Fast Times At Claremont High

Elizabeth's POV

For the first time in at least eight months, I was left with no plans on a Saturday night.  It was weird, not having to get ready to go out to the next big party, and instead just lounging around on the sofa with my brother.  Granted, it was good to be spending more time with Zayn, because I really did love him and felt like he was the only person in this goddamn house who understood me.  And I mean, it wasn't like I hadn't had invitations to places - I'd had plenty, believe me.  But sadly, I'd had to decline all of them as I, Elizabeth Brown, socially-accepted badass and infamous party go-er, was grounded.

To be honest, I should've seen it coming.  It was the sixth time I'd tried to sneak out past curfew that month, and dad had made it perfectly clear that if he caught me doing it again then that'd be it, he'd cut me off. No phone, no laptop, no friends, no Jaye.  He'd stressed the last one the most, as he believed my boyfriend Jaye was the reason for all of my "silly partying and constant mischief". In hindsight, he was probably right. I'd never even been inside a club before I started going out with Jaye, and yeah, maybe he was the one who'd encouraged me to sneak out on more than one occasion.  But I loved him (at least, I thought I did) and if that's what it took to see him then so be it.

Zayn and I had been happily watching 'You've Been Framed', a show I hadn't seen in a while as I was usually getting ready to go out around this time.  We were watching some guy try to skateboard off his roof and onto a trampoline just as his friend threw thousands of rubber toys at him - a feat I was sure I'd seen be achieved at Becky Manson's house party three weeks ago - when I heard a faint buzzing noise coming from the other side of the room.   I looked across curiously, only to see the familiar book case piled high with dad's books about god-knows-what.  I frowned and turned back to the TV, but didn't miss the hint of guilt that flashed across Zayn's face.

After another couple of minutes, I heard it again, and this time it was louder and lasted for longer.  I decided to get up and investigate, but just as I stood up, Zayn had also risen and was blocking my path.

"Wooooahhhh, slow down there, Squirt," he said nervously, using my childhood nickname that he knew I hated as a distraction.  "Where're ya goin'?"

I raised my eyebrows and glanced over his shoulder.  "To find out what that buzzing noise is."

Zayn also looked over his shoulder and then back at me.  He looked even more nervous now and, oh my god, did he just gulp?!  Why was he so worried about me finding out what the buzzing was? 

"Zayn, it's coming from inside the bookcase drawer. You know, the one Dad uses to hide our birthday presents and stuff wh-"

And then it hit me like a box of squeaky rubber play toys. The buzzing wasn't some curious mystery, or a present, or even a mouse or a rat. It was my phone.  My ringing phone, to be exact, and Zayn knew it.  I felt a smirk creep across my face as the realisation dawned, and Zayn must've been able to see it too because he suddenly dropped to his knees and began begging.

"Please, Elizabeth, for the love of god don't go and answer that phone.  Dad will have a cow, and a horse, and the whole fucking barn if he finds out.  Just don't do it, okay?  Because if you go down, you always find a way to take me with you and this...this might just make him snap really hard, okay? So just...please don't."

It must be weird for anyone else at school or whatever to picture Zayn Malik begging and pleading with someone on his knees because he was scared of getting in trouble with his daddy.  It wasn't just me who had a reputation - Zayn did too, and for worse things than me.  He'd bee caught up in drugs and theft crimes, and even though that part of his life was mostly over, it still didn't stop kids from being mildly terrifed of him.  It was good to have him as an older brother, sometimes, because everyone was too afraid to give me any shit.