Meeting My Idols

PART ONE

I logged in to Facebook. There were the usual 20-odd notifications, 2 messages and no friend requests. I checked out the messages and notifications…nothing interesting there. By the way, yes, I had got my own computer (AT LAST), after my exam results had been announced, in which I got a boast-worthy 92%. I know, I know, it isn’t particularly record-making marks, but I’m just an average student, who has to struggle to get pass marks.

Back to the present, I scrolled through my news feed when a status update by Zayn Malik (Yes, the boys’ real Facebook accounts had been discovered and revealed to the fans) caught my eye. “Hi, girls, as you all know, we are organising a contest, and five lucky winners will get to meet us in person. The candidate selections will be made online. Good luck! :)”

I was confused for a moment. I mean, what, this obviously couldn’t be happening. It all sounded too easy, way too easy. I read through the status again, and again, and my eyes widened. ‘Oh My God’, I muttered to myself.

It was a contest, to be held in London, the selections for which would be made online. Five lucky winners would get to meet them in person, and attend a concert three weeks from now. My mouth was agape. I could hardly believe my luck. The timing was ridiculously perfect; my vacations would start in two weeks.

I read through the information given in the website. The participants would have to send their details to Paul (Higgins, their tour manager) via e-mail, and his people would sort through the “valid” ones and discard the rest. The senders of the “valid” e-mails would, then, be notified through Facebook. After that there would be something like a quiz (I couldn’t quite figure it out well enough because of my excited state), and eight finalists would be selected. Those eight finalists would be taken to London, from where the contest would proceed. A tiny line at the very end notified us that only the first 10,000 e-mails from the time the contest started would be considered. The Facebook status was 8 minutes old.

I RUSHED to Gmail, and wrote down whatever I knew, or thought, would be relevant. We had just been asked to write down about ourselves, which is a rather vague instruction, if you ask me. But oh, well, whatever floats their boat. I typed in a good lot about myself, and wrote quite a lot about the boys, too. I wrote about how I first heard of them, how long I’ve been a Directioner for, tried pathetically to describe my feelings, and all in all, wrote a piece that would break the reader’s heart and endear me to their heart forever (well, so I thought). But it was all true, every word of it. Okay, maybe not the part where I wrote that I am “just another normal girl”, because, really, I’m quite mad. And I’ve got tattooes.

I then sent the mail. I checked the time. I had accomplished all of this in a record four minutes. I felt immensely proud, because really, you should have SEEN the paragraph I typed in the e-mail! It was, let’s say, three pages long.

Now, the wait. I would now have to wait for the reply about my selection, that is, if it ever came. I went through my news feed but nothing was as interesting, so I logged out. I checked my Gmail account. Nope, no new mail. ‘As if the reply would come THAT fast’, I mentally scolded myself. So, I just deleted a ton of Facebook notification e-mails and logged out. I shut down my computer and went to do my homework. Yeah, I am a good girl!

After having dinner, it was nearly time to go to bed. My parents were already asleep, but I switched on the computer. The wait was killing me. The rejection was all I could think about. I had all but convinced myself that they would never accept my e-mail. ‘Obviously’, I thought. I was an exceptional case of super-low self esteem. If they measured my self esteem on a number scale, I’m sure that it would be negative. I had no self-confidence or self esteem whatsoever.

But then again, I had a reason to be so low. I was an average –if not ugly- looking girl, too short for her age, and I was darker than I would rather have been. And that’s not all, no, not at all! I seemed to have inherited all the terrible genes I could, from my parents, and then I had some bad qualities which my parents didn’t, either! I felt so sorry for my future kid… I mean, if I ever had a kid, then he’d probably inherit my genes along with my luck… oh, that poor, poor kid.

Okay, I can’t really say that I’ve got TERRIBLE luck… No, actually I’ve got pretty good luck, better than what I deserve, but then, well, I just like to think that I’ve got the worst of everything. But hey, I do! I mean, apart from being short, dark and stuff, I had absolutely dull, lifeless hair, which was curly –and that is something I DID NOT like, as it always got entangled- and crooked teeth, and a terrible temper, and a very, very fickle mind.

Having a fickle mind is kind of good, in that you don’t stay angry or upset for a long time, for the simple reason that you forget the reason why you were angry! Plus, you cannot sustain the emotion for very long… but then again, it has its disadvantages, too..always does. You cannot remain motivated for too long, you tend to forget thing easily, and you cannot dwell on things that make you hurt from the inside. I know, most people will say that it’s good to not be able to dwell on things, but I disagree. I feel that if you dwell on something and think it through, then it removes a weighty burden off your chest, forever. That is, obviously, good.

Getting back to the present, I logged into Facebook. I had one message and one notification. I clicked on the notification icon. Zayn had commented on his own status. I scrolled through hundreds of comments and got to his comment which said, “Sorry, girls, the last entries (e-mails) have been taken”. The notification was from an hour back. I thanked my lucky stars, I had sent in my e-mail over three hours ago.

I next clicked on the message icon, hoping I was from Arnel, my Australian friend. What I saw in my inbox made my eyes (figuratively speaking) pop out and do a little dance in the air in front of my head. The message was not from Arnel….. It was from Zayn.

I clicked on it, my hand shaking a little. “Congrats! You’ve been selected for round one. The contest begins in 24 hours, on my wall. All the best! :)”

My head would have shot through the roof.  I COULD NOT control my hyperventilation. I crazily wanted to jump and whoop, but the thought of my parents finding out scared me, and I quietly shut down the computer and went to sleep.

A/N: I just want you all to know that I love every single one of you (see what I did there?) for reading my story, it means a lot to me! And please, please if you like my story, vote for it! Also, feel free to point out any grammatical errors that there might be in the story. And it would be absolutely incredible (I know right! ;D) if you guys left comments, it could be anything, even a Hi would do. Thanks!