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Winter
January 7th, 1957
Samantha trudged down the street towards the bus stop her Mom had shown her. There were no school buses in Liverpool, only commuter buses. Her Mother was adamant on Samantha getting herself around, as it was what she had to do when she was growing up. Samantha had spent the last couple of days trudging through the snow to the bus stop to spend fifteen minutes memorizing bus routes and then going back home again. She had nothing better to do. Samantha would like to have called her friends in Santa Rosa, and tell them about what it was like in Liverpool. People had accents that didn't make sense, it was snowy and cold, and she was lonely. Sure, she had met her cousins but all of them were younger than her except her eldest cousin, the closest cousin she had in age, who was a couple years older than her and he was quite obnoxious. Unfortunately, she couldn't call her friends because the transatlantic calls were quite expensive, so she had resorted to sending letters across the sea and too the west coast of America, which took forever.
It was the first day of school and though it was cold, she was happy it wasn't snowing. The sun was warming her face and she felt a small sense of relief though her nerves were twisting her stomach. Her uniform was scratchy and uncomfortable and she pulled at her cotton skirt with frustration. She didn't have to wear uniforms at her high school in Santa Rosa. She also didn't have to pass eight tests to get into her high school in Santa Rosa. Samantha was already sour about her new school. Her mother had insisted that she go Liverpool Institute High School for Girls, she droned on about how it was the best education Liverpool could offer her. Samantha wasn't one to let her mother down. So she walked to the bus stop in the snow, and was happy to see that no one else was waiting under the covered seating area for the bus to arrive.
She sat on the bench and sighed, pulling out a book to pass her time. She read in peace until she heard the crunch of snow next to her, causing her to look up from her book. Her eyes were met with a boy, around her age. He was leaning against the bus stop post, eyeing her with his eyebrows furrowed. He had brown slightly gelled hair, curved eyebrows, pudgy cheeks and a curved nose which was pink from the cold. "Yes?" Samantha urged him to speak. She was sick of him staring at her in confusion.
"Yer new," he said blatantly.
Samantha rolled her eyes. "Yes, I am, good observation," she said and chose to ignore him, looking at her book once more.
"Yer tha' American bird," he said suddenly in realization, "the one tha' moved into the house on Yorkcaster."
"I am," Samantha said and looked up from her book once more. The boy moved towards her and sat on the bench with her.
He held out his hand and Samantha eyed it. "Paul," he said.
After a moment she took his hand and shook it. "Samantha," she said.
"I like yer accent," Paul grinned at her. Samantha was surprised by his welcoming nature, he was easily comfortable in her presence. If she were in America and saw a random person on the sidewalk, they would have just ignored her.
"Thanks, I can barely understand yours," Samantha mused and Paul laughed. "I can't understand my mom, either. She's grew up here, and apparently hid her accent from me her entire life. So now I struggle to understand her too."
Paul snorted at her story. "No one can understand a scouse if they aren't from the 'pool, though I'm sure ye'll get used to it soon enough," he told her. "Is it alright if I call ya Sammi?"
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