I walked home from school and looked at the bright freshly bloomed flowers that signified the beginning of spring. This is my favorite time of year, when winter is obviously over and spring starts bringing along the hope of summer and warmer weather. The once dead barren trees soon sprung up with their newly acquired leaves. Birds begin building nests, out of twigs and hair that they find on the ground, hoping for a family to fill it. Life was in the air. You could smell the crispness of the scents of flowers emerging from their buds, attracting bees to their petals. Overall, it's a wonderful time of year that always brings me joy.
At least it did bring me joy, until my parents told me about Paris.
Ah Paris... A place of bread, berets, and thick French accents. Romantic? Nah. Enchanting? Meh. Scenic? If you like tall structures made of metal maybe. So Paris wasn't really my type of place. Nor will it ever be...
Anyway, my parents decided that they would take an offer for some business trip to Paris. Something about architecture; my dad is an architect. So that was basically it. Pack your bags, we're going to Paris, Isabella! Oh and did I mention how long for? Ahahhaha.... THREE MONTHS!
Just when you thought things couldn't get any worse, they did! The ninth grade dance is a huge event at the end of the year. Extravagant dresses, expensive decorations, exquisite music, etcetera. But basically just a great night with your friends and spending over a hundred dollars on a dress you might never wear again. The dance is in June and it is the end of April now. We leave the first of May so do the math.... I will be in Paris on the day of the dance. Missing out on all of the fun.
I am not looking forward to Paris. I don't even known French! I can already imagine myself stumbling around those stupid streets not understanding a word anyone says and answering "oui, merci" to every question asked of me. It's going to be a disaster.