••Personal Student•• Matty Healy

One

•• Arlo ••

Today's the day, the day I start my apprentice. My parents managed to snag me a place with the Dirty Hit label, kind of something dreams are made of, given this opportunity with their record of successful artists and bands. My dad and the owner, Jamie, they began hanging out a few months back, when they met down at the golf club. It's nice we're finally making friends here in London, having only recently moved down from Leeds.

I should probably introduce myself, I'm Arlo Arundel, I'm just about to turn twenty. And I've just moved here, to our capital city, all thanks to our lucky lottery win last year. Now my life consists of mum and dad flashing the cash, drawing as much attention to themselves as possible, whilst embarrassing me in the process.
But me, I'm quite the opposite. Anything for a quiet life. All I want, is to get college over and done with, pass my music and management course, and get the hell away from here. Move somewhere peaceful, quiet, enjoying the simplicity's of life.

Don't mistake me here, for sounding like some brat. I was thankful for the opportunity I'd just been given, and will forever show my gratitude to not only the team at Dirty Hit, who are giving me this chance to work and gain some much needed experience, but my dad too... knowing they signed one of the biggest, best and my favourite bands, The 1975. My dad does kinda win brownie points for even knowing that about me.

I finish chucking the last few items of clothing into my monstrous duffle bag, just as my mum passes by my room. Having seen my lack of care towards my belongings, obviously she quickly revs into reverse, a scowl already etched across her face as she stands once again outside my room.

"Warrior-"

"Mum" I immediately shoot back.

"I know," she rolls her eyes "you're almost twenty now, no pet names"

I grab at the handle, dropping the heavy bag from the bed to the floor, causing the ornaments on my dresser to clank and almost drop off to the floor. "Just not that pet name, never, that pet name"

"But that's the whole reason me and your father...."

"Yes, I get it. Ok. You gave me the name Arlo because it's a warriors name and I'm a warrior because I fought to live, as a baby, an then as a child. I just...." but the saddened look on her face at my stupid outburst, cuts me off and shuts me up. Realising none of that matters now. What matters is that in less than five minuets, I was heading across town, to work and live there, for 12 whole weeks.

"I'm really going to miss you, you know" I tell her. Selfishly only appreciating my parents in moments like this.

"You pick up the phone and call me every night, do you hear me?" Mum demands playfully, before grabbing and ragging me into her as tears escaped.

"Mum...." I complain lightly. She was so over baring sometimes, just walking to the shop, at my age, I would get the full lecture of being safe when crossing the road, reminded to never talk to strangers. And always, always carry pepper spray.

There was a reason for her abrupt and abnormal behaviour. See, I was born 13 weeks premature. Couldn't breathe alone. I was pretty much destined to die. My parents got a priest in, christened me there and then.... but I pulled through. Yep, and at only 6 years old, death was staring me back in the face again. When I fell off my bike, cracked my skull open and then had to fight off meningitis. Hence.... Arlo the warrior. Jesus, no one can ever know about that.

But this, all this, I suppose is the reason I never really had friends. I've been shielded and protected. I'm the girl who's never even once, stepped foot in a pub, never mind a night club. Mum would have a fit!

"You're going to be late!" Dads voice yells up the stairs, cutting off our moment. Mum pulls away, and brushes off my sleeves from the dog hair from our pooch Amenadiel, the bat shit crazy poodle.

"Coming dad!" I call, not wanting to keep him waiting, wanting to get this show on the road. Finally, I was beginning to not only feel like an adult, but finally, like a human being. Ties cut. It was me time. "You gonna be good, you ok?" I check, turning one last time before I struggle down the stairs with my bag.

"Just go" she sobs, turning the other way, choosing to not watch me go.