British Joey

Chapter One

Chapter 1

"The plane will be taking off in five minutes," the pilot's voice rang from the intercom.

You might be wondering where I am, and what I'm doing on a freaking plane. Don't worry, I was asking myself the exact same question just a few days ago. I'll catch you up to date.

After acting surprised when my parents told me they were getting a divorce, my dad told me I was going to go to a private school in London. I was shocked at first, but knowing my dad, I should've expected this.

So here I am, it's eleven pm and on a plane to London, half away across the globe, with no adult, getting picked up by my homestay family whom I have no idea what they look like, school is starting in two days and lastly, and attending a private school for rich snobs. Seems legit.

What's actually really good is there's no one sitting in the seat beside me so I could put my carry-on bags and my legs there when I sleep. Hallelujah!

My body moved forward a bit. I realized the plane was starting to move which meant that I was only around 9 hours away from the city that I was completely unfamiliar with.

Nine hours.

Well...not really completely unfamiliar. Being the bookworm that I am, I've read tons of books that take place in London. Harry Potter is a great example. Not to mention Oliver Twist, and of course, Pride and Prejudice. I've read and watched a lot about London and England in general.

I wonder if it's going to be like that in London.

People with ridiculously funny accents (but cool at the same time), double decker buses all around town, little tea shops at every corner, and I wonder if there is going to be a certain red telephone booth that contains the entrance to the ministry of magic... (For those of you who read Harry Potter, you'll know exactly what I'm talking about. Well...for those of you who don't...you are now officially invisible)

I don't want to leave my cozy home here in Philadelphia. Or my wonderful friend, Katie. Or my dog, Mika. In fact, I don't want to leave at all. But what surprised me the most is that I'm still absolutely psyched. Going to London to attend a private school could be the best adventure I'll ever have in my life. Maybe I'll even pick up on their slang. Bloody hell that would be cool! I might even fall in love, argh; I'm shuddering even at the thought of it.

Or...it could become the worst thing that ever happened to me and I'll become scarred for life. No need to elaborate on that topic.

The plane had taken off.

Eight hours and fifty minutes.

I stopped thinking about; it made nervous.

I decided to take out my laptop. There's no Wi-Fi on the plane, so naturally I couldn't go on any social networking sites. So I decided to write my story. My sappy romantic story that I was planning on posting on a little site called Wattpad after I was done. I'm not even really sure why I like to write romance books anyway considering the fact that I don't really enjoy reading them. Writing is a whole different matter though. You could make your characters have the dream romance that you've always wanted to have, you could make your characters look like whatever you want, you could even make up their personalities. What's there not to like about writing?

Eight hours and forty-five minutes.

I dived into writing mode. Time seems to stand still whenever I write, especially if a huge wave of great ideas hit me. For some reason, today just is one of those days when ideas come to me real easily.

Six hours and fifty minutes.

I rubbed my eyes. I seriously needed to stop staring at the computer screen for so long before I go blind.

Does anyone else have a really big problem with falling asleep on airplanes, or is it just me? I just can't seem to fall asleep no matter how hard I try. Sleep just does not come to me easily I guess.

Six hours and thirty minutes.

The flight attendant came with a little midnight snack. Well, it's a bit past midnight now back in Philly, so I guess we could call it a little past-midnight snack.

I quickly wolfed down the cookie, the bun and the glass of orange juice I asked for, before standing up to go to the restroom. But of course, things just don't go smoothly for me. Ever. My stupid puffy hair just had to knock over the empty plastic cup that stood on the tiny table. As I bent over to retrieve the cup, I hit my head on the table, causing me let off a little yelp and attracting the attention of many annoyed travelers. I gave them a little smile hoping that would somehow make up for the incident that caused them to wake up from the naps.

I sighed as I walked down the lane.

I hated walking down the plane aisles. Do you ever feel like your being judged by everyone? Considering the fact that the only reason anyone would ever get up from his or her seats on an airplane is to...well...you know, to tinkle. It's embarrassing I tell you! Everyone stares at you from his or her seats and since you're obviously going to be taller it's even more uncomfortable.

After returning to my seat, and not to mention after enduring another two minutes of complete humiliation, I plugged my earphones in my ears.

Maybe I'll get lucky and finally catch some sleep...

Six hours.

Yep, no luck.

Five hours.

Still nothing.

Four hours and thirty minutes.

I finally drifted off into a deep slumber.

Fifteen minutes.

I bolted up from my seat.

"Ladies and Gentlemen. We will be arriving at the London International Airport shortly. Please buckle up your seatbelts and prepare for landing," the pilot's voice sounded from the intercom once again.

Whoa...I was asleep for four hours? This was rare. Like finding diamond in a pile of rocks rare.

I buckled in my seatbelt like I was told. I was not going die at the ripe age of 17.

