Seventh Grade -Part One

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Hey guys. I am having trouble coming up with ideas for each of these chapters, so could you maybe help me out? Please don't comment them, just inbox me and I will be forever grateful.

If I use your idea I will give credit and dedicate you.

P.S.- I (like always haha) researched characteristics of seventh graders, and it said that they liked to be independent, alone.

So.

-Kayla

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Harry's POV

"Ugh!" I mumbled, slapping myself in the face a few times before looking in the mirror once more. There seemed to always be a pimple on my face. Not multiple ones, just a different one every other day in a different spot. The one today happened to be smack dab in the middle of my nose, and no amount of rubbing around the area made it blend in.

"Harry?" My mum questioned through the door.

"Go away," I groaned, furiously running a brush thrrough my wild curls. Everything seemed to be wrong. My skin, my hair, my tired-looking eyes, everything.

"Okay," I heard her whisper, and I ignored the slight guilt tugging in my chest as I stared harder at my worst enemy.

It was weird. In sixth grade, I always found myself okay looking. It seemed quite true as all the girls were asking me out and telling me I was cute.

But this year just wasn't my year.

Mum had insisted that I got a haircut in which my curls stopped when they reached my ears, and I hated it.

I hated everything.

The thing that made it worse was when Louis came over. He still slept over at my house almost every night and hung out with me after school, and I couldn't help but stare at him as we listened to music.

His skin was the definition of flawless; soft, tan, clean, pimpleless, and practically glowing. He had these long eyelashes framing ocean blue (I've always used that words to describe his eyes) and feminine lips that seemed bad but on him looked perfect. His mum never made him style his hair a certain way, and he had chosen to get side swept bangs; the perfect caramel fringe that looked amazing compared to my unruly chocolate curls.

So I would be lying if I said my insecurity didn't rise every single time I looked at Louis.

It wasn't really his fault, he always told me how much he loved my curls, and he was insecure too. It surprised me. Every since we were little he hated his height; he still does. And one afternoon his mum made a comment about how cute and round his bum was and bam. He now always complained about it, coming close to tears over how his body looked.

I didn't really mind mine. I was tall like mum said and quite skinny. Louis and me discussed this, and I said I would gladly switch my body for his face.

Point is, I was standing in front of my mirror on a Friday morning, considering using my mum's makeup just to cover the awful pimple on my nose.

"MUM!" I yelled, and about a minute later she hesitantly came into the room.

"Help me hide this thing on my nose," I begged, pointing at the pimple.

"Okay," she sighed, leaving the room promptly before reappearing with a makeup brush and a bottle of tannish liquid.

"What's that?" I raised my eyebrows as she started dipping the brush in the mysterious liquid.

"Foundation." She stated it like it was obvious, and I shook my head and rolled my eyes.

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