Melody

This story is about a small, blonde haired girl called Melody. She used to live in London but when her dad got a job offer he couldn't refuse they move to a small town called Thertin in the Rockies, America. Melody thinks her life is officially over Thertin was pretty much non-existent it didn't even have a Starbucks and it's nearest shopping centre is forty-six miles away. What she doesn't realise is that a certain boy-band has decided to take a break and thinks Thertin is the perfect location after all it is pretty much non-existent. They want to escape all the paparazzi, the fans, the fame. And lucky enough Melody isn't a fan but can they convince her otherwise?

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3. Chapter 3 - This Plane Journey Has Definatly Got Worse

I had been lying in the exact same position for the last three hours and no matter how hard I tried I couldn't get back to sleep and what made it all worse is that my music had run out, my beanie was starting to itch and now I really needed the toilet but I really didn't want to move because that would signify I was awake and then, god forbid, one of them might actually try to start a conversation with me. And even if I did go to the bathroom it would mean I would have to walk past the curly guy, Harry and I most defiantly didn't want to do that. Thankfully my prayers where answered when Curly got up to stretch his legs. as soon as he was gone I pulled of my beanie and headphones threw them down on the chair and then scrambled past Harry's seat in my desperation to reach the bathroom. Thankfully when I got there it was empty which was good because if It had been occupied I probably would have gone on a mad rampage or something else that was completely insane and would probably of ended up crashing the plane. As I was washing my hands I looked in the small mirror hanging above the sink I could only  see a bit of my face in the mirror and only when I stood on my tiptoes. People should really take into consideration that there might be small people aboard this plane that also want to see in the mirror. I hated being small. At the age of eighteen, well pretty much nineteen my birthday was next week, I was still long awaiting that growth spurt my dad had been promising since I was twelve. Once I had finished washing my hands I made my way back to my seat. When it came within view I froze there was one fatal concept in my plan that I had not realised. Curly had returned and had stretched his legs out in front of him so that I would be practically forced to ask him to move which might result in a conversation and to be honest with you I really just wanted to get this journey over with.

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