Pearl White ~A One Direction FairyTale~

You think you know how the story goes. Snow White meets some dwarves, eats an apple, falls asleep, gets kissed by a prince and lives happily ever after.

If only my life were that simple. My name's Pearl. Pearl White. And unfortunately for me, I'm never even going to get to meet my prince. Because his name is Liam Payne, and he's a member of the boy band One Direction.

Cover made by the amazing user NathanielStanley! Thank you so much!

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3. Birthday

The sun peeks through the thick brocade curtains and I lie in bed staring at the ceiling. Ten minutes until my alarm starts to ring and I absolutely must get up.

Happy Birthday to me. I'm eighteen. Which means legally, I should receive my inheritance from my father's will. There's a lawyer meeting later today to officially sign with Celia, my benefactor, after school. Nothing says party like dry lawyers and pissy Celia.

Eighteen. What can I do now that I'm legally eighteen? Well, let's see...I can vote...and star in adult films...smoke and drink. I guess that's what being an adult means. I have the right to pick my own poison if I so choose.

My life brought death. Maman died from sepsis after the prolonged labor and C-section. According to our old staff, she was kind and caring, doting on everyone like family. Unlike Celia, who treats everyone like the excrement under her shoes.

It's also the third birthday I've celebrated without Papa. 

"Birthday? What's this about a birthday?" He'd pretend as though he'd forgotten, and then from the inside of his jacket, he'd produce a small present. The last one he gave me was a bottle of Ms. Dior Eau de Parfum. He'd picked it himself, and it was the sweetest gesture because I knew how long it must have taken for him to choose the perfect one. I spray in on my wrists. It's halfway empty already because I've used it every day since his death. A small way of remembering happier times.

The alarm beeps and I groan. I'm already up and changing so I shut it off, hoping that Celia wasn't woken by the noise so I don't have to talk to her. Luckily she hasn't, so I slip out of the house quietly.

I pay for a copy of Vogue from the newsstand near the Underground, and wince at the title.

PEARL WHITE: THE NEW BEAUTY QUEEN OF ENGLAND

The Au Natural Edition: Bare-faced, no makeup!

I hide the magazine under my coat as though Celia's looking over my shoulder. Then, feeling foolish, I slip it into my bag and continue on my way. Luckily, people in the Underground and streets of London are too absorbed to care about me so I go about my way quietly and invisibly. Only one woman stops me.

"Aren't you that Vogue model-"

"No," I interrupt, and give her a forced smile. "But people say I look a lot like her, don't I?" 

I leave her, confused on the corner. I'm not ready to give up my privacy just yet, especially not when I'm worried about getting to school on time.

School passes without too much of an event. Fame is natural in this sort of school. For the most part I'm ignored, which is a good thing. The two kids whose parents declared bankruptcy are the bullies' fodder. I join them under the stairwell. I was bullied until people figured out that I was Celia Smith's step daughter, and then everyone tried to kiss my ass.

"What's up?"

Anne stares at her quinoa salad and bites her lip. I roll my eyes.

"Did Chelsea call you fat again?" She nods and looks at the ground to avoid tears spilling out of her eyes. Andrew puts his arm around her shoulder. They've been dating for the past two months.

I sigh angrily.

"Anne, you know she just says that because she's insecure and anorexic. I bet you right now she's wolfing down the Italian prusciutto, only to throw it up in the bathroom. She has body issues. You don't have to. You're beautiful." Andrew nods his agreement.

"She's right you know," he winks. "You look quite good naked." Anne's eyes widen in shock and she pinches him, hard. Andrew yelps, and looks chagrined. "Just kidding," he mutters, like a wounded puppy.

Anne looks at me with watery eyes, somewhat reproachful.

"That's easy for you to say. You're size two. I'm size six."

I roll my eyes.

"I'm as flat as a board! You actually have knockers! You're the lucky one!" I practically yell, then cover my mouth as Sir turns his head sharply in the hallway. We stifle our giggles as he shakes his head like a waterlogged frog, and continues down the pathway.

"Speaking of knockers and other things," say Anne, finally digging into her food, "How's the whole 'saving-yourself-for-Liam' thing going?"

"Do I sense judgement?" I ask, pretending to be miffed.

"Nooooo, no judgement-" she says, mortified and I giggle.

"Yeah I'm judging," says Andrew loudly. "They're a bunch of pansies, One Direction is."

I flush.

"No they aren't, well I mean some of their music concepts are silly, but I'm sure they're not like that in real life," I mutter, spooning around my peas.

"Uh huh. They totally ripped off The Who, a great band, for the Best Song Ever! Best Song Ever, my arse, more like Baba O'Riley-" 

Anne pinches him again.

"Ow! What was that one for, love?"

"You're being an arse. Shut up, and don't be such a prat."

I flush.

"I know I'm not going to meet them anyway. Celia doesn't give a shit about me. She could get me backstage passes in an instant if she wanted to with her connections, like I asked her, and she told me I was a selfish twit. Which I took to mean as a no. I only get 10 quid a month in allowance, and that's barely enough to buy their CDs, so there's no way I can pay myself."

Andrew rolls his eyes, and Anne glares at him.

"Wait, Pearl, isn't today your birthday?"

"Yeah, so?"

"Well, you're getting approximately twelve million in funds after you sign, yes?"

"Yeah- ooohhhh." I smile. "Anne, would you like to come to the backstage concert with me?"

"Y-" Andrew interrupts her.

"No, my girlfriend will not be participating because otherwise I will be a jealous besotted fool while she's off cheering for Lyall or Narry or whoever else is in that sad excuse for a group anyway."

Anne rolls her eyes. I turn away as they start snogging. That's my cue to leave.

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