The day I died, it was pretty terrible. First off I was swamped in the rain trying to walk to school, then my homework got stepped on and all the ink ran. I had to spend three hours blow drying it at school. I was late for class, each one to be exact. My friends said I looked like a drenched rat, thanks by the way! I had my hot pink bra showing through my shirt all while in Health, having guys snicker at me. At PE, some guy hit me in the face with a dodge ball, making me go to the nurse. And I had a test I didn't study for, but it was kind of easy. My friends had to pay for my taxi going home, since I forgot it. I had two boat loads of homework when I got home, which took me four hours to do. By five I was done, and the day was a train wreck. Nothing could possibly go wrong right now. My mom got home at seven and gave me a frozen dinner, which tasted like plastic. Why did she fire the chef? My dad got home at eight, and by nine we all sat down at the dinner table to listen to my father's daily news proclamation.
"So, today, I got a promotion," my dad said with an excited look. My mother smiled.
"Don't we have enough money," I asked him, poking at my cold dinner.
"Now Camille, you know we love you very much, I also got something a lot better," he grinned.
"We're moving to London," he shouted, my mother jumped up excitedly.
My face fell, I was on the verge of tears.
"I have friends here, good grades, a life, why do we have to move," I spat, standing up, the chair getting knocked over.
"Look, pookie bear, we've felt we've been selfish, so I requested a move to London, we'll be leaving in a week, isn't that great," my dad said pinching my cheek.
I gave them an answer alright, by slamming my bedroom door.
I was already a mess here in New York, I would die in London! I can't survive anywhere, not even with friends.
Those stupid For Dummies books came to mind when I thought of that. Maybe they'd have one for moving? Not moving to London you ding bat.
I would have to learn to drive on the other side of the road, I'd have to learn what the hell they'd be talking about behind their thick accents, this is just GREAT!!
What if I created a book about surviving, I could sell it and make money on my own sorrow tales! My brillant plan made the trip not so bad, and if they didn't like the American me, they'd have to just suck it!
YOU ARE READING
How Do They Do It? (handbook of living in london)
HumorCamille Rodgers had a good life in New York, her father was a wealthy businessman working on wall street, her mother a fashion designer, but when her father's job makes him move to London, she had to leave everything behind. It's not the money, or t...
