Dangerous: A Marcel Styles Fan Fiction

8: Bullies and Brothers

8: Bullies and Brothers

   My alibi for last night was simply I was doing homework. No one asked with whom or where – likely just jumping to the conclusion I was alone at my own house – so my secret hook up with Marcel was safely only known by the two of us.

   At my locker before classes began, Georgia Rose was ranting about some gossip she'd heard over the weekend. Of course, I didn't have the mindset to pay attention to her insanity just yet, even as I slammed the door to my locker and leaned against it. My focus was gone, until the doors at the end of the hallway opened.

   As my first class of the day was math, my locker and Georgia Rose's were in the same wing. Since Marcel was in our class, his was contained in one of the banks near mine. The nerd managed to sneak in the doors and open his locker without being ambushed by the popular football players inhabiting our first period, but the second the door to his locker closed, a scene unfolded in front of my eyes.

   "Hey, Marcel."

   My heart raced, as I recognized the voice. In the week Marcel had been going to this school, there were three bullies who tortured him the most – three of the most popular football players – Cory Umber, Lionel Phillips and, the leader of their posse and definitely the hottest guy in school, Kevin Heartwood.

   "You gonna do some learning today, Marcel?" Lionel asked in a taunting tone as the three boys surrounded him like hawks.

   The entire hall grew completely silent, and everybody stuck to the banks of lockers and white walls, ready to witness the show that was about to go down.

   In our incredibly fucked up school where the bullying of losers was the norm, everyone appreciated a good beat down – as long as they weren't the victim. Marcel, being the newest and most popular target, definitely had the teasing the crowd at this school would pay to see, but, this time, instead of brushing this off as regularity, my stomach turned for some unknown reason.

   Behind his glasses, Marcel's green orbs grew wide with fear. To his left stood Lionel, Cory was to his right and Kevin, the biggest, stood tall in front of him, intimidating the little nerd and striking fear into his heart.

   Marcel didn't speak and answer their taunts. The first day this bullying had begun, he'd mistakenly answered, which was something forbidden. For this he'd been punched and, since then, for the past week, he'd sat back and taken the abuse.

   All I could do now was watch. My eyes stared against my will and I watched as Kevin slapped the books Marcel had balanced in his arms to the floor, and then stole his taped glasses. Lionel pushed the nerd into Cory, and Cory pushed him back, forcing Marcel to the floor as well. When the loser tried to stand again, he was shoved by Kevin into the bank of lockers. This was only the beginning of what the trio had planned for the nerd for today. The three walked away laughing, dropping Marcel's glasses beside him. Normally, they would proceed down the hall and turn the corner, hanging out in some unknown area until the first bell rang, but today was different. Two members – Kevin and Cory – stopped near me and Georgia Rose.

   "Hey, girls," Cory greeted loudly. "You two free Friday night?"

   Georgia Rose answered for both of us. For the past year, the blonde at my side had been madly in love with Cory and, in under a minute, Kevin placed a kiss on my cheek and announced loudly, "See you then."

   I felt nothing for Kevin, but Georgia Rose was hopping and clapping as the duo walked away and we were left with dates I didn't even want.

   The bell rang after that, and I looked up, watching as Marcel passed by me to enter our classroom through the door, which was perched next to the bank of lockers my friend and I leaned against. I could tell his orbs of green lingered on me, even though I avoided his gaze. But I couldn't avoid it all day. I'd gotten the details texted to me. Today was the video shoot, and I'd have to be at the studio with Marcel Styles.

   When the time came, the scene I'd witnessed this morning still lingered fresh in my mind and continued to turn my stomach to a point where I was nearly certain I would vomit.

   "H-hey," Marcel greeted me in his typical stutter when I'd arrived at the studio the video was being filmed in.

   "Hi," I mumbled, keeping my head low.

   A short stretch of silence hung over the two of us. Personally, I didn't mind it, but Marcel felt the need to break the tension immediately.

   "I m-made it awkward, d-didn't I?"

   I had to look into his green eyes with a look of sympathy. The nerd's expression was heartbreaking. It was a look of sorrow and regret. Maybe, just maybe, he thought sleeping with me would get me to defend him against the morons who picked on him, but, of course, this wasn't the case.

   "No," I breathed, "You didn't."

   His mouth opened, but the nerd was interrupted.

   "Excuse me," said a feminine British accent.

   Marcel recognized the two women walking up to us well: a blonde and a girl with dark skin. Only from the One Direction fandom, and twitter, did I recognize them too. They were Caroline Flack and Lou Teasdale; One Direction's stylists.

   They told us both; One Direction had remained in their first set of costumes for us to see, delaying the shoot a slight bit. First they called out "Harvey" and "Jonny" and I had to hold back laughter as Louis and Niall emerged, dressed as my father and Jonny, even acting like them by speaking in gruff voices. I was in tears.

   "Harvey" and "Jonny" called out "Leeroy." Liam was dressed in a ridiculous outfit and a blonde wig. His British accent was slightly muted as he spoke in the gayest voice I'd ever heard. He was the gay choreographer.

   Eventually, Niall, in the impression of my father, called out "We'd like you to meet our marketing guy! Marcel!" My mouth hung open as Harry emerged.

   "Well?" Harry asked in a fake, nasally American accent. The heartthrob had been put in a sweater vest and tie, like I'd seen his little brother wear each day for the past week. His brown curls had been slicked back and he wore taped, thick glasses. He was a spitting image of Marcel.

   Both my jaw and Marcel's jaw hung open. Harry stood in front of his speechless brother, and I could see they were identical.

   "It's like an episode of The Twilight Zone," I remarked.

   "It's l-like looking in a creepy m-mirror," Marcel – the real Marcel (I think) – stuttered.

   "We have one more person," "Jonny" spoke. "Hey, Zayn, get out here!"

   My heart nearly stopped as the last member of One Direction stepped into the room, saying the words in a slightly feminine English accent, "It's Veronica."

   Zayn wore a blue dress. Zayn wore my hair, and my glasses. Zayn was me. They put me in the video. Zayn was playing me. My jaw hung open as wide as it could go and I knew how Marcel felt seeing Harry dressed in the nerdy costume he'd been in. This was like looking in a creepy mirror.

   "Do you like it?" Zayn asked me in his regular voice.

   "This," I started in a breath. I had to pause to regain my voice and restart my heart, "is so weird. You're actually...hot like this."

   The boys all laughed and for the next five minutes, we chatted. That was, until the boys left to change from these incredibly accurate costumes into their regular clothes. The next few hours were spent watching them trash a recreation of my father's office.