Nacho Average One Direction Story

Gymbor-whooeywhatey?

Monday

LIZZ MAYBERRY POV

The alarm on my phone went off annoyingly and I patted around myself, trying to find it. Finally, I got a hold of the stupid thing, flipped it open and shut it again, effectively disabling the alarm. I closed my eyes, but 5 minutes later it went off again. I hate myself for setting two alarms in the morning, but otherwise I wouldn't get anything done. I turned of the alarm and laid flat on the ground, my face burrowed in my pillow. I let out one long, evenly toned yell. I sighed and stood up.

I rubbed my hair out of my face as I put it into a messy bun. However I stopped when I touched the tender spot by my eye. I remembered how Harry had been blindly swinging around last night and had hit me in the face. That little turd. I for sure had at least a small black eye.

That's when I noticed Harry wasn't in the bed anymore, he is laying on the ground next to me. I guess on the middle of the night he dragged the comforter off the bed to lay beside me. Sweet kid. I decided to run to the bathroom.

"Whew! I am out of shape," I panted when I got there. "Wait a second... round is a shape. I'm golden," I assured myself, smiling at my logic and grabbed a paper cup and filled it with water. I pulled some Advil out of the cubbord and took it all back to where Harry was. I put it on the bed side table. I got a scrap piece of paper and wrote a little poem for him on it.

"Have fun barfing your brains out," I said to him before kicking him lightly because he got to sleep in and I didn't.

I sashayed back towards my room. About halfway there I ran into the decorative dresser against the wall. "Otter down! Otter down!" I yelled as I fell. It hit me in the hip, causing me to twist into a tailspin. I laid on the ground for a moment, thinking why bad things happen to good people. I carefully got up and limped my way to my closet.

I picked out a pair of yellow kapris and yanked them on, doing the skinny-jean hop to get them over my butt. They were normal skinny jeans to others, but like all pants, they were too short for my long legs. So, I rolled up the bottom into a cuff and I'm really proud of my intuitive-ness so don't make fun of me. I grabbed a plain white tanktop and white / moderate blue striped cardigan. I slipped on my navy blue TOMS and headed downstairs.

I ate cereal while watching a pointless television show. I brushed my teeth and went to assess the situation that is my hair. I parted it to the side and stared at the curls. "Stared? Stareded? Stard? Store? Stared," I decided, talking to myself trying to get the right form of the verb. I opened the drawer that held my hair supplies. I pulled out two hairbands and a bobby pin. I put my hair into a messy bun easily implementing the process I named The Dual Twist. It was half dancer bun half messy bun. I grabbed my phone and put it in my pocket as I walked into the garage. I decided to scooter today.

One I got to the Ryder's I talked to Mr. Ryder about what happened. He was oddly cool with it, although, Harry isn't his kid, so he can't really punish him. He would probaly get a stern talking-to, though.

Soon enough, they had left for work and I was alone with the 3 little children I loved so much. But today was not any normal Monday. Today was the first Monday of Gymboree. Gymboree was a Gym class at the local YMCA where the kids did a bunch of fun sports, swimming, arts and crafts, and other things like that. It ran Monday, Wednesday, and Friday from 10 in the morning to 4 in the afternoon for almost the whole summer. I had done it myself at an activity center in Colorado when I was young. The kids were really excited about it but this was Claire's first year and she was nervous.

"What if they don't like me?" She asked, her blue eyes wide with innocence.

"What's not to like?" I asked her back. I considered going all The Help on her and saying 'You is kind. You is smart. You is important.' But decided against it because I am an English freak afterall and couldn't bring myself to slaughter the rules by saying 'you is' instead of 'you are'. "You're beautiful and nice. You share toys and don't get in trouble. You're a good girl, ClaireBear," I told her. She looked reassured.