Understanding Emmy

Emmy is misunderstood. Lucy, her best friend, is out of touch and nothing like her. Jasper, the person she is closest to, is going through his own problems. Whilst things get too much for Emmy to handle; her life spinning out of control as she tries her hardest to grasp the point and meaning of it all, she is made extremely aware of a new presence at her school. Four teenage lads. Her favourite band. They're gorgeous, incredible and extremely caring. What's more is that they're also misunderstood. Could this be the start of something new and exciting? New friendships or love interests? Read on to find out. Will any of them ever reach the point of Understanding Emmy?


2. Retakes


There's an indescribable feeling when it comes to walking past your favourite band at high school.

Imagine any passion you've ever had about a boy band or a musician. Imagine the nerves you have as you get ready to line up for their concert at the thought that you will be standing under the same roof as them. Imagine the excitement you have about meeting them at a signing or perhaps walking into them on the street by chance. Imagine how big your heart grows as you listen to their music and think of their beautiful faces. Remember the feeling of your heart racing to the point where you knew it must be unhealthy?

Now remember what it was like to walk past an old crush in the corridor. Changing your route to adapt to theirs, in the hopes that you might, just possibly, have a small chance of seeing them that day, to make your own a little brighter. Remember what it was like when you would see them; planning out whether to flick your hair or smile at them sweetly, whether you would approach them or pretend that you weren't interested -perhaps you would 'accidentally' knock into them or say something loud to your friend to get their attention? Now imagine it a thousand times worse -your heart hammering to the point that you think one of your arteries is likely to explode and the rest of you will cease to exist.

Well now imagine preparing for that every day; having to get dressed into the clothes you think might be suitable if you were to accidentally bump into them in the corridor. Imagine being able to walk past the music corridor, at any given time of day, and hear them blasting your favourite song or -even better- a new song. Imagine walking around –doing your daily business- when you hear their famous chuckles around the corner and make the quick decision of running into the girls toilets or being courageous enough to go through the emotional torture of walking metres from them…

One of the hardest moments is finding that they’ve crept up on you; that you have no other option than to sashay past them. Nothing is better than the smile they might have on their faces as their eyes meet yours, in extra slow motion, before they are gone. Nothing is worse than the fact that they might have walked past without having a second to glance your way and notice the really cute outfit you picked out with them in mind.

It’s mind blowing and heart breaking all at the same time. And for me, for the whole of this year, it will be a reality. A way of life. A completely unsatisfying time, that will go quicker than I realise. There will be a time when I look back on it all and wish I had done it differently; that I had been something more to them than one of the 1500 students who attended the same school as them…

And one other thing, there is absolutely no way in hell that you will ever get used to it. Who could? It’s as surreal as can be.



"Ashton I'm really sorry but if you want to keep studying here you are going to have to retake your English GCSE."

"I'm only doing music…"

"I know, but when you enrolled with us we thought you were fully aware that a minimum requirement to study ALevels was at least a B in English and Maths. Fortunately you have the required Maths grade, unlike two of your other friends… but English-"

“-I have a C! That's not a bad grade!" The principal shakes his head sympathetically.

"I'm sorry. It's an honour to have you here. If it was up to me I would allow you to just do music, but unfortunately it's out of my own hands."

I raise my hands, letting them drop to my sides as I raise my eyebrows at the two teachers in front of me. "So that's it? I study English or I leave?"

"I'm afraid so..." The English teacher starts apologetically.

"Well I guess that means I'm retaking." There's really no other option. I need this A Level just as much as the other boys need me here to complete their own.

"Okay. I'll leave you with Mr Carlson here." The head teacher leaves, patting my shoulder on his way. "You made a good choice Mr Irwin."

I nod my head appreciatively; it's not the school's fault. He leaves quietly, shutting the door behind him.

"So Ashton." The plump head of English sits on top of his desk, gesturing for me to sit on the one behind me. I do exactly that, resting my hands on the table between my legs.


"I know that you're unhappy with this, but as a school we will really be able to help you improve your grade. We don't look at our retakers with pity. Instead we regard them with respect. A C is nothing to be frowned upon –it is a high achievement- unfortunately, it just comes down to a set of rules created by an out-of-touch minister." He really seems quite open and friendly –a lot better than any teachers I’ve come into contact with in the past.

"I don't want to go into a year 11 class." I say quickly, getting the one thing that's bugging me off of my chest. "I'll be three years older than all of them -nearly four years older than some of them."

Mr Carlson chuckles with a slight shake of his head. “I was just about to go on to that. No, you will not have to sit in on any of my year 11 classes.”

“Then?” I ask, holding my breath.

“I will accommodate you into my year 12 classes. There, you will learn the skills that you will need to be able to exert yourself in my one-to-one sessions. I know that you and you’re band mates will be travelling around very often, so I will set up work that you can do whilst you’re away and we will be able to talk and look over it once you get back.”

“That sounds great Sir.” I say, readjusting the position that I am sitting in. It really feels like Mr Carlson cares. He’s not treating me like a high school drop-out –but instead a respective adult who’s made a great decision.

“You still don’t look very happy Ashton…” He observes me skillfully.

“It’s just… I was wondering, how many lessons will I have a week?”

“Six.” He replies truthfully.

I rise from the desk in shock, my mouth parting. “Six!?”

“You’re going to be covering two years’ worth of work. Trust me. It will be necessary.”

At the moment, the boys and I have spent all of our time in the private music studio that’s been dedicated to us; getting ready to take a 2 year course of AS and A Level Music in just 1 year. It’s a lot to handle, so reducing the amount of time I spend there with the boys by one whole day, across the space of the week, will seriously limit the amount of work and rehearsing that we are able to do.

“Ah man.” I rub my eyes and then massage my jaw as I think about it. This is going to be much harder than I thought it was going to be when our managers first pitched the idea to us.

“Is there something wrong? If you tell me I can try to help you…” He won’t be able to help me with this one; unless Mr Carlson is prepared to do all of my English work for me over the space of this whole year.

Just then the bell goes. “No. You can’t help. I just didn’t realise how much work I was going to need to put in.” He shrugs his shoulders sympathetically, scratching his plump, shaven head. “I need to go.” I add quickly, grabbing my bag and rushing out of the class.

I’m just opening the door and walking out, when I feel someone walk straight into my chest; the collision putting them off balance. I lunge forward to grab the person, holding them steady by their forearms, before I look down to see the shy blonde who is now wearing a beautiful smile.

As soon as she sees me she straightens herself up; her smile dissolving into a look of shock and horror which spreads over the whole of her face. I unapologetically let go and stride away from the English corridor without another word. “Your first class is tomorrow morning!” Someone shouts behind my shoulder; however I keep walking. I need to talk to someone. I’m not happy about this.

Why am I back at high school anyway? I swore I’d never return. And now here I am –the stupid subject of everybody stares, although it’s no longer due to my social incomprehension. I am still an outcast, but instead it is due to the fact that I am new, interesting, famous; all recipes for disaster when it comes to making friends and meeting new people. I pull the strap of my bag over my shoulder, keep my head up, and carry on walking.

School is bullshit.


A/N: Please like, comment, favourite, fan and share :) I'm not sure I'll continue with this book if it doesnt attract much attention but i hope it will! Keep reading! Nialls_Tribute xo

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