It’s a Tuesday afternoon and you have just returned home from school, you dump your bags in the hallway and run up the stairs, like most nights, and ignore your mum screaming and telling you to, “remove your bags from the hallway at once, or else”. Or else, you think to yourself as you reach your bedroom door and walk in too your favourite place. You look up at your wall that is covered in JLS, left, right and centre and cant really come to terms with the fact that this time tomorrow, you will be getting ready for their first arena tour night. You’ve already picked out your outfit, black JLS hoodie and all four wristbands, as you have decided that for their first tour you will have to support all four boys, even though secretly underneath your clothes you will be wearing the “I (L) Aston” girl boxers you had ordered last week.
Your mum finally walks in and hands you your bags as you wake up from your day dream of showing Aston those boxers, and stutter a thanks to your mum when you realise this would never happen. When mum leaves you realise you have to get started on the JLS forum banner you had promised the girls, you would make. You want it to be perfect and it takes you hours but you eventually fall asleep, head resting on your Aston poster and mind ignoring everything else, your dreams were the best that night.
On Wednesday afternoon your life seems so much brighter, you are home from school, and are so happy that you even bring your bags up to your room yourself today. Even the wall is ignored whilst you gather together your clothes and straightners, knowing its going to take you hours to get ready. Hairs, then clothes, then make-up you think to yourself as you tell your little sister you have to look perfect tonight.
“Why didn’t you invite me!” she screams at you. “I could have looked perfect too”. Your little sister, Chloe, who was only 6 years old, didn’t even know how to apply mascara yet, and knowing you cant even look half decent without it, as much as you thought she was beautiful, Clo had no chance.
“I’m sorry hunni” you reply, as you do feel a little bit of sorrow in your heart. “Next time”, you promise her as she walks away.
