ᵂᴼᴿᴰˢ : 2194
☆
ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Wild Is The Wind Bon Jovi
-
[ November 19th, 1978 ]
My eyes stared lifelessly outside of the small, cubed window, gazing outside at the concrete paths and the tiresome, teal sky of England.
My head fell back onto the headrest of the aeroplane seat as constant chatter echoed through my ears.
"Cheer up, Y/N," A familiar voice began, "We'll have fun in New Jersey, you'll make new friends, quit being moody."
I didn't respond to my mother. I didn't have any complaints, it's just difficult saying goodbye to a country which you have lived in for your entire life. It's difficult saying goodbye to a country which has had it's army keep you and your family protected through anything and everything. It's difficult saying goodbye to a country you were so familiar with, and felt so safe in.
I wasn't worried about not being able to make friends. I know I can cope without any. It's not that bad, you know? Having no friends, it's not that bad. It's not like Hell, like many make it out to seem like. It's tranquil. Quiet. There's no drama, no pressure to hang out with them, no issues.
I find it better without friends, actually.
"I'm not being moody," I finally responded, to my mother who was putting on her headphones to watch a movie.
God knows what movie it was. It could've been anything from James Bond to Fifty Shades of Grey. Honestly? I didn't want to know what movie it was.
"I'm just going to miss England." I finished, awaiting her reaction.
"New Jersey will be better, I promise." She said.
Really? New Jersey will be better? Will it really?
I guess I'll just have to wait and find out... make the judgement myself.
-
[ 9 Hours Later... ]
We landed in Newark, New Jersey, roughly eight hours later.
Back home, it'd be three in the morning. However, it was ten at night in New Jersey.
Time differences are exhausting.
My mother and I had just got in our moving van, with all our belongings in the back.
We had a half-hour drive ahead of us, from Newark to Perth Amboy.
And as my mother turned up the radio, Elvis Presley's Trouble was played.
My mum was a sucker for Elvis. Any girl with a right mind would be. He was this pleasing piece of fruit for a woman's eye. From his movements to his voice, he was a global sensation - and I never understood why.
I never understood the obsession with the man from Tupelo, Mississippi. Never.
-
[ November 21st, 1978 ]
The moving was a success.
We had settled in, rather nicely. Neighbours greeted us with friendly grins, despite the fact I got weird glares at school.
That's the thing of being a new kid: absolutely everyone is wary of you for the first couple of days.
All except for...
"Hey!" A voice called out, to nobody in particular at the moment.
It was in the hallway, it could be one of the jocks to another.
"Hey!" They called again.
I kept my stride, clueless, until I felt a tap on my shoulder, and heard the breathless inhales of someone who sounded like they had just ran a mile.
I turned on my heel, looking at who nudged my shoulder, expecting the 'sorry, thought you were somebody else' card.
But that card wasn't played.
"Y/N, right?" He asked.
Before me stood a boy, no older than 16. He had black hair, green eyes. His hair was this form of perm, but it definitely didn't suit him.
I hummed in response, "Why?"
"My name's Jack. I might be your cousin..." He trailed off, looking down and picking his finger nails nervously.
"Jack?" I asked,
"Jack," He repeated.
"As in Jack Lorth?"
He nodded. "You remember me?"
"We used to fuck about, push each other on swings 'til we fell off when we were younger, didn't we?" I queried.
His face seemed to light up, "Yeah! Yeah, yeah, we did. Yeah..."
"You seem surprised," I raised an eyebrow, intrigued.
"Honestly? I didn't think you'd remember me." Jack chuckled, now grinning. "You've usually got a-"
"Memory like a goldfish," I finished his sentence, "I know... I swear I've still got a few bruises from when I fell off those swings," I responded, checking my arms jokingly.
He laughed. "I suppose they served as a reminder, hey?"
I nodded, smiling.
"So," He paused, looking around the hallway, "What brings you to New Jersey?"
"Parents."
"Parents?"
"Divorced."
"Oh."
"Mum wanted to move to here, so we did." I explained, "I had no say."
"I'm sorry,"
I shrugged, "It's fine. It's nice here, I suppose." I tried to reassure him as I spoke through gritted teeth.
I wasn't completely sure on my thoughts for Perth Amboy, or New Jersey in general, yet.
"From England to New Jersey, though?" He crossed his arms, "Don't you think that's a bit too far away?"
"It's whatever, really. I mean, we've settled in nice, Dad was a prick, so I don't exactly care." I stated.
"I mean, if you don't care, I guess that's fine." He looked at me, "Enjoying the school?"
"Bit difficult to say. Only been in two periods, Jack." My hand reached into my pocket, retrieving my paper timetable.
I unfolded it,
"What've you got next?" Jack asked.
"Music."
He let out a low whistle.
"What?" I immediately ask, awaiting a reason for his chuckle.
"Oh, God, you're going to be bored to high Hell!" He had to hold a hand on his stomach to stop him from keeling over. "That teacher is apparently extremely boring..."
I groaned, rolling my eyes. "Then wish me luck, I guess."
"Good luck!" He grinned at my irritation.
-
"Right, settle down, settle down, I get it, it's period three on a Monday, you just had break, but calm down!" The teacher snapped.
The room fell silent in an instant.
The teacher sighed, "Thank you. Now, today we're studying Classical Music,"
The class collectively groaned,
"From 1610 until 1960." The teacher finished. "We're focusing on the Baroque period today."
Who knew one singular statement could send a class of 14 to have their heads boringly resting in their hands for an hour straight? I certainly didn't.
-
The bell rang.
The euphoria filling a student's body when the bell rang was always welcome. If the bell rang, it meant one of two things: Lunch, or Home.
