A Distant Past

#3-Step One of My Fabulous Plan

Chapter 3: Waiting... Waiting... Waiting...  Ugh!!! I'm so bored!!!  Nothing to do and no where to go.  I take out my notebook with the One Direction stuff and look at Step One. I guess i could do it dome other time... I switch it with Step Four. In my room I open my drawer and take out my laptop. I type in One Direction.  I scour endless hours for ANY type of information regarding One Direction. I find record deals, achievements, interviews, girlfriends, family names. I find stock numbers, bank records and money data. I print everything I can find and lucky for me I get them, because just after the notice appears and the pages are shut down. Why would one company go through so much trouble to eliminate the existence of one band? Why? I mean from what I can see they got Columbia Records a ton of money and they were really famous. They made a tour in 2013 that got them over 9.5 million dollars. I mean... that's a lot.  I also discover their likes and dislikes, their hobbies, their dreams and passions, And... most of this stuff is incredibly accurate to my family. My father loves hairspray just like Malik. Louis is the same crazy carrot-obsessed person as Tomilsom. Niall eats an incredible much just like Horan. Harry is the same crazy flirt as Styles and Liam, uncle Liam also has a fear of spoons like Payne. I am starting to believe more and more that my family is One Direction   I rub my temple and relax for a moment then organize all my One Direction papers and put them in an envelope. I hide it in my pajama drawer so dad wont find it. If he does, i know that for some reason he'll be mad.   Now for Step Two of my plan. I walk out the room and step onto the hall.  At the end dad's in the den watching a TV show;I'm in plain sight. If he looks my way, I'll be caught.  I open his room door quietly and sneak inside. I lean against the wall and let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. I open his closet door and from the top shelf I pull out an ornate leather box with decorated rims. I open the latch. I pull open the creaky lid. I look at the picture of my mother on top. She was beautiful, so poised and elegant. I put the picture aside. A salty tear slides down my cheek. I brush it away but its replaced by more as I look through the contents of the box. There's the necklace she always wore, a little onyx ball on a silver chain; the rose she was wearing the day she died, her wedding ring, a lock of her hair, her handkerchief, some old pictures of herself and an I.D. card with her maiden name on it, Rose Adams.  My mind drifts to the few memories I have of her, after all she died when I was just three. I can still feel her hand stroking my hair when I cried. I can still her her gentle voice reassuring me when my pet goldfish died. I can still smell her sweet perfume. I can still remember her, its not much but it's enough.  I blink my eyes and wipe the tears away. I take the I.D. card, the pictures and her wedding ring in one hand. I swallow the knot forming in my throat and put the box back where it belongs then quietly head back to room, still thinking about my mother.  I miss her.