White Eskimo ~ Harry Styles

Then

July 11th, 2010

I stand in line, shifting from foot to foot, nerves running through my system. Mum is hovering next to me, excitement clear on her face as if she's the one performing instead of me. I am nervous. I can't help it. There are cameras everywhere filming each and every single angle of the queue to gain some interesting footage. I start hoping that I'm not on camera, at least not before my audition.

My audition.

I wring my hands together, entwining my fingers as I mumble the words to Isn't She Lovely under my breath. Mum takes my hand, plucking it out of the tangle I have managed to create out of two palms and ten fingers. She holds it and smiles. I glance into her eyes giving her a silent thank you. Although there's my family, Aunt Dee, Ella and Ben here today to support me, I don't know how I'd manage without mum.

We shuffle a bit further down the line, the entrance steadily approaching. My stomach drops. What if I completely mess up? There are thousands of people in the theatre, even more people actually watching the show. What if I'm the person who goes viral across the Internet for the worst audition in the history of auditions?

Mum squeezes my hand again. I twist my lips into some sort of grin, shaking slightly. I enjoy performing. I do. But there is just so much more pressure in this audition than when the band was performing. I'm on my own now. Will and Haydn and Nick aren't by my side.

"Do you want to practice some more?" Gemma questions and I nod tersely.

I'm about to start but then I remember the line I'm currently in and the swarm of people around me.

"Uh, I'll just wait until the warm up room."

"Ok," Gemma says. Then she stares at me. "Haz. You. Will. Be. Fine. No actually, you'll be great."

"Really?"

Robin answers, "Yes."

I smile a bit more confidently. I can do well. I just need to relax. Like Lauren always told me too. I bite my lip and feel the prickle behind my shut eyelids. A lump develops in my throat but I swallow it. She would be proud of me. She always wanted me to do this. I will sing for her - and I'll do my best. I won't cry. I won't break down. I'll be strong, for her. And I'll kill the audition.

“Excuse me, but would I be able to film you?”

We glance up to see a woman clutching a camera and wearing a X Factor lanyard around her neck. “Erm, ok?”

She beams. “Great! So I’ll need you to sit down here and basically just tell me about yourself,” the lady rattles on as I’m dragged out of line to a set aside area with even larger cameras and lights. “So we’d just like you to say your name, age and where you’re from, if that’s alright, love.”

I sit down on a chair and tug the scarf I’m wearing around my neck to look somewhat more presentable. A man rushes up from the rest of the crew, clutching a bag of some sort. He tells me that he’s just putting foundation on as apparently ‘it really makes your skin glow on the screen’. The brush tickles my skin as I try hard not to sneeze as small particles of the makeup fall into my nostrils. The man leaves, finally – I never want to be subject to a brush that jabs your cheeks, forehead and every other contour of the face.

“Alright, and 3, 2,” the lady says before holding up one finger and encouraging me silently to speak.

“I’m Harry Styles, em I’m sixteen and I’m from Holmes Chapel in Cheshire.”

“And done. Great, thanks Harry. Now would you be able to talk about what Cheshire’s like, what you do there, et cetera?

The camera starts filming again. “It’s quite boring cause nothing much happens there, it’s quite picturesque.”