Status: Active (:
We Play, You Move
CHAPTER THREE
“I hate airports, I hate planes, I hate flying, I hate this stupid food in stupid foil, I hate this, I hate that, I hate America,” was pretty much a sum up for what Alex has said in the 8 hour flight from London to Baltimore.
His parents just said stiff and still the whole ride, except when Isobel told her son to keep quiet and watch his language.
The man greeting them in the airport was tall, his dark hair starting to turn gray in the sides. He greeted them in a heavy accent that Alex found hard to figure out. Peter and the man shook hands, and it was clear that this was the man his father has been telling the family about.
The man smiled and gave Alex his hand.
“Hello, you must be Alex. I’m Barakat, Bassam Barakat.” Alex smiled.
“Nice to meet you.”
The 4 of them jumped in the car and drove out of the downtown and into an area with big, pastel colored houses, with front yards and cars parked in the garage. For all in the world, Alex wouldn’t want to live here, everything seemed too boring, and he was sure no one around here shared his hobbies of playing guitar, listening to rock music and going to gigs.
The car ride was about 20 minutes, and the Gaskarth and the man from Alex’s father’s job arrived at a big white house, with at least 2 floors as far as the boy could see. They all helped with taking out the bags and bringing them into the big house. It was at least twice as big as their last house.
“Go upstairs and pick a room, son.” Peter said.
Alex picked the second room on the left, right beside the bathroom. It was a nice medium size, had light green walls and 2 big windows from ceiling to floor. Alex put down his bags, taking off his black Blink-182 hoodie, sitting down on the floor and looking around.
“Maybe this could become a home.”
His parents just said stiff and still the whole ride, except when Isobel told her son to keep quiet and watch his language.
The man greeting them in the airport was tall, his dark hair starting to turn gray in the sides. He greeted them in a heavy accent that Alex found hard to figure out. Peter and the man shook hands, and it was clear that this was the man his father has been telling the family about.
The man smiled and gave Alex his hand.
“Hello, you must be Alex. I’m Barakat, Bassam Barakat.” Alex smiled.
“Nice to meet you.”
The 4 of them jumped in the car and drove out of the downtown and into an area with big, pastel colored houses, with front yards and cars parked in the garage. For all in the world, Alex wouldn’t want to live here, everything seemed too boring, and he was sure no one around here shared his hobbies of playing guitar, listening to rock music and going to gigs.
The car ride was about 20 minutes, and the Gaskarth and the man from Alex’s father’s job arrived at a big white house, with at least 2 floors as far as the boy could see. They all helped with taking out the bags and bringing them into the big house. It was at least twice as big as their last house.
“Go upstairs and pick a room, son.” Peter said.
Alex picked the second room on the left, right beside the bathroom. It was a nice medium size, had light green walls and 2 big windows from ceiling to floor. Alex put down his bags, taking off his black Blink-182 hoodie, sitting down on the floor and looking around.
“Maybe this could become a home.”