With Your Love

Just yesterday, I received an email from One Direction’s management, saying that I had a chance to meet One Direction in person. I wouldn’t exactly call myself a ‘Directioner’, but my sister, Megan, definitely was.

The only problem was that I was in America. At 16, do you really think my parents would let me on a plane by myself? And the management notified me only days before the set date for the One Direction meeting, so I would have to ask my parents if I could go, pack, and book a flight in three days.

My parents were usually in a bad mood. Those kids that need to ask their parents something and wait until their parents are in a good mood, they have it easy. I would have to wait until my mom was sitting down with her newspaper, sipping her Coca-Cola like there was no tomorrow. (Which I hope there is a tomorrow, or else there would be no meeting national celebrities.)

I am a responsible girl. I always got my homework done, I never showed up late for work, which for your information, I work at the local library, shelving books, and in my free time, reading romance novels.

One time, after my first year of working at the library, the other employees gave me a romance novel with a maroon-colored cover, and now, the book is covered with my all-time favorite love quotes, one of them being “Never say goodbye, because saying goodbye means going away and going away means forgetting,” from Peter Pan. Disney movies were always good, whether my family liked them, too, or not.

You could call me a child at heart. I still love running and dancing in the rain, eating ice cream on hot days. I’m not very mature; the thing that runs through my brain whenever the word ‘maturity’ is mentioned is ‘Maturity means growing up. Live your immature years before you have to grow up.’

I decided to ask my mother tonight, before she went to bed. She would be so tired, she almost wouldn’t understand what she was saying, so she could say yes.

My mom was reading her newspaper, as usual, looking through the sales ads.

“Mom. Can I talk to you real quick?” I asked her. She flipped her newspaper shut, and glared at me over her glasses, with her tired, green eyes.

“Make it quick. I’m just about to go to bed.”

I mentally rolled my eyes. She would stay up a few hours longer, reading and watching tv.

“Can I go to London to meet One Direction?” I said quickly, hoping she would immediately say yes.

“What?”

“Can I please go to London to meet One Direction?” I said again, slower this time, and adding the word ‘please’.

“No. It costs way too much money, and you cannot go to London by yourself. You’re only 16!”

“Please mom! Don’t you want to help me make my dreams come true?” I tried the guilt trip on her.

“Yes I do, but only reasonable dreams; not going all the way to London to meet a boy band.” She said that like the words had a bad taste in her mouth.

“But mom! I need to get out of this house!”

“You can get out of this house and go to the mall with some friends. End of discussion. Now go to bed.”

“Mom-“ she interrupted me.

“No, now go to bed!”

I stomped upstairs, hoping she would see how much this band meant to me. My bed sunk down as I plopped down onto it. Why couldn’t my mom see that I needed to get out of this house? Going to the mall with some friends wouldn’t cure my hunger for adventure.

I lay down, thinking about how to make her let me go. My mind starting racing with thoughts. The springs in my mattress squeaked as I sprang up from my bed and ran to my secret drawer that was in the wall. It made a creaking noise as I slowly slid it open.

I smiled, seeing all the cash I had, saved up from babysitting so much, and doing chores and odd jobs. This should be plenty for a plane ticket to and from London, food, and then still have extra. I couldn’t help but let out a nervous giggle as I took the phone off of its dock and dialed the number for the airport.

“Hi, I need a plane ticket to London.” I said to the lady.

“May I ask your name?” she said back to me, sounding worn out.

“Abigail Larsin. Is there a ticket available for early tomorrow morning?”

“Mm…” There was the sound of flipping pages, and then she answered, “Yes there is. How many tickets do you need?”

“Just one. I can pick up the ticket tomorrow.”

“Yes mam. The plane leaves at six a.m. Please be close to the terminal by 5:30 a.m.”

We hung up after she told me which terminal I had to be in, and the pricing of the ticket and the extra amount I had to pay for my suitcase.

Luckily she didn’t ask my age.

I ran to the closet, got out my suitcase, and packed about a week’s worth of clothing, consisting of long and short sleeved shirts, jeans, and my All Star converse. Also packed were my toiletries, underwear, bras, and makeup.