In this instance, it meant Lunch.
"I expect you all to of revised the key words we have learnt today for next lesson!" The teacher rushed to say, when everyone was grabbing their bags and shoving them on their backs, pushing past each other like some wild, impatient stampede.
I gave a small smile to the teacher, silently thanking them for the lesson, then was on my way. Mr. Kurdan had just made the most boring lesson rather interactive and enjoyable, even if it was the tiniest bit.
So I had no idea what Jack meant, saying Mr. Kurdan was 'extremely boring'.
Walking down the hallway, I felt a sudden weight on my shoulder. My eyes glanced over, to see someone's arm.
"How was it?" He asked.
"What? Music?" I needed confirmation, before I spoke about something else entirely.
"Duh, what else would I mean?" Jack grinned down at me, "English?" He joked, nudging my arm.
"Oh." I paused, "It was alright, actually. Mr. Kurdan's quite nice..."
"You always were a suck up."
"Says you."
"Come on," He ruffled my hair with his knuckles, guiding me to the canteen.
As we entered the canteen, the cacophony of mixed chatter filled the air. There was no silence at all.
"You know where you're sitting?" Jack looked at me,
"What, there's assigned seats?" My eyebrows creased in confusion.
He laughed. "Don't be an idiot!" He exhaled a chuckle, "I mean, have you got any friends?"
I hesitated, "No."
His smile fell. "Well, come on then. You can sit with me and the guys."
And with that, he grabbed my arm and led me towards a table where three seats were spare.
"Everyone," Jack began, "Meet my cousin, Y/N."
His hands gestured to me. I stood awkwardly, smiling.
Three heads lifted up, one stayed down.
One by one, they introduced themselves. In a matter of seconds, I had learnt that the curly-haired blonde boy's name was David, the Chuck Berry fan's name was Erik, and the boy who was in the middle of stuffing his face with a chicken sandwich, presumably being the chicken left over from a Sunday Roast last night, was called Chris.
David raised his elbow and nudged the brunette who hadn't looked up. He had this type of rockstar mullet going on.
"What?" He mumbled,
"Introduce yourself," David whispered.
The boy's head slowly rose, his brown eyes staring into mine. His eyebrows creased, as if he was inspecting me - seeing if I was worthy enough to have the 'privilege' to know his name, as if it were some type of title.
Then he smiled.
"Richie. Richie Sambora," He introduced himself, outstretching his right hand towards me.
I instantly took it without thinking twice, shaking it.
"Nice to meet you all," I nodded in acknowledgement, before Richie pulled his hand away from the handshake.
"Nice to see Jack has a living relative," Richie joked.
Everyone laughed.
Jack took a seat, before patting his hand on the free plastic stool next to him, "Come on, sit down."
"We won't bite," Erik winked.
"Don't flirt with her, Erik." David scowled. "And don't eat with your mouth full, either. Didn't your mother teach you anything?"
I looked over at David, my eyebrows raised in intrigue.
Erik gave a huff, before slumping and chewing on the rest of his sandwich. David turned to me, his blue eyes shining in welcome.
"Apologies about Erik, he doesn't exactly have manners."
Erik winced. I could only assume David had kicked him in the shin or something under the table.
David paused, "You're the newie in the music class, aren't you?"
"You're in it?" I asked.
He nodded, "Mr. Kahran isn't as boring as some people say he is. He's quite hilarious at times, except for when he plays Mary Had A Little Lamb in different keys to give us the idea of cadences."
Richie groaned as David's words hit his ears, "That lesson was fucking torture - honestly," He leaned forward, elbows on the table, whispering to me, "I thought that lesson wasn't gonna end."
I chuckled, "Is that all he knows on Piano?"
Richie shrugged, leaning back on his plastic seat, "All we know," He gestured to himself and David, "Is that it'll be playing at our funeral, probably by him." He joked.
Jack rolled his eyes.
The rest of Lunch disappeared in the blink of an eye. Soon, a whistle was blown by a teacher outside to signify it was time for the final period of the day...
English.
"Whose your English teacher?" Jack asked, looking down at me.
"I don't fucking know."
"What room?"
"J9?" I looked down at my timetable for confirmation, "J9." I repeated, more confidently.
"Oh, you've the same as me."
And without another word, Jack grabbed my arm and began dragging me to the classroom as I stumbled over my own feet, my body getting squashed between other's backpacks as the corridors became packed.
-
When we arrived in English, it turned out Richie was in the same class as us.
Jack and I were sat next to each other, I'm guessing it was so he could help me catch up on any curriculum I needed to know.
Richie was sat next to a boy with light-brown hair. He seemed to be mates with him, or something. They wouldn't stop talking almost the entire lesson.
The lesson felt like a blur. One minute, we had just sat down, next minute I was packing up my bag to leave the classroom and head home.
"You wanna come over tonight?" I just caught Jack asking me, before I turned to him.
"I can't," I sighed, "Promised my mum I'd help her get some shopping done."
We've all been there: coming up with some lousy excuse, putting the blame on our parents just because we couldn't be bothered to hang out with friends or another family member. Besides, it's a new country! I've just moved - why'd I want to go to my cousin's house after my first day at school? Psh.
"Ah," He clicked his tongue, nodding, "Understandable." He slung his bag onto his back, holding onto the shoulder strap. "See you tomorrow, then?"
"See you tomorrow." I gave him a smile, before he walked out.
And I noticed Richie and his friend hadn't left yet. His friend was looking over in my direction, Richie waving his hand in front of his face in some effortless attempt to get him to concentrate on him again.
I slid my pencil case into my bag before zipping it up, and putting it on my back. I turned to walk out, too exhausted to deal with any more stuff with links to education.