Clean my room? Really mother, my room is clean. Ugh. Ever since she went to France on a business trip or something, she has been on me about everything. She is always upset. She got home and the first thing she did was ask me how my room looked. My room wasn't always clean, but now it was. I got told to clean it every freaking day.
My room was square, four walls painted a darker shade of lavender. We bought the house when I was four, and I regret painting it the color it is because it looks like crap. But other than that, the walls were bare. Most of my friends had One Direction posters on their walls. But not me.
My mother had a strict policy about One Direction. "One Direction is no good, fakers probably."
But I knew they weren't, the biggest boy and in the world, fakers? I don't think so.
I had gone over to my friends' houses enough times to know their songs, I could point them out, but I did know their names, their first names at least. Well, I didn't know which was which. And I knew that they are seventeen and eighteen years young.
**Authors Note (a/n) I know they aren't 17 & 18**
I knew enough about them, I guess. So I wasn't entirely out of the loop. I knew they had two albums, and the third was coming out in the winter. Oh, and I knew that they were British, but that's not a big deal. Unless they're Irish, but still. No big deal. I mean. I'm British, so...
I didn't care that much. If I could, I probably would. But I can't, so why does it matter?
My friend Emily's mum asked mine if, for Christmas, they could get One Direction tickets for Emily and I, but no. Definitely no. My mum was going off all night about how they shouldn't even be a band. A bunch of pretty boys, who got together and planned to lure girls in, do them, and leave them dead in a dumpster. That's around the time I zoned out. I heard snippets of it. How their manager should leave, how they can't sing, how they got facelifts and fake faces. And a whole bunch of other crap.
My step dad, Frank, an American from Chicago, he was pretty okay. He was rarely home, but neither was my mum, but I'm used to it. They have to work, I get it. He was rich, old, and apparently good at "it". Sorry. But my mother is a bit... uhh.. open.
Open about most things. She has never talked about my real father. I actually don't even know who he is, not even his name. But my mother gets super upset when I mentioned any of anything. I could have siblings, cousins, grandparents, aunts, uncles. But nope. Yeah, I have them on this side of my family, but, everything on the other side, no idea.
My mother, Karen Smith, is strict as you can see, strict about everything except about anything that doesn't have anything to with all that I've told you.
But there is one thing my mum must have wanted me to have. My name is Ashlee Payne. Frank convinced my mother to have me keep my last name.
But that's all I have. Payne? I don't even know who that was. My father's name must be Payne. But that tells me nothing. There are probably a hundred families with the name Payne. But, as you can probably guess, my mother hasn't told me anything.
So on to me I guess. I have long brown hair, down to the lower back. It's strait until the bottoms where it curls, kind of like Ariana Grande's but I think hers is curled. I have blue eyes, they're stormy, like a dark blue. Or a navy blue, but more blue looking. They were bright though. I'm 5'5, I'm skinny, flat stomach, all that jazz. I'm a B cup, if you must know, almost to a C. I'm sixteen, a junior, but it's summer, and I am doing most of my classes now, online, so I don't have to go to school, the entire time at least.
My birthday is next week. June 17th. My Golden Birthday. I'm excited. My mum is ways talking about how great Golden Birthdays are. At least she used to, but now she's all freaked out when the subject is brought up.
But I'm going to LA with my friends! I'm so excited! We leave on the 14th, which is on thursday, today is Tuesday. I'm really excited.
At the moment, I am packing. Most of my clothes are already packed. But now I'm packing the necessities and things to do while I'm bored. Like extra headphones, iPhone charger, stuff like that.
My mum and I are driving out to the airport tomorrow to stay at a hotel, so I don't have to get up freakishly early. My flight leaves at 4 o'clock in the morning. Crazy people.
"Ashlee!" My mother called from the kitchen. I opened my door a bit and she continued, "dinner is ready"
I walked down the stairs, and the smell of grilled cheese came to me. Yum. My favorite.
After I got my food and me and my mum sat down at the table, blessed the food, and began, Frank walked in.
"Darling!" My mum said happily. "I made you some!" She nodded to the table where a few sandwiches and a bowl of soup sat. He helped himself, kissed his wife, and sat down.
"Hello Ashlee" he looked up at me. "Did you have a good day?" He asked.
"Yeah". I replied. "Did you?" I smiled at him. He has been my step-father for twelve years, but I still call him Frank. I didn't remember my father, but I remembered the thought if him.
"Good." He answered me. "Did you tell her?" He looked to His wife.
"Uhm no," she didn't look up from her plate, "I was planning on it tomorrow"
He nodded and continued with his food. I had learned at an early age not to ask things that are planned for some time differently, so I kept quiet.
Hey guys! This is the prologue. I really hope you like this one. It's a fan fic! And it'll get way better. Trust me. Please comment, vote and share this with your peoples!!!
Read Not Close Enough, a Dylan Dauzat fan fic.
And Darkened Wings, a story that is about to get good!