Fangirl // Harry Styles

Chapter 2

Whoo(: It's finally Friday! After a crappy first week back at school, a weekend is exactly what I need xD Anyway, there is NO HATE intended towards The Wanted in this chapter. It's just a story, and most directioners do not get along with The Wanted fans. Just letting you know, hate is not intended. Please don't hold it against me... xD Anyway, enjoy<3

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Chapter 2 – Valerie’s P.O.V.

            I raked a hand through my hair as a loud sigh escaped my lips. I closed my locker, hugging my books close to my chest as I made my way to calculus. Of course, some jerk thought it’d be funny to shove me into the lockers. I simply groaned, walking faster to the class. This is your last year, I told myself. You can make it a couple more months. You can do this. Who the hell am I kidding? Just let me curl up in a corner, rock myself back and forth as I cry my eyes out, and then die. Yup, it’s a plan.

            “Val!” I didn’t stop as I heard my best (and only) friend, Stevie, catch up with me. “Valerie, did you hear One Direction is going to be in town?”

            “Fabulous,” I grumbled.

            “What’s wrong?” Stevie asked, her eyes saddening.

            I sighed. “Stevie, it’s not like I can afford tickets. Dad just got laid off, Mom is working two jobs, and no one is hiring so I can’t get a job. I’ve given up on trying to get tickets,” I told her truthfully.

            “Don’t say that!” Stevie slapped my arm as I glared at her. “If anyone deserves to meet the boys, it’s you. You’ve been through too much to just ‘give up’, Val.”

            “Doesn’t matter anyway,” I mumbled. “They’ll never know I exist.”

***

            My daydreaming mind carried me away from the math as I mindlessly stared ahead, my chin resting on my hand. I could hear faint voices, and it sounded like they were taking roll, but I wasn’t quite sure. My fangirl mind was taking over, completely oblivious to anything that has to do with school. But I nearly jumped ten feet in the air when Mrs. Williams’ piercing voice rose.

            “Ms. Anderson!” she snapped and I jerked, blinking a few times to make sense of her figure. Of course, the kids in the class laughed at my mind’s absence from the classroom.

            Before she could continue, one of the boys said, “Hey, you’re that girl that likes that gay boy band, right?”

            “No, I don’t like The Wanted,” I retorted, giving him a fake smile and rolling my eyes. He stared at me, as if I gave him an answer he wasn’t expecting, but then he shook his head and chatted amongst his friends. Probably about me, considering they kept pointing my way.

            “Ms. Anderson, thank you for joining us back on earth,” Mrs. Williams then said. “Can you please explain to the class the formula written out on the board? You’re my prodigy student, so please show the class why they should study.”

            I sighed, starting my ramble about the overly-exaggerated formula was on the board. I can’t pronounce it to save my life, but I do know it by heart. I don’t know why I’m her “prodigy” student if I have a C is this cursed class. I don’t study, I don’t pay attention, and I certainly don’t care. It’s not like this stuff will be important to me in the future. Fulfilling your dreams of a writer doesn’t involve ridiculous formulas, confusing equations, or even numbers in the slightest. I hold the cards when I write, and that’s exactly why I love doing it. I’m able to express myself without people actually knowing I’m pouring a little of myself in the book. It’s a nice compromise.