Prologue

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Prologue

This is not how it was supposed to happen.

                I should be sitting on an entirely different plane with my friends right now, preparing to take off on a flight for the South of France, where we should have jobs in clubs and restaurants waiting for us and an apartment in the tourist district.

                Instead, they are on that plane – traitors – while I am sitting on this one, this dreary, depressing, desolate one, bound for an entirely different location, where an entirely different fate awaits me.

                London.

                Do not believe the tales of cultural sophistication, of infrastructural beauty. I haven't actually been to London, but I can assure you that whether these rumours are true or not, the whole thing is rendered completely moot by the fact that it rains 180 days out of the year, so what's the point in any of it? What's the point of the buildings, the festivals, the tourist attractions, when it is so constantly wet?

                I was born and raised (and have spent every single day of my sixteen years thus far) in sunny California, the Golden State. I am allergic to precipitation. The only water that I can abide is either chlorinated or salty. On the thirty days of rain we get in Cali, I can be found in bed. I can't even imagine how cities managed to spring up in places like England or New York. I mean, okay, I get that the ports had a lot to do with it trade-wise etc, but how do people bear it?

                There must be something wrong with them. Honestly. I know that hotties like Andrew Garfield, Alex Pettyfer, Nicholas Hoult, all come from England, but these have to be an exception to the rule. There can't be any attractive people in England, because, like these fine gentlemen, all good-looking people are naturally attracted to the sunlight. It's just a fact. Everybody in England must be at least slightly mutated, or why would they want to live in such dank conditions?

                I can't believe this has happened to me. I'm supposed to the going to France. Sunshine, partying, total hunks walking around in swimming shorts. Instead some bureaucrat somewhere messes up and instead of getting the student holiday in the place where I am legally allowed to consume alcohol at my age, I get to look after a bunch of screaming infants in one of the wettest cities in the world as an au pair whose driving licence, I might add, is rendered void by the fact that the legal driving age over there is eighteen.

                This is going to be the worst summer ever.

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A/N: Okay, that was just a taster :) More coming soon! What do you guys think so far? Vote and comment! ^.^

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