"Honey, wake up!" My mom's voice pummeled into my room, reaching my ears and waking me up. I looked at the clock, 7:38 AM, on a Sunday. Then I remembered, it was moving day. I hurried into my bathroom, the light nearly blinding me because the newly painted white walls were way more reflective than my old, sky blue color. I jumped into the shower, taking nearly ten minutes, a new record. Having no intrest in makeup, even as a seventeen-year-old, I had way more time than my little sister, Cara.
I threw on an XL sweater and a pair of leggings, before beginning to pack. I flipped my head upside down so I could put it in a towel. I quickened my pace, practically throwing my suitcase on my bed and barely folding any of my clothes. "Cosette! The moving men are here! Are you ready?" My dad yelled from the kitchen. I could tell because he dropped his coffee cup and loudly muddered his wide-range vocabulary.
"Almost!" I lied. I still had half of my wardrobe to remove, and three more suitcases to fill. I own a lot of clothes. I sat on my bed, taking a minute to look at my phone. A solemn tear raced down my cheek, as I thought of Ana and Denise, my best friends I would leave behind in America. Moving to England is exciting and all, but it's not even my country. So what's so great.
I decided to stop pouting and stuff all of my clothes into their rightful suitcases. I had no time for folding. Three loud knocks came at my door, and two men barged in before I could even blink. One was about twenty, the other, like forty. "Sorry, I'm hardly ready. That one there is ready though." I pointed to my leopard print suitcase, and the older one took it. The younger one kept checking me out, his electric blue eyes filled with satisfaction.
"I'll take that one when you're done." He commented.
"Okay, thanks." I muttered. I handed it to him when I finished. I watched him go, and then I grabbed all of my bathroom stuff and shoved it into my last bag, and rushed downstairs, only to take a second look back.
