The girl who sounds British
but is actually American
and apparently walks like a princess.
There's actually a lot of cool
things you can learn about me...
if you'd just give me a chance.
Alissa sat in her—or at least it was just hers whenever her sister was out at a friend’s place, the two girls having to share when they’d never shared anything before in their life with the other—room, the door closed and window open to let in the cool breeze. Sitting crosslegged on her bed, she raised the flute in her hands to her lips and with a deep breathe began to play, the stress of her day melting away as her fingers danced along the length of the silver instrument. Moving to America had seen like such a great idea. She’d be able to go to public school, she’d make friends her age, she’d get to have a childhood and she’d get to be her own person for once. But now that she was there she missed England and longed to be able to go back but there was no way she’d be returning with her tail tucked between her legs, much like her father had predicted. Her mother kept trying to tell her to give it time, that things weren’t going to instantly be perfect and a week and a half wasn’t enough time to properly settle in. Alissa wasn’t so sure she believed her when she said that the young girl would have friends in no time. Alissa was an outcast—and she knew it.
Hitting a wrong note, she cursed herself mentally before taking a deep breath and beginning from the top again. She was going to be trying out for the school band in a few weeks and she needed to be at her best and while she was quite the talented flutist—most likely better than any high schooler in the area, never mind mere middle schoolers—she felt like even one wrong note would ruin her chances of earning a spot and hopefully finally finding a place to fit in. Her mind shifted as her fingers continued to fly across the buttons and she almost messed up again as a face popped into her mental eye. Jake Armstrong. Her heart thudded loudly in her ears, drowning out the sound of the music. She knew who he was even without a single introduction being made in the hall at lunch that day. She knew his mother through her mother, the boy always away at some sports camp or another whenever Ali was visiting for the summer but pictures were all over his parent’s house of him and the second she’d seen him, she’d known he was the Jacob her mother raved about in letters and phone calls. She wondered if her mother knew how much of a cocky jock jerk he really was.
Hearing her mother yelling her name, Alissa sighed as she carefully set the flute in it’s case before sliding off her bed and opening her door. “What??” She yelled through the house. “I’m practicing!” She added as she leaned against the door frame, arms crossed as she waited for a response. Not getting one, she let out an annoyed huff that blew the hair from her eyes as she pushed