Misfit
Anger And Party Invites
Why this girl? Why did she have to speculate about who I was? And shit, Natalie... we were both misfits, now. I just didn't have the luxury of being invisible like she did. How was it fair that she got in my business?
My face burned as I looked around the deserted fitness room. Everyone was in last period and Mr. Baker, the gym teacher, didn't have a class. I wrapped my hands and popped my knuckles.
Boxing was what I knew. Music was what I knew. Not school. But Modest! couldn't understand that I'd spent enough of my childhood being bullied. I didn't need anymore of it. And Natalie definitely wasn't in any place to call me that horrid name... I'd been through hell and back to get rid of it and she knew that. She was supposed to act as if she didn't know me... especially since this was all her fault.
I punched at the bag repeatedly, releasing all my anger into it. Jab, right cross, jab, jab...
I kept punching, trying to clear my head. God, I missed the boys... Haz, Zayn, and I all had the worst ends. We were enduring the bullying while Lou and Niall were the bullies. Some amazing project this was, and it had better work, or I-well, I just wouldn't be able to work with Modest! at all, ever again. Not after making me go through this, again...
I pulled my arm back and swung again. This time my knuckles punctured the cracked leather, allowing my fist to be cushioned by thickly packed feathers. Shit... coach is gonna kill me.
"Liam? Are you okay?" Jay walked in, carrying her jacket and sparkly 1D book bag. My heart flipped in my chest. How could I let this girl believe everything everyone was saying about me?
"Yeah... yeah. I'm fine. I guess," I said, quietly. I could feel the sweat dripping down my face.
"Then why..." Her gaze flickered to my hand. Following her line of sight, I noticed I was still clutching some of the punching bag's guts. I quickly shook my hand out.
"Sorry about that. Could you grab me an extra T-shirt from my gym bag?" I pointed to my duffel as I dried my sweaty face with a towel.
"Sure..." She seemed as if she didn't believe me about being okay, which I wasn't. But thankfully, she dropped the subject and began searching my bag.
God, I missed home... Zayn and Niall were in England while the rest of the boys and I were sent to the Americas.
"Here." Jay's soft voice lured me from my thoughts. My shirt sailed through the air toward my face. I snatched it with one hand and discarded the one that was previously sticking to my skin. I dried my chest and back as best I could. I stuck my dirty shirt in the bag and pulled the clean one over my head.
"You r- okay?" I was about to ask if she was ready but her gaze was fixed on me, her brown eyes wider than usual. I felt my throat dry out.
"You- um- er... I'm gonna stop talking. Let's just go." I followed her to my car, my gym bag swishing on my shoulder. It took me a moment to realize what she'd been babbling about. I'd taken my shirt off in front of her. I smirked, glad that I wasn't the only one being affected.
I felt a bit daring so I said to her, as we were walking side by side, "If I made you uncomfortable, you could have just said so." She glanced over at me but looked away just as fast. I did, however, notice that her face was red.
"It's fine." She stared at the ground as we finally got to my car. She was, no doubt, waiting on me to open the door. I didn't get this girl. I had never opened the door for a girl before... Of course, that was when I was famous, still. Knowingly famous, I mean.
"I was just joking. You sure you're okay?" I smiled at her, opening her door. I tried the whole "cold shoulder" thing but for some reason, it felt weird doing that to her.
"Yeah." As she climbed in the car, my phone rang. I shut her door and signaled for her to give me a second before picking up.
"Ello?" The American accent had faded as it was pretty tiring to use it if I didn't need to.
"I can't take it. When will this year be up?"
"Just breathe, Haz. What happened?" I shifted my weight so I could make sure no one was sneaking up on me. Modest! would be beyond pissed if I blew my cover.
"Some bitch dyed my curls green! Green, Liam! And I'm pretty sure someone trimmed one of them. This is worse than that time when Lou straightened half my hair. If I have to do this one more minute, I will die," Harry said, in complete hysterics. Harry was more passionate about his hair than Antony while giving the 'Dogs of War' speech in Julius Caesar.
