My geography teacher declared, "Summersberry! I am in love with you!"

There were many things wrong with this. Firstly, as a grown man in the teaching profession, why was he at a teenage binge-drinking fest celebrating the kidnap of one of his pupils? Secondly, this guy drew volcanoes on a whiteboard for a living. We had never had a single conversation that wasn't about sedimentary rock. And thirdly, he was a grown man with a wife and family.

Taking all this into consideration, I said: "Okay."

"No!" cried the curly one from One Direction. "He can't love you! I love you!"

"Hey, hey," argued the small Irish one. "Nope, mister. I love her."

The tall one pushed him aside, holding a rose. "No, Summersberry. I love you."

"Actually," the dark-haired monobrow one said, "I love her."

The homosexual one just shrugged indifferently. "To be honest, I don't really care," he admitted, and Susan gave his shoulder a sympathetic pat.

Trying to avoid the awkwardness, I whirled around to leave, but 2Mas was blocking my way.

"Ily bbe," he informed me.

"No!" cried Alwolfo. "Summersberry I love you forever!"

"Ily 5-eva," 2Mas countered.

Then, my crowd of admirers began surging forwards slowly like a throng of zombies. There were just so many of them!

All of a sudden, the glass of Alwolfo's window shattered, as British had hurled himself through it like a brick. I was beginning to think this was the only way he actually knew how to enter a building.

"Hi Summersberry," British said Britishly. "I love you."

"Well actually," I explained apologetically, pointing at my group of romantic prospects, "so do all these guys."

He threw a pint of lager to the ground in fury. "Blimey, these buggering buggers have nabbed me bird!" he cursed.

After sticking that through Google translate to work out what on earth he'd just said, I told him, "Actually, British, out of all these men, I choose you!"

British frowned. "What?" He seemed genuinely confused. "All of these men are wealthy, good looking and at the peak of their careers. I, however, am a homicidal supernatural monster stuck in high school. Are you sure you're making an informed decision here?"

My eyes instantly welled with tears. "But British...I'm pregnant! And you're the father!"

A wave of silence fell over the party guests like a blanket over a rich man's car in snowy weather.

"What?" British said slowly. "Summersberry, we have literally only ever spoken twice - three times if you count right now - and at no point did we...you know!" he gestured downwards. "Are you sure you're not just fat?"

"No," I confessed. "But can you just accept the fact that we're dating now?"

He shrugged. "Yeah, whatever."

The whole crowd burst into jubilant cheers, and the music re-started. The crowd began to dance and party again, happy that British and I were now an item. Xing and 2Mas - or, as I call them, The Leftovers - looked into each others' eyes and saw love. True love. Like the love I now had with British.

We gazed at each other, me happily, him apathetically. I could see that this would indeed be a beautiful and everlasting relationship.

THE E -

"Wait!"

The whole crowd gasped, and turned simultaneously to face the doorway, where stood Courtney. Behind her, five officers were waiting.

"You!" I screamed, pointing a trembling finger at her. "You're just out to steal my man, aren't you? What is this, like the third time now?"

She rolled her eyes. "For god's sake, how many times do I need to tell you I'm not into guys? What kind of a person is ready to believe in werewolves but doesn't believe in lesbians?"

"Me," I said. "And pretty much almost every Teen Lit author out there. Why are you even here?"

Courtney dug her hand into her pocket, and pulled out a badge. "Teen Fiction police. The same guys who prevented Twilight Book Five. Google it. We're shutting this place down for good." She gave a nod to the officers, who extracted their weapons, and told them, "Go for it, boys."

"Woah, woah!" British held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "What did we do wrong?"

"What did you do right? You!" she pointed at Xing. "Charged with perpetuating offensive racial stereotypes! I have your Visa papers. You're Australian."

The crowd gasped.

"Alright, alright," Xing sighed in a casual Aussie drawl. "You got me." She extracted a koala and fired up a barbeque on which to cook it.

"That's...not really helping," Courtney admitted, but Xing didn't put it away so she just let it be. "And you!" She looked pointedly at British. "What Englishman talks like that?"

He shrugged. "Bangers and mash," he sniffed.

Then Courtney pointed at Alwolfo. "You're a multiple criminal guilty of kidnap and turning into a monster every full moon! That's just plain creepy, not romantic. And you!" she pointed to One Direction. "What are you even doing here?"

The small Irish one shrugged, mid-way through munching on a tortilla. "Free food."

Courtney rolled her eyes. "Bring this place down, boys," she ordered her men.

"Wait!" I cried, waving my hands about. The officers stopped. "Give us five minutes and we'll prove to you we're non-cliché."

She shrugged. "Be my guest."

British's British eyes searched mine, but instead of looking back, I addressed the crowd of party guests. "Guy's we're all going to need to pull together and save our book!"

"How?" Susan asked.

"Well, we've just got to prove we're not cliché! Like..." I paused. "Him." I pointed at British. "Do you have anything you'd like to share?"

He shrugged and said slowly, "I love Gossip Girl, and I actually want to be a househusband."

There were a few anxious murmurs around the room, but slowly people began to clap.

Alwolfo was the next to confess: "I'm never happier than when I'm wearing a dress. I mean, hey, I've got great legs, and I'm a sucker for a sweetheart neckline."

The applause intensified, and there were even a few wolf-whistles.

"I'm not gay!" Susan declared. "I just say I am so girls tell me intimate stuff!"

"I am though," admitted the homosexual one from One Direction.

"Je peux parler couramment cinq langues différentes!" 2Mas shouted.

"I'm happily married, with kids!" Lester yelled.

"I've been alcohol-free since '93!" screamed my mum who was, for some reason, also here. "I just say I'm an alcoholic to get benefits from my support group!"

"I've never even been to China!" Xing bellowed.

The whole room descended into wild cheers and applause. We all felt brilliant. This was alarmingly liberating, and incredibly refreshing.

Courtney shook her head and folded her arms, smiling reluctantly. "Alright men," she said to her officers, "We should be heading off. I heard they're planning to make a sequel of Hush Hush."

"Not so fast," grinned Xing. "You guys can join the party! Especially you." She pointed at the Chinese officer, who suddenly looked extremely eager to leave.

After the party, we pretty much all found our own callings, but we remained close.

British sought professional help about his "Vampire" delusion (which turned out to be just severe anaemia), and we bought a nice home in France, which British has named 'WATERLOO HOUSE', just to rub it in. Many people have mistaken it for a public toilet, but other than that we're doing very well.

Xing opened her own Australian restaurant, and eventually married Courtney, surprising no one.

2Mas got a job voicing the new iPhone Siri application, and Susan has become the sixth member of One Direction.

And we all lived happily ever after.

Except for Alwolfo who spent ten years in Pentonville prison for the abduction of a minor.

THE END

__

NOTE: I have nothing against One Direction. I just don't really know anything about them and thought it would be funnier if I didn't do any research. I am a terrible person.

Also, this was written and posted in 2013, when I was 15. I look back at it with some mixed feelings. Although the intention behind the characters of Xing and Susan was to critique the way PoC and LGBT people were stereotyped in teen fiction at the time (and arguably still today), I don't  like the way I went about it. Although my intentions in 2013 were to show how ridiculous stereotypes were in teen fiction, I feel like this critique could've been presented more elegantly. The intent was to roast people's bad writing of minority groups, but I'm honestly not sure how successfully I did it? My ears are open, please let me know what you think.