Then I began to pack up my things. I stuffed my iPod, my laptop, my earphones, all into my little backpack that my dad had gotten for me from London. Funny right? It had the Britain flag design on the fabric. British people might actually think I was British until I spoke to them.

I grinned at the thought of it.

Then I felt my stomach go queasy. On shoot, we're landing. I hated the feeling of landing planes. I popped a piece of gum into my mouth hoping that it'll stop the queasy feeling that's coming from the stomach.

No such luck. But at least I didn't puke.

-----

An hour later, I'm pushing my luggage cart and making my way towards the waiting area. Apparently, the family I was staying with was going to be waiting there for me with a sign that had my name on it. Joey Rose Taylor.

I began to walk with my head held high and my back straight, but just as I spotted the sign with my name in fancy letters and nice paper. My foot somehow found it's way onto the wheel of the cart and I tripped.

I tripped right in front of my home-stay family.

Great first impression Joey, justtt...great.

I flipped my hair and smoothed my shirt and jeans. Then I put on a bright smile, and walked towards the sign.

Behind the sign were two people. A woman and a man. The woman had wavy light brown hair that looked clearly permed, she was wearing a grey and black business skirt suit with creamy white pearls around her pale neck. She was also wearing a pair of black flats. Her pale face was caked with make-up but it look natural, even though we could clearly tell that she had make-up on her face. Her skin was too flawless. Her icy blue eyes seem to pierce into mine. She gave me a smile, not really warm smile but not really a cold one either. I tried to decipher whether she was the kind of lady that was cold and heartless or the kind of lady that had a lot of warm energy to give to others. I couldn't really figure out which, but I think it's somewhere in between. I gulped.

The man standing beside her had dark hair that was cut perfectly so it wasn't too long or too short. He was also wearing a suit and the classic black dress shoes. He flashed me a pearly white smile.

This couple couldn't have looked older than 35, yet I had a feeling they were way past that age.

"Hello Joey honey!" the lady said sweetly, almost too sweet if you ask me. "I'm Olivia Hunter and this is my husband Evan Hunter. We're your new homestay family, well part of your homestay family. We also have a 17 year old son that couldn't make it today. His name is Elliot, he should be back today around dinner time," she informed me.

A 17 year old son? What is this?

I guess I didn't really hide my feelings very well since Olivia's perfect face formed a frown, "are you ok Joey?"

"Yeah. I'm just a little overwhelmed by all of this. Four days ago I was still planning what to wear on the first day of school with my friends back in Philadelphia," I made an excuse, but it wasn't entirely false.

"Ah. I see. Well, I understand. But we should get going. Are you hungry?" Evan spoke up for the first time.

"No. I'm fine. Thanks," I replied politely. I've always found men intimidating for some reason. I'm not exactly sure why but even the nicest men scare me.

We began to walk towards the exit of the airport. Oliva's flats making clicking sounds as it hit the floor.

Outside, I was greeted by a full blown blast of cold air. I breathed it in. Ahh...

We walked and walked until we eached a car. Oh, it wasn't just any car. It was a BMW m6 g-power hurricane CS. I know this because my dad's boss owned this type of car. And if my dad's boss owned this type of car, you know what that means. Yep. It's as expensive as hell. Which could only mean one thing, the Hunters were either rich as fuck or they were Kleptomaniacs.

I slipped in the car and kept my feet in place at all times. Ruining their BMW was definitely not number one on my list.

After almost an hour of silence and driving, we finally reached what seemed like a neighborhood.

At first, the houses were simple, quite large but not unusual. Yet. Then as we went deeper into the neighborhood the houses just seem to get larger and larger and eventually we reached houses that looked like palaces and mansions. I wasn't going to be surprised if Queen Elizabeth ended up living in one of these.

Evan drove into one of the houses (palaces/mansions). And my breath instantly hitched in my throat. The gates protecting the home were made of shiny black stone and the mansion made of polished white rock. Marble statues stood tall and mighty by the entrance and I couldn't seem to take my eyes from the brilliant details on them. A fountain that sprouted clear, crystal like water stood in front of the house, giving it a grand look.

I carefully pulled my suitcase behind me as I neared the house. I've always considered myself wealthy, but I've never bragged. This house just made mine look like a hobo house. I'm not over exaggerating.

Olivia took out a bunch of keys and she picked a regular looking iron key with her perfectly manicured hands, and slid it into the key slot on the wooden door. It slid open smoothly without making a single sound.

Inside, a crystal chandelier hung from the unusually high ceiling and the marble floor shone so brightly, it made my eyes hurt, not to mention the shininess of it. My reflection was seen so clear I gasped. A flight of spiral carpeted stairs was on the side of the room, the handle of the staircase was carved with so much detail I swear it must've taken the person at least a year.

"Joey, the room at the right end of the hallway upstairs will be your room. I've went out and bought some decorations and clothing. I hope you'll like it. And hopefully the house and room isn't too small for you," Olivia gave me a smile.

