'Frisco.

PROLOGUE

"Kate, we won't leave without you," my mother, Ava, repeated for the hundredth time, "don't feel pressured to say yes, honey."

Her deep blue eyes showed concern. She was worried that I would make the wrong decision and end up wanting to come home as soon as we moved from the cosy town of Ashfield, England to Forest Hill in San Francisco. She was winding a finger around her light blonde hair - it was an anxious tick she had. My dad, Andrew Green, rested a hand delicately over my mum's in order to stop her from possibly pulling out her beautiful curls. I saw how he still had so much love for my mum when his light green eyes met with hers and he offered a small smile. My parents had been married for almost 30 years and, although their relationship started badly, they managed to overcome so many obstacles over the course of their marriage.

I never used to be an only child. When I was 1, my mum and dad tried again for another baby. Everything seemed fine- mum was taking the right vitamins and going to all of the doctor's appointments. They found out after about 25 weeks. I was going to have a brother. Of course, at the time, I was much more interested in flinging mushy peas everywhere and in watching any colourful TV show. I was so young; I obviously don't remember how my mum had to endure the pain of losing a child she never had the chance to meet. She would never hold him alive, or teach him how to swim, or dress him up for prom or send him off to university. These futures were destroyed the moment my brother's limp body was placed into my mother's arms per her request. Dad told me that mum experienced a hallucination and believed for a few days that he was still alive. She would ask him to take her down to the ICU where she believed her premature son was... alive. When he didn't comply, she would scream and tell him that he won't be able to keep her away from her child forever. It hurt my father as much as it eventually hurt my mother. Of course, mum was able to take prescribed pills that helped her fall asleep into the abyss away from the terror caused by the miscarriage. Meanwhile, my father had to fill out pages and pages of paperwork, dismantle the crib that never got to cradle his son and break the news to close family and friends. In all honesty, I don't believe that my dad was appreciated enough. When he refused to take mum to see, what she believed was, her alive child, he only got yelled at and called a bastard.

When I look at my dad, I see a brave man who was able to endure the horrors caused by this event and not only managed to pull himself through, but also his wife and 1 year old daughter.
The same brave man spoke after my mum.

"And remember, you can always go to school over there! I think the change of environment will be good for you." He tried really hard to not sound pushy.

I know he wants to go and is trying to play that down. He doesn't want me to feel pressured into complying with this huge decision; I bet he read that in a stupid parenting book. Instead of listing off the reasons why it could not be good for me, I just faked a smile, nodded and closed my bedroom door.

Moving is a big thing; you can't make rash decisions and, often, "sleeping on it" doesn't help. I've never moved in my life. The house that we live in now has belonged to our family for 50 years.
I grabbed my notebook from my bedside cabinet and laid on my bed. Turning to the 48th page, I reviewed the list I made that described the pros and cons of moving to San Francisco. All my friends are here. I would have to leave Hannah Burke. Hannah, my trusty sidekick, has been my rock ever since we first met when we were both 5. She took me on as her best friend when nobody else did and she and I grew closer, eventually becoming almost sisters. "Con;" I started to write in my notebook, "Hannah". I underlined this one. This is the one thing that I will have to leave behind that would truly break my heart into tiny, unsalvageable pieces.