"Haz, calm down. I don't know what to say... it's not much better here, either. I'm starting to really despise America. Though, I did meet a girl..." Just like that, the conversation changed.
"A girl? What's she like? Does she have pretty hair? Does she smell nice? Have you forked her yet?" I laughed at his version of twenty questions.
"Yes, she's funny, infuriating, and extremely modest. She also has very beautiful, curly, brown hair. I have not, in fact, forked her," I said, sarcastically, "and she smells amazing."
"That's awe- someone's coming! I'll call you later when I get back to my flat. I mean house..." The line went dead before I could say good bye. Wait... how did someone dye his hair?
"Sorry. That was a friend of mine. He was having a meltdown," I told while climbing into my car. I sat my hand on the arm rest as I shut the door, my fingers grazing hers. We both pulled away at the same time, her eyes wide. I imagined mine were too. I felt the odd urge to do it again and this time... lace my fingers through hers.
"That's alright. I do have a question, though." She'd been awfully quiet ever since earlier and I wasn't sure why.
"Shoot."
"Why do people call you Misfit Liam?" And there it is! The one subject I'd prefer to never speak of again.
"Um... I- um... I just don't fit in." That's what I would settle for. She didn't need to know about everything I had to do to get management's plan to work.
"You're not gonna tell me, are you?" From my peripherals, I could see her fiddling with her fingers.
"I'd prefer not to talk about it." The worn leather of my steering wheel squeaked under the immense pressure of my hands.
"Okay." She looked down, and I felt as I'd said something wrong; something that hurt her. I went to apologize but this time, her phone went off. "Um... Liam?" I was putting the car in gear when she said my name.
"Yeah?" She flashed me her phone screen.
Heard about you standing up to Madison today. Awesome. Come to my party Friday night.
The message was complete with an address and everything. This couldn't be good...
"Should I go?" I wanted to tell her 'absolutely not' or something but that would seem weird. It'd seem suspicious. Instead, I shrugged my shoulders. But why would she ask me, anyway? Did she really care about my opinion? What were they going to do to her?
My face burned as I looked around the deserted fitness room. Everyone was in last period and Mr. Baker, the gym teacher, didn't have a class. I wrapped my hands and popped my knuckles.
Boxing was what I knew. Music was what I knew. Not school. But Modest! couldn't understand that I'd spent enough of my childhood being bullied. I didn't need anymore of it. And Natalie definitely wasn't in any place to call me that horrid name... I'd been through hell and back to get rid of it and she knew that. She was supposed to act as if she didn't know me... especially since this was all her fault.
I punched at the bag repeatedly, releasing all my anger into it. Jab, right cross, jab, jab...
I kept punching, trying to clear my head. God, I missed the boys... Haz, Zayn, and I all had the worst ends. We were enduring the bullying while Lou and Niall were the bullies. Some amazing project this was, and it had better work, or I-well, I just wouldn't be able to work with Modest! at all, ever again. Not after making me go through this, again...
I pulled my arm back and swung again. This time my knuckles punctured the cracked leather, allowing my fist to be cushioned by thickly packed feathers. Shit... coach is gonna kill me.
"Liam? Are you okay?" Jay walked in, carrying her jacket and sparkly 1D book bag. My heart flipped in my chest. How could I let this girl believe everything everyone was saying about me?
"Yeah... yeah. I'm fine. I guess," I said, quietly. I could feel the sweat dripping down my face.
"Then why..." Her gaze flickered to my hand. Following her line of sight, I noticed I was still clutching some of the punching bag's guts. I quickly shook my hand out.
"Sorry about that. Could you grab me an extra T-shirt from my gym bag?" I pointed to my duffel as I dried my sweaty face with a towel.
"Sure..." She seemed as if she didn't believe me about being okay, which I wasn't. But thankfully, she dropped the subject and began searching my bag.
God, I missed home... Zayn and Niall were in England while the rest of the boys and I were sent to the Americas.
