Confessions of a Teenage Girl (Zayn Malik Fanfiction)

Anderson "Sonny" Williams has her dream job as being a journalist. She's more than excited when she gets her second assignment - creating a riveting report about love in the teenage community. Things hit a little closer to home when she decides to do her expose' on someone within her own work environment - Zayn Malik. Will Sonny stick to her story, or will her headline be something bigger?

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1. 1.

I hopped on my old, rickety bike with the woven basket that was coming undone and pedaled out of our driveway. My parents have given me the strangest look imaginable when I explained that I really didn't want the new Fiat they bought me for my turning sixteen. I prefered this bike at the time, even though it was old and broken down. I loved the vintage feel of it, and why take a big box of environmental ruin around town when you could have a good old biking session downtown with the wind blowing in your hair?

I cruised past Miss DuPree's home, waving at her and smiling politely. As usual, she was out in her garden tending to her tomatoes and roses. "How's it going, Miss D?" I shouted, slowing down to smile at the sweet old lady. 

"Oh, Anderson! Just fine, dear. That hat you're wearing is positively lovely!"

"Awh, this old thing?" I pulled the small straw hat with a piece of ribbon down on my head firmly. "I've had it for ages and it's fixing to fall apart."

She waved a pink gloved hand. "It's just darling. Better be off to that job of yours or you'll be late!"

I nodded and said my farewells, pedaling down the street. The wind blew through my black hair, causing it to blur my view of the clear blue skies. I stopped along the side of the rode, pulling my old Brownie camera from my neck and snapping a picture of the sky, trees dottting the scene like polka dots.

My job was right around the corner. I walked my bike over to the bike rack and chained it, looking at the building. "Lexington and Park Journalism," I read the sign that stuck out in bold teal from the brick building. "Should be another ordinary day on the job."

 

 

"Hey, Sonny!" the building's receptionist Charlotta called, waving at me with painted red talons and bold blonde pigtails. Everytime I walked into the building for work, she always had a different interesting fashion statement to be made. 

"Hows it going?" I said rhetorically, walking down the bustling hall as I usually did everyday. 

Before I could enter the second set of double doors leading to the different work rooms, Charlotta called me. "Oh, Sonny," she called as if she had almost forgotton to tell me something. Sonny was short for my name Anderson. It just seemed so...boyish, so I had to at least add a little femininity to it. "Wendy wants to see you asap."

I nodded and said that I would be right over. Charlotta put her head back to her screen, but she had a sly smile on her face. Was she not telling me something? Suddenly, she outstretched a hand. "Forgetting something?"

I looked and sighed, planting a palm on my forehead. I grabbed my work id necklace that had my code, picture, and name on it and slipped it around my neck. I had become such a religious forgetter of not putting on my id necklace that Charlotta had recognized the pattern and reminded me everyday on my way in. "You know me too well," I chuckled.

I entered the second set of double doors, having to dodge busy looking workers with pencils behind their ears and papers flying in their hands. It was almost deadline for the report  and article sketches and ideas, so everyone was crunching to get their requirements in. Everybody knew that our boss Wendy Park never hesistated to fire someone if they didn't meet their deadline right on the dot. She usually fired about two people a week, and none of us wanted to be that person. I had walked the line between life and Wendy's scorn and I didn't plan to revisit it.

I rapped softly at the door, staring at the nameplate that read Wendy Park, Head Advisor. In those few seconds, a million things ran through my mind. Was she firing me because I forgot to pick up her mail and drop it in the bin last week? Was there something wrong with my last column? Did I arrive at work in tweed, her least favorite material on earth? I gulped and waited for her to acknowledge me. I recalled the last person who walked into her office without her consent. We usually didn't ever talk about that story around there.

"Make yourself known," she said, her voice passing clearly through her wooden door.

"Sonny Williams," I said nervously. 

"Who? I don't know a Sonny that works here."

I remembered that she hated a nickname and only called everyone by their proper names. "Anderson Williams."

"Enter."

I twisted the doorknob and stepped into her private office. The walls were all white, and she had modern art scattered around the room with scultures strategically placed.  She stared at me intently with slanted eyes from behind her flaming red cat eyed classes, pulling on her oversize blue collar dress. Suddenly, she let out a eardrum shattering screech. "What is THAT?"

I looked around in fear. "Uh, what is what Miss Wendy Park?" She preferred -excuse me, demanded-  to be addressed by her full name at all times.

She stood, her heels clicking on the floor as the emerged from the back of her enourmous work desk.  "The faded patched shorts," she uttered, putting a hand on her chin and circling me with a look of pure ice. "Plain top, detailed cardigan, wanded hair..." She touched my hat and pulled back her finger as if had burned her. "Rustic straw hat and gladiator sandals. Bold, but out there. Anna Sui meets Betsey Johnson. The camera puts an extra pizazz.I like it," she whispered quietly. 

"Thank y-"

"Sit." She motioned to her futon in the corner so I took my seat and placed my hands in my lap.

"Your last article," she said, glaring at me. I knew that this had something to do with my last article, I just knew it. "The composition, the photographs. Positively. Stunning."

My eyes sprang open, and I feared they would pop out of my head. "I'm sorry?" I wanted to know that she had really said what she had said and I wasn't just dreaming.

"I don't repeat myself, Anderson. I want you to write an article for our teen column by July, which gives you rougly two months."

"You want me to do what?"

"Young lady, I explained this before. Now do what I say. You can leave now. Two months!"

I didn't want to jinx the opportunity so I curtsiesd/bowed and turned for the door. "I like you. Don't go ruining my reputation and telling the whole building," Wendy Park said finally.

I smiled, releasing myself from her office and leaning against the opposite wall. That would certainly turn out to be the most unpredictable assignment I'd ever received.

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