My Brother's Best Friend

Chapter 1

I woke up to the smell of bacon. Not a bad way to wake up if I do say so myself. I jumped out of bed, grabbed my favourite black hoodie and a pair of jeans, and ran downstairs. Sitting at the kitchen table was a cop. Shit. He looked familiar, but who am I kidding, I've met every cop in this town at least once. As I got closer, I heard them speaking.

"To be honest, Mrs. Payne, I wasn't all that surprised to find out Mandi was in a fight again," said the cop.

"Well, Amanda has always been a little short tempered," my mother replied, "I can't say I was all that surprised either. I've been thinking about sending her to some classes..."

Before I could let this conversation go any longer than that, I skipped into the kitchen and sat down.

"Hey mom," I said casually, grabbing a piece of toast.

"Good morning, Amanda," she said just as casually, "Mr. Smith has something he would like to talk to you about."

I looked at Mr. Smith and raised my eyebrows, "And...?"

Mr. Smith shifted uncomfortably in his chair, "You see, Amanda---"

"Mandi," I said automatically. I hated being called Amanda, it made me sound like some kind of Barbie doll.

"Mandi," he corrected, "We got a call last night about some kind of fight at a club downtown. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

Of course I did. He knew that. I smiled slightly at the memory. I had been dancing with some guy I had just met and, suddenly, some girl came up to me and said, "You bitch! How dare you dance with my boyfriend!"

With that remark, I smiled wickedly, "Oh, I'm sorry," I said sarcastically, "I guess you don't really like this either," I grabbed her boyfriend and kissed him fiercely.

That really pissed her off, "You.... you...." She stuttered, clenching her hands into fists.

"Wat'cha gonna do about it?" I said turning and walking away.

Before I could make it even a metre away, the girl reached out and grabbed my hair. I spun around and grabbed her arm. If she wanted a fight she'd get her fight.

I dug my nails into her skin. She yelped and reflexively let go of my hair. Using this as an opportunity, I twisted her arm, kicked her to the ground and walked away before people could gather. She must have given my description to the cops. Not a good idea.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I said, examining my nails.

"Of course you don't," Mr. Smith said, "Mandi, we have 10 people who say they saw you at that club, three of which say you attacked that girl. We're starting to get really tired of seeing you at the station."

"Oh, trust me, Sir," I said, "I'm getting real tired of seeing you too."

Mr. Smith continued, "Since no one was badly injured, we're not pressing charges this time," he said, putting emphasis on 'this time', "We are, however, suggesting.... classes to help you handle your temper," my mother looked at me expectantly.

"As in anger management classes?" I asked.

"Not exactly," my mother explained, "Just a few classes to teach you some techniques."

"No!" I screamed, "I'm not going to any of your stupid classes!"

"As I said," Mr. Smith explained calmly, "We are only suggesting this. You and your mother can discuss things, but I really believe you could gain quite a lot from these classes."

I crossed my arms over my chest, "Whatever."

"Well, thank you for stopping by Mr. Smith," my mother said smiling, "I'll talk it over with Amanda and we'll consider having her take these classes."

"No we won't," I muttered under my breath as my mother gave me the death glare.

"Oh, it was no problem, Mrs. Payne," Mr. Smith said as she led him to the door. I heard them say a few more things before the door shut and my mother walked back into the kitchen.

"So...?" she asked expectantly.

"So what?" I shot back.

"What do you think?"

"You know what I think."

My mother sighed, "Amanda, you've been in two fights this week alone. It's about time you got some help."

"No!" I shouted, "I told you already, I'm not going to any classes!"

"Fine," my mother said, "But you have to let us do something for you."

"What exactly are you implying?" I asked, skeptically.

"Well, I know, what with me always working, you don't really have any kind of role model for your behavior," she explained.

"And....?" I prompted.

"Well.... Your brother and I have been talking and.... We think maybe it would be best if.... You stayed with him for awhile?" she said, wincing slightly.

"What?" I asked.

"It would only be temporary.... Maybe a few months...." my mother babbled, "Just to make sure you don't do anything reckless.... We could---"

I cut her off, "So you're saying you want me to go to London so I can be babysat by Liam?"

"Um.... Yes, I suppose," my mother said carefully.

Liam was always the responsible one, ready to rat me out the moment I did something wrong, up until about three years ago anyway. As anyone who hasn't been living under a rock for the past few years knows, my brother is part of the boy band One Direction. Blah, blah, blah X-factor. Blah, blah, blah contract. Blah, blah, blah touring. You get the gist. We got along pretty well but I was always jealous of how proud our mother was of him. Him being part of a world famous boy band didn't help much either. Despite all this, though, the thought of touring and spending a little more time with him wasn't that bad.

"And no classes?" I asked.

"No classes," my mother confirmed.

Well, I guess that settled it then. I was spending my entire summer with One Direction.