Help! I'm Having Twins With Harry Styles! But I Hate Him! Don't I?

My New Home: Watson Church Comprehensible School

The concert was the most amazing thing I had ever seen in my life. Even though I hadn’t seen Alexys-Marye-Siobhan since she had disappeared into the boy’s dressing room, the symphonic brilliance of One Direction’s music soothed away the rough edges of my concern for her safety.

Still, even as the profundity their lyrics scratched away the filth of the world that had caked against the innocence of my being, I could not forget the sensation of Harry’s touch.

Each time he looked out into the crowd of heaving teen girl bodies, it was as if he was looking right into my soul. There, amid thousands, he sought me out: the only thing of definition, a lonely penguin on an iceberg of tranquil white and cold.

I shivered as his fingers reached from the stage, over a sea of desperate faces with mouths agape like Pez dispensers. He stroked against my cheek, and down my neck, light and soft, like the falling feathers from a down pillow smashed so hard against a brick wall it exploded violently.

But he wasn’t Mr. Fantastic, all stretchy and elastic, and he couldn’t actually touch me; he was fifty yards away surrounded by security and… hang on a minute, this guy is a complete douchebag.

When Mum picked me up, she noticed the scowl I wore and seemed concerned.

“Didn’t enjoy the concert honey?” she asked.

What a dumb question.

“Alexys-Marye-Siobhan is catching a ride home with some bikers,” I declared, “and as much as I love One Direction, if I never see Harry Styles again, it’ll be too soon.”

“That’s nice,” Mum smiled, and drove in the direction of home before I had even the chance to fasten my seatbelt.

My sleep was plagued with horrific dreams of loving caresses and sincere compliments about my undying beauty and timeless elegance.

I was saved by the shrill cry of my alarm, but it was Harry’s voice singing ‘Everyone else in the room can see it. Everyone else but you…’

“See what you insufferable abomination?” I muttered, smoothing the tangles from my glossy tresses. “That you’ve the voice of an angel but the heart of a serial killer? Oh I see that.”

My tirade of abuse might have continued for several minutes, but was interrupted when both my mother and father entered the room.

“We’ve been talking with Alexys-Marye-Siobhan’s parents, and we’ve decided it would be best to send you both to boarding school in England.”

I blinked. Was this some kind of joke?

“You’re a wizard Elise,” my dad said with a straight face.

“Hogwarts!?” I exclaimed, but Dad interrupted me again.

“Just kidding, you’re actually really average. Also, with you out of the house, your mother and I can get busy in any room we please.”

“Also, you’re adopted,” my mother put in.

Did my world just implode? Might as well tell me that One Direction never existed, and that all my hopes and aspirations of becoming a successful size -1 model, loved and adored by anorexic girls everywhere, was nothing more than an unattainable pipe dream!

“But…” I began in protest; I loved my life.

I couldn’t possibly start over at the very bottom of the social order!

“We packed some of your things while you were sleeping,” Mum told me, “and the taxi should be arriving to take you to the airport in ten minutes. You may want to brush your hair.”