Change Of Styles

Chapter Two

*Right I'm going to bed after this update! It's 2am, but I can't help it, I'm glued!*

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"How was school sweetheart?"

As soon as I opened the front door my mum poked her head round the corner of the kitchen door, smiling brightly. She had no idea what school was like, and I was going to keep it that way.

"Good!" I replied, plastering a smile on my face. She all too eagerly returns it, but I can see her eyes narrowing slightly.

"What happened to your face Marcel?" She asked, concern clouding her features as her smile drops.

"Oh my locker was jammed, so I pulled it too hard and smacked myself in the face. It doesn't hurt anymore though, I was just really clumsy!" I had already thought up the story on the walk home, knowing that she'd question. It was quite scary how good I was at lying.

"Oh dear, well I've warned you to be careful about these kind of things! I'll get you a frozen bag of peas for it if it starts to bother you!" And with that she flashes me one last smile and disappears back into the kitchen, probably cooking dinner. I sigh and kick of my shoes at the bottom of the stairs, pushing them into the shoe cupboard before racing up to my room and shutting the door behind me. From there I fling my shoulder bag onto the bed and stare at myself in the mirror. My black thick-rimmed glasses took up nearly half my face, making my green eyes even bigger in the magnified lenses. My shirt was tucked into my brown formal trousers, topped with my brown v-neck jumper. I ran my hand over my gelled hair, patting down any strands that had come free of my slicked back quiff. I truly was a geek, and I was tired of it. Sighing I pulled out my laptop from under my bed and logged onto Twitter. No one at school knew my Twitter, and I was glad because of it. Then I wouldn't even be able to escape the hate at home.

@Harry_Styles: Terrible day today again #sigh

I quickly tweeted, almost instantly getting notifications as people retweeted and favourited it. I had a couple of hundred of followers, probably because no one knew who I actually was, and my followers were all random people who related to my depressing tweets. Shutting my laptop, I walked to the bathroom and quickly undressed and hopped into the shower, setting my iPod on shuffle on the docking station I had positioned on the window sill.

Isn't she lovely

Isn't she wonderful...

Stevie Wonders voice drifted out of the speakers, and I smiled as I rubbed shampoo into my hair and sang along.

Isn't she precious

Less than one minute old...

I sang my heart out, and by the end of the song my mood had lifted as I towel dried my naturally curly hair and switched off the docking station before picking up my iPod and heading back to my room. I chucked on a pair of my unlimited supply of brown trousers, along with a diamon patterned v neck with a plain white shirt underneath. Realising I left my glasses in the bathroom I nipped back and grabbed them, before sliding them back on and staring at myself in the slightly misty mirror. My hair was a mess, so I quickly combed it back into its usual quiff style. I didn't bother with gel, I never did in the evening. I just let it dry in position, and gelled it in the mornings for school.

"Marcel Harry Edward Styles!" My mum called from downstairs, and I quickly hurried down the stairs, the smell of pasta making my mouth water. "Bon apetite!" She exclaimed, setting two plates down on the table and seating herself. I sat down opposite her and grinned.

"It looks amazing and delicious!" I say, and she laughs as we dig in. I live with my mum, after my dad left 7 years ago when I was 10 for a sea voyage. He was 'lost at sea' but my mother still believes he is alive, even after 7 years of waiting. He was called Marcel, and all of a sudden my mum started calling me Marcel. The docters say she has a 'muddled mind' and so not to upset her it's kind of become my real name since. No one but a few close relatives know my real name is Harry, abd ever since everyone has just called me Marcel. So Harry shifted to my middle name along with Edward. I sighed softly and stared at my mother as she finished her plate, waiting and then standing and collecting the dishes.

"Good boy Marcel. You never fail to make me proud!" She smiles, before wandering out of the kitchen and into the lounge. Probably to watch some sort of beauty pageant. She was crazily in love with those types of programs. I pile everything into the dishwasher, before heading out of the kitchen and up to my room, planting a kiss on my mums cheek on the way. Once in my room I sigh and pull out my maths homework which is next weeks homework, and loose myself in a world of algebra and equations. I always do next weeks homework a week earlier. I just like being prepared and ahead of myself.

I wish something could have prepared me for tomorrow.

*So how do you like Marcel Harry Edward Styles? All of this story is completely made up, I'm just using characters and creating a story with them! Anyway, I'm off to bed now! Thank you for reading so far, I'll update quickly :) Oh and I'm sorry for any typos! I'm terrible for checking my work!*

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