Miss Terry [Niall Horan]

Call of the Groupie

"'Niall, Zayn, Louis, Liam and Harry, I'm just writing to let you know that you changed my life for the better. Before you guys came along, I felt like I had no reason to live. But now, I live for you; your music; and everything you do. Keep up the good work and never stop saving lives like mine. Yours, Amber.' Wow. That's amazing," I breathed, clutching Amber's scribbled letter in both of my hands. I felt weightless with the joy that was filling up every space in my body. Someone needed us; we'd saved their life.

      "I honestly can't believe that!" Louis chuckled. He ruffled Harry's curls, shook his head and picked up a letter to read to us. "Okay. This one's a bit scruffy . . . and there's a lot in block capitals. I think they were excited. 'Dear One Direction. Oh. My. God. You're all sooo fit and talented, and I'm soooo jealous of you! I'm your biggest fan! I have all of your merchandise and I kiss my poster of Liam every night before I go to sleep and in the morning before I begin my day.'" Louis paused to wink cheekily at a very red-faced Liam. "Ooh, looks like someone's got a fan!" he teased.

      I dodged the pillow that Liam accidentally threw in my direction. "Watch it!" I yelled, chucking it back. Before a full-on pillow fight could start, a low cough sounded out from the doorway where Paul was watching us like a hawk.

      "Party pooper," Zayn muttered.

      "Look, boys, this has to be done. Don't you want to show your Directioners that you care about them?" Paul persuaded.

      "But it's really hard! We just want to have a laugh all the time; we're making the best out of every situation," Louis responded fairly.

      I could see the devilish twinkle in Paul's eyes even before he suggested - or rather, ordered - "Well, take a pile of letters each and read them individually in your rooms then. Off you pop!" Groans erupted from us, but Paul's warning look was enough to replace them with silent, deadly stares that bore into his head.

      I cradled my bunch of letters as I made my way towards the garden, where I could read in peace, away from the noise of four other loud, crazy boys. As soon as I got there, I plonked myself down on the grass and ripped open a primrose pink envelope. My eyes scanned through the letter, and I quickly realised that it was hate. Gulping, I tore it in half, not wanting to see what someone's cruel thoughts of me were. I crossed my fingers as I opened the next envelope. I didn't want hate. It made me feel worthless, and as if we were only getting attention from pity. "'Dear darling Harry'," I read aloud, "'You are perfection in a man, and you have no idea how much I want to run my fingers through those curls of yours. I don't know if you remember, but I was at a signing the other day. My friend Jessica was the redhead that fainted when Zayn smiled at her.' Oh, her!" I faintly remembered the cute fifteen year old girls with 'I <3 1D' t-shirts and a giant banner who came along to a signing only to fall at Zayn's feet.

      Most of the fifteen letters I'd picked up were like that, except the very last one. This one seemed somehow different to the others. The letter was thicker, as if it had more inside the envelope than the others, and it was type-written formally, like a proper, old-fashioned letter. What intrigued me most was that the return address was somewhere in France.

      I breathed deeply and began reading the letter. This is what it said: 'Bonjour, Louis, Liam, Harry, Zayn and Niall. I am writing to inform you' - this girl's English was fantastic - 'that even though your music has a good beat and is fun to dance to, the lyrics do not have deep meaning. This angers me greatly. Why would you make music that has no point to the lyrics? Music that doesn't touch your heart is not real music at all; it's just a few chords from a guitar and some singing mashed together. Take this in and make some real music next time that expresses your feelings in the proper manner: for France. Vive la France! Miss Terry.'

      I swear, my eyes were popping out of their sockets. Has this girl not listened to Little Things?! It's meaningful and deep and written by the most meaningful and deep artist I know! 'Miss Terry' doesn't know what she's talking about.

      Right then, in that second, I decided to write a reply showing her how deep the boys of One Direction could be. So I grabbed all the letters and, with an amused smirk, made my way to the living room to get a pen.

* * * * *

The other boys were just as shocked as me when I showed them the letter and all agreed that writing a snappy comeback letter was the right thing to do.

      That's how I came to be scratching my head at my desk at home, my gaze focussed on a blank piece of paper and a stationary, uninspired pen. C'mon, Niall, think! I pressured myself as I racked my brain. You've got to write something clever. Something she wouldn't expect.

      Just as I was about to give up, my mobile rang from my pocket. Thinking it was one of the boys with a killer idea for the comeback letter, I answered without looking at the caller ID. "Top o' the mornign to ya," I greeted jokingly.

      "Hi, Niall!" a voice from the other side giggled girlishly.

      Startled by the high voice, I froze for a moment before shaking myself. Was this a prank? Maybe it was one of the boys. "Louis?" I asked in a quizzical tone.

      "What? No, silly, it's Lori! You know, from the concert."

      Horrifying images came flying into my head. Lori. Oh, God, anyone but Lori! Lori was what society pleasantly called a 'groupie'. Basically, she was trying everything to get into my pants, and it was becoming just a little bit irritating. The worst thing was, she seemed superb at first, so I was stupid enough to give her my number.

      "Oh, Lori!" I said, feigning enthusiasm.

      "So, I was wondering if you were free next Sunday? I'd love to meet you somewhere." I mentally noted that her tone had turned from annoyingly girly to seductive. "Perhaps I can come round for lunch?"

      Honesty is the best policy, Niall! the angel on my shoulder warned me. Screw that, she's insane! I thought back before blurting out a lie about going to Nandos with a friend. "Sorry, L. Maybe next time I'll be free to see you." Fortunately, Lori hung up, and I was free to sink into the chair with my head buried in my hands.

      Someone tutted from the doorway and, to my surprise, I saw Louis and Liam frowning at me from there. "Liar, liar," Louis accused.

      "Aw, c'mon, Lou! She's a maniac!" I reasoned (fairly enough!).

      Suddenly, a high-pitched yelp came from the other room. I scowled at the guys; they'd brought someone else. Then the yelp turned into a blood-curdling scream, and one word emptied my mind of my frustration: danger. Together, the three of us sprinted down the stairs to find Zayn standing on the sofa and pointing at his phone, which was on the ground. "Zayn? What is it? What's wrong? Talk to us," Liam whispered comfortingly.

      "L-Lori's calling!" Zayn stuttered.

      "Well, you've gotta admit, that's pretty terrifying," I put in, only to get a pillow slamming against the side of my head.

A/N: *shudder* Gosh, I hate Lori. Urgh. Anyhoo. Please vote and comment, I love feedback and any [constructive] criticism will be taken into account for the next chappie.

Songbird xox