After setting my alarm to three a.m., I tried to sleep a little bit before I had to get up and ready for my flight. It was difficult; I was very jittery with nerves, and it didn’t help that I had a bunch of candy an hour before.

Tomorrow, I would have to write a note to my parents saying where I went, and pack my carry-on bag with my phone, my iPod, a few books, a notepad, pencils, my journal, my special book with the quotes on it, and the contact book with all the important numbers I may need.

I notified the library I work at that I would be absent from work for about a week, and I would accept the extra days I would have to work when I get back.

The flight would take about eight hours, so when I get to London, it would be about seven p.m. I would find a hotel, stay there for the night, contact One Direction’s management, and then hopefully they could pick me up from there.

A few hours later of off and on sleep, I had to finally get up. I packed my carry-on, left a note for my family, grabbed my bags and wallet (which held my emergency credit cards, money, driver’s license, and passport), and drove off toward the Ohio airport.

I went to the front desk, paid for my ticket, and boarded the plane for my flight to London.

After an eight hour trip, I hailed a taxi to bring me to a hotel that was closest to the place I was to meet One Direction. But it was still a few miles away.

I got a few hours of sleep on the plane, but it wasn’t enough. I was kept up by the thought of my parent’s reaction to the note. I recalled what I put in it:

Dear mom and dad,

I left to London. I will accept any punishment you decide to give me when I come back. Do not worry about me, I will stay with the band the whole time. I have plenty of money that I saved up, and I packed enough clothes for the week. I will be back in about one week, or maybe one and a half, depending on the flights that are available.

Love, Abby

Abby was my nickname that my parents used for me. Not for when I was in trouble or anything, they just used it because it was shorter than Abigail.

I slept a few more hours in my hotel room after checking in. It would be difficult to get rid of this jet lag.

I woke up a few minutes before one in the morning and groaned. This was way too early to be up. How was I supposed to get back to sleep now?

Stupid jet lag.

Reaching for the remote, I flicked on the tv to find a news channel talking about something the queen did. I rolled my eyes.

Nope.

A few channels later, I found something worth watching: cartoons. Yes, I still watch cartoons. There is no problem with being a kid still.

Just a few more hours to wait, I told myself. Just a few more hours to wait until I could call the One Direction management and ask them to pick me up.

But then a thought flashed through my mind. Wouldn’t the band like me more if I was from London? I would have to do something about my American accent, but I guess I could always tell them that I lived a few hours from where they are now, and just say that I wouldn’t want to trouble them, so I came as close as I can to them. And about the accent, I can just say that I lived in America for a few years.

It could work, I suppose.

I continued watching cartoons until about seven in the morning, at which I started getting up and took a shower, got dressed, then air-dried my hair. By the time I was done with that, it was about nine. I would call the management around eleven. So I was left to roam around the city, to find breakfast. I have never been in London before, so I didn’t know where I was going.

But I managed to find breakfast in just a few minutes, finding a small McDonalds just around the block. I ordered, ate my food, and then headed back to the hotel.

Honestly, I was a little surprised I didn’t lose my way.

And finally, it was eleven, time to call the One Direction management.

“Thank you,” I said politely to the limo driver that had just dropped me off at the meeting place of One Direction. Just about two minutes away from sharing the same air as One Direction.

There was a big, burly man standing outside the spinning doors, who would lead me to the room.
“Hi, I’m Abigail.” I thrust my hand out toward him. Instead of shaking it, he turned around and escorted me to a big wooden door. And there was another man, this one holding a clipboard.

“Abigail, I’m guessing?”

I just nodded, trying not to barf from nervousness.

I was cursed with a weak stomach.

What if they didn’t like me? Would they send me home?

What if my parents showed up?

The clipboard man pressed the key into the door, and it made a small clicking sound. He turned the metal knob, and let me in, where there were five guys, Zayn Malik, Harry Styles, Louis Tomlinson, Liam Payne, and Niall Horan.

I’ve always liked Niall; the shortest one, but still, I loved his laugh and his braced smile, his shaggy blond hair.

And then there was a girl.