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Decision

Cheryl's POV -

That had to be the most nervous hour of my life. I had to change into something presentable because I obviously wanted a good first impression with the boys’ management. Ashlyn stayed around for a bit to help me pick out my outfit.

While we were rushing around and getting ready, we also had to plan what we had to say when we got there. As you know, planning is not One Direction’s strong point. They’re more like the ‘go with the flow’ kind of people. But that kind of attitude wouldn’t be good when dealing with something as serious as, well, the situation we were in now. We jumped into the car ten minutes after they got the text, me combing my hair with my hands and the boys buttoning up their shirts. We really had no time to spare. 50 minutes was needed to go from home to wherever we were meeting the management.

“I’m scared. What should I say when we get there?” I asked, trying to tie my hair into a side braid, but my hands were shaking too hard.

“Don’t say anything, let us do the speaking.” Liam commanded. The boys and I nodded. “On second thoughts, it’s better if none of you speak at all. I’ll do all the talking, and you guys stay silent. I don’t want a random joke from any of you ruining our talk. We need to be as professional and mature as we can, so they can really see that we are ready for the responsibility of taking care of a child.”

“A teenager.” I cut in. “I’m 13 now.”

“That’s not the point!  You don’t know Simon. He still thinks we’re the 16 year old boys who competed in X-Factor, little teens who are totally irresponsible. And he’s all about our career. If he thinks you’re going to distract us from selling albums or doing shows, he’s not going to let you stay with us.”

“I’ll be on my best behavior. Don’t worry, Liam.”

“It’s not you I’m worried about. It’s them.” Liam nodded towards the boys. “They need to act more like their age, so Simon can see we can take care of you.”

“Who gave you permission to say bad stuff about me?” Louis scowled. “I’m 22 years old, which means I’m older than you, dimwit.”

“You know, Louis, I doubt 22 year olds call people dimwits.” Zayn muttered.

“But I am 22!” Louis protested.

“Well, act more like it when we get there then!”

For the remainder of the car ride, I contemplated on what would happen once we got there.

The boys would talk to Simon, I guess, and try to convince him to let me stay. But what if he refused? Would I have to leave them, right away? If I was thrown back into the orphanage, would the boys come and visit me, once in a while? Or would they just disappear from my life, never to see me again?

After flipping through all the possibilities in my head, we arrived there, and reality replaced my imagination. There was a part of reality that I hadn’t imagined at all in my head.

Fans and paparazzi.

There were hundreds of them. It was like being stuck in a bee hive.

The moment I took a step out of the car, cameras started flashing ridiculously fast in my face, and the screams of the fans almost burst my eardrums. I slipped on my pair of sunglasses—the boys had said they were crucial, and they were right. Everyone seemed like their life goal was to take a picture of me. There were crazy girls clawing at my face, photographers trying to remove my sunglasses so they could take a decent picture of me. Chaos was the only way to describe that moment.

“Please, let us through.” Harry was in the front making way for us so we could walk towards the building where we would be meeting Simon. It took us five minutes just to push through the crowd. All the way there were people squeezed up right next to me, grabbing at my hair and basically just suffocating until I got a bit claustrophobic.