Roses for Roselyn (Niall and Harry Fanfictions)

She was just an ordinary, grounded girl with a young, obsessive sister... little did she know that her sister's biggest idol was obsessing over her. Join Rosie and Rachel on their journey in love, friendship, obsession, fame and passion. What will happen? Who will happen? And most importantly, how will they cope with the disadvantages of 'the good life'?


83. Reversing From The Crowd


Wednesday is shit. I’m followed around by comments of ‘whore’, ‘slut’, ‘sket’ –basically any profanity you can think of. What makes it ten times worse is that it’s affecting Rachel too. On multiple occasions she’s shouted at for being a gold digger and I feel sick each time.

I can take the name calling that they put my way, but when it’s aimed at my best friend -the person that wouldn’t have to deal with this had I not brought her into the situation in the first place- I feel guilt and sadness and I apologise multiple times but she won’t accept any of them. The name calling is getting her down but I do agree with her when she says that meeting One Direction and getting so close to them is the best thing that’s ever happened to her. It might attract bad publicity –understatement of the year- but at least we have the boys to support us through all of it (including El, Soph and the odd DM from Perrie too).

I go straight to Josh’s room before school, with Rachel, so that I can hand him his keys back and makes the decision to escort us to each of our lessons all day. As a trainee councillor, Josh shouldn’t really be escorting us around all day, but he’s explaining to everyone that we’re a special case and no teachers argue with the idea. Mr Carling is right –I didn’t realise how many teachers were on my side. All except Mr Chapman, of course.

The first time that he comes to find me that morning, I’m in music and Mrs Winters refuses to let me go, but has no overall power to stop him from dragging me along to his office. I’m there for all but 5 minutes; making no progress due to my refusal of speech, when an assistant principal walks in to announce that he has something important to talk about –much more important than whatever our meeting is about.

It feels almost set up as he tells me to run back to class and so I do what he says without questions; much to the disappointment and anger of Mr Chapman. I manage to avoid him for the rest of the day, sitting in Josh’s office being ‘counselled’ so that he doesn’t know where to find me the second time.

Thursday is also shit. I might have dodged my horrible principal and as many crazy students as possible the day before, but on Thursday there is no escape from the camera crews and journalists that have turned up outside the school’s reception. I’d bet every penny that it was Mr Chapman who authorised their entry onto the school property.

I don’t even get the point of school anymore; all I do is come in every single day to try my hardest to keep a low profile and avoid everyone. Rachel and Lola, who are sitting in the back seats of my car, look worried as I approach the school and the paparazzi spot my car. The whole crowd comes running towards the bonnet and I’m in a total panic. There’s no way that I can drive through the crowd. Students are trying to push against the flow of reporters to get into the school. The teachers on gate duty look petrified and unsure of what to do. One of them –I recognize him as the head of art- comes running over and taps on my blacked out window urgently.

I roll it down and look into his horrified eyes. “Sir, what do I do? I don’t know what to do.”

“Just… just turn around and get out of here! I don’t know what that stupid guy was thinking when he gave them the permission to be here. It’s a health and safety risk –especially for you.” So it was Mr Chapman who made the decision. “Just go! Get out of here. Mr Chapman was planning to exclude you today anyway, so it’s best that you’re not here.” I nod fiercely and wind my window up.

People are making their way over to the side of the car –shouting things and asking questions. One guy stick his fingers through the small gap in the window, to stop it from closing, and the cry he makes as his dirty, chubby fingers are nearly chopped off is the only thing I hear before the window is finally shut tight.

I look into the back of the car with panic in my eyes. Lola nods her head, her blue eyes opened wide –like a deer caught in the headlights- and she makes the final decision to kick the door open, with all the force in her legs. The force manages to knock one reporter over, who was continually slamming her hands on Justin’s car’s body.

Stupid bitch.

I look over at Rachel –expecting for her to do the same- but she just laughs roughly. “No way. I’m not going out there. I’m staying with you babe.”

She clambers over into the passenger seat and squeezes my arm, just once, with enough force to get me moving. Its times like these that I admire her the most; she’s fierce, she’s brave, she’s full of adrenaline and unstoppable by anyone. I remember seeing my best friend developing that quality as she used to sit by my hospital bedside; I could see it growing in her sharp features and observant eyes, becoming more prominent every single day that she came to visit me.

“Here goes nothing then.” I take one deep breath before I stamp my foot on the reverse pedal. People dive out from the back of the car to get out of the way a few bodies make harsh thumps against the Range Rover’s bumper. I give everyone a short amount of time to pick themselves off of the ground before I swing backwards into a nearby drive and madly turn the steering wheel before throwing my foot on the accelerator to speed off in the opposite direction of the school. The last thing I saw was the shocked faces of each and every person holding a camera. Just for an extra bit of style I make sure to drive straight over an expensive Cannon camera that had been hastily dropped on the road and end up leaving it sitting behind us on the smoky tarmac; crushed and ruined with small pieces of its glass lens dotted over the width of the whole road.

Rachel cheers and I take my hands of the wheel to do a little dance. Hopefully, from now on, they won’t be running at the chance to provoke me in my car. I almost hope that someone had caught it on camera -because there’s no other way to explain my get away without using the word unforgettable. Rachel slaps one of my hands with her own, and for the first time this week, I finally feel like I’ve had a chance to defeat my enemies and be proud of my actions.

I instruct Rachel to call Niall whilst I drive and, even though it’s about 3:30 in New York, he picks up my call after three rings. The phone’s on loudspeaker.


“Niall, I’m never going back to that school again. The head teacher gave a whole bunch of paparazzi the permission to be on site.”

“He did whaaat?”


“He’s not allowed to do that. He literally doesn’t have the right as the head teacher –it’s down to the governors and the parents of the school!”

“What? Really?”

“Yeah… was your mum notified about any of this?”

“If she was do you really think she would have let me to go school today?”

“No, obviously not… well, this is going to be interesting.” Rachel and I laugh along with Niall and it feels like he’s sitting in the back of the car; not 3 and a half thousand miles away. “Okay, babe I’ll call you back in a sec but I’m just going to make some phone calls about this. Literally give me a few minutes, okay?”

“Okay.” And this time I trust him –because Niall will sort it out and I know that he’s obviously done his research to protect his girlfriend. I trust him with all of my heart and I know that he’ll make Mr Chapman pay for what he’s put me through these last few days.


Join MovellasFind out what all the buzz is about. Join now to start sharing your creativity and passion
Loading ...