That Direction

How exactly do we pick our favorite boys in boy bands? Its weird, if you think about it. We just point at a face on the album cover and say that one is mine. With no real claim, having never met the boy, we choose. And then we fall in love. And then we obsess.

We thought we were getting too old for One Direction, but still we shamelessly listened to their albums and bought tickets for their tour we simply could not afford.

I don't know if I believe in fate, or true love, or any of the other crap that is written about in my favorite novels. They said we had a one in a million chance of meeting them, and a one in a billion chance of them falling for us. But I guess, sometimes, you just get lucky.


1. Chapter One

The noise in my household was enough to drive anyone mad on a normal day.  With eight kids, a Pomeranian, and a giant dog that still thinks he is a lap dog, there is never a dull moment. Trying to get out of the house is another whole story.


“Are you sure you have your passport?” My mother asks for the four hundredth time.  In the backseat my three youngest brothers are already playing on our old Game Boys.  My seventeen-year-old sister is pretending she doesn’t care what is happening and my fifteen and thirteen year old brothers are still complaining that they have to come to the airport.


“Yes I have my passport mom!” I tell her with more annoyance in my tone than I intended.  My dad walks out and gets into the drivers seat of our oversized vehicle.


“Are you sure you have your passport?” He asks, turning to me before putting the key in the ignition.  Next to me, my eight-year-old sister groans.


“How many times are you guys going to ask if she has her passport?” Maryann asks.  We all laugh at her.  It’s times like these when we really do believe her when she informs us that she is nineteen just like me.


I text Mariah once we pull out of our five hundred home subdivision to let her know I am finally on my way.  I thought I would be more nervous today, but after the last year and a half of consistent planning I am nothing but excited.  I mentally go over everything I have packed on the drive to the airport while my mom starts talking to me about how much fun I am about to have.  My dad continues throwing in safety precautions the closer we get to the airport.


Cincinnati, Ohio is a small city in southern Ohio, full of the possibility to become a huge city once again.  It takes fifteen to twenty minutes to get wherever you want to go and is overall a family friendly area.  I am not going to miss this area in the coming months, just all of the people.


We get off the exit to the airport and the butterflies in my stomach go crazy.  I can’t believe we are actually doing this; getting on a plane and flying across the Atlantic for an entire semester. 


Maryann grabs my hand and squeezes tightly.


“Do you have to go?” She asks me, beginning a chorus from the three boys behind me.  Luke, Nicholas, and Bradley all join Maryann in begging me to stay and soon my other three siblings are joining just to annoy me.


The car stops and I look out the giant window to see Mariah jumping up and down next to her parents.  Everyone in the car takes off their seatbelts and we all fight to get out of the sliding door first.


“Kids stay in the car!” Dad yells before the younger four younger children can get out of their seats.  They all argue that it’s not fair, but as always we ignore them.


Mariah’s mom is rolling her eyes at us as we scream about how excited we are.  Our parents talk for a few minutes while my siblings sit in their seats still arguing that life is not fair.


“Alright,” I say over our parents chatter.  “We need to get going.”  I hug Mariah’s parents and then each of my siblings before hugging each of my parents.


“Are you sure you have your passport?” My dad asks, again.  I roll my eyes at him and he laughs, hugging me tighter.  “Have fun, Kayla, but please for the love of god be safe.”


“I will be dad, you know I’m smart,” I tell him.  He smiles and puts his hand on my shoulder before allowing me to turn to my mother.


Her eyes are already welling up with tears and I am sure to point that out.


“You promised you weren’t going to cry,” I tease her.  She just grabs me in a tight, lung-crushing hug.  For such a small women, she has a grip.


“Make memories,” she whispers in my ear.  She lets go of me and gives me a tiny wink before climbing into the car.  I wave at my folks before Mariah and I grab our suitcases and bags and head into the airport.


As we sit in our seats, our shoulders just about touching in the narrow coach seats, anxiety is at an all time high.  We are actually doing this.  We talk through all of our plans and excitement quietly while the plane’s crew readies everything for take off.


When the aircraft begins reversing out to taxi, Mariah and I grab hands and squeeze.  The flight attendants go over every safety procedure I know by heart and then we are on the runway. As the plane ascends into United States Airspace I can’t believe that when we touch the ground again we will be in a new town; a new country; a new continent. 

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