Chapter 2

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Rachel’s POV

The fight to London was long and depressing. I sat near the window, watching the clouds past us, as my parents discussed plans on where we were settling down. I waited for hours for my friends to come say goodbye, but no one came, not a single one. Not even Jake. “Maybe it was really hard to say goodbye to me, they have been probably been texting since I got on this damn plane.” I thought to myself. Thoughts of my new school ran through my head as well. One thought, however, remained unanswered though. “Promise me you won’t stop singing, you won’t stop playing that guitar.” But why would Jake tell me this, he knows I’m terribly untalented when it comes to music, well at least thats what our friends told me. 

“Rae, we want you to know, we enrolled you into a music school.” my mother said, breaking me away from my thoughts. “Why would you do that? You know I suck at music!” I angrily defended. “No you don’t sweetie. Those friends of yours were just jealous of you for telling you that.” she explained. I didn’t want to argue with her, we would always fight about this topic. She wouldn’t understand, only my friends understood me, only Jake. 

The truth about music and I, well we had this love-hate relationship. I would always feel good expressing myself when came down to me and my guitar. But somehow whenever I sang and played in front of people, everyone would hate me. My friends would tell me I sucked and that I wasn’t born to sing. I never stopped though, even if they told me that. I kept it a secret from them. I knew I was bad, since that’s what they told me, but music helped me get through things that even I couldn’t understand. 

When we finally I arrived at London, I was completely tired. I had the worst case of jet lag. My parents called on a taxi to drive us to the place I will be calling “home” till I graduated. I had to admit though, no matter how much I hated being here, I couldn’t deny the beauty that London had. We came to our neighborhood, gated and full of lights. My family was fitly rich, but I never bragged about it. We passed by millions of mansions, they kept getting bigger as we passed each and everyone of them. When we finally came to a stop, I examined my new home. Sometimes I wish I could live a regular life, away from enormous houses, just a white picket fence surrounding a small simple house. I took my first step on the fresh green grass, and all I wanted to do was cry.

“HEY NEW NEIGHBOR!” a guy shouted with a common british accent. I looked up to him, he had brown curly locks and cheeky grin. He was cute, but I wasn’t interested in making friends at the moment. I didn’t want to come out rude, but I couldn’t help it. Ignoring his cheerful greeting, I entered my front door, only to be stopped by a warm hand. 

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