Chp. 1

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  • Dedicated to Amanda
                                    

" Time to go Darcy. "

"Coming Loretta."

     Here we go again. Another move, another place. Just the way I hate it. I took one last admiring look at my spacious room. I'll miss my big comfy bed, I'll miss the wide windows that shined little slivers of light on my face every morning to wake me up, I'll miss having my own bathroom. I don’t know why I’m so upset this time. I usually don’t dawdle like this when it’s time to go. My mom says that it’s because i’m getting older, and I get upset because I will miss all the friends I made. Thats a good guess, it would accurate if I had actually made any friends. Truth be told I never let myself make any friends. Growing attached to something, like friends, and having to leave it in a few months is…one of the wort feelings in the world.

   I've kept count, and over the course of my life I've lived in 31 different places all over the world. That being so, I know plenty of useless information. Including British slang, Turkish curse words, French pop songs, ask me anything about South Africa and I can tell you. Lived there for five whole months, which is rather long for my family.

   I know six languages. What fourteen year old needs to know six languages? Basically only me and my eleven year old brother Jeremy, but he’s an idiot so he probably forgot all of them already. By the time it took him to learn how to speak a language we would already be returning home, where the only language we would have to know is english.

This move is a little bit different than the others. All the other ties we were told a snippet of information about where we are going. Like what state it is, what country it is, what the house is like. This time my Dad is keeping every bit of information about it a secret. When Dad first told us this move would be secretive, I was kind of angry as you can imagine. I mean he is making us move away again, and he can’t even tell us where were going? It’s my Dad’s fault technically, why we move so often. His job has him relocate every few months.

Jeremy thinks that it’s because my Dads some sort of spy, and needs to never live in the same place to maintain his identity. Since Jeremy is an idiot I know that that;s probably not the case, even though it would be cool if it was. Janice, a friend I had while living in New York thinks that he's part of the FBI and is tracking criminals. None of these are what I actually think he does, but its fun to imagine your dad as a spy. I don’t see much of a point in stressing over what Dad does for a living. There is know point in filling my mind with more irrelevant things.

   I take one last glance around my room. I longed to stay here forever, in this big beautiful house. This time we were living in a small town in California. Its a big white house with marble floors, and big chandeliers. It was the kind of house you would picture a movie star living in. It was one of the nicest places we have ever stayed in. Although we always stay somewhere nice, this house made me feel important. This street in particular is filled with beautifully big houses, and everybody knows it. I had trouble making friends in school when I told them I lived on this street. They all thought I was some rich snob. i wanted to tell them that I once lived in a hut in Haiti…but I think that would brand me as the weird girl.

   I walk out of the room, already missing the warm sunshine on my face in the mornings. Sashaying down the marble stair case I lightly hold on to the railing, and stick my chin up high pretending to be a princess. Everything about this house made me feel like I was actually someone of importance. As I was taking my last step on the staircase my brother walked in through the front door. Good thing I didn’t do the Miss. America wave. 

"You look like an idiot." He said, giving me a solemn look.

"At least I'm not actually an idiot." 

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