The Lift (A One Direction Fanfiction)

Chapter One

 "Yes, I know, Mom," I grumble as I walk out the door of my apartment. "12th Street and Mulberry, near the Stop & Shop."

"Okay, Erin," she replies. "Don't get kidnapped, raped or murdered! I love you, honey."

"I love you, too, Mom."

She needs me to go pick up papers from my dad at his workplace and she's getting all fussed up over nothing because she thinks I'll get lost. I mean, it's possible, because I've never been in his building before. But I have seen a picture of it, and if it turns out I'm in the wrong building I'll just have someone point me in the right direction.

My mom would have gone herself, but I wouldn't let her. When she said she had to go see my father, I quickly jumped up and volunteered to take her place.

Okay, I think to myself. A couple of blocks and I should see the Stop & Shop on my left.

I squint into the distance and I think I can see the supermarket. Always the punctual fellow, my stomach growls its insistence.

Hmm, I ponder. I haven't seen Dad in a couple of months. Maybe I can turn this into a tiny party for us two. And I can get stuff for his coworkers as well. I think I remember meeting a few of them at some get-together...

This could just be my persuasive stomach taking control of my actions, but I walk into the food store, happily anticipating the treats.

I must look a bit weird in here. It's not everyday you see a teenage girl pushing a cart filled with pastries and cookies and drinks on a Tuesday afternoon, not being followed by three of her giggling/drunk/giggling and drunk friends or with a huge party list.

But I hold my own, deepening my voice into what I think is a sexy, mature lady (but probably just makes me sound like an old man), and pay for my bounty with dignity. As I do so, I stand up to my unimpressive full height, flatten down my curly red hair and try to look presentable.

I don't know why I want to appear sophisticated in front of the cashier lady. I'm always like that; I don't care if I'm not well-dressed in front of the people I see everyday, since I know I'll always get another chance to look good in front of them. With cashiers and waiters and those Wal-Mart greeters, I'll probably never see them again, and I don't want those two seconds of our lives intertwining to be marred by sloppy dress and frizzy hair.

My arms feel like lead as I walk out of Stop & Shop, the lead actually being brownies, cookies, and other "-ies". I also got what I remembered of the groceries that were on our list, which I was reading this morning.

So, in other words, I got a crap-ton of food.

With the pastries, I couldn't resist; my mom never lets my little sister and I eat junk food, so I cherish every pastry that I can get. I don't know why she has such a rule. I mean, my sister, Katie, and I are not overweight, nor have we ever been. My sister's only 9, a shrimp of a thing, just tall enough to not look out of place in the front row of school photos.

I, on the other hand, am what people who are trying to be polite would refer to as "curvy", even though I'm not at all. Curvy refers to having huge boobs, a comparatively smaller waist, and then a huge butt. I have a moderately sized butt, average boobs, but my waist most definitely does not fit that description. But I'm still quite healthy and well-proportioned, and I'm happy to say I'm satisfied with my body, something many girls are unable to truthfully say.

Okay. Food: check. Building: check in progress.

The building should be a couple of addresses down. I remember from a photo Dad brought me a few months ago, when he got hired, that it is a brown building with two ficus trees next to the entrance. There should also be darker brown shutters framing the windows. I believe the address is 563 Mulberry, but I'll know it when I see it.