New Kid in America

Chapter 2

I slam my bedroom door and turn to see Fido, our 9-year-old Golden Retriever, sat on my bed staring at me.
"What?" I ask him, still angry from downstairs. I know it's wrong to take it out on the poor dog, but I can't help it. I close my eyes and take a deep breath to calm myself and sit on my bed next to Fido. He nuzzles my hand as if to say, "So, you gonna stroke me or not?" so I start making a fuss of him. He starts wagging his tail and rolls onto his back for me to scratch his belly.
"You know boy, you shouldn't be up here on my bed," I laugh, "But you're a magical cheerer-upper so you can stay." He looks at me upside down with his tongue lolling out of his mouth and I laugh again. He sneezes dramatically, practically flipping back the right way.
"Why does lying on your back make you sneeze, huh?" I ask playfully, scratching behind his ear where he likes it. "Silly boy!"

I stop when I hear voices in the hallway and footsteps on the stairs. I literally throw myself across the room to turn my CD player on as loud as I can, and land on the floor with a thud. Luckily, my 'angry music' disc is still in and very loud from last week when I got into an argument with Mum, so hopefully the loud, clanging noises will repel any visitors to my room. Unfortunately not. Heather pushes my door open without knocking.
"What the hell are you doing?" She asks over the loud music. She is, of course, referring to my awkward, uncomfortable position I landed in on the floor.
"I'm, um, stretching," I utter.
"Stretching?" Heather both sounds and looks unimpressed.
"Yeah, um, it's a lot of floor work," I put strain on my muscles to try and demonstrate while I'm cursing myself inside for quoting Pitch Perfect.
"Right... and what are you listening to?"
"This is very motivational, you know, helps with the stretching," I say matter-of-factly while the singer says a very unpleasant word. I smile innocently at her, but its probably more of a grimace.
"Ok... well, Mum said I should talk to you, so if she asks I did ok, and you're very inspired."
"Right, ok."
She turns to go, but before she closes the door she says, "And turn down the music, it's complete crap."
"Sure thing," I say.
"Enjoy your... stretching."
"Righty-ho, bye-bye now," I say as happily as I can through the look of despair on my face.

She closes the door and I finally relax my muscles from the stretch, which weirdly was quite a good stretch. I turn off the music and put on my normal tunes instead, composed of mainly Ed Sheeran and Tom Odell stuff. I slump against my bedroom wall beside my desk as 'Sense' by Tom starts playing. I run my fingers through my hair and rest my head in my hands. Fido jumps down from my bed and gives me a big lick on my face. I smile weakly as he sits beside me and I put an arm around him. Heather is so gonna tweet about that, yet another reson for people to talk about me and for me not to have any friends.