Hold onto the Feeling

Becca Harrison. Otherwise known as, Annoying Girl. By that I mean, I'm the only one who calls her that. She was kinda, sorta apart of our little group. I wasn't too keen on the idea because frankly, she irritated me. I think the boys only keep her around because sometimes she says funny things and she's extremely gorgeous. If it were up to me, I'd have kicked her to the curb a long time ago. Plain and simple.
I guess she was alright sometimes but most of the time she didn't shut up. I can't tell you how many times I've heard the story about her cat getting stuck in a tree. Actually I can, I've kept count. Ten times. Ten! Do you know how annoying that is? Very.

Becca was the one greeted us when we arrived at school. She gave all the boys each a hug then looked at me awkwardly before starting a rant about who knows what. I stopped at my locker, which was luckily away from hers. Mine was in between Zayn's and Niall's.

"Is that the same peanut butter and jelly sandwich you've had in there for two months?" Zayn asked, curiously peeking around to see inside my very messy locker.

I pulled it out and sniffed. Gross. It smelled like rotten feet. "Yea, it is. Hey, Niall, you hungry?"

"Always," the Irish boy answered. I tossed the sandwich at him and he cringed at the stench. "Not that hungry." He dumped it into a trash bin (or rubbish bin) near by. Zayn chuckled and I elbowed Niall.

"If I feed a leprechaun, do I get a wish? That's how it works isn't it?"

"Actually, if you catch a leprechaun, you get three wishes," Zayn replied, pulling his books from his locker.

"Since when are you a leprechaun expert? Wait! Did you catch Niall? Is that how he got to England?" I asked, excitedly. I jumped up and down, waiting for them to reply. They just laughed at me. "I knew it. All along."
"I didn't catch Niall. I just read a lot," Zayn said, shaking his head.

"Ah, yes. You're the smart one," I replied with a smirk. Zayn nodded his agreement.

"Jess!" I heard Becca call out. We all turned to see her jogging back over. "Walk with me to Literature?"

"I have French class, though, which is half way across campus. That wouldn't make sense-"

Before I could even continue, Becca grabbed my arm and pulled me towards the Literature wing. Rude.

"I'm going to be late, Becca! Madame Delacour told me if I'm late for her class again, she'll make me clap erasers. At least, I think that's what she said. I kinda suck at French," I told her, trying to pull my arm from her grip.

"All the more reason for me to make this short!" Becca pulled me into the nearest girl's bathroom. "Okay, I have a question!"

"Is it about Liam?"

"How did you know-"

"That you like Liam? It's pretty obvious."

Becca just stared at me for a long moment before finally regaining her composure. "Is it really? Oh, lovely. Do you think he knows?"

I laughed, which must have been rude since her eyes widened in shock. "Sorry, but Liam? Sweet Liam? He wouldn't know if a girl liked him if she wrote it in the sky and practically proposed to him on the spot. So, no. He doesn't know."

Becca breathed a sigh of relief. "Good! But that's not what I wanted to ask, really. I want to know how to get him to notice."

I faltered for a minute. Was she asking me for boy advice? Does she realize who she's talking to? "Are you sick? Did you bump your head?" I brought my hand to her forehead to feel for a temperature. Becca rolled her eyes.

"Oh, come off it, Jess. You can't be completely hopeless when it comes to guys." I gave her a strange look and she sighed. "Just tell me what kind of stuff he likes, his hobbies. You know, things like that."

"Fine, but can we do this at lunch. I feel awkward talking in a bathroom."

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"Pst!"

Nothing.

"Pssssst!"

Silence.

"Pssssssst! Zayn!"

He looked over this time, shook his head and looked back at his paper.

"What's the answer to number one?" I whispered, trying to look as casual as possible as I leaned over a little to get a peek at his paper.

Zayn sighed and then mumbled something in French that I didn't quite catch.

"No need to curse now."

He sighed. "I wasn't cursing, Jess. That was the answer."

"Oh! Thanks, buddy!" I scribbled down the answer, quickly.

Now, now. I know what you're thinking. 'What a cheater!' Which is true, but I blame the school. How can I learn a new language when I barely know my own? It just doesn't make sense. That's what Zayn's for, anyway. He helps me (or at least tries to). He's such a smarty pants. I think it's pretty smart of me to use my resources. That's what teachers are always telling us, isn't it? Do your research and such. Well, Zayn is my research. So, there.

"Testing is over," Madame Delacour told the class in French. She began walking around to each desk, collecting our papers. I tried to finish mine as quickly as I could. When she got to my desk, she held her hand out, expectantly. "Test, Miss Taylor."

"Oooookayyyyyy," I said, slowly sliding it forward, scribbling down a few more answers. Before I knew it, she snatched it up and continued her trek around the room.

I heard Zayn chuckling from beside me. I hit him with my notebook. "Shut up."

"You know, maybe if you studied, you'd do a little better," he stated, matter-of-factly.

"I try!" Zayn rolled his eyes, dramatically. "I do! I just don't retain any of it! I need a French man to teach me or something. A sexy one."

"Ask Harry."

I gave him a weird look. I tell him I want a sexy French man to tutor me and he suggests Harry. Sometimes I wonder about that boy. "Harry and I would get no work done."

"Why because there would be other French things going on?" Zayn asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

It took me a minute understand what he meant. Once I finally had, I felt my cheeks heat up. I've always been an awkward person, especially when it came to things of the sexual manner. The guys knew it, too, and often made innuendos just to make me feel uncomfortable.

"That's disgusting to even suggest. Harry and I- ugh, we would never- yuck."

"A little friendly French kissing never hurt anyone."

I rolled my eyes at him. Boys.

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"He likes football," I stated as Becca sat across from me. She looked at me with anxious eyes the moment we sat down. I had nearly forgotten that I promised I'd teach her about Liam. By the time lunch came around, my stomach was growling noisily and I was getting cranky from the lack of food.

"Oh, please, could tell me something more obvious?" I could tell she was already getting irritated, considering the first ten minutes we sat down, I stuffed my face as she waited impatiently.

"Um, he really likes music and stuff."

"'Music and stuff?' What kind?"

I groaned. Why had I agreed to this? Curse me and my kind heart. "I dunno. All kinds, I guess. OH- Wait! He did tell me one time that he likes girls who love music. Do you like music?"

Becca shrugged. "Doesn't everyone? But I'm not someone who dedicates my whole life to a band or anything."

That felt like a jab to the heart. Did she know about my Justin Bieber blog? I hope not. Things could get awkward.

"Oh, well do you play any instruments?" She shook her head. "Sing?" Nope. "Dance?" Nada. "Do you listen to the radio?"

"Eh, sometimes."

"Blog about your hopeless fantasies that involve a musician and/or dancer?"

"What?"

"What? Nothing! Forget I said that."

This seemed hopeless. I mean, what did this girl do with her life? She doesn't even blog. Maybe she's the normal. Yea, probably. I mean, have you met me?