Picked From The Crowd

Chapter 4

My best friend Amy bounds through my door at 8am on Wednesday May 31, the big day. We jump around my house, too excited to do anything else. Julie is dropped off at daycare, my father probably at the casino or a bar. We had the house to ourselves and we weren't afraid to let the neighbours know. I plugged my iPhone into my stereo system and blasted 1D as Amy and I pranced around, curled our hair, applied make-up, dressed up and ate just about everything food substance in my house. By about 11 we were in my car and ready to drive down to the amphitheatre. We got there at about 12, blasting 1D in my white Cadillac SuV that I saved up for, for almost my entire life, and finally bought when I was 17.

I find a spot relatively close to where the floor seat ticket lineup is. We quickly and excitedly line up behind a group of 15ish year olds fighting over who loves Harry the most. We laugh as the one girl with the blue streak, vibrant against her white-blonde hair, shoots a very nasty look and turns her back to her friend, shutting her out of the circle, when she reveals that she knows more about Harry then the blue-streaked girl does. We are much past the fighting-over-the-boys stage, because we know that there is, in reality, little chance of us even being able to meet them. And besides- Amy's favourite is Liam, where mine is Zayn, so there isn't much fighting required.

We stand in line for 5 and a half hours before gates open and we rush inside. It takes a while for us to get through even though we were fairly close to the front of the line and when we enter the stadium, we run to the floor section. There are already tons of girls standing there, pushing to get closer to the stage. We land a spot in the fourth row and plant our feet, linking arms so we don't get separated.

We wait a little while longer for the show to start, but soon enough the openers come onstage and burst into song. Olly Murs sang about 6 songs, including "Please Don't Let Me Go", which I found myself singing along to, although I had never heard of Olly before the concert. I shoot Amy a confused look, shouting over the screaming girls,

"How do I know this song?!?!"

"Harry and Liam did a cover of it!!" Amy hollers back. I nod my head violently, remembering the twitcam. We sway our arms along with him, belting out the lyrics of the song we didn't properly know.

Olly ran off the stage after getting us very pumped up and waiting anxiously for One Direction to come onstage. Me and Amy chat excitedly about what is about to go down. Soon enough the lights get a bit dimmer, the screams get a bit louder, and the Gotta Be You instrumental starts to play, the boys faces come up on the large screen and the girls behind us try to push a bit closer. We are way to excited, Amy already crying, to even notice them. After all the boys get their own 20 seconds on personal onscreen time showing their likes and dislikes, and the countdown starts.

"10! 9! 8! 7!6...." We scream the numbers in time with the numbers displayed on the screen.

"3! 2! 1!!!!!!" Every since voice-box in that place explodes as the 5 beautiful boys throw themselves onto the stage and burst into song.

I am happy. The realisation hits me, just about as hard as the girl standing next to me's hand that smacks me in the face. I am actually happy. It has been so long since my smile was genuine. And maybe that's why Harry noticed it. I didn't even register that we were making eye contact until he smiled back. My face turns bright red and I look down at my feet. I also look around at all the other feet around me. Mine are the only ones not jumping. God! I must look like an idiot!!! Just standing there with a goofy, toothy smile plastered all over my face, but I found that, even after I get upset with myself, I still can't get that grin off. I shake my head laughing and look back up.

Harry is still staring at me. Or maybe he just looked back at that exact moment. We hold eye contact again and he winks before he runs away to the other side of the stage, singing his heart out.