Good Riddance

Flop. The first thing I did was fall backwards onto my new bed and bury my head in the soft pillows. I was so tired. Not only had I spent the last twenty four hours travelling but it was also about four o clock here and my body was telling me it was midnight and it was definitely okay for me to go to sleep.
Stupid time difference.

“Scarlett!” I heard my mum call, “Come down here, I don’t want you falling asleep – you’ll only feel worse if you do!”

I knew she meant well but at the moment there was nothing I wanted to do more than to curl up on the bed and sleep. I heaved myself off the bed with some effort and managed to make my way to the door of my bedroom, I went downstairs looking more like a zombie than a human being. Mum was in the lounge and I headed in there.

“We’re going for a walk” she announced, “Want to come?”

“Yeah” I said, at least it would distract me from sleeping if I was actually moving around. I hadn’t perfected the art of sleeping while on the move like many of my peers back at home had. I walked out of the house ahead of my mum and down the driveway. The drive was longer than the one back at home. Back in England, rather.

The area around our house was well kept. The grass was mown short and the dead flowers had been cut back to make sure they would grow again come the spring. The road was terracotta brick work and only when out of the gates did it turn to tarmac, there were large trees periodically in the communal area beside the pavement and it almost looked like we were in the land of Oz. The only thing that was missing was the yellow brick road, it was a little bit too perfect.

We walked around the gated area for a bit and because it was high up we had a good view of Lake Merritt. It was quite pretty and across the other side of the lake I could see downtown Oakland. I hadn’t realised that this place was so big, I had thought it was merely a “suburb” of San Francisco. That was a little like saying Wales was a “suburb” of England. I mean it wasn’t quite that big but comparatively...

We had reached the gates and I was already trailing behind my parents who were walking hand in hand in front of me.

“How far is it to my school from here?” I asked breaking my silence.

“About fifteen minute walk or a three minute drive” said dad.

“Drive?” I asked stupidly, “I can’t drive till next year”

“Different country dear” said mum with a smile, “You can drive at sixteen here”

I raised my eyebrows.

“You’d trust me behind the wheel of a car?” I asked.

“Yes” she said, “As long as it wasn’t mine”

I grinned at her. A car. I hadn’t thought of the possibility of getting a car for a while yet never mind within a few weeks, it was quite awesome.

“This is your school honey” said mum pointing to a building to my left after a few moment of walking in silence. I glanced up from my musings and looked at the building.

“Is that it?” I asked

“No Scarlett” said dad with a grin, “That’s just the entrance hall, it’s also that building, and that one, and that one, that one, that one, that one, that one, that-

“Okay dad!” I said cutting him off, “I get the picture – it’s big. How many students does it have?”

“Three thousand or there about, I think” he said

“Three thousand?” I echoed in disbelief. My old school hadn’t even had a thousand pupils never mind thrice times that number.

“I think there’s twenty classes in each year” said mum.

“Twenty?” I asked, “That’s insane!”

“Obviously you won’t even attempt to meet everyone” said mum.

“Damn right” I muttered under my breath.

“Don’t swear Scarlett!” my dad said.

“Sorry” I said automatically.

“The school has an amazing arts studio” said mum. My ears pricked up at that – not literally obviously – and I increased my pace so I could walk next to my mum.

“Oh?” I questioned.

“Yeah, it got an award for having the best arts department in the state” she said with a smile, “Should be perfect”

“I take it has a dance studio then?” I asked.

“Two rather large ones” she said and I smiled. I had been dancing since I was four years old and it was a passion of mine, it had started off with ballet and I had done up to grade six in that but in the past four years I had moved onto modern dance, ballroom, tap and jazz dancing. I loved dancing and I was grateful to my parents for making me do it from such a young age. I had won competitions back in England but I had left my dance partner behind – obviously – and now I would have to find another one.

“Thanks mum” I said to her and squeezed her hand. She smiled back at me.

