My binder was getting too tight. I needed a new one.
"Nazli, c'mon! We don't want you to be late!" Mum was probably walking out the door.
"I've changed my mind. I'm not doing it!" I called back.
"You most certainly are!" I could hear her shuffling to my room. She knocked on the door, but opened it before I could respond.
"I'm not doing it. I don't want to anymore." I laid back in bed.
"Nazli, I-"
"Zayn." I didn't look at her.
"I don't understand. You've been so excited for this. This is your dream." She meant well, and I knew it, but I just didn't know how to explain.
"I know," I replied, "but I just can't do it. I can't go out there, and have everyone judge me. I get enough of that already."
"Is this about what happened last week at school? I told you not to listen to him."
Word had gotten out last week about my audition. I was trying to keep it secret, but someone must've heard me talk about it with my friend Miles. Trevor, who has been on my back since I came out, decided to point out that I would have to be a girl on television, as I legally still am one.
"It's not that, Mum." It was.
"Then what is it?" She put a hand on my shoulder.
"I just can't do it. It was a stupid idea. I'm not going to get very far anyway."
"Not with that attitude you won't!" She was using her Mum Voice. I hate when she does that.
"That's such a cliché thing to say," I told her.
"I don't care," She replied. "It's true. If you keep your eyes on winning then you have a better chance of actually doing it. If you mope around, with no confidence then you won't get past the front doors."
"That's the plan," I mumbled. She stood up.
"You are going to finish getting dressed, you are going to go downstairs, we are going to the arena, and you are going to blow the judges away. Is that clear?" She was a little intimidating when she used her Mum Voice. Not as much as when I was smaller, but intimidating still.
"Yes, ma'am." No one says no to Mum.
"Good, now hurry up. We are probably going to be stuck in traffic, but if you hurry we might be at the near front of it." She left my room.
The arena was packed. I felt my stomach flip. How was I supposed to do this?
"The sign-in desk is over there," Mum pointed to the desk across the room. "Think you can sign yourself in? Me, Baba, and your sisters are going to find our seats."
"Okay, I'll see you when it's done." I wasn't sure how to handle being by myself in this crowd of people. It was almost suffocating.
I kept my head low, and made my way to the desk.
There was a line. Wonderful.
There were three people working the desk, and all three lines were fairly long. I got in the shortest one and waited my turn.
After about a half hour of waiting, I was next in line. The woman at the desk called me up, and my heart seemed to stop. Was I really doing this?
"Name, please." She said. It was clear she was exhausted already.
"N-Nazli Malik?" I hated that.
"Okay, here we go," she handed me some papers and a clipboard. "Fill these out, bring them back, and we will give you your number."
"Thanks." I mumbled and took the papers. I looked around the lobby for a place to sit. Everything was pretty much taken, so I sat in a corner on the floor.
The first question was my name. The second, the name of the act. In the second blank, I wrote "Zayn Malik." It felt good. Maybe I didn't have to be a girl onstage at all.
I finished up my paperwork and started back to the desk, looking over the papers as I walked. Before I could process what happened, I was being shoved. I dropped the clipboard.
"Oh I'm sorry, man." The boy said. I picked up the clipboard and looked up at him.
"It's okay, I wasn't watching," I responded quickly.
He flipped his hair from his eyes, apologized again, and went on his way. I continued to the desk. The woman took my paperwork and handed me a sticker with a long number on it. I thanked her and sat back down in the corner.
165616
I stared at the number. This was really happening. I was really doing this.
Shit.
I was really doing this.
I peeled off the backing and put the sticker on my shirt. Not long after, a man came up and yelled to the lobby.
"If you have a number, follow me!" Several people and their families got up and followed the man backstage.
The dressing room was large, slightly smaller than the lobby.
I didn't want to be here on my own. I called Mum.
"Mum? E-everyone's families and stuff are back here. I was wondering if you could come too?"
"Sure, I'll be down. Where is it?" She asked. She sounded like she was hoping I'd ask her to come.
"Hold on." I put the phone to my shoulder, and nervously walked up to the security guard. "Sir? Would it be possible for my Mum to come back here? She's at her seat with my family."
"One moment." He started talking into his radio. I put the phone back to my ear.
"The security is checking."
"Take me to them, and you can bring her back." The guard spoke. I told Mum I was coming to get her and hung up.
* * *
I wasn't sure how to feel. The judges were harsh, especially Simon. There was so much talent here; people came from all over the UK to do this. Did I even stand a chance?
"Okay, you're next." Mum messed with my hair. "Just breathe, and remember that no matter what happens, we love you."
"Thanks, Mum." The man that brought us to the dressing room tapped my shoulder.
"You're on, kid."
"Good luck, sweetie!" Mum pushed me out. The judges were looking at the papers on their large desk when I walked out.
"And what's your name?" Simon spoke. I couldn't breathe.
"M-my name is Zayn." They were staring at me. Everyone was staring at me. I couldn't move. Then I blacked out.
When I came to my Mum was hugging me backstage. "What happened," I asked her.
"What do you mean, 'what happened?' you got three yesses!"
"I did?" I was in shock. Three? All three?
"Yes! We have to go see Baba and sisters!" Mum was ecstatic.
