Chapter 1
"I'm not moving!" I yelled.
"Jezebel we're leaving at the end of the week and it's not up for discussion," my mother replied sternly.
"No you can't expect me to spend my whole childhood here and then move halfway across the world just for your stupid job!"
"We're not going to talk about it anymore, Jez," my dad said calmly, "you're going whether you like it or not.
"NO! This is the house I grew up in. For 15 years this is the house we've lived in and now you want to all of a sudden up and move? What about my friends? I've lived next door to my best friend for 15 years, my whole life! I've gone to the same school since preschool and now you want me to just leave that all behind! No I am NOT moving," I yelled close to tears. (My school goes from Preschool to Year 12.)
"Why are you being so difficult? We are your parents and you will do what you are told!" my dad finally snapped at me.
"We have never moved in my 15 years, doesn't this place mean anything to you? Do all the memories mean nothing? The first time we move it's not just to another suburb or a different state. It's to a different country, different continent and a different HEMISPHERE! You can't make me move!" I shouted and then stalked off to my room.
"Nearly everything has already been moved over to America, Jezebel. We can't let you stay by yourself and we're keeping the house so we can come back every school holiday if you want. Sweetie you'll be going to a very nice school in Los Angeles and you will make friends there," my mother called to me.
I slammed the door hard.
Beep
The airport lady zapped my boarding card and ushered me down the walkway to the plane. I was determined not to look back because if I did I was afraid I wouldn't be able to get on the plane. Looking back at everything I was leaving behind might lead to me having a breaking down in the middle of the airport. So I gritted my teeth and went back to hating my parents for what they were putting me through.
The argument we'd had a few days earlier wasn't anything new. We'd been fighting about it for two weeks when out of know where they announced that they'd gotten high paying jobs in America. Then they dropped the bombshell that we were moving in two weeks. I cried for a couple of days and then the sadness turned into anger which quickly evolved into heated arguments about moving.
I considered running away, but by the time I'd gotten the idea almost all of my things were already shipped off. My parents worked fast and it seemed like they were keeping a close eye on me. I just hadn't been able to figure out why they would all of a sudden decide to apply for jobs in America. It should have been a family decision to move, not just theirs. I'd barely spoken to them since the last fight and the tension between us was palpable. The last few days of school were even worse than being at home. Every second I was there made me feel like I was going to cry. Having to say goodbye to everything I knew and the friends that I've had since preschool.
Just as I felt I might actually start crying the lady at the door of the plane broke me out of my reverie. I held out my boarding card and she looked at it briefly before directing me to my seat in the first class section. High paying jobs meant best seats on the V Australia flight to LA. I walked slowly in the direction she told me and found my seat. I quickly placed my backpack in the overhead compartment and sat in my designated window seat.
In first class there were three spacious rows of two with an aisle down the middle. I was seated in the first row on the right. My parents were on the same side but in the last row. I was thankful there was a row between us just in case a family dispute erupted in the middle of a 13 hour flight. I stared fixedly out the window still trying to blink back the tears that threatened to spill over. There was still three seats unfilled in the first class cabin. One seat next to me was unoccupied and a row on the opposite side.
I looked back at the entrance to the first class cabin just as the remaining three people walked in. A family of three. A husband, wife and a son who looked maybe a little older than me. I quickly looked away but I still caught the quiet conversation that took place.
"Hey dad are you sure you don't want me to sit by myself so you can sit with mum?" he asked rather cheekily.
The father chuckled, "Son I thought you wanted to sit with your mother."
I hat to bite my lip to stop myself from laughing. I inconspicuously glanced over my shoulder to see the father laughing as his son gave him an exasperated look.
"Ok, is this a bit better – Son that would be lovely of you. You are just so caring," he said jokingly.
I looked back out the window as the son walked down towards my row. He didn't have anything to put in the overhead compartment so he just sat straight down. I was still trying not to smile like I'd heard that whole conversation so I was biting the insides of my cheeks.
I saw him turn to me out of the corner of my eye.
"You heard all of that didn't you?" he asked slightly embarrassed.
I nodded, "Yeah, I did."
He rubbed his face and groaned.
"Uh how about we start again?" I asked in my very much Australian accent.
He looked up at me and replied in his American accent, "That would be great. I'm Josh."
I shook he outstretched hand with a smile, "I'm Jezebel."