Target (Harry Styles Fanfic)

Chapter 1

“Daphne! Honey, wake up! You’re going to be late for your first day of school!” I heard my mother shriek from the bottom of the stairwell.

I groaned loudly, my eyelids reluctantly parting as my head winced from the illuminating rays sneaking past my curtains. I failed to respond back to my mother, my eyes slowly shutting signaling a small five, ten, maybe thirty minute snooze.

“Daphne!”I heard her shout again; this time with her footsteps approaching up the steps. Knowing fully well of the consequences which would forth come, my eyes darted open as I quickly shot from under the warmth of my covers and stood up while stretching my limbs.

“Alright mom, I’m up!” I acquiesced. I listened, as her footsteps faded, probably heading back to the kitchen.

Today was my first day, in the middle of the school year, at Windrose Academy. Some preppy, private school here in England, which unfortunately, I was forced to move to. I am originally from the States, specifically Wisconsin. My dad was a highly renowned businessman and earned a fantastic opportunity here in London. When he and my mum broke the news to me of the move he said, and I quote “This is the journey of a lifetime, and I promise you’ll have a great experience in London.” I absolutely had no say in this “minor change”, once again, in their own words, and basically packed up my bags and travelled here right on the spot. Leaving behind my friends, my home, my life. I don’t even have any idea on what exactly my dad’s profession here is. Honestly, I could care less.

I walked into the bathroom which was combined with the bedroom and looked at my appearance in the mirror. My long, red hair was crazily wavy from last night’s shower, and my eyes looked extremely exhausted from a long night of tossing and turning. I sighed at my pathetic appearance, and splashed cool water across my face. The tingling from the icy droplets instantly jolted me. Not as drowsy as earlier, I swiftly went into my closet. Private school means a uniform. Peeling off my night attire, I pulled the plaid skirt over my long legs, buttoning it at the waist. Next, I shimmied on and buttoned the white collared blouse, followed by a black cardigan. Though, this school requires such formal apparel, they were lenient in the accessorizing. In other words, they could care less on what shoes I wore. Happy in not having to wear some sort of boring old loafers, I eyed my black Doc Martens. Sure, my mother would probably disprove of my choice, however, she’ll never argue. After all, it wasn’t my idea to go to some private school.

Finishing up with the lacing of my boots, I gazed at my appearance in the floor length mirror in my closet. The uniform didn’t seem so horrible in my eyes. What did bother me was the length of the skirt. On any other girl, who isn’t 5’9 like myself, the garment would be just above the knee. On me though... it was much higher, about a good hands length away from my knee. Giving up my attempts in trying to lower the hemline, I strolled back to the loo. Look at me, I’ve only been in London for a week, and already I’m using British terms and lingo. Instead of dealing with my disheveled red mane, I pulled it back into a messy bun. Cute yet casual. Not that I’m trying to impress anybody. I could care less. Finally, almost complete with my exterior, I did a light touch of makeup. Nothing too extravagant, just some eyeliner and mascara to define my blue-green eyes.

Leaving the washroom, I grabbed my brown studded book bag, flung it on my shoulders and unwillingly descended down the stairs. I found my mom cooking away in the kitchen, my senses filled with the aroma of pancakes.

“Good morning, honey.” My mother turned and greeted me with her short auburn hair, warm smile, and kind eyes. Definitely a different side from the shrillness of her voice earlier.

“Mornin’ mum.” I responded half-heartedly.

I sat down at the small table pushed off to the side in the kitchen and started messing around with my Iphone.