HEY! sorry i accidently deleted part 1, OOOPS! :)
~*~
1.The trees sped past me a million miles an hour blurring my vision to nothing but a mush of greens and browns blending with the sunlight dancing on the wet leaves dripping from the midday rainfall. I stared out the window and leaned my head against the cool protective glass and breathed slow, long breaths creating fogging windows, blocking my view. I reached up and traced my finger along the window, marking my name in the cool glass like a child in the snow on christmas day.
"Jenny"my father sighed, reaching over me and wiping of my name and the tears that
had started dripping from it, with the sleeve of his coat "please" he said for the
100th time today. He has begged, time and time again for me to understand, to grasp
the meaning of my parents divorce. I turned my head slightly, pleading with my large
hazel eyes that no, no I don't understand and no, I don't plan to.
My father once told me that half the population of parents these days get divorces and
that we were one of the unfortunate families. He said that my mother and him were
were never really on the same page and then he would stop. Never elaborating and
never telling the complete truth. This is why, today, my father Charlie and I are on a
train to a town called Albany. A small town in New Hampshire where we will be living
until further notice.
I pulled out my ipod, one of the few things I kept from our old house in Quebec French-Canada and flew through the thousands of songs until I came upon my favourite
band Paramore. I have seen them live three times and have actually met the lead singer
Haley Williams. The song 'Stuck on you' came on and I chuckled without humour at the irony. I will never be able to forgive her for leaving us. For leaving me. I am, and always will be stuck on her. When she left she told me she would call me everyday from Paris to check up on me and she promised that she would fly me over to see her. It
has been three months since the official divorce and since she left I have spoken to her
once. And that was to tell Charlie she won't be able to pay child support that month.
Four hours later I stepped off the train and onto the small platform of Albany, carrying
my one suitcase, my backpack and my shoulder bag. I discarded all my clothes back
home and only took the essentials and my favourites, which included my favourite pair
of black skinny jeans, both my Paramore t-shirts, two miniskirts (one black, one white)
and several tank tops and singlets. And of course, my grey sweats. I also took my ipod,
laptop, my phone, lava lamp and all my shoes.
A bus was waiting outside the tiny station that was to take us to our neighbourhood. It
was small and brown that smelled like cat litter. I reluctantly climbed on board and went straight to the back. I sat down and put my luggage on the seat next to me, purposely making Charlie sit somewhere else. It was a bit too cold for my taste but I shrugged it off and got out my phone
'Hey GF!
Hows HQ? Missin u like crazee,
reply whn possible! Its so cold here LOL!
Xoxo JennyBabee'
I sent it to my best friend Jazmina back at Quebec and flipped the lid back down.
God I miss my crew..Jaz, Chels, Shell and Gigi. I let out a long sigh and leaned my head against the cool glass once again, welcoming the BUMP BUMP BUMP of my head
against the window every time we went over a bump or hole. My eyelids began to droop and it was then I realised how incredibly exhausted I was. I let them fall and crossed my arms, willing for sleep to take me.
"Jen, we're home"My eyes fluttered open and the first thing I saw was a adorable small cottage on the side of the road with 'x' crossed windows and a white
picket fence. I looked up at Charlie and he smiled down at me "Yep. Thats it"he helped me to my feet and trudged off the little bus. I collected my things and willingly
followed him, watching my feet the whole time, since I was known for my clumsiness.
The town was magical. It really was. The street I was standing on had about 6 houses..or more like cottages on it, and around the little cottages were trees. Thousands and
thousands of trees, all smiling down upon me, making a canopy above the narrow road,
with red, yellow, orange leaves falling from them. It must be autumn here. At the end of
the road was a street sign, brightly painted yellow, with black writing on it saying:
'Windswept Drive, Albany'
I grinned. Windswept Drive? That was far more delightful than my old 'Green Street' back home. I heard a chuckle and I looked to my right. My father was standing on the footstep of our new house and he looked so cute. His hair was messy and his cheeks were flushed, I couldn't help but run over to him and through my arms around his waist. I smiled up and him and he let go of me and turned the knob.
I gasped. The cottage was more amazing than I thought. There were five rooms in total.
Two bedrooms, one bathroom, a kitchen and a living room. All the walls were painted a
coral blue and the floors were coated in white shaggy carpet. I dropped my bag and went
to the room Charlie said was mine. It had light purple walls with a darker purple feature
wall and the same carpet outside. The room wasn't huge, but it fit a double bed, a desk, closet and bookshelf easily. All in all it was comfy. Perfect even. I sat on the bed and curled up into a ball. I thought, no I knew I would hate it here. But I was wrong. This place, this house was more than I could have asked for. I climbed off the comfy bed and headed outside to find Charlie. He was in the kitchen chopping carrots and onions
and throwing them into a fry pan. Where did he get all that from? He noticed me and smiled, "It was already here. I told them to stock the fridge up" he said, reading my
mind. He wiped his hands and came to where I was standing watching him.
"I love you. And so does your m-"
"Don't." I cut him off "She doesn't. If she did, she wouldn't be in Paris right now"
Charlie wiped away the lone tear rolling down my cheek and he pulled me into a hug
"Doesn't matter anyway. Tomorrow you start a new life at a new school. I'm so proud
of you for getting this scholarship, I heard this school is top of the art. Best there is"
That, I couldn't help but smile at. I loved school at Quebec. St Josephine's wasn't a
private school but it was really great. The teachers, students and principal all got along.
Now that I'm going to a Private School, I can imagine how much more elegant it will be. After dinner I skipped into my room and switched my laptop on. It was a divorce
present from Jane (my mother). Although I hate her for leaving us, I love her for the
laptop.
I logged onto facebook, too exhausted to talk to the crew, but instead posted a new status: ' Albany Prep HERE I COME! :) :) '
