The Photo Kid (a Niall Horan fanfic)

A/N: This is my first fanfic! :D It's got a bit of a... umm... different plot but I'm hoping it won't be too strange and you'll like it. By the way, I can honestly swear it IS a Niall fanfic even if there isn't any Niall in the first few chapters. You just have to keep reading. ;)

This story will probably be in collaboration, by the way. This first chapter is by Olivia. :)

Introduction - 'Daisy'

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*DAISY'S POV*

They say patience is a virtue. To be honest, for me, it's just another thing I don't have.

Because - quite frankly - I'm a rubbish person.

I can explain. Where to start...?

When you're bullied, it's the worst feeling ever. You feel unwanted, unloved... like no-one can put anything right. And when you are, if ever, occasionally complimented, you don't believe the kind, rare words. Negativity sticks out too much. And I just make things worse for myself, with my temper that's about as long as an ant's body. Despite all the encouragement from my mum that the bullies will get bored or whatever, they are much more physically able than I am - it's all crap. Answering back results in huge fights. Shutting up is impossible. Ignoring them also gets a bruise on my arm anyway. What's the point? I'm helpless, and rubbish.

I'm not at all pretty, either. Hell, even the Mad Hatter from Alice In Wonderland would run a mile from me. Whenever I walk past any reflective surface, like a mirror or a window, I always cower away from the image that moves perfectly in sync with me on it. The dull, brown eyes that blankly focus on nothing but space; the straight, dark blonde hair that brushes around my shoulders. In those lovely stories featuring beautiful, princess-like girls, you tend to describe THEIR brown eyes and glimmering and shining. Mine aren't. In those tales that are so unfortunately untrue in my real world, their dark blonde locks are shiny and lush. Mine are just dead cells hanging from my head.

And my past isn't even that bad, meaning I have no excuses. Frankly, my family life couldn't be better - my parents and I get along very well. Additionally, my brother Lucas (who's fifteen) and my sister Marie (twenty, still living with us as her university is close to home) are basically my best friends. Although I don't think I'm theirs, sadly, no matter how close we are. Because they're both liked.

I don't even know what I ever did wrong. I was actually quite popular once upon a time, a couple of years ago. When everything was going well. But then people started to get the idea I was a "nerd", and when the school bullies decided I was their next target everyone followed their powerful lead. Sometimes I can honestly swear I can see some other kids giving me apologetic looks... not that they ever do anything about it. Occasionally I feel as though they're the real bullies, not doing anything to help out. Or on the other hand, maybe they're just as scared as I am.

Groaning, I roll over in bed and hit my alarm. My only consolation for school today is that I'm in my last year - the upper Sixth Form - and the year's nearly over. When the summer arrives, I will have no school of any shape or form for a year! After the break, where I will also get myself a Saturday job to keep a living, I can go off to university and make a fresh start. I already have scored a place to study drama and movie theatre at Queens College in Cambridge. I hope to follow my dream in acting; I have already been in some small, pretty much unknown movies and on-stage performances, though no-one at school knows. They would just ridicule me, no doubt.

I speedily get ready for school: pulling my hair back into a ponytail and getting into some plain jeans and a black and white shirt with a Peter Pan collar. Munching on a little bit of toast silently with Lucas, I realise that I got ready a bit too quickly. I still have twenty-five minutes until I usually leave and I'm already basically ready to leave. With this in mind, I pick up my laptop and quickly open my blog. I keep that a secret, too. I have quite a lot of online followers but nobody I know in person: they don't appreciate the photos I take. Yes, photography is my hobby. I find it relaxing to focus my camera on a beautiful landscape and then take an everlasting view of it whilst being able to say it was my own work.

"That's lovely, Daz," Lucas comments, coming over and using my pet nickname as an extra emphasis on his kindness. "You really have an eye for photography."

"Thank you!" I look to him and smile. "I have over a thousand comments on this one."

The photo post we are looking at is a detailed picture of a tri-coloured sunset, beautifully striped with red, orange and a little bit of pink.

"No wonder! Anyway, I'm leaving for school, a bit earlier than you today. Love you." He bends down and pecks my cheek before turning and walking away.

"Bye!" I call after him.

"See you on Friday!" I can hear Marie shout. She's going away for a bit of work today, only for a couple of nights though - Thursday night and Wednesday. I won't see her until then after I leave for school.

The remaining twenty minutes roll by rapidly and then I kiss my mum's cheek to say goodbye. I go and give Marie a hug and I'm then out of the house. My school is only a ten minute walk away. The hot atmosphere is pleasant to walk in, luckily. On colder mornings it's hell.

However, my good mood vanishes when I reach my locker. In what seems to be permanent marker, somebody has written a really nasty word on there which I won't repeat. I'm used to it, but it still stings a little. For the sake of not looking to helpless, I put on a face of indifference.

They say when life gives you lemons, make lemon juice. But for me it's impossible. Even if I act like I can just get through it and make the most of what I do have, it hurts a lot inside. Quite honestly, the only thing I have to live for is my family and future career. Hopefully when I leave though, I'll switch off the bullied, rejected Daisy and turn on the confident, successful one I used to be.

Well, here goes nothing for another day.

I make my way to my first class, Maths. I actually don't mind this so much as the person I sit next to, Aimee, doesn't bother me at all. When no-one's looking in our direction, she actually sometimes smiles at me. It's incredible, really. Publicly, she gives me the cold shoulder like everyone else. But secretly, she must feel bad as she does also - on top of the smiling - subtly slip me a pencil if mine breaks, or a pen if mine runs out. I just wish she was less selfish and would try to talk to me. But I guess it's easier said than done. I guess she's the closest I have to a friend right now, excluding Marie and Lucas.

I stroll in, and as I take my place people automatically start throwing balls of paper at me. It is so perfectly timed that it could have been rehearsed. Maybe it was.

But they've been doing this every day. So I decide that I'll switch it up a little, even though I can tell the consequences are going to be bad.

"Thanks for the paper! I grin smugly, turning the scrunched up ball into a paper aeroplane. I throw it across the room at the main ringleader of all this, Josh Melaine.

He actually looks shocked for a split second and it's so funny that I start to laugh before I abruptly stop myself. He just looked SHOCKED. At ME and a bit of paper. What an idiot.

His temporary taken-aback expression is replaced by anger. Oh, dear.

You see, you wouldn't think he'd hit a girl, since it's supposed to be 'wrong' for a guy to do that to a girl. Nope. He doesn't care at all. In fact, the bruises I so often get are mostly all from him and his little pathetic but strong posse of friends: Chris, Matt and Katia. They're all very physically able; it's no longer child's play since we're all eighteen now. They can properly beat me up, and a couple of times they've knocked me out. Somehow, they always manage to escape the scene and avoid getting into trouble. They could get away with blue murder if they wanted to, I swear.

Just then, the teacher comes in and starts yelling at us to settle down. We all sit and class begins.

*FIVE HOURS ON*

I rush down the corridor and hope to escape school unscathed. However, just as I think I'm about to make it, several cold hands grab me and pin me to the wall round the back of the school. No need to guess who it is...