Chapter Two: A home of peace and order
Living in London, it rained a lot. So I shouldn't have been surprised when we had to spend all of football practice running through the muddy grass. We had it easy though. We did this basically every practice. I felt bad for the cheerleaders, who spent so much time in front of a mirror to make sure they looked good and all that time had gone to waste.
They spent the entire practice in the rain, practicing cheers and other various cheerleading things that I didn't know. Almost all of them had running mascara and bronzer. One girl caught my eye. She didn't seem to have any makeup on at all. And she was beautiful. I had seen her everyday, and we had a lot of classes together and I didn't know her name, but she didn't notice me. And I doubted she ever would, so what was the point in trying?
"Hey, Liam. Who's the girl with no makeup on?" I asked my best friend.
"Her? In the black shorts? I don't know," he said craning his head.
"Styles! Payne! Get your head in the game!"
"Yeah, sorry coach," we yelled. I blocked the girl from my mind the rest of practice.
Three hours later, practice was over. I walked down the hall do my locker quickly. I had to get home on time, or my parents wouldn't be too happy with me.
My parents were strict about punctuality and all that goody two shoes stuff. The only time I really cared was getting home and leaving. They wanted those two perfect and I had about thirty minutes to get home.
My parents loosened up the punctuality when I was at a party or football game or school event but they were never mean. They would tell me to be on time because that's how you get a job but they never did anything but scold me.
Some people at our school had abusive parents. There was an assembly about halfway through the year last year about a couple of kids at our school who wanted to tell off the bullies for hitting them when they already got hit at home. Those people who opened up about that were taken away from their parents but I saw many other people who looked like they were being abused or not fed properly. This is why I was grateful that my parents were nothing like that.
I saw the cheerleader that had distracted me at practice. Her shirt was almost transparent due to the rain and her stomach looked purple. Did she get hit at practice? I didn't see that happen...
As she walked past me, I opened my mouth to say something to her, to ask if she was okay, anything, but the only thing I could manage to say was "Um...." in the quietest voice known to mankind.
With a big sigh, I closed my locker and headed for the front doors to my car. I trudged through the rain, walking to my car, my backpack getting soaked.
As I climbed in my car, I erased all my thoughts about school from my mind. All I wanted at that moment was food.
I drove home and made it to my house with ten minutes to dinner. I climbed out of my car, grabbing my practice gear and running through the pouring rain and in the front door. I sat everything down in the mud room, taking off my shoes and leaving my bag there too. I went into the house, and my mum immediately bustled over.
"Dinner in ten minutes! Go shower young man, I will not have nasty smelling people at my dinner table!"
My mother was a beautiful woman, charming and loving. She could just be a little strict. She had her hair in a tight bun, with white slacks and a purple blouse on. She was in control and I guess my dad loved that about her.
I made my way upstairs, my little sister, who was going to be six in a month, following me, poking my legs and asking, "Wanna play fairy princess with me, Harry? Please?"
"Gemma, I can't. Go to mum in the kitchen, love," I say, closing the door to the bathroom in her face.
Now, I love my sister. But I was never crazy about mum having another kid. I had a brother, but he had died when we were twelve, and my parents took longer to recover than me. So after he died, mum swore no more kids. It would just be me. But then, she unexpectedly got pregnant. And nine months later, Gemma was born.
So low and behold, I'm an older brother to a bratty little girl who doesn't respect what she's got.
I climbed in the shower and washed off, making sure I was clean and "presentable" in my mothers eyes.
I threw on some dark jeans and a white t-shirt and headed down to dinner.
The meal was delicious, ham, potatoes and broccoli, covered in gooey cheddar cheese with a side of pasta, also covered in the cheese, and everyone had a glass of milk. It was my favorite meal.
"How was school, Harry? Did you talk to her yet," my father asked. I knew who he meant by her.
"It was good, we didn't really do much, but it was a good day. And no, I didn't talk to her yet, dad. I don't even know her name," I sighed, talking about the cheerleader who I had basically been in love with for the past year.
"How can you be in love with this girl and not know her name," my mum said.
"Harry's in love, Harry's in love," Gemma sang.
"I just... Am," I sighed.
"Harry's in love, Harry's in love, Harry's in love, Harry's in love," Gemma sang louder.
I curled my hands into fists under the table. Why was she so annoying?! I stared at my empty plate and excused myself from the table.
Tomorrow, I would make it my mission to find out this girls name.