About (Harry Styles)

12.

My mother hasn't always been that great of a cook. The only thing she is honestly capable of is probably a bowl of ramen. I remember I would have to eat that almost everyday after school because she was too busy doing something, probably for herself.

Thank goodness she doesn't do the cooking around here. Rarely did I expect her husband to know how to do such tasks.

I've no idea why Mr. White thought marrying her was a good idea. She can't cook nor clean. Despite her insufficiencies, she's managed to claw her way up the social ladder. She's always dreamed of living the high life, and now that she has tasted it by marrying Mr. White which by no means lessens my opinion of him, my stay here with the White residence has been rather comfortable. Maybe my mother does really care for him and love him. Maybe the money was an added bonus to her love.

Another set of silverware is set up across from me since Quinn has unexpectedly arrived. It's nice having him around. The limelight will finally be taken off of me for once.

After they pray (I don't pray. I choose not to. I just sit here in silence, patiently waiting for them to finish their sermon), my mother wastes no time in prying Quinn for details of his current relationship. He's hesitant to reveal any juicy secrets other than they're going steady. My mother pouts her mouth obviously discouraged. She turns her head to me and before I can even fork a piece of asparagus into my mouth, she says, "So I finally got a phone call from my friend in L.A..."

My mother's been mentioning her 'friend in L.A.' for about a year now, and it always ends up in disappointment. Either they went in a different direction, or the budget wasn't enough so they had to cancel the entire thing. The entertainment business is exactly like what they say: a risky, and unreliable business.

"Yeah..."

"Well, he said the role for the main lead is currently open and they're holding special auditions for the part," she explains to me which I don't pay much enthusiasm to.

"Special? What does that mean?"

"Connections, networking, honey," she says it as if it's so definite. "Auditions begin tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?!" My fingers unclasp the silver in my hand and tumbles onto my mother's expensive china. I can literally see her cringing behind her composed posture. "You don't expect me to be free on such short notice, do you?"

"When it comes to your dreams, yes."

Sure, my dreams.

"I can't tomorrow. I have plans."

"What plans?"

"Please, ladies," her husband calmly interjects. "No business conversations during dinner."

"No, Ed," my mother retorts. "I wanna know what could be so important to our daughter that she can so easily let this rare opportunity slip from her hands. You've always wanted to act."

I mentally vomit at the words, 'our daughter'. At this point I'm desperately hoping I was adopted from very rich (oh and royal) parents who lives in a castle in Scotland or something.

"Mom," Quinn begins which surprises me more than it should. "I think we should respect Elaine's wishes. I'm sure what she has to do tomorrow is worth missing out on this audition."

My eyes scan from my plate upwards to Quinn who is clearly trying to help. It's not hard to tell that he must be feeling bad for me right now.

"Thank you, Quinn. I respect your input since you're a responsible, tax paying adult, but my daughter is different from you. Far different. She never listens to her parents. She disobeys my wishes. And she takes the bus for God's sake. My friends think it's laughable and I'm here feeling so ashamed of myself for not bringing my daughter upright. Any responsible human being knows that whoever dares to use such shameful means of transportation is unhappy and irresponsible."