Broken Promises.

Chapter One- Strikes.

Chapter One- Strikes.

(February 2007)

Bridgette's P.O.V

  "So when is your project due?" Brett asked, while pouring the milk into the cereal he was making for me. .

  "Thursday." I responded, followed by a particularly painful yawn. "I already have it finished though, it's on my dresser." I stood up from the chair I was sitting in, making the legs of it squeak against the hard tile floor.

  "Be ready in thirty." Brett yelled from the kitchen door frame, while I made my way  to the stairs. 

  "Why thirty?" I called back to him, listening to my feet drag against the wooden stairs.

  "Because we're leaving in thirty, duh!" Brett responded, "so don't take an hour!"

  "Okay, loser!" I shouted back to him, smiling to myself. I opened the door knob to my bedroom door and stepped inside of the messy box filled room. I ran over to my bed and jumped onto it, making the floorboards below me creek. I let out an uneasy and long sigh and rolled onto my side.

  The last day in my hometown, Doncaster is today. No matter the amount of times I try to be happy about it, or even try to forget about it, it's nearly impossible. Maybe it's the boxes I see around my room that make me remember, or maybe it's just my subconscious telling me it's reality. Either or, I know for sure that I don't want to move and that the Queen of England is named Elizabeth.

  This is the part in movies where the stupid intro music starts blaring loudly out of the speakers in your living room. I stand in one place awkwardly putting on a fake smile and spend the next few minutes prancing around, awkwardly. The whole situation is just awkward, get the picture? Luckily, this is my real life, and I don't have John Hughes directing it. 

  I'm Bridgette Stone, I'm fourteen years of age and I like having all things in life turn into cheesy pizza jokes..and puns. 

  I have blonde hair and a face full of freckles. At the crook of my nose sit glasses that make my blue eyes look about four times larger than they actually are. I have these lovely things called braces blocking my tongue from touching my teeth. Imagine a blonde haired ugly Betty and bam, there's me.

  I've been dreading this day for about six months now just like everyone dreads moving. I'll be leaving the house I've lived in since birth, my school that I've learned to love (as much as possible) and my best friend, Louis Tomlinson.

  Similar to the way I've lived in my home, I've been best friends with Louis since birth, too. I've done pretty much everything you can do with your best friend, well almost everything. Louis acts a lot like my older brother, Brett, but it'd be kinda weird if I had the feelings I do for Louis for the both of them..really weird.

   Leaving Louis behind isn't the only thing I'm dreading. I don't think I'll ever be more content with any place in this world except Doncaster. This whole process would be easier if I was moving down the street or the next town over or something, but no. My parents decided it would be a lovely idea if we packed up all our things and move not down the street or the next town, but to a whole other country!

  I put my feet onto cold my wood floor boards and began to lift myself off of my warm and comfortable bed. I stretched in place, squinting my eyes shut and forcing my exhausted body to take a shower. 

  I switched on the light switch to my bathroom and took a glance at my reflection in the mirror. Yesterday's make-up wasn't bothered to be taken off. After crying for hours about moving, I just passed out hard and cold. I rubbed my eyes, getting the black from my eyeliner all over my fingers and let out another painful yawn. Gosh, why are they being so painful?