Change of Direction (A Zayn Malik Fiction)

Chapter 5: Fresh Faces

(Elena’s POV)

Demetrie and I exchanged sighs because Christina was still out when we got there. We managed to do the chores she told us (well, ME, supposedly) to do, and the only thing that we were worried about was if she got home while we were still out.

I sighed in relief. I think our job here is—

“Hey El! Phone!” Demetrie shouted.

I wonder who that could be. We haven’t exactly acquainted ourselves with ANYONE, as a matter of fact.

“Hello?”

“ELENA!” I pried my ear off of the phone. Crap! I almost went deaf there! I held the phone away as I listened to Christina scream orders from the phone. “I don’t have anything else to wear to the Parent-Teacher Conference tomorrow! So do the laundry! And don’t forget to feed Maximillian! And unclog the gutters! And wipe the ceiling fans!”

She hung up after that. Yeah. Just like that. No “thank you”. No “bye”. Just plain orders. And she was supposed to be my stepmom.

I don’t even know why I have to put up with her. Well, yeah. I don’t, except for one. When my dad met Christina, though very unsure why and HOW it happened, I saw the smile on his face and how big it was. Seeing my dad smile after he and mom separated was the best thing I’ve ever seen in a long time. And I would give anything to keep that smile on his face.

And obviously, I’ve kept that promise until now.

And by the way, I’m not enjoying it.

But the bright side is I don’t regret making it. Because as long as Dad’s smiling, then so am I.

But the most hurtful fact was that Christina’s only using my dad to get to New York. I don’t know if I should tell him or just leave it be.

Demetrie told me that if he really knew me all too well, I’d make it up as I go.

And he does. He does know me all too well. And that’s one of the things I keep in mind to keep moving forward, considering the life I’ve had when I was studying back in Texas.

Back in Texas, I’ve experienced things like you’ve never imagined. There were rumors like I was taken in for bulimia or I wigged out and got sent to rehab. Some girls walked up to me and poured Sprite on my pants and shouted out that I peed in my pants.

They said I was too skinny.

They said I wasn’t skinny enough.

They said I was a lesbian. They posted flyers with my picture on it saying “dyke”, then threw rotten eggs at me when I got to my locker, which was filled with sweaty gym socks from the boys’ locker room.

And with all the luck I’ve had…

I had a boyfriend.

We lasted for about three months and I really thought that our relationship was going somewhere.

That maybe I was his first and last.

Then, when I was accused of selling drugs (caused by another rumor), he bailed out. He stared at me like I was some kind of freak that was filthy by nature.

I knew better.

And I didn’t remember that.

I knew better, because he said “forever”. I knew better because I knew that most things really doesn’t last forever.

Well…figures, right?

I don’t really know if…

…if I’ll ever love like that again.