I picked up the spoon and fiddled with the cereal in my glass bowl, as I glanced through the school prospectus. I kept kicking my legs on the wooden chair adjacent to me humming a tune I heard at the radio this morning.
"West London High" the name read in bold black letters with a fancy font and there was a huge picture of the school campus. It's a beautiful red stone building but it's not like my old school. I am almost positive everything here is going to be awful.
I flipped through the pages reading the events and programs and festivals this school celebrates as I stared at the multi color cereal in my bowl. I don't even like color cereal. I don't even like the extreme winter and I don't like London. It's all very pretty, but it's not my America. It's nothing like my little California.
It's been a week since I moved here with my parents and elder brother Matt, and I am still trying to get used to this city. My parents were excited with the shifting and they promised it would be a great move, but it's NOT. I don't know whether it's my mindset or London is really weird. One it's extremely cold. I can't believe I am wearing a sweater even inside my house. It's been snowing crazily and me and my brother are constantly shoving the snow that covers the pathway to the door and not to mention how I keep slipping hurting my bum. It's not even funny. Plus there are hardly any people out on streets, and everyone here is extremely uptight. The way they stare at me when I speak in my American accent is annoying. Even on the streets people are dressed up like its a social gathering. I still remember how yesterday me and my mum landed in an awkward situation at the grocery store. I was wearing a normal tank top with ripped jeans and throwing a fit about how this city is disciplined like it's an army camp, and then everyone out there constantly kept looking at me and mum, like we are outcasts. But, wait that's exactly what we are. Outcasts.
"Hazel?" My mum called out from the kitchen. I kept the prospectus aside and picked up my half finished cereal bowl and stormed inside.
"Yea?" I asked placing my bowl near the sink smelling in the freshly baked cookies. I love the smell of freshly baked cakes and cookies. .
"You don't have to be so grumpy, doll. I am driving you to school today." She informed, throwing me a weak smile as she squeezed my shoulder lightly. She placed the dish cloth aside holding up the pan and setting the hot cookies on the tray. I nodded back in response as I walked out. It's not her fault. Technically it's no ones fault. My father is a finance investment banker and due to recession things weren't working out there. Round a bout three weeks back, he got a call from one of the major corporate banks in London for a job and he agreed. We had to quickly move. I didn't even get a chance to say goodbye to my friends properly. All I did was cry and pack. I promised I would stay in touch, but distances distance relations. Everything happened so quick that I am still trying to register the fact I am now in London. The house we have rented here is bigger than the one we had back in California. It has a large garden, which is covered in snow. There are a few pine trees and a small table with four chairs. There is also a double sweater swing. The house is comfortable though. Modular kitchen and a large living room. Adjacent to the living room is a small study my dad set up. The master bedroom is huge. It's something my mom always dreamt off. The first floor has three rooms and I am glad I don't have to share my bathroom with Matt. My room is a lot bigger than the one I had in California. Pastel pink shade walls, white fur carpet and a queen sized bed. There is a large study table and a lot of shelves. Also, in the corner are two large wardrobes and a mirror. I covered one of the walls with photo frames, with a hope I would miss California less, but every time I look at it, I miss it even more. It's odd. But, none the less, I really like this room, since I have spent majority of my time here, that too with out grumbling. My folks are trying to adjust and so is Matt, in fact he even made friends, but then again he has always been the popular one. And then there is me, still complaining.
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Bruised
FanfictionEverything was fine until Hazel met Harry Styles. Engulfed in a world of treachery, lies and high school drama will she fix the bruised Harry to normal?