Charlotte

3.

Charlotte

*1 week later*

I haven't cried this much since my mom died. Within the past 168 hours, I have moved from North Carolina to England. My father has sold the house he and my mom had bought when they first got married. I have grown up there the past 17 years, and it has made me incredibly heartbroken that we were selling it. I had so many memories there.

From my first cry, my first steps, to my first words, my first smile to my first day of school, to my first friend, to my first period, to my first boyfriend, my first kiss, my first high school dance. I had everything at that house. Now, I'm here.

I haven't been on a plane before; the experience was new. The plane ride was over 8 hours long and I slept for about 3 of them. Dad had informed me that London time was four hours ahead and that I should watch my sleeping times and hours.

He bought a small brick house a mile away from London, but still in London itself. It's all one story, which is something I had to get used to. Most of the floors are wooden, but there are lots of rugs. The bathroom and kitchen have white and blue tiles with matching walls.

But my favorite room is not even a room, or even in the house. It's the porch that circles the small house. You can get to it by exiting almost every room, except for the kitchen.The porch is painted a lavender grey, which is so pretty and the whole house is protected by a metal fence, which is a couple inches shorter than me.

I start school in less than four weeks. 3 weeks, 6 days, 11 hours, and 24 minutes. If you couldn't tell, I was good at time and also math. Sometimes science. However, I absolutely loathe literature and history.

I get my school supplies list, bus schedule and classes next week. Dad promised me that the first paycheck he receives will automatically go towards my back-to-school shopping. He also told me that if I wanted a new wardrobe that I would have to get a job myself.

It was my senior year before I was off to college to study to become a doctor. Specifically a surgeon. Not a brain surgeon though, just a regular surgeon is fine.

The reason?

My mom.

She was a surgeon. And ever since I found that out, ever since she died, I had wanted to become her.

I want to become just like her.

That way, it will feel as if she never left.

*A couple weeks later* (Labor day, Sep. 4)

I found living in London has been pretty great. But it's nothing compared to North Carolina.

Besides the time difference, it was a little cooler over here, but not by a huge difference. The elevation is approximately 6.5 times lower here, making it easier to breathe, but harder to see the clouds at times.

Dad works a lot and gets paid every week, which is cool. I got a job working as a barista at a small diner. The pay is ok, but it was enough to do a little back-to-school shopping, which saved dad a couple dollars.

Today, or tonight rather, is the last night before my first day of school of my senior year. It's also Labor Day, but we didn't do much. Dad and I both had the day off and we just spent the day in our rooms. I actually planned my outfit and made sure everything was ready for tomorrow.

Speaking of tomorrow, I couldn't be more terrified. I had so many expectations and questions.

Where would I sit on the bus? Did it matter? Were there assigned seats such as do the freshmen sit in the front and seniors in the back? Will I get bullied for the being the new kid?

From what I can tell about the orientation last week, everyone seems nice enough. The school is actually quite large. Almost twice the size of my old school. A larger school means more students though. I got my schedule, bus route, and a map a few days prior to the orientation meeting. The high school I will be attending is called Kingsbury High, and is sometimes referred to as an Academy, which sounds too fancy and expensive for me considering I don't live a rich, exciting life. Especially now.

At 7:00, bus 215s will arrive a block away from my house and will drop me off around 2:30. However, being a senior has its advantage, like not having a full schedule, allowing you to leave when your day is done. I am allowed to leave after my last class, which ends at 11 and walk home which will take over an hour, but I expect to be home around 12:15.

My schedule reads:

Charlotte King's Schedule for her Senior year. She may leave the school's premises after 11am

• Literature II from 7:30 to 8:25

• Calculus I from 8:30 to 9:25

• P.E. from 9:30 to 10:15

• World History II from 10:20 to 11

I am only in school for 3 ½ hours instead of the full day being 6 ½. A half day for 200 days, approximately.

"Charlie?" my dad says stepping onto the porch where I've been sitting, watching the sunset. It's only 7:20.

"Hey," I smile as he walks over and sits down next to me. He wraps an arm around me and I place my head on his shoulder.

"I was wondering, since it's your last night before you go back to school, we can go out for dinner."

His request threw me off for a second. We haven't ate out since mom had her heart attack.

And died.

"No thanks," I sheepishly smile. "I just think it's too soon, you know?"

"Ok Charles, I understand. I'm going to call it in early. Goodnight."

"Night dad."

Officially edited.