Recovering a Life a.k.a Try *COMPLETE*

Complete Story

First day of school, new country, no friends, what were my parent's thinking, traveling halfway around the world? At least they did it on school break, it could have been worse, I suppose.

My long wavy hair confined in a braid, I walk on the carpeted floor the few steps to the closet. A small number of clothes greet me. I was forced to sell almost all of my stuff when travelling, and I arrived only two days ago to this country. This was supposed to be a fresh start, with new everything. My room is tiny, very, very small, it just has enough room for a bed and a closet. The tv had to be mounted on the wall because there was no space for it. The little bit of it that remained was taken by a small desk with my laptop on top of it.

The walls are an ugly, dirty white, and my bedspread is a simple black covered duvet with a red sheet underneath. Nothing to be proud of. My parents say it will be for a short while. I don't care, I just need a space for myself, no matter how small it is. There is only 1 window in the room, and it gives a view from the backyard across the building, that we don't have access at. My stepfather seems nice enough, thought it's only the 3rd time I'm seeing him. He and my mother dated online for a long time, and when they decided to move in together, she was the one to change countries. I'm an only daughter, but I think that might change someday. My mother is only 37 years old.

I choose a floor length black dress with straps and boots underneath, and thank heavens that it's not too cold yet. We came from summer, and it's turning autumn now. We don't have enough cold weather clothes yet. I put on a red shirt with elbow length sleeves on and pray for the cold to wait before coming. After putting on the only makeup I like to use, black eyeliner and pale red lipstick, I grab a notebook and my pencil case and get ready to leave. I go down the stairs listening to music and my legs shake with nerves. I catch the bus my stepfather told me and arrive in school with plenty of time to spare. The gates are open, so I take a tour around by myself, memorizing the place and rooms. When the first bell rings, I find the classroom they told my stepfather and sit down. I'm the first one in. The teacher looks old. He has a bald spot and a grey white mustache. He tries to make small talk but I'm so nervous I can only talk in monosyllables. Soon enough the class is full and the teacher introduces himself as Mr Richard. We are seated in order of arrival, so I'm next. I get up and stumble through my presentation, wishing nobody would look at me, and that the ground would open up and swallow me. I sit down in relief and the rest of the class continues. We are given our individual class schedules next, and I see that, thankfully, I don't have PE any longer. From the corner of my eye I see the other's schedules and see that we all have the first and last class together. I see that it is a form class, although what that means, I don't know yet. I let the noise go over my head as friends say hi after a long summer, people introduce themselves and shout across the room. The teacher is talking to students he recognizes from the previous year. I don't join in, I don't have a desire to do so. I wish I could put on my ear-buds and listen to music. I sing to myself in my head. After what seemed like an eternity but was only 15 min, the bell rings. I'm supposed to go to English now.

I follow the students who have it as well, which, surprisingly, are not all of them as I would expect. But I wouldn't know better anyway. I already figured the education system is different in this country than it was in Portugal.

I sit in the back while the others seat themselves in with their friends. A surprisingly big number of kids from other classes come here as well. I don't look at anyone and keep my eyes on my book, drawing a dress with chains and spikes.

The teacher calls out for attention, and I leave the doodle for later. I look at her and see a very fat woman with black hair and a conservative dress of slacks and shirt with a jacket on top of it. Technically, jackets are not allowed in the classrooms, but teachers get away with it, of course.