Finally First

Life is perfect for Aria Hutchinson. Actually it's really not, it just appears that way. Nothing major just minor things. When she meets Liam Payne life finally starts looking up, she comes out of her shell and people actually start liking her. But nothing can stay that way, right?


1. Second Again

-Aria's POV-

"Ugh", I grumble as I roll out of bed at the disastrously early hour of six AM. Today was none other than my brother's graduation day from college. The perfect one. Oh well, I should be used to it after eighteen years of being second best. I have two other siblings, my brother is the perfect one that everyone seems to love and can't stay mad at. He's twenty-two and first born. My sister is the funny and popular social butterfly. She's not all she's cracked up to be though. My parents do not know it but she has had some bad nights; if they did know they would kill her. Then there is me. I have few friends and don't see them much outside of school except for my best friend, Emily. I spend most of my time reading fanfiction and going on Tumblr. Pretty much I'm the one no one likes. My mother acts like she loves me but I know deep down she thinks I'm difficult and an "angry child". Maybe if she did not judge me so much I would come down from my room, then I could be normal to her. It's too late for that now. My brother and I are not close. He loves my sister, not me. I don't blame him I guess. I don't like my dad. It's not like he beats me or anything like that, honestly I shouldn't be complaining. He has a bad temper. I know he'd never do anything physical but some of the things he says hurts. He always says that us kids are pointless and that he wishes we'd never exist so he could have a newer truck and other things. That is one of the reasons why I stay in my room most of the time. It wasn't that bad before when my sister was there to defend me. Everything seems to be getting worse now that she left. She was my best friend. She was the only one who understood me and now she's gone. Of course to the same college my brother is now graduating from because it's a family tradition. I have huge pressure to get in and if I don't I will practically be banished from my family. My mother has went there, my uncle has, my father has, my brother has, my sister is, and my cousin is. Honestly I don't have much of a choice even though I don't even really want to go there. That's why I practically kill myself to get straight As, maintain a good spot on my softball team, and make sure that my two horses get good care everyday. Scholarships and essays that I must write to get into the college. "Essays are made of opportunities set up perfectly", as my mother would say. This is the pressure year. I get my letter in about three months if I made it and my family is currently getting me as much fan gear as they can, classic them. By now I am dressed in a maroon dress and white sandals, the school's colors. My sister came down looking beautiful like she always does, with her long brown hair with golden highlights flowing down her back. She was wearing a teal dress that brought out all of the golden streaks in her dark brown eyes. My Mom took a look at her and nodded, it was almost and understanding of her looking beautiful, because we all knew she always did. Secondly she looked at me and frowned. I don't really mind anymore, she always does. Next to my sister it's hard to not see me as a disappointment. She has flowing straight brown hair, while I have curly and puffy dirty blonde hair that always seems to knots itself up whenever it can. Next to her I'm short and stubby, with her tall slim frame and long legs that make her even slimmer. Once she was done frowning she finally forced a smile on her face and laughed at a joke my sister had made. Once my mother walked away my sister rushed to me and told me I looked beautiful, but that can't be right. How can somebody so beautiful even speak that word to another person? I just don't understand it. Next my cousins walked in the doors. This is where it should get interesting.  

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