Head Over Heels For You

It took an hour to run the five miles back to campus. I’d dawdled on the way, wanting to prolong my alienation. My hair fell from its messy braid, cascading in loose curls on my shoulders. Secretly, I hated the curls. I’d inherited my Grandmother’s untidy tresses whilst I longed for my mother’s straight, silky locks. Walking into the familiar sports building, I strolled the corridors, my fingers skimming the sides of the walls. I kicked the floor aimlessly, frustrated. A familiar curly-haired-annoying-jackass’s face swimming in my mind.

I hated Kevin Jonas with every fibre in my body.

“There you are,” came Mike’s voice, sounding concerned. “Sarah got back forty minutes ago. She looked pretty choked up. Liz, everything okay?” The attractive male stalked forward, holding out his arm as though to pull me into his embrace. I shrugged and stepped around him, staring at the laminate flooring as though it was the most interesting thing in the world.

I didn’t answer him straight away. I had no idea what to say. I was stubborn, it was one of my many qualities; good or bad, I didn’t know.

“Well,” Mike scratched his head, stumped. “Daykin wanted to see you. Your um, your Dad’s here.”

Instantly I looked at him. At my questioning glance Mike nodded his head in the direction of Daykin’s office.

“Thanks,” I mumbled quietly, retreating back down the corridor to Daykin’s familiar hiding place. His office was tucked away in one of the more remote areas of the building, hidden behind a corridor turn. If you didn’t know an office was there, you’d never know. Daykin liked his privacy and his peace. It was away from the rowdy football teams that paraded up and down the hallways. At the door, I knocked twice, hearing the familiar drawl of my coach.

“Come in.”

Inside the small, rectangular office set two males: Daykin and my father, Richard Kennedy. Daykin waved me to a seat, handing me a document. “What’s this?”

“Take a look.” Daykin said as I scanned the sheet.

I looked back up at him, “It’s the MTV contract.”

My father turned to me, “When did you sign this? Elizabeth, as your father and a legal aid you should’ve told me before signing this. Especially with Hollywood.”

“In my defence,” I started, Frisbee-ing the piece of paper onto the table. “I didn’t sign myself up. Mike did.”

“Someone else signed a contract in your name?” My father looked downright livid. “We could take him to court for that-”

“Would that get me out of the contract?” I asked hopefully, but Daykin cut me off.

“I forbid you to send our star footballer to court, Liz. Now I’ve called this meeting especially. This video appears to be taking up too much of our training time.” Daykin told me, looking at me before turning to my Dad. “I don’t want to see Liz performing badly.”

“That makes two of us,” commended my Dad. He shot me a smile, “I want what’s best for my daughter. This video can only cause problems. As a father and a lawyer, I don’t want my daughter tied up to these,” he gestured to the flimsy contract. “From now on I don’t want anyone signing my daughter to anything without my permission. It’s unethical.”

“And I don’t want my captain to lose any more practise time. Elizabeth, you’re on lockdown.” Daykin ordered, looking me in the eye.

I blinked. “Lockdown? You mean, I’m grounded?”

“Until the next regionals, that are in two week’s time, are over. I need you on top form. And your father here, has offered to help.”

I turned to my parent, “You have?” I couldn’t help but feel a little nervous. I loved my Dad, he was great. He was nearing forty, an athletics enthusiast and a great father and legal practitioner. “How?”

Dad smiled at me, “Well. I think, just to be safe, you should move home. Just til practises are over. We have the gym at home and I can drive you to practise, just to make sure you’re there on time. The diet will be making a comeback,” he gave me a once-over. “And strict rules, Liz. Up at five-thirty, asleep by ten. Practise 6-8, lectures 8-3, filming 3.30-6, home, practise 6-8 and studying 8-10. No eating after five in the afternoon, breakfast before six am.”

I swallowed, a little overwhelmed. “Vigorous training, huh?” I wouldn’t have a moment to spare. At the thought, a strange smile flitted on my face. That gave Kevin Jonas absolutely no time to bug me.

Or so I thought.

“Go pack your bag, Lizzie.” Dad smiled as we left Daykin’s office. “I’ll be in the car. Tonight will be, technically, your last night of freedom. Do you want Sarah to come over?”

My nose wrinkled slightly. “I don’t think so, Dad.”

He frowned, surprised. “Oh?”

“We had a bit of spat,” I said vaguely, playing with the hem of my shirt distractedly, “she mentioned last year with Chris…” I trailed off, Dad nodding in understanding.

“I see,” he said quietly. He offered me a fatherly, comforting smile and patted my back. “Movies?” He offered in a deliberate attempt to cheer me up. “Okay, go pack up and I’ll meet you.”

“Sure.”

The walk to the apartment block was fast. I passed a few freshmen I knew, offering them a quick wave before I ducked inside the building. I took to the stairs, racing up them towards the eighth floor, panting a little. I fumbled with my keys as I reached the dorm I shared with Sarah, entering. My eyebrows raised as I saw the three familiar faces sat with the loudmouth. Rolling my eyes as Kevin Jonas looked at me, I went to the closet and pulled out my duffle bag, filling it quickly with clothes.

Sarah looked at me, “You’re… leaving?”

“Dad wants me home.” Is all I said, grabbing a few essentials: shampoo, deodorant, underwear and so on and so forth. She bit her lip.

“Training, huh?”

“Sixteen and a half hours per day,” I mumbled, trying to find my lucky sweater. I glanced around, seeing it draped over the desk chair. I snatched it and put it in my bag.

Nick Jonas whistled softly, “Really? That’s a lot of hours.”

I wanted to snap at him, to say, No duh, or Well, thank you Capt. Obvious but his smile made me do otherwise. Instead, I nodded and pulled six or seven leotards out from the drawers. I just couldn’t be nasty to the younger boy. He was… untainted, surprisingly. It appeared that Hollywood never got to him.

“Do you enjoy it?” He spoke again, throwing me a smile that I strangely returned.
“The long hours? Sure, I guess. I just…” I bit my lip as I found the photo-frame I’d hidden under my bed. It was last year after the championships. I was in the embrace of a dark-haired attractive young man, whose arms were wrapped protectively around my waist. My lips were pulled into a large smile whilst his were pressed against my neck. Without hesitating, I threw it in the trashcan, making the boys jump at the shattering noise it made. Sarah looked up and frowned, biting her lip. With the way she was going, she’d tear straight through it. “What are you doing here anyway?” So sue me. The question had been on the tip of my tongue the minute I’d walked in the door.

“Visiting,” Joe Jonas spoke up, smirking at the many photos of him and his brothers that filled Sarah’s half of the room. “Nice poster,” he said, nodding to my Yankees flag.

“Oh, uhm, thanks.”

“Big fan?”

I rolled my eyes, my stone stature breaking slightly. “What do you think?” I teased, surprising myself. Had I just… flirted with the middle Jonas? Sarah looked surprised too.

“Do you want any help?” She asked me, gently, afraid I’d snap at her.

“I’m good,” I said, zipping the bag shut.

“You’ll be here tomorrow right? For the practise?” Sarah asked me, a smile spreading over her face. “The guys asked me to be an extra.”

I hoisted the bag on my shoulder and nodded. “I don’t have a choice. See you tomorrow,” and I left my friend and the three brothers mulling over my exit in silence.