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Moving to a new place sucked. Moving to a new country, well it was kind of cool, but Niall wasn’t telling his mom that, because it still kind of sucked. All of his friends were back in Ireland, and now he was stuck in this new country and everyone sounded weird. The new house was sick, though. He got his own room, all by himself because he was a big boy. His mom had said so herself and his mom knew what she was talking about. She was the smartest person he knew, even though she was an adult. At least she was smart enough to move during summer break.
Moving into the house was pretty easy. They didn’t have too much things, so unpacking only really took a day. By his second day in sunny California, Niall was bored. Usually he’d be playing with his friends back home, but Niall wasn’t back home. So, he was bored. Niall thought it’d be a good idea to find his mom. Maybe if he made it really obvious that he was bored and lonely his mom would feel guilty and they’d go back home. It was worth a try.
But when his mom found him sitting at their table in the dining room, moving back was the last thing on her mind. She had a better idea. Or so she thought, anyway. “Niall, sweetie, why don’t you go outside? I saw that the neighbors have a boy around your age. Maybe you guys could be friends.”
“But mom. I don’t want new friends. I want my old ones. And he’ll probably make fun of me or somethin.”
Maura sat down in the seat next to her stubborn child, pushing his brown hair out of his pouty face. “Honey, why would anyone make fun of you?”
“They’ll say I talk funny.”
Chuckling, Maura pulled Niall’s chair to face her. “Listen, you talk like an Irishman. And that is nothing to be ashamed of. You’re proud of Ireland, right? So, don’t listen to them. Show them what a real Irishman sounds like.”
“Mom, I always knew you were a genius. Never doubted you for a second.” And with that Niall ran out the front door, ready to introduce his new neighbor to a real Irishman.
~
The kid had hair. Like, a lot of hair. And it was curly. Niall was kind of terrified. “You’ve got a lot of hair, mate.”
The kid turned around, looked at Niall and said, “You sound like a pirate, mate.”
“That’s because I’m a real Irishman. My mom said so herself.”
Curly, as NIall thought he should be called, made a slightly confused face before answering with, “But you’re not a man. You look like you’re my age and I’m only seven.”
“Really? I’m seven, too. My birthday’s in September.”
“My birthday’s in Feb-ru-ary.”
“Why do you say it like that. It sounds funny.”
“Because it’s hard for me to say, so my mom told me to say it slowly.” Harry’s face started to blush from his confession. Niall thought he was embarrassed and wanted to calm the kid.
“That’s cool. I can’t say a lot of words. And since I’m Irish I say words differently. I guess we both talk funny.”
Curly smiled, and Niall could see dents in his face. His mom once told him that they were called dimples. Niall decided he liked dimples. Sticking his hand out, Niall decided it was a good time to formally introduce himself. His dad always said you could tell a lot about how someone shook hands, so it must be pretty important. “I’m Niall Horan..”
Harry gave him a big smile, sticking out his own hand and saying, “And I’m Harry Styles.”
Hearing Harry’s name, Niall couldn’t help but tease. “Okay, hairstyles. Nice to meet you.”
Harry’s frown caused Niall to laugh a little. “Not hairstyles, Harry Styles.”
“I’m just playing with you Harreh.”
“You say it funny. Must be the Iwish thing.”
“I-rish, Harry. I’m Irish.” By this point Niall couldn’t stop laughing for anything. Thankfully, Harry found it funny, too.
“Same thing, Niall.”
“You know, Harreh, I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship.”