Small? Small? I wanted to scream at her. Why would she think I would think her house was freaking small? It's like gigantic! But instead I said, "no, you have a lovely house. I'll go check out my room. Thanks for the decoration and clothing by the way," I smiled.

"Sure honey, go right ahead," she gestured towards upstairs. I hesitated for a second before lifting up my suitcase and climbing the stairs.

The carpet was soft and I almost felt bad for stepping on it.

After walking for awhile along the art lined walls of the hallway I reached the end of the hall and to the left was a wooden waiting for me to open.

I pushed down the handle and stepped inside.

I gasped.

The room was absolutely breath-taking.

The carpet was a creamy white with a huge king size bed in the middle, the pillows and bedsheets were all white and goldish brown with strips giving it a very antique look, the headboard was a pearly white and went up all the way to the ceiling and had cushion patterns all over it, little buttons going diagonally. The carpet under and around the bed was an unusual colour of goldish-brown. The walls were painted a golden-greyish colour with gold paint blots here and there. On the walls were small circular mirrors with a gold rim and silver rods sticking out of it making it look like a sun. It was very magnificant.They must've hired special designers to pick out the colours of this room for it was absolutely amazing. There was a huge window by the side of the room with soft curtains hanging down around it and a glass table by the window with fancy stationary in a pencil holding cup. The closet was on the side of the room in a whole different area, it had white folding doors and I opened it.

Inside was a walk-in-closet. With dresses of all styles and colours lined on the hooks and dozens of pairs of shoes lined perfectly on the ground. flats, high heels, boots, you name it. But what was lacking were the casual wear, the jeans, t-shirts, hoodies were no wear to be seen. I guess this is what the Hunters thought was clothes. I'm glad I brought my own clothes from home because I don't know how I was supposed to survive if I didn't.

I laid the suitcase beside the bed after leaving the closet and decided to go take a shower. After the long plane ride, I felt sticky and gross.

I grabbed my toothbrush and other bathroom essentials and headed for the door that I thought must've been the bathroom.

Once again, the bathroom was breathtaking.

The shower area was huge with sliding glass doors and the bathtub was just so clean and shiny I could see my reflection. Bathtub soaps and other items lined the sink. Everything was already set up for me. Perfectly rolled up burgundy towels were on the racks, straightening and curling irons were in the cabinet under the sink, hair products in the shower, combs, brushes, hair ties, anything related to beauty were all neatly placed either in the cabinet or on the sink. Not to mention the amount of make-up they've bought.

Wow. I felt like royalty living here.

After taking a short shower in what felt like a shower for princesses and queens. I stepped out and wrapped my body in one of the towels that hung on the racks. Then I began to blow dry my hair. My puffy curly annoying reddish orange hair. I inherited my mom's colour but my dad's texture. Such a great combination. I've always thought I looked like Meredith from the movie Brave. Except I have green eyes, not blue.

After blow drying it a bit, not too much because it'll look too frizzy and puffy if it's completely dry. I finger combed it and headed out back into my room. I slipped on a t-shirt and a pair of grey sweats and headed back downstairs.

Mrs. And Mr. Hunter were both sitting at the fancy dinner table with their heads buried in books and papers.

They both smiled at me when they saw me enter the room. I smiled back.

"How's the room Joey?" Olivia gave me a look as if to say, "of course you'll like it, we're filthy rich and bought so much things for you."

"It's wonderful, thank you Mrs. Hunter for everything," I politely said, but then I felt a wave of dizziness hit me. I almost fell over, but thankfully I didn't.

"Are you all right?" Evan asked carefully.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just really tired all of a sudden, I think I need to go get some sleep before I completely crash," I could feel my eyelids drooping.

"Go on ahead upstairs, get some sleep. We'll wake you up when dinner's ready alright? Elliot should be back by then," Olivia said concerned. Her arms gestured towards the stairs.

"Thanks, I'll go now," then I turned around and sloppily climbed the long flight of stairs. I wasn't exactly thilled to meet Elliot, but what can I do about it right? He is going to have to live with me and since we are living in the same house and the same age, then I'm pretty sure we're going to have to go to the same school. Joy.

The moment my head hit the comfortable pillow, I fell into a deep deep sleep.

--------

"Elliot, you're home!"

I blinked. Someone was downstairs. And it was most certainly not my mom nor my dad. Who was it?

Then I realized that I wasn't even in my own house anymore. I was half way across the globe, in London, in a mansion that was meant for loyalty, in my own bedroom upstairs, on the bed, yawning.

Wow.

I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes as I sat up. So this "Elliot" character is home, huh? I wonder what he's like.

Time to go check it out.

update! No one is really reading this but I'm writing for NaNoWriMo.

comment and vote :)

-silvergiraffe_