Where Have You Been

Chapter 3

Zoë’s’ POV

We crowded into the dark theater, and I was overwhelmed with the immense amount of people. Some were my age (most dressed in slutty outfits), but some were barely past 4 feet. I was even cheered up a little by seeing hordes of moms who looked just like my own, adorned in too-tight One Direction fan garb. There were no lights on, so I could barely see the dark shadows of what I could only guess were colossal TV screens, and massive stage lights. I could barely hear myself talk over the noisy din, screams echoing across the concrete interior of the arena.

“This way, girls. This way!” My mom beckoned us with her manicured finger, sounding like a historical museum tour guide. She led us towards the front of the arena, pushing her way through copious crowds, shoving them with her bony elbows. I turned sideways, and found that I could easily squeeze my tiny stature through the crowds of overweight American moms. (The large amount of them seemed to boost my normal-sized moms’ self-confidence). I reached my hand back to find Taylor, and accidentally found myself hand-in-hand with an obese, mustachioed man holding his equally obese daughter’s hand. Ew. I quickly snatched my hand away and brushed off the pools of sweat the man had wiped on me.

“Taylor!” my meek attempt at finding her was no help. I strained my eyes, trying to pick her out amongst flocks of people, but found nothing. “Tay-“ I started to screech, but stopped abruptly, noticing the total silence of the crowds around me. The stage lights had begun brightening slowly, and everyone held their breath in anticipation. The opening notes of One Directions famous song “That’s What Makes You Beautiful” started playing, and the crowd went wild. My mom nearly fainted as the five boys sauntered onstage wearing matching dark skinny jeans, white V-necks and sneakers. I had to admit, even under the washy stage-lights, the guys looked pretty handsome. Liam smiled a winning smile, and began to sing.

You’re insecure

Don’t know what for

You’re turning heads as you walk through the door

The crowds went wild, screaming their approval. It’s like they all thought he was singing to them. Reality check: he doesn’t even know who you are! I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t help mouthing the lyrics, and bobbing my head to the beat. The song I had dissed on the radio so many times sounded 10x better onstage. Or maybe it was the absence of hot boys that made me hate One Directions’ song when I heard it on Kiss FM. I shook my head, reminding myself that I was NOT a One Direction fan. My attempts to block out the catchy tune were useless, and I found myself singing along again, losing myself in the song. NO. I had to find myself. This was not OK. One Direction is a stupid boy band. What did I care? I turned my nose up at them and swiveled around to find Taylor, who was still separated from my me and my mom. A new song was beginning to play: One Thing. I groaned audibly and scampered my way through the masses, trying to pretend that I wasn’t totally in to the song. I looked at everyone’s shoes, hoping to pick out Taylors 6-inch heels, but I found nothing.

“Taylor!” I whispered-screamed as I came across some heels. I began to stand up and hug her, but stopped myself short.

“Whoops” I smiled awkwardly as I stared into the steely eyes of some blonde bimbo who could barely smile due to over-botoxing. She hip-jutted me away from her, and I ran smack into a black-clad, gun-holding, sunglasses-wearing security guard.

“Where do you think you’re going, missy?” He grunted, eyeing me suspiciously.

“I’m just looking—sent me—my friend…” I couldn’t seem to get the words out of my mouth.

“Are you the one they sent over here for the song?” He asked me gruffly.

“Yes—“ he grabbed my arm, and my “No… wait—what!” was lost in the wind. He grabbed my arm in his beefy fingers, and practically dragged me across the arena. The crowds parted like the red sea, letting me through. What was going on? I seemed insignificant and tiny a second ago, now I was the envy of millions of girls standing in the arena, watching me. I passed my mom, who gaped enviously at me as the guard brought me to the stage. My insides screamed with terror. What the hell is happening? My heart thumped out of my chest, and the undersides of my sweater were damp with pooling sweat. The guard pushed me through some “stage access” door, and wound me through a maze of cords, wood planks, strewn microphones and paint buckets. He dropped me in the hands of a tall, raven-haired woman wearing a head piece, and all black.

“Are you ready, sweetie? All you have to do is sit there. And no screaming, please.” I gave her a puzzled, slightly pleading look, begging for some explanation. Sit where? Screaming? Are they torturing me?! Thoughts of murderers and rapists ran through my head, and the self defense that my mom had taught me was drilled into my head. Kick them in the balls, target the eyes, run as fast as you can before they can grab you.

As the woman pushed me into a dark box with only a chair, I readied my hands, preparing to fend off any attackers. Suddenly the box began to rise. I felt like Katniss Everdeen in Hunger Games, feeling the sides of the box, and looking around helplessly as it rose out of the darkness. The light was so blinding that I couldn’t see for a second. But I could hear, Oh yes I could hear. Screams, deafening. And the opening notes of “It’s Gotta Be You” magnified 10x. I blinked a few times, but nothing could prepare me for the sight I beheld in front of me. I was sitting on a chair in the middle of the stage, and One Direction was standing right in front of me.

 Please tell me what you think!