Afraid of the New. (An Amazingphil Fan Fiction)

Chapter One: New Blog Entry.

New Blog Entry.

I hate my life. That’s all there really is to it. My life utterly sucks. With that out of the way, I suppose I could and probably should introduce myself. Hi, I’m Layla Kennedy, I’m 22, and I am currently being forced to move to the UK. Well, I suppose I’m not really being forced I did agree to it after all. But it was FOUR FUCKING YEARS AGO! Anyway, I suppose this is probably all confusing as hell to you, so let me give you a little back story. 

First off, I’m on a plane, and this plane has wireless internet connection or wi-fi, for those of you who are too freakin’ lazy to spell words out like a normal human being and think it’s nesscary to type like a troll from homestuck. I’m sorry, I should probably shut up on this topic since spell check is going crazy because I’ve been typing in texting lingo this whole time and putting capital letters in the middle of sentences. 

Anyhow, I’m on a plane and I decided since I’m going to be hear for awhile, (My flight’s from Indiana to to the United Kingdom.) I might as well do something slightly productive, like start a blog. So, why not? But, I’m on this plane with my best friend whom I currently hate, Justine. She’s the reason I’m sitting on a plane, when I’m afraid of flying, and she is also the reason I’m being forced to move to this “great” country of England. 

Woo-hoo. -_-

So, what had happened was about four years ago, when I was about 17 or so and Justine was the same age she came over to my house. We were just sitting there talking about what we wanted to do with our lives. I didn’t really know, and Justine, well, she had a plethora of ideas of baby names for her future children and colleges she wanted to attend. That’s just the kind of person she is, she OVER plans. While, I never plan enough. So, we were sitting on my bed chatting about the horrifying future when I open my damn mouth.

“Justine,” I had said, “Someday, I wanna see the world. I want to travel.” 

“Yeah, that would be cool, but where do you expect to get all this money to do all this traveling?” Justine asked me. I had just simply shrugged. That’s when she had came up with a great idea. “What if we did something better than travel? What if we moved to England! They have great colleges over there, or at least I think they do! And, there will be tons of cute BRITISH guys! It would be perfect, what are your thoughts?” At the time, I was, well, speechless. I assume I eventually said I thought it sounded like a good idea. So, I ended up spending the next four years working odd jobs to get money for a fucking plane ticket for a fucking flight to England. 

Apparently for the last four years, I forgot how afraid I am of moving and meeting new people, and, UGH!  I have a huge headache and I feel like I’m going to throw-up. Dear God, no! Dear God, I do not want to throw up on this plane, please don’t make me vomit! 

25 minutes later.

I threw up.

-Layla 

I click submit entry and shut my laptop. I sigh, I know I’ll never update my blog and I sure as hell know I won’t update it. But, I guess it’s fun to try new things. Unless it’s moving to England. I need to get whining, after all I did agree to this, and I did help for it. I look at Justine, she’s looking out the window, with earbuds in her ears. I have no idea what she’s listening to, but it’s turned up fairly loud so if I leaned closer I would probably be able to tell what she was listening to. 

I begin tapping my foot anxiously, after throwing up and embarrassing myself in front of the whole entire plane, I feel very uncomfortable and I’m afraid I will proceed to vomit once again. I sigh, and bang my head against my seat. I decide, I might as well take a nap, this way I could escape the nervous feeling that is basically taking over my whole entire body. After a few minutes, I fall asleep. 

I wake up to someone violently shaking me. I scream, “RAPE! RAPE!” I notice it’s just Justine trying to wake me up. My face turns bright red as the few people left on the plane give me weird looks. Justine laughs at me, and I feel a great urge to punch her in the nose. But, I don’t.

“C’mon!” she says, “Time to get off the plane!” We grab our carry-on and join the line of people exiting the plane. The flight attendant wishes us look and says she hopes we enjoyed our flight. Justine flashes her a smile, I just simply glare at her. Once we’re once again in the airport we go to get our other luggage. 

Once we have all of our belongs we begin walking out of the airport. Justine is lagging far behind me. After all, she has two suit cases, her duffel bag, her backpack, and her purse. I, on the other hand, have only a suit case, a backpack, and my purse. “Isn’t there anyone who could carry our luggage for us around here?” Justine asks me. I raise my eyebrows at her. 

“No, I don’t think so,” I say, “Why the hell would there be?” Justine rolls her eyes at me.

“Well, I am not carrying my OWN crap!” she says, “I’m going to get someone else to do it.” She puts down all of her belongs (except her purse) in a pile at my feet. She then pulls down her tank top revealing cleavage. Then she takes off her glasses and lets her hair out of the bun it was previously in. What the hell is she doing? I watch as she walks up to a tall, rather attractive man, “Excuse me, my friend over there and I just got here from America, I have a lot of bags and I was wondering if a strong man like you could help me?”

He laughs, “You really shouldn’t talk to strangers. Also, I’m married, so if you think suduecing me is a good way to get me to carry your bags is a good persuasive to do it, it’s not. However, I will help you.” Justine blushes. Her and the man join me. He grabs her two suitcases, and Justine grabs the rest of her items. Then, the three of us head out. It’s a nice sunny day, and it’s mildly warm. Then again, it is summer. “Do, you girls need anymore help?” the man asks us. 

Justine shakes her head, “It’s okay, we can take it from here.”

“Okay, remember, be careful around strangers,” the man says. Justine laughs and he walks off. 

“That was humiliating on so many levels!” Justine yells putting her glasses back on and her hair back up, “He looked much younger from behind!” I just laugh.

“Now you know what it felt like for me on the plane,” I say, “So, how our we suppose to get to our apartment?” Justine shrugs.

“Cab?” We both decide this idea is probably the best one either of us will come up with. We go in search of a taxi. Finally we spot one. Justine, who knows nothing about catching a cab but neither do I. Runs after a cab, waving and yelling. As if it were an ice cream truck, or something. Finally, the cab slows down. We grab our bags and board the vehicle, the cab driver opens the trunk for us. Once our bags our in the trunk and we’re buckled into the backseat of the cab, the driver asks us where we’re going. Justine gives him the address and off we go. 

We say goodbye to the cab driver, get our bags and exit the cab. Justine looks at me and we stare up at our new apartment. We grin at each other, we race in.