would be fighting something, and I would somehow remember the words to that song, and I would eventually sing myself to sleep. To think this all started with me just wanting to know the names of the guys who had saved my life.  

“Open your eyes.” Lacie said, holding an eyeliner pencil up in front of my face.  

“Can I do my own eyeliner and mascara? I always have the feeling someone will stab me in the eyes.” I asked, now back to the present reality.  

“Yeah, that’s fine, just do it the way you always do.” she handed me the pencil, and I stood back in front of the mirror.  

Somehow she has transformed me to perfection. My skin was an even white, but was still scattered with annoying little freckles. The eye shadow on my eye lids was a light silver, and lip gloss was making my lips a pinky-red color.  

“How do you do that?” I asked Lacie, trying to gently line my eyes in a thin “ebony black.”  

“Do what?”  

“All this,” I pointed at my face then switched the eyeliner to my left hand so I could draw on the other side.   “I don’t know, I guess playing with make-up when I was little might have helped.” she laughed and looked at me funny, “Did you just use your left hand for eyeliner?”  

I was now working on mascara, attempting to make my long lashes curl up, “Yeah, what of it?”  

“Since when do you use your left hand?”  

“Since forever, lace.”  

“But…” she sighed, “I don’t know what’s going on today.”  

“We’re all on overload, don’t think, just get ready.” I laughed and finished little make-up details.    

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