The Fortune Teller (One Direction)

Chapter 3 - Her Seventh Birthday

“Harry is your cousin?!” Wendi squeals in utter fan-girl shock. Despite the fact that Wendi has known this girl for about a minute, I can see in her eyes that she’s contemplating jumping on her in order to extract every piece of information she can.

If I were Fliss, I’d be terrified. She just laughs, “I’m never going to get used to people reacting like that!”

When she sees that Wendi is still in shock and not at all laughing, she straightens up, “Yeah, we’ve been cousins since…I was born,” I manage to crack a smile at this. Ah, Fliss, always the joker. Wendi still seems gob smacked, and I don’t think Raya is breathing again yet.

“Listen, Iss,” Darcy interrupts, “It’s great that you two have been reunited and all, but we really need to get ready.” When she says ‘we’ I know she means ‘me’, and pointing at herself as she says it only makes her selfishness more obvious.

Smiling I say, “I understand, you guys go ahead, I’ll be back at the hotel later.”

Without a second glance, Darcy is off down the street. She drags the gawping Wendi and the blue-in-the-face Raya behind her.

“Darce! Pick something nice for me, will ya?” I yell down the street. Without turning or stopping, she throws her hand into the air, signalling a ‘thumbs-up’. She’s cool like that.

I turn to Fliss and smile, “I think I need another coffee.” Together we run into the shop, straight to the vacant two-person table by the window. I saw a couple of people’s eyes sweeping over us, checking that the crazy teenager from before wasn’t back, before going back to their delightful conversations.

Waiting for my scolding drink to cool down, I ask Fliss about these past few years we’ve not spoken. She tells me all about the private school; how strict it is, but how nobody cares, and how her friends are always having midnight feasts and joking around in between classes. It sounds like something from a book.

In return, I remind her of how boring home is, with it’s few shops and one park, constantly overrun by chavs. I tell her how lucky she is she escaped, because the High School is terrible. I make it sound like a nightmare, and I think I’ve got it sussed pretty well.

“So, how come I never before knew Harry is your cousin?” I throw into the conversation.

“You don’t remember him? You’ve both been at my birthday parties when we were younger…” she says. It’s obvious that she has done this routine with a lot of friends.

I cast my mind back. For her sixth birthday we went to some kiddie play area just out of town. I remember those drawings of wild animals on the wall, so terrifying when you’re trying to eat Party Rings! However, I don’t remember Harry being there; it was an all-girl pink explosion in there.

It couldn’t have been her eighth birthday party, either. Fliss’ parents took me and four other girls to the cinemas, and then to pizza hut afterwards. No Harry there.

Oh no. It must’ve been her seventh birthday party. Gosh, I’d forgotten about that day. We went to a family restaurant called Brewsters for tea. It was one of those parties where everyone gets invited – even that kid in your class who sat in the corner picking his nose all day. Eew.

Our entire class from school was there, as was most of Fliss’ family. Her baby brother Tom was in the corner of the room, surrounded by cousins and aunties and being cradled by a girl a few years older than us.

We got to play in the play area before our dinner arrived. At that age and height, it was gigantic. There were four levels to it, connected by tunnels, slides, stairs and bits of climbing frame, all doused in bright primary colours. On the bottom was a large ball pit, with three slides emptying children into it.

Back then Fliss and I were practically glued at the hip, and I remember as soon as the doors to the play area opened we shot through them together, headed straight for the nearest set of stairs. We were making our way to the first slide, but our path got blocked.

“Move, Harry!” young Fliss had ordered. A young boy was sat inside the entrance to the round plastic slide, blocking its entirety with his legs. “Me and Issy want to go down the slide!”

“Well you can’t!” he had told us, acting like he owned the entire play area.

“But this is my party!” Fliss protested.

“You don’t own the slide!” I had growled at him, trying to help Fliss win the argument.

“But I’m the oldest. I make the rules. I say you can’t play here!”

As a child, I was quick to judge everything, and I was certainly right about Harry that day. Usually, my judgements stuck.

Fliss jumped at Harry, tried to push him out of her way, but she only managed to get him away from the entrance with him sill tightly gripping her arms.

I had made a mad dash for the tunnel entrance, which was a terrible idea. Harry lunged at me to defend his stupid slide, sending me flying all the way down the (thankfully slightly cushioned) steps leading to the bottom floor.

I banged my head on the floor and within minutes I was swarmed by adults checking me over to make sure I wasn’t injured. I was perfectly fine, physically, but I was completely humiliated.

Fliss’ parents took me out of the play area, and I refused to go back inside. Saying that I didn’t feel well, my mum and dad came to pick me up an hour before the party was due to finish.

My hate for that little boy grew and grew as I remembered him standing by and laughing at me from his pedestal. It was one memory I forced out of my mind.

“Oh yeah. I remember him.” I mumble to Fliss, nearly crushing my scorching drink with my hand.

Oh for goodness sake. Why am I reacting like this? I’ve adored the One Direction boys since they were thrown together, so why do I now feel hatred towards Harry? It’s been nine years since then! He’s probably grown up a little bit, less likely to wrestle with his cousin and then knock me flying down a set of stairs! I am so ridiculous sometimes.

“You do? Awesome!”

“Yeah. Weird how I didn’t realise it was him before…” I muse.

“I’m sure he’d love to meet you again!”

“Yeah…wait, what?”

She’s smiling again now, almost laughing because I’m once again completely confused, “Well, when I told him I was coming to watch the show tonight he said I should come visit him! We haven’t seen each other since Christmas, so he thought it’d be nice to catch up.” She breaks to take a sip of coffee, like it is powering her to babble on like this, “He told me which hotel they’re staying at, too. I’m sure nobody’d mind if I brought along some friends…” winking at me, she laughs and asks, “Any ideas?”

“As a matter of fact, I think I know four people who might be just what you’re looking for…” I say cunningly, laughing along with her.

Exchanging phone numbers, Fliss promises to talk to me about the details later. We finish our drinks and then I’m left outside Starbucks on my own, Fliss disappearing into the crowd.

I head off towards the hotel and I can’t help but ask myself; what the hell just happened?