The One With The Nerd || Larry Stylinson

Chapter 2: Just Harry

“Marcel Thompson.” Farnsy called, looking around the classroom for me, I assumed. I stood up and grabbed the guitar, making my way up to the stage, while being followed by a small choir of ‘boo’s. I stood in front of the microphone and slung the guitar over my back so I could bring the microphone up higher. I’m one of the tallest in my class. I tried thinking of how I wanted my voice to sound - not too good, but not too bad either.

“What’s the name of the song, Marcel?” Farnsy asks, picking up his pen.

“How to be gay!” Ashton chortled in the back, making the class erupt into a fit of laughter. Farnsy appears not to have heard Ashton’s comment, but quieted the class down nonetheless.

I cleared my throat, “um, actually, it’s called 'Don’t Forget where you Belong'.” I clarified, scowling at Ashton, who returned my gaze and opened his mouth to retort, but the professor cut him off.

“Great, ready when you are.” he informed with a smile.

I brought the guitar back so it hung over my stomach, and retrieved the pick I had put in my pocket earlier, and I began strumming the opening chords.

“Been a lot of places, i’ve been all around the world
Seen a lot of faces, never knowing where I was.

On the horizon, Oh, well, I know, I know, I know
I know the sun will be rising, back home

Living out of cases, packing up and taking off
Made a lot of changes, but not forgetting who I was,”

I sang the rest of the song through, sounding less and less like ‘Marcel’ the more I sang. I can’t help it, it’s what I do at concerts, and it’s what I’m doing now. I just let the music take over, and I forget where I am. Haha I don’t know where I belong, haha get it?

Anyway, you’ve probably guessed by now that I’m not Marcel. In fact I made him up, so I could finish my education in a proper school, without being swarmed by fans and paparazzi. My real name’s Harry Styles, well Harold, but I’d prefer Harry, because it doesn’t make me sound like an eighty year old homeless guy with a bunch of birds, like Harold does. Anyways, I don’t mean to gloat, but I guess you could say that I’m very popular on a global scale. Okay, I may have done it a bit, but I’m not lying when I say that I am one of the most well-known singers in the world, and it would be extremely hard to finish school without some sort of disguise.

My parents are the only people who know about my little double-life, and are not too happy about it because they wanted me to be home-schooled, but no matter how much they push, I always refuse. I don’t want to be some spoiled, rich guy who thinks he’s too cool for school, I want to lead a somewhat normal life, and it’s difficult when your parents are also famous.

I finished singing and jumped off the stage, returning back to my desk in the back corner. The class was dead silent until some people up the front broke into a small round of applause, as I sat, sinking down into my chair. I kept the Marcel act up the whole way through the song, my fake voice just grew very thin by the time I was finishing, which I don’t think is too bad because no one’s said anything about it yet.

“Well done, Marcel. Now ..um.. Louis Tomlinson.” Louis quickly snapped his head up from his phone, looking slightly puzzled as to why the teacher called upon him. “You’re up, buddy.”

“Oh okay.” Louis replied, shoving his phone into his pocket, and stepping up onto the stage, then sitting down at the piano. Huh, I didn’t know he could play.

“Right, name of your song please.”

“Err.. I did a cover of a song.” He stated with a touch of guilt.