Teenage Run Away ✘ Harry Styles [2013] ✔

Chapter 2

Nichole's P.O.V


"Okay class" Mrs. Cooper spoke to us as her class was soon coming to an end. "Next week we will have a little.. assignment and you will each have partners. I'll pick of course." She said holding up some papers. Oh no. This isn't going to be one of those things where I get to have the worst partner. Can't I just get like a nerd or someone? Anyone but him?


"Chloe and Kate" She said. The two at the front high fived as they got what they wanted. She called the rest of the class out and it was down to just two. Oh Crap.


"Nichole, You get Harry" She smiled at me. I fake smiled and the bell rang. I quickly got up and walked to Mrs. Cooper's desk, making sure everyone got out of class so I could have a 'talk' with her. I turned around making sure no one was left and I began.


"Mrs. Cooper, Can I have a different partner? This one's kind of..." I was turning red.

"Scary?" She chuckled cutting me off. "Give him a chance Nichole. He's not that bad."
I nodded and she stood up.
"just give him a chance okay sweety?" I nodded and walked out of class.

I went to my locker to get my books for math class, and then chemistry. I walked to math class and sitting in the back was Kristen, talking to her crush. She didn't sit with me in this class normally.
I sat on the third row of desks and watched as everyone came in, making sure Harry wasn't in this class. He wasn't.
****


"NICHOLE!" Dad shouted as I walked through the front door of my house. I mentally groaned. "YOU'RE LATE!" He came into the room I was and wiped his hand with a towel to clean them. "Where have you been young lady?" He snapped.


"I had extra credit Dad," I told him. "Remember?"


"Oh," He replied simply. "Well dinner will be ready soon, get your brother." He suddenly went sweet. I nodded and walked upstairs to my brother Dylan's room. I swung the door open and he was crying into a pillow on his bed. I rushed over to him and he hugged him tightly, but he wouldn't let me look at his face.


"Dylan," I warned. He sighed and turned his head to me. My eyes widened as I stared at the black and blue bruise on the side of his face. "What happened?" I asked concerned.


"Dad," Was all he said before crying into my shoulder, me holding him tightly. I'm not going to ask why Dad did it. Why he does anything is a question to me.
He and Mom fight a lot, and they take it out on us instead of working through their problems. I'm sick of it.

A few moments later, Mom called me and Dylan down for supper. I hopped off Dylan's bed, him following me as we walked down to the kitchen.


Mom was sitting at the table eating, and Dad was placing food in our plates. They were completely silent, meaning they'd just had a fight.

We sat down.
The food placed on my plate was some sort of beans, some fried liver, and a salad. The salads not bad. That was on both of ours plates. In my parents were, steak, baked potato, and salad. Of course. They would have the better food. I hate liver.

I thought it would be a quiet dinner, and I was getting hopeful.
And then Dylan spilled his milk.
Dad back handed him across the face, and Dylan cried out and fell to the floor. I wanted to help him, I really did. But I had a bruise on my side from the last time I'd tried to help Dylan, and I couldn't.
Dad slapped him again, then left him alone. Mom got a rag and cleaned up the mess.
As soon as I finished eating I cleared my place and ran up the stairs, waiting. And as soon as everyone was asleep I made my way outside.
I walked and walked, the cool night air relaxing me. After about ten minutes I realized I was in a sketchy part of our small town, and I got nervous.
I heard footsteps behind me, and I backed into an alleyway.
"What do we have here?" A man asked. Two others loomed up behind him. I whimpered and stepped back, tripping over a trashcan and falling down.
"She's so sweet and pretty," The second man said. "Let's see if she tastes as sweet as she looks, shall we?"
I crawled backwards, looking back. The light from the street lamp showed me a mop of curly hair atop a tall boy.
It couldn't be?
"Na man, she's nothing special. Let's go hit up that party over at Zayn's." The curly haired one said.
When the man made a move toward me again, Harry put an arm out to block him.
"I said let's leave," he growled. The man glared at him a moment, before they turned and left.
Harry was still standing in the alleyway as I stood and dusted myself off.
"Are you okay?" He asked.


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