The game - A one direction fan fiction

Chapter 1

“Vanessa! Vanessa! I got it! I got the letter! I’m selected!”  I screamed as I tore open the envelope.  

There was no reply to my excitement. I mentally face palmed when I realized that my friend was still asleep.  I sprinted up the stairs, taking them two at a time and knocked on the door of her bedroom. 

No movement.

I knocked once again, a little bit harder this time, but there was still no reaction.

Oh well.

“Vanessa!”  I screamed as I shoved open the door and catapulted myself onto her bed, successfully crushing her.   

“What the hell is wrong with you?”  She groaned, still half asleep.  She grabbed her pillow and pressed it into her face in an attempt to drown me out.  

“I got through! I’m selected!”  I yelled.

“What?!”  She shot up, causing me to lose my balance and topple off the side of the bed.  

"Oops.  I’m so sorry!”  She covered her mouth with her hands, attempting to hide her laughter even though I could hear her loud and clear.  “But you got through?!”  She started again, probably just as excited as I was.

“Yes, I got the letter!” I screamed, waving the envelope in front of her face for emphasis.  This was just too unreal.  

"Well? Read it!”

With hands shaking from excitement, I unfolded the letter and began to read out loud.

“Dear Whitney,

We are happy to inform you that you are selected to be one of our sixteen candidates for our new television program, The Game.  We are expecting you on the first of August at the London Airport.  We will pay all charges.  

We will send a taxi to your residence at 1pm to transport you to the airport.  You will be a participant for fifteen weeks maximum.  Make sure to bring your summer clothing, as well as a swimsuit and raincoat.  

The details will be disclosed to you once on board the plane.  

Yours faithfully,

John Mole.  

I lower the letter into my lap slowly and meet Vanessa’s eyes.

“Oh.  My.  God.”

**

I was born and raised in America, but when I was about twelve years old both of my parents died in a car accident.  After that, Child Protection sent me to England, so I could live with my new foster parents.  Even now, 5 years later, I don’t understand why I had to move to England.  There had to have been foster parents in America willing to take me right? I had to give up all my friends, and everything I had become so used to because my Grandmother refused to take me in.  

However; My foster parents couldn't get kids on their own, so they got me instead.  Living with them was alright I guess, but I knew I would never love them as much as I did my own parents.  

About three months ago from now, my ‘mother’, Theresa, received the news that she was pregnant.  With her own child.  

After that, everything went downhill.

They began to act differently around me, and eventually kicked me out of the house.  

After five years, they kicked me out.  Pushed me away.  

They told me that they had their own child now.  That they didn't have time for me anymore.  And with that, they practically slammed the door in my face.  

I was devastated.

I had nowhere to go, no money, no job, and no family.  I didn't want to go to the police, because I was afraid they would send me to another pair of ‘parents’ because I was still underage.  

Since then, I have never trusted people who claim to love me.

So my friend, Vanessa, offered for me to come and live with her and her parents.  At first I politely declined, not wanting to burden her or her parents with my problems.  But I was finding nowhere else to stay, and she reassured me that her parents would be happy of the company, seeing as their oldest son has just moved out.  

I thought about it for some time, but it was my only option really, besides sleeping on the cold-ass street of course.  

I told them that it wouldn't be for long.  That I would find a job, earn money, and get my own apartment.  They agreed, telling me that I could stay for as long as I needed.  They paid for school, clothes, and everything else that I had never gotten from my ‘parents’.

As the weeks flew by, I applied for numerous jobs, but was never hired.  Exactly one month ago, I was watching T.V., and there appeared a new advertisement about a new show.  The producers were asking for sixteen candidates who were willing to participate.  They didn't reveal anything about the program itself, as they wanted to keep it a secret.  However they did mention the winner’s prize.  

One million dollars.  

I didn't care so much about the fame that I would get, no.  What I wanted was the money.   It could solve all my problems.  I could get my own house, my own car, and maybe even a swimming pool in the backyard!

So I signed up.  I wrote them a letter saying that I would love nothing more than to be a participant.  But I never expected to get through.

**

“Whit?  Whitney!”  Vanessa was waving a hand in front of my face.

“Um.  Yeah?”

“Finally.  You know what tonight is?”  She asked me, meeting my eyes.

“The thirtieth of July.  Why?”  I asked, not knowing where she was going with this.

“So, what’s tomorrow?”  

Did she think I was an idiot?  “The first, Vanessa, I’m not that stupid,”  I said, frowning.

"And, what happens on the first?”  She coaxed.

“Oh, don’t play dumb, I have no idea what you’re talking about!”

“Tomorrow is the first of August you dumbass!  What did the letter say?!  You're leaving tomorrow!”

“What? Oh my God.  Tomorrow!?

I still had so many things to do.  I had to pack, I had to do my laundry, I had to-

“Whit, what do you think this ‘The Game’ thing is about, anyways?”  Vanessa interrupted my thoughts, once again.

“Huh,”  I said, thinking.  “Maybe. . . Maybe we have to survive on an island or something!”  I laughed, imagining me stranded on an island.  That would end well.  

“That would be awesome!” Vanessa said, laughing along with me.