"Here." Jay's soft voice lured me from my thoughts. My shirt sailed through the air toward my face. I snatched it with one hand and discarded the one that was previously sticking to my skin. I dried my chest and back as best I could. I stuck my dirty shirt in the bag and pulled the clean one over my head.
"You r- okay?" I was about to ask if she was ready but her gaze was fixed on me, her brown eyes wider than usual. I felt my throat dry out.
"You- um- er... I'm gonna stop talking. Let's just go." I followed her to my car, my gym bag swishing on my shoulder. It took me a moment to realize what she'd been babbling about. I'd taken my shirt off in front of her. I smirked, glad that I wasn't the only one being affected.
I felt a bit daring so I said to her, as we were walking side by side, "If I made you uncomfortable, you could have just said so." She glanced over at me but looked away just as fast. I did, however, notice that her face was red.
"It's fine." She stared at the ground as we finally got to my car. She was, no doubt, waiting on me to open the door. I didn't get this girl. I had never opened the door for a girl before... Of course, that was when I was famous, still. Knowingly famous, I mean.
"I was just joking. You sure you're okay?" I smiled at her, opening her door. I tried the whole "cold shoulder" thing but for some reason, it felt weird doing that to her.
"Yeah." As she climbed in the car, my phone rang. I shut her door and signaled for her to give me a second before picking up.
"Ello?" The American accent had faded as it was pretty tiring to use it if I didn't need to.
"I can't take it. When will this year be up?"
"Just breathe, Haz. What happened?" I shifted my weight so I could make sure no one was sneaking up on me. Modest! would be beyond pissed if I blew my cover.
"Some bitch dyed my curls green! Green, Liam! And I'm pretty sure someone trimmed one of them. This is worse than that time when Lou straightened half my hair. If I have to do this one more minute, I will die," Harry said, in complete hysterics. Harry was more passionate about his hair than Antony while giving the 'Dogs of War' speech in Julius Caesar.
"Haz, calm down. I don't know what to say... it's not much better here, either. I'm starting to really despise America. Though, I did meet a girl..." Just like that, the conversation changed.
"A girl? What's she like? Does she have pretty hair? Does she smell nice? Have you forked her yet?" I laughed at his version of twenty questions.
"Yes, she's funny, infuriating, and extremely modest. She also has very beautiful, curly, brown hair. I have not, in fact, forked her," I said, sarcastically, "and she smells amazing."
"That's awe- someone's coming! I'll call you later when I get back to my flat. I mean house..." The line went dead before I could say good bye. Wait... how did someone dye his hair?
"Sorry. That was a friend of mine. He was having a meltdown," I told while climbing into my car. I sat my hand on the arm rest as I shut the door, my fingers grazing hers. We both pulled away at the same time, her eyes wide. I imagined mine were too. I felt the odd urge to do it again and this time... lace my fingers through hers.
"That's alright. I do have a question, though." She'd been awfully quiet ever since earlier and I wasn't sure why.
"Shoot."
"Why do people call you Misfit Liam?" And there it is! The one subject I'd prefer to never speak of again.
"Um... I- um... I just don't fit in." That's what I would settle for. She didn't need to know about everything I had to do to get management's plan to work.
"You're not gonna tell me, are you?" From my peripherals, I could see her fiddling with her fingers.
"I'd prefer not to talk about it." The worn leather of my steering wheel squeaked under the immense pressure of my hands.
"Okay." She looked down, and I felt as I'd said something wrong; something that hurt her. I went to apologize but this time, her phone went off. "Um... Liam?" I was putting the car in gear when she said my name.
"Yeah?" She flashed me her phone screen.
Heard about you standing up to Madison today. Awesome. Come to my party Friday night.
The message was complete with an address and everything. This couldn't be good...
"Should I go?" I wanted to tell her 'absolutely not' or something but that would seem weird. It'd seem suspicious. Instead, I shrugged my shoulders. But why would she ask me, anyway? Did she really care about my opinion? What were they going to do to her?
@Kay_Baby
Can't wait!
12/21/14