"Ok, Emmy, put on your nice dress. We're going next door to have dinner with the neighbors."
My name is Emma and I absolutely hate when my mother calls me Emmy. I am twelve years old now, it was time for the baby-type nick names to cease. I sighed to show my irritation at her words, but obliged them all the same. I trudged up the stairs, stomping on each one to punctuate the fact that I thought this was a stupid idea. My family was just going to move again in a few months; why bother to get to know the neighbors?
Even though I was annoyed, I wouldn't argue with my parents. Even though I was only twelve, I had already figured out it wasn't going to get me anywhere. I could fight all I wanted; my parents would always win.
Stomp, stomp, stomp I went, into my bedroom. I pulled down the green dress her mother was referring to earlier from my closet. I really didn't like wearing it. I would rather wear my favorite pink sweatshirt and jeans but, again, arguing with my mom would be like arguing with a brick wall. Instead, I put on the green dress before glancing in the mirror. My light, brown hair hung limp around my head, brushing past my shoulders with a slight curl. I was slightly startled at how angry my green eyes were as they glared back at me from the mirror. I thought I should probably run a brush through my hair. I went downstairs without doing so.
My mother was waiting at the bottom of the stairs. She didn't acknowledge my stomps down the stairs, she simply pulled me aside when I reached the bottom and attacked my hair with her own brush. I winced as she brushed it into a pony tail and tied it off, complete with a green bow on top. Inwardly cringing at how I must look, I managed to look up at my mom with a blank expression.
"There, you look lovely," Mom said, ushering me toward the door where my father was waiting.
Our family of three walked across the lawn to our neighbors house. My family, the Mackenzies, had only moved into the house a few days ago. My dad, Greg Mackenzie, was a business man who traveled for his job, setting up new offices in different countries. He traveled a lot. Though my whole family was American, I had gone to school in Japan, India, Germany, and Italy. In between I had gone to American schools as well, but nothing for more than a year or two in a row.
Currently, we were in England for at least the next seven to ten months. At this point, I was just grateful that the country spoke English (for the most part) so I could understand the lessons. I didn't mind going to new places and new schools all the time. The worst part was that it was difficult to maintain friendships.
My father rang the doorbell of the neighbor's house. The Howell household, I had been told. They apparently had two boys, one which was only two years younger than myself. I knew my mom would want me to make friends.
I patted my purse that dangled from my arm, feeling the reassuring bulkiness that was my Gameboy. I didn't know if he liked Pokemon or not, but I was going to play my game regardless. It was the only thing that got me through these awkward, stressful new neighbor meetings.
The door opened to reveal a very smiley woman in a pretty red sweater. She was greeting my mom as though they were already old friends with hugs and kind words. Caught between my parents, I shuffled inside amidst arms and elbows and friendly chuckles. I returned Mrs. Howell's smile when she greeted me but it immediately fell when she looked away. I didn't want to be rude, but I really didn't want to be in a stranger's house wearing my nice green dress. I itched my leg uncomfortably.
It was getting close to Christmas and you could tell that Mrs. Howell enjoyed the holiday. There was bits of greenery here and there, red bows decorating the doorways, Santa and snowmen figurines, and the large Christmas tree that could just be seen from the entryway.
