Moon Bay // Harry Styles Series #2 - Ghana

Handprint

Harry was the one.

I knew it as I woke the next morning to the soft sound of bird calls surrounding my bungalow, and the rosy light of dawn filtering through the curtains.

He was young, but the crying boy I had found on the rocks had a spark in his eye that told me he wasn't inexperienced. I'd done my due diligence online the night before, learning his story, the story of the band. They were each unique, talented, charming, and attractive. They were irresistible.

Supposedly he'd had at least one woman near my age. He'd just broken up with an A-List girlfriend. It had been months since my last adventure and all signs pointed to him being my next. I'd have to have an honest conversation with Fred and George.

As Harry had predicted, it was he, Zayn, and Liam who joined me that morning. With Sabir and George, we walked to the village where we were met by the schoolchildren and their teachers. The boys were naturals with the kids; their experiences in Accra had prepared them for the onslaught. Soon they had passengers on their shoulders and backs, their hands were held, and small fingers pulled gently on the hems of their shirts.

I was proud of the schoolhouse. Two large rooms, with broad windows for good light, and running water in sinks along the back walls, as well as boys and girls latrines, made for a striking comparison to the school in Accra.

"This is the kind of improvement your contributions will make. These children will reach at least a fifth grade level education, in a clean and safe environment. They love being here." One of the teachers caught my eye, inclining his head toward the chalkboard.

"Would you sign the board for them? Maybe draw something? It would mean a lot to the children."

Zayn was the first to the board. He began what grew into a big graffiti-style '1D' as Harry and Liam signed large autographs and drew doodles on either side. The kids loved it.

And then they sang.

It was a song I had heard in passing on the radio. Catchy, full bore pop. The three of them sang the chorus once, then again as they danced with the children. I had never seen the classroom so alive.

Liam walked next to me on the way to the clinic.

"We needed that, after Accra. It was extremely hard on all of us. Even Louis, although he'd never admit it. Thank you so much. We needed this little rest, as well. I worry about the boys. We haven't stopped in over two years and I'm afraid they'll crash."

He sounded like their father.

"You sound like their father. What about you? You're working just as hard, just as invested as the others. Is someone watching out for you?"

"I manage. One of us needs to be the voice of reason. Evidently it's me. Zayn's a bit tortured, Louis tries to be the comic relief, Niall is the comic relief, and Harry..."

I wondered why his voice trailed off. Had he picked up on my inclination?

"What about Harry?"

"Well... Harry's the golden boy, of course." I sensed the slightest twinge of jealousy, or maybe just resignation, in his voice.

The clinic was a success as well. Several babies were being vaccinated, while others were being seen for minor complaints. No dying children. No tears. I could see the undercurrent of angst the boys had been carrying begin to ebb, and hope flow in.

Back at the Lodge, all five boys gathered for lunch. I accepted the invitation to join them and sat back to watch the One Direction show.

They were idiots.