The Girl With The Mask (One Direction)

Chapter 4

Jennifer's POV

"Why do I have to do this again?" I ask Jonah, having truly forgotten the reason.

"You lost the bet," he says and I can tell he's smirking even with his back to me.

"Yeah! Cause you tipped her off!" I exclaim. He chuckles.

"You still lost." I flip him off.

"Jonah, I don't own any One Direction pants!" I tell him for the 24th time. I've been counting.

"I'll make some then!" he exclaims, finally coming up with a solution. I groan.

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"You're making me pants out of Nat's fucking duvet cover?" He nods his head, a satisfied smirk on his face.

"Oh my God," I groan.

Half an hour later I have my One Direction outfit and I'm complaining like there's no tomorrow. I'm dressed in someone's 1D shirt, Nat's 1D converse, Nat's fucking duvet, someone's 1D snapback, and even a 1D bra that Jonah bought especially for this occasion.

"How do you even know my bra size?" I asked him.

"I got Nat to help me," he admits sheepishly.

"Traitor," I mutter. I mean yeah, we're not really that close, and she's 16, a year older than me, and she's Jonah's girlfriend, but still traitor.

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Before dinner I watch clips from The Ellen Show. She always makes me laugh. I really loved when she hid in the bathroom and scared Taylor Swift shitless. And when Taylor Swift and Zac Efron did that duet about Ellen and yeah.

A few minutes later I get called down for dinner. We're having spaghetti. I hate eating. No. Screw that. I hate puking, so it's better to not eat. I really just hate being full.

I twirl the pasta around on my fork as I listen to snippets of other people's conversations. Apparently there's a young couple coming tonight. If I'm lucky one of the bitches will leave. It's not like I'm going to.

God I hate them. The bitches, I mean. They make my life an even bigger living hell than it has to be. They were a lot of the reason I tried to kill myself a little over two years ago. It didn't work, obviously.

The anniversary was horrible. The first year I felt like complete shit and almost tried it again, but I stuck with just cutting. Not my wrists, but my stomach and the upper part of my thighs. This year I just slept and cut. I'm disgusted with myself.

I wrenched from my hateful thoughts by a loud clap everyone looks up at Jessica, who obviously just clapped. After dinner announcement time.

She clears her throat. "Finding Nemo in the lounge, games outside for one and a half hours, board games in the front, or you can just go to your room!" she finishes.

Everyone scrambles up, clears their dishes, and heads to their chosen activities. I, of coarse, head to my room.

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I know I like One Direction okay, but I seriously hate this outfit. Im wearing a fucking duvet on my legs. And Jonah. I hate him, too. Why would a 15 year old guy make someone dress in One Direction clothes for a day? It doesn't make any fucking sense. Something is up.

As of now I'm sulking in my box- I mean room with my crappy laptop that I stole from some kid right before they got adopted ino a rich family. I kind of feel bad about it, but he's there and I'm sitting on the ground with my still duvet covered legs.