“See I do know what’s best for you occasionally” she said. A piece of her perfect (dyed) blonde hair had fallen out of the elegant French knot she had the nape of her neck and I brushed it behind her ear. She caught my hand and we walked hand in hand, as a family, back to the large house that I now called home.

I wasn’t quite so ready to accept it three days after that when I had to go to school, we had moved in on a Thursday night and now it was Monday morning. I groggily slammed my alarm clock off and got out of bed. I went to the window and lifting the edge of my curtain I looked out to see what the weather was like and thus decide what I needed to wear, it looked like it was going to be a clear, mild day so I opted for Jeans and a button up cashmere cardigan over a plain v-necked white t-shirt. After I had put them on I went into the bathroom and while cleaning my teeth I surveyed my appearance in the mirror. I didn’t look odd and I wasn’t going to stick out. Hopefully I could blend in – pah, I was bound to attract attention because I was the “new kid”, not only was I new, I was also British. Yay.
I meandered down the stairs about ten minutes later after putting my hair in a simple ponytail and putting some light make-up on. Mum was sat in the kitchen drinking her morning cup of Earl Grey tea and there was a pot and a cup behind her waiting for me. I smiled at her gratefully and poured myself a cup while sorting out my breakfast. My lunch was waiting for me, my mum always insisted on doing it the night before and I picked it up and put it into my bag.

There was nothing in my purple leather bag except for my dancing shoes and my purple pencil case. I also had my timetable and a map which had been sent through to me via the post on Saturday.

“You ready to go?” asked my mum. I nodded as I finished my tea and went to the door.

“I’ll see you later mum” I said.

“Good Luck” she said as I made my way to the front door and out into the street. The BMW had arrived yesterday but it was already gone because dad had to start work at nine which meant an hour and a half long commute to San Francisco. I set out along the pavement noticing that it was very mild for a November day, I reminded myself that the climate was nothing like what I had experienced back in England.

It didn’t take me long to walk to school as I drifted in and out of my thoughts. I opened my bag and looked at my timetable, it told me my form room was in block H and the classroom was number 12B. Why did this place have to have so many rooms?

I found myself stood in front of the J block as I entered through the nearest gate through which lots of kids a similar age to me were going. I looked to my right and saw the K block and then to my left and saw the I block; that way it is then. I walked past the I block which looked as if were the technology block because it was full of inanimate machines in the bottom room I could see into and then I finally reached the H block just as the bell rang. I hurried through the double doors and was relieved to find classroom 12B was at the front of the building rather than at the back like I had suspected it might be.
The door was open and I walked nervously into the classroom. Thankfully nobody looked up from their conversations and didn’t notice my arrival. I went to sit in the corner and put my bag on the desk, hoping to attract the least attention possible.

They always say that people’s hobbies reflect the way they act, like in rock bands, the leader singer always has the biggest ego and generally the drummer is quite quiet. I was the same, I wasn’t a singer or an actor; I was a dancer and I liked to entertain people through my movements rather than through my words.

“Class!” I looked sharply up as I heard a voice that appeared to have some authority in it. A woman in her mid thirties was stood at the front and the armful of books she had just placed on the desk announced her to be a teacher, “Role Call”

I listened carefully as she went through the list of names.

“Richards, Jenny?”

“Ridley, Kylie?”

“Robertson, Scarlett?”

“Yes Miss” I said mimicking what I had heard my class say.

Everyone turned to stare. The teacher finished her register and then looked up at me.

“As you can see everyone we have a new student with us today, she will be joining us for the rest of her High School Education we hope” said the teacher kindly. Then she said the words I dreaded.

“Please stand up and introduce yourself”

I paused for a moment before getting to my feet. I bit my lip and then started to talk.

“Um,” Dammit! My mum had told me not to use the world ‘Um’, “My name’s Scarlett and I’ve just moved into the Snowdrop community from Yorkshire, England. I’m fifteen and I love dancing”

I paused to see whether the teacher required me to say anymore.

“Thank you Scarlett,” she said with a warm smile. I sighed in relief as I took my seat again.
Maybe that was the horrible bit over with.