The Malik Teenagers

Chapter 4: A Rocky Transition

Vexi's P.O.V

Nervous: easily agitated or alarmed; tending to be anxious; highly strung: a sensitive, nervous person.

Nervous was not a word in my vocabulary that I would ever have used to describe myself in any situation. I simply never got nervous, so why is it that I'm hiding in the very back seats of the auditorium watching other people try out for Drama Club but not putting my hand up to go next myself?

I glanced down at my hands when the next person stepped up onto the stage and announced themselves. My hands are shaking. I have to sit on them to make them stop. I was too consumed with my own thoughts to listen or watch their performance.

I'm a dramatic person, that's for sure. And it seems I get even more dramatic each day thanks to mum and the girls...and sometimes the boys. I'm always pulling face, quoting famous books or productions, putting on funny or brilliant accents and I never seemed to be ashamed of how different I can act. That's the way I am.

Growing up in an orphanage, 'different', 'special' and 'unfortunate' was the common words to describe us. It took someone truly brave to stand out and express their difference to be a good thing. My sisters and I did that. We were different but not just because we were parentless, but because we had a talent that set us apart from others and it would ensure we had a happy, comfortable life even if we didn't get adopted.

I took a deep breath as the next person took to the stage, standing right in the middle. She was confident, you could tell by simply looking at her. She looked like she was born to be on stage, something I had always thought about myself.

'You are brilliant. You are one-of-a-kind. And thank god you're all mine' my mothers voice whispered in my head.

The first time I heard it, that made me laugh. How could I be one-of-a-kind if I was an identical triplet? You had to truly get to know us to see just how different we are.

In some ways, it was truly like we were born to be Zayn and Perrie's daughters. We are so much like them in all our little talents and sometimes just the way we think and talk. Sometimes even, I'd convince myself we looked a little like them, and we do - others have mentioned it.

The auditorium erupted into an applause. I shook my head, my ponytail brushing back and forth against my back. I had spaced out for a moment. The girl, the confident one, bowed and did an over dramatic 'thank you' like she was winning an oscar or something. I rolled my eyes.

The women in an long, very dramatic coat, that sat in the seat in the centre of the room stood up and clapped also. She had a clipboard in her hand, a copy of William Shakespeare's 'Romeo and Juliet' sitting on the seat beside her and the tiniest glasses falling down the bridge of her nose. She was the drama teacher.

"Bravo Victoria! Bravo" the drama teacher congratulated her. "We only have one last girl that signed up to perform. Is Vexi...Malik? Vexi Malik here?"

Malik isn't a common last name and it seemed everybody, no matter how old or young knew the importance of the name Malik, or any other celebrities last name. It annoyed me to say the least. I want to make it my way, make a name for myself and not because of my father.

I stood up from my seat and gracefully - more like trying extra hard not to fall down the stair in front of everyone - walked towards the stage, ready to take my place. When I signed up, I was told I was suppose to do a scene from a well known play of my choosing.

"State your name and the piece you'll be doing for the recording" the drama teacher waved her hand before sitting in her place.

I hadn't noticed a camera recording until now. A young boy, younger than me, turned the camera to face me. I looked over the crowd, taking a deep breath.