Darcy // h.s

1: Billboard.

  I stared at the number, a warm feeling growing in the pit of my stomach that I hadn't felt for a while. I wondered what he was doing right now: maybe out for coffee with his girlfriend, maybe he was singing with his old band, White Eskimo. I wondered if he ever thought of me, if I ever crossed his mind lately.

  I grabbed the cheap phone that I got from goodwill that was nearly broken and had a half-cracked screen and punched the numbers into it. I had absoloutely no idea what I was going to say, but maybe all I needed was to skip to the voicemail and hear him. I remember him, in line, singing his song over and over to me, and I could feel my cheeks getting hot.

  I met Harry Styles in line for my X Factor audition in 2010. I was the number right after his, and we were almost in the very back of the line when the boy with the green eyes and curly hair walked up behind me with his mum and his sister, Gemma. We were in line together for a whole day in the sickening heat.

  We grew a bit close, if that's possible over a three day span. He would sing his song to me at least fifteen times a day, and in turn I would sing mine back to him. He would tell me that I was bound to win the competition. I sometimes would wonder how far I would have gotten if I wasn't taken off the street on that gloomy day of September 23rd.

  I cheered him on during his audition, and he did the same for mine. We were both going to go to the bootcamp rounds, which was coming up in two weeks. In those weeks we spent our time practicing our songs and going to Starbucks for lattes. Some days we went to the park and swinged, laughing and talking nonstop about our future singing plans.

  I bit my lip nervously as the phone rang over and over. By the eighth ring, I knew that he wasn't going to pick up and I worried that maybe he didn't have the same number. When there was a beep after the phone rang, a smile widened on my face.

  'Hi, this is Harry. I can't get to the phone right now but if you leave your name and number, I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Thank you, love you!'

  When there was another beep, nothing came out of my mouth. Instead, I hung up to phone and hugged my knees. I had no clue what to say, and I wasn't sure if I was going to say anything. Maybe it was too soon to call, I had only moved in last night and probably should have been packing, but I felt the need to get out in the fresh air.

  Putting on a coat that was donated to me and slipping on some warm boots, also a donation, I slipped out the door and towards the elevator that took me down to the lobby. I hated going in the elevator because it made me feel like I was trapped, and my mind would always race of the possibilities that could happen to me. What if there was a fire and I was stuck in there? What if nobody came to get me? What if the elevator crashed to the ground and I died?

  I smiled as I reached the plain lobby, a young woman at the desk waving slightly. There were chairs set up randomly across the room, and in a few sat people reading the daily newspaper, something that I was never interested in anyways. I opened the door and marched out into the cold, determined to find the playground me and Harry went to. I think I knew where it was, but it had been so long I wasn't sure if I knew where anything was.

  I walked down the sidewalk, avoiding eye contact with other people. I went through the steps in my head of how to attack someone who is trying to attack you: kick them in the shins, the groin, and punch them in the mouth. I exhaled loudly and marched across the street as the impatiant cars honked at me. I glared slightly but tried not to make a big deal out of it, I was probably just being slow and it was probably my fault, anyway.

  I honestly had no clue where I was going. I didn't want to ask anybody for directions. I ran across another road, hoping that I would be able to find my way back, when something caught my eye. Up on a tall building was a giant billboard with five boys plastered on it. Four of them I didn't recognize, but the fifth one I knew who it was instantly. Harry Edward Styles.

  Did he win the X Factor? How did he get put into a band? What's a One Direction?

  "Excuse me," I said, feeling brave as I turned to a girl who appeared to be fourteen. She smiled widely at me, a mouth full of braces in her mouth. "But can you tell me who they are?" I asked, pointing to the giant billboard. The girl gasped with mock-horror the moment the question escaped my lips.

  "That's only like, the biggest boyband in the whole wide world. They're called One Direction. That one is Liam, that's Niall, that's Harry, and then Louis, then Zayn. I've got this major crush on Zayn, though, but he's got a girlfriend. He doesn't know what he's missing, ha. Don't you think he's got the cutest eyes?" She sqealed. "They're perfect!" When she spoke she spit on me by accident, and I wiped it off with my coat and tried not to make it seem like a big deal. I tried to look closer at his eyes, but it was hard to really see. I just nodded in agreement anyways.

  "So this band, One Direction, they're really big right?" I asked. She nodded a little too enthusiastically, grinning and showing me a mouthful of hot pink braces with some food stuck in them. "And will they be here anytime soon?"

  "Mmhmm. I'm going to their concert on Saturday. It's all sold out though, sorry. I've got backstage passes, too, because I won this radio contest and they gave me two tickets so me and my friend Rachael are going together and we're going to get matching One Direction shirts and we're making this really big poster and they're probably going to see it 'cause we're in the tenth row and there are 87 rows total." She said all in one big breath. I nodded.

  "Thanks." I said, not waiting for a reply as I continued on to the billboard. They would be coming here... and maybe if Harry heard me again he would care enough to pay me a quick visit. I don't know why I was getting my hopes up. And hey, maybe he drastically changed and was a full of himself, spoiled popstar. Maybe he didn't want to see me.

  I ran across the road and toward my flat. I knew what I had to do. I had to leave Harry Styles a voicemail and pray that he would at least hear it. Maybe if he just heard it he would be assured that I was alright, if he even cared that much.

  When I reached the door of the building I lived in, I looked back once more at the big billboard. They would be coming to the area in two days. And if he didn't see this message within two days, I would have very slim chances of seeing him, ever. He was the only person who's number I had. He was the only living thing I had left of my old life, and I longed to see him and talk to him like we did for those two short weeks.

  I took the elevator up, but this time I wasn't as panicked as before. I was determined to call him, and when the door opened I ran to my door and pushed it open, silently scolding myself for leaving the door unlocked, not that anything inside really held much value to me.

  I ran to the phone and snatched the little piece of paper, punching in the numbers quickly and sort of hoping that he would pick up. But he was a popstar, I reminded myself, and popstars had a busy life and they didn't just stay at home all day waiting for someone to call. Their days were probably jam-packed with interviews, signings, recordings, and concerts.

  After the voicemail, I held my breath before I heard the beep. I hadn't a clue what I was going to say, but I had to say something.

  "Harry, it's Darcy. I'm not sure if you'll get this, but I'm back and I'm safe. I found your number in a box of things from my old house, and I'm in Cheshire. I don't know if you'll get this, but I need to see you. I heard you're coming to this area in two days, and I'm hoping you'll stop by or at least give a call or something. My number is 839-1927. I miss you, Harry. A lot."