I'll Fight My Corner

"Today on Ryan's Roses-"

I really did need to change the radio station on that alarm.

I sighed as I reached up to slam my hand on my Alarm Off button, only to find my palm hitting my mattress. I had completely forgotten that I was sleeping on the floor, as Harry had slept on my bed.

When I stood up to turn off the alarm, he wasn't there.

I looked all around my room and even my bathroom to see if he was anywhere to be found, but he had disappeared.

I padded back into my bedroom to clean up my sleeping bag and get ready for school. Grabbing a pair of shorts and a random shirt, I headed to the bathroom for a quick shower. I was too tired to dress any nicer.

Under steaming hot water, I convinced myself that it was for the best, because what would I have done if he was still here? How would I have gotten him past my mother? Long story short, I wouldn't have. I just hoped to God that he was okay. What if he was a sleep walker and had walked out into the road and gotten into a car accident?

Wait, wait, no.

It shouldn't have mattered. Harry was the least of my worries. I had a Calculus test and an in-class essay on Macbeth in Lit, plus a presentation in Psych and another in Physics. On top of that, I had to tutor two extra kids as Michelle Andrews had dropped out due to some sort of illness.

Ugh.

I got out of the shower, drying myself and wrapping my hair in a towel.

I stared at myself in the mirror. I had a small, heart shaped face with full lips that had never been kissed. I focused on a tiny nose with a tiny nose ring that led up to a regular ol' forehead which housed two massive brown eyes below that were always observing or closed from exhaustion. Underneath the towel was straight, chestnut brown hair that never did anything. It just sat there, boring and hair-like.

I guess I was normal. Just a normal teenager with a normal face, a normal body, normal clothes. I hated being normal, but normal was all I knew. I, Emmalee James, was a regular Joe.

How great.

"Emmalee Katherine James, get your chicken legs out of that bathroom and to this kitchen right now. You're going to be late!"

I rushed to put on all my clothes and did as told. Once in the kitchen, I stood, scowling with my arms crossed. "My legs are not chicken-y."

"Have you looked in the mirror lately?"

I just chuckled. "That's what I was doing when you insulted me and called me down here!"

She set a plate of food down on the counter but I ignored it in favor of the mug my mother handed to me. "I don't know why you drink that stuff."

I stayed silent, knowing that any mention of my job and volunteer tutor work, as well as my overwhelming slew of AP classes would bring on nothing but a lecture.

"You know you don't have to work. I'm handling things just fine."

I guess I earned a lecture even without opening my mouth. What a prize.

"Mom, I want to help you. Plus, it's a win win situation. I love working and helping other people. And, I need money for gas."

I pursed my lips as I realized I only had enough gas to reach the gas station. Sighing, I finished off my breakfast and placed the plate and mug in the sink, then walked into the bathroom to brush my teeth.

I looked at myself in the mirror as I brushed and my eyes widened as I realized that I never changed the time on my alarm clock.

I walked back out, praying that I wouldn't have to wait my turn at the gas station. I saluted my mother to which she replied, "Have a good day, soldier." Grabbing my sweatshirt and my bag, I walked out the door, fingers crossed.

I slid my sunglasses on and got into my car. I would be quite late and I had never been late to school in my life. This was ridiculous. What if this ruined my chance to go to an Ivy League school or find a really good job? I could see myself in the interview.

"So it says here that you were late to your senior year of high school," the snooty lady would say.

And I would argue, "No! I mean, yes, but it's all Harry Styles' fault! He was drunk and-"

And she would laugh in my face and throw my application in the trashcan. "You are a failure, Emmalee James."

I ran a hand over my face and continued to contemplate the rest of my life as I turned on the stereo, being greeted by the same Jack's album I had put in last night. At a stop sign, I pushed eject and slid in a mix CD that I had rummaged out from the glove compartment.

My head was spinning with the thought of receiving my first detention and, in turn, a ripple in my perfect reputation of always being punctual. My heart started to race and I tried to think of ways out of it, but only returned to a mental image of a white detention slip.

I arrived at the gas station with five minutes until first bell. Of course, everything that shouldn't have happened did indeed happen: I was forced to wait my turn behind an elderly woman who had seemingly forgotten how to use a gas pump (and accept help from strangers), backed into the station in the wrong direction, parked at a faulty pump, and waited in a line for the register that was lengthening with each minute.

By the time I had gotten to school, I was extremely panicked and about ready to pour gasoline all over anyone who crossed my path and light them on fire. I turned to start walking into school and saw a really nice car - what I recognized to be a 1967 Mustang in perfect condition. It was white, and in the driver's seat was Harry Styles.

I let out a sigh and kept walking. He took the keys out of his ignition and stepped out, jogging over to me.

"Emma, hey!"

No. Nope. I didn't have time for this.

He checked his (expensive looking) watch and said, "Are you aware of the time? You're late."

I stopped to glare at him. "Harry, leave me alone."

He shrugged. "Look, I just wanted to thank you for letting me crash at yours last night. God knows what I would have gotten into alone on the street."

I didn't say anything. I guess he didn't know the meaning of the phrase "leave me alone." I just sighed and pushed the door to the main office open. He followed me in, but I couldn't have cared less. At this moment in time, I just wanted to get to class and deal with the stares of everyone already sitting in their desks. My cheeks reddened at the thought.

"Alright. Just follow my lead," he whispered.

Incredulous, I opened my mouth to protest, but he placed his finger on my lips, silently urging me to keep quiet. I pried his hand away from the vicinity of my mouth and faced forward to whoever was at the counter giving out detentions for late students.

"Hello, Julie! Lovely Tuesday, isn't it?"

The woman, looking to be in her late forties, perked up. "Why, yes, Harry. Lovely." Desire swam in her irises and I held back a shudder.

"Funny story, actually. I was on my way to get daisies for my favorite receptionist," I rolled my eyes just in time for him to pull a small bouquet of daisies from behind his back, "when I ran into Emma here."

My jaw dropped. He was really, really milking it. Harry gave her the flowers and raised his eyebrows in amusement as she gushed and blushed.

"She had to help me pick which flowers were absolutely top notch because nothing but the best is acceptable for you, Julie."

When I looked back over to Julie, she had just gotten redder in the face and it seemed as if she was going to faint right then and there.

So it wasn't just the students that Harry had tied around his pristine fingers - it was the staff as well. It would have been sort of entertaining if it wasn't so disturbing.

"Oh, how sweet of you, Harry. Let me write you two a pass. Don't let anyone give you a detention. As far as we're concerned, you were here, helping me file before going to class." She threw a not-so-subtle wink his way and started to write the passes.

Shocked, I threw Harry a look that expressed just how bewildered I was at what he had just done.

He threw back a wink - much smoother and calming than Julie's.

Once she had given us our passes, we made our way out of the office and towards our respective classes.

"Bye, Emma."

I shot him a look that I hope conveyed my gratitude while fighting the urge to ask him a million questions. Instead, I formed a half-smile and he returned it with a grin and a two-finger salute.