New Beginnings

Chapter 1

I stare down at my shaking fingers entwined together. I peel off some of the old red nail polish that I did this morning to save time. I stay like this until I can't take the pain in my head and have to look up. I get such bad car sickness. It sucks. My mum reaches a hand out and squeezes my upper thigh where my old ragged jeans cover.

"This is going to be fun" she says cheerily.

"Mhmm" I say which is my usual teenager response. My eyes start to feel heavy as I remember the rough week that I have been through. It was only a week ago that my father was driving home from work and got hit by a drunk driver. He suffered major concussion and many broken bones. He died later that night in hospital. My mothers first instinct was to flee. We packed up everything in just four short days and now we are here just me and mum making the descent from Ireland to England. I wipe a tear away as I come back to reality. I look over to my mother and she too is trying not to cry. She looks over at me and lifts her hand up to my ear and fiddles with a loose brown curl. I decided to just put my hair in a messy ponytail. It's not like anyone I know will see me. Apart from of course my mum.

**

After two hours of driving from the airport we finally pull into a driveway that leads to a small yellowey-orange brick house. There is a big oak wood door at the front with two small windows on either side. Through the windows I can't see anything other than boxes and a huge chandelier. I hop out of the car as my mother leads me to the door. She grins at me before she slips the key into the lock and opens the door. As I step into my new house a smell so strong nearly pushes me backwards. It was like lavender, but bad. Like, a dead lavender. Yes! That's it, a dead lavender. I will definitely have to do something about that.

"What do you think?" My mums says while smiling a little too much. "I think you should close your mouth so ypu dont catch flies" I respond, grinning at my response. "About the house, Dev" I scrunch my face up at the use of her nickname at me. I don't necessarily hate the name I just pretend to hate it. I suddenly remember she asked a question so I scan the area. The house is bigger than it looks from the outside but nowhere near as big as our old house. Instead of a farm, it has a garden, instead of farm animals it has garden knomes, instead of a properly furnished living suite, it has an old couch and a small TV. "Its, liveable?" I say uncertainately. My mother raises an eyebrow at me but doesnt push it. Instead, she rushes of into the kitchen to clean or work. If theres one thing you should know about my mother is that she loves to clean. Shes a clean freak.

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