I Dare You (One Direction) [On Hold]

Lara

“Come on, Hazza!” I call. He grins.

“I dare you to stay” he says. My eyes widen.

“Mum'll kill me!” I say. We're not supposed to be here, in the woods. We're only eight years old. But Harry knows my weakness; he knows I never back down from a dare. We've been friends since we were really little.

“Look!” he whispers, grabbing my hand. “A fox.” I see it moving through the woods, its beautiful red fur catching the light in strange yet pretty ways.

“It's pretty” I whisper. It looks up at me, right into my eyes. My hand tightens around Harry's, but I don't move. Then it breaks the spell, and turns and walks calmly away.

“Aren't you glad you stayed?” asks Harry.

“Yeah” I breathe. “Thanks, Haz.”

-

“Lara!” calls my mum. “Are you ready to go?” I sigh, bringing my mind back to the present.

“Sure, Mum!” I call. The hint of Irish accent in my voice makes me sad. I've been living here in Carlow, Ireland for four years, and I really miss being home. Home being the little town of Holmes Chapel, Cheshire, England.

I stand up, grabbing my bag. Mum's taking me shopping today. She won't tell me why. Mum is strange like that.

“Hello, Lara” she says when I reach the bottom of the stairs. She has a huge grin on her face. I know she's planning something.

“Let's go” I say. “Jessie and I are going to the cinema this afternoon.” Mum smiles.

“Alright” she says. She's definitely planning something.

-

“She called me names I grumble. “Really rude ones.” Harry slings an arm around my shoulders.

“Come on, Lara” he says. “Let it go. She doesn't matter.” I snuggle into him. I'm thirteen, and my ex-best friend, Lily, just told me why she's my best friend. But Harry's here for me, like he always is.

“We matter” I whisper to him. “You and I are all that matter.” He smiles widely, his dimples showing.

“Yeah, Lara” he says. “You and I.”

-

“This is cute” I say, holding up a dress. It's a dark blue colour, and stops just above the knee.

“Try it on!” Mum urges. I check the price tag first.

“Mum, it's really expensive” I say. She shrugs.

“Who cares?” she asks. “It's for you!”

“Mum, I can't afford this” I say, putting it back on the rack.

I'm always the responsible one. Mum had me when she was eightee, so she's pretty young. Thirty-six, and sometimes she acts my age. She never went to uni, but she's a good singer and whenever we need money, she'll go play a gig. My dad supported us, but he died four years ago. We moved here just after. Mum's parents live here, and they got us back on our feet. Then they kicked us out. So it's just the two of us now.

“Please buy it” says Mum, bringing me back to the present.

“I can't, Mum” I say. “If I buy this, do you know how many shows you'll have to play?” Mum shrugs, but she doesn't say anything. She knows she's lost.