I could not believe that my mother would move us to another country. I stormed out of the hotel room making sure to slam the door behind me hoping that she notice but by the time the elevator arrives no one but me is in the hallway. I guess that if she really cared about me she would have noticed me leaving but I guess her business call must mean more to her than her own daughter. When the elevator reaches the lobby I nearly run out of the hotel into the bright sunlight of England.
My stomach is growling and I am in desperate need of caffeine but I want to be as far from the hotel as I can get. I start walking not caring where my feet are taking me just as long as I am able to walk away from the prison that is my new home. Wherever I look I see nothing but fancy restaurants. Has no one outside of the United States ever heard of fast food?
I finally find a cafe that looks like it would know about good greasy food. I sit outside at one of the tables and a server comes up to greet me. She hands me a menu.
"Good afternoon, can I get you get you anything to drink?" She asks me in a thick accent.
"Do you have any cola?"
I see a look of distaste appear on her face when she recognizes my American accent. I have been that same look by nearly everyone I have spoken too since we arrived in England. I guess that my forehead screams foreigner especially when I open my mouth.
When she confirms that they do carry soda or as she calls it 'fizzy drink' I quickly order one and she leaves me alone to browse the menu. Even though the menu is written in English I barely recognize half of the foods on it. I finally see familiar foods and I wait for her to come back to take my order. She appears to be taking her time and I take my composition notebook out of my bag and start to write.
"Is anyone sitting here?" I hear a squeaky teenager voice ask. I look up into big brown puppy eyes.
I shake my head no and he sits down next to me.
"I'm Zayn, Zayn Malik."
He holds out his hand and I shake it.
"I’m Carla."
I am afraid of telling him my last name because I have always been made fun of because of it. The server comes back with my drink and asks if I am ready to order.
"I would like a burger with fries please."
She turns to the boy named Zayn.
"I will have the same and I will have the same fizzy drink she has too."
She takes the menu and walks away leaving me alone with him again.
"You're American right?"
I usually would respond with a sarcastic response but I decide to have a different approach especially since he is kinda cute.
"Yeah me and my mom moved here recently."
I start writing in my notebook again.
"What are you writing about?"
"Nothing special I just like to write."
"Does it have anything to do with your boyfriend Zachary?"
"Zachary is my twin brother not my boyfriend."
I look down at the bracelet with his name on it. Our food finally arrives before he can ask anymore questions I am relieved that he does not talk while the server gives us our food. After she leaves we start to eat in silence. I am the first to break the silence this time.
"My brother lives with my dad back in the States. My parents are divorced."
I figure I should drop the bombshell on him about my life to let him decide if he still wants to talk with me.
“Why do you wear his bracelet?”
“Our parents got divorced when we both were 5. We switched our bracelets so that we would always remember each other and know that we are never alone. The bracelets are identical except for our names.”
He starts to tell me about his life. I find out that we are both the same age (thirteen years old) but his birthday is January while mine is in July. I start to hear a ringing noise.
“Is that your phone Carla?”
I realize that it is the cellphone my mom gave me for my birthday. I dig through my bag and finally find the phone.
“Hello.”
“WHERE ARE YOU CARLA?”
Even though I have been a teenager for a few weeks she still treats me like I am a child.
“I went out to get a bite.”
“I need you back at the hotel, I have a meeting in an hour.”
I should have figured that the only way she realized that I was missing was when she had to leave herself.
“I will be right there.”
I hang up on her and turn my attention back to Zayn.
“I am sorry but I have to get back to my mom.”
“She did not sound too happy, I am guessing that she did not know you left.”
I see a smile dance on his face.
The server comes and asks us if we want anything for dessert. We both decline and she hands us the bill while she clears the table.
I go to grab money from my wallet when I realize that I only have American money. Zayn notices it.
“I will take care of it but you are paying for dessert next time.”
He pays the bill and we go to leave.
“That’s my mum over there, let me see if she can give you a lift.”
We walk over to a woman putting shopping bags into a car.
“Is it okay if we give my friend a ride home mum?”
The woman quickly glances at me.
“Where do you live?”
I tell her the name of the hotel and I see her mouth drop open.
“We are only living there temporarily until we find a place to live.”
She gives me a ride to the hotel. When we get there Zayn scribbles in my notebook his phone number.
“If you want to hang out with me call me. But don’t forget to tell your mum.”
I turn to walk into the hotel but he calls my name.
“Carla! You never told me your last name.”
I decide that now is as good a time as ever to tell him.
“It’s Bond, Carla Bond.”
YOU ARE READING
Writing Music ( A Zayn Malik love story)
FanfictionThirteen-year old Carla did not like the idea of moving across the Atlantic Ocean until she met a brown-eyed boy. Could either of them have guessed that the same boy would become one of the most famous teenage musicians just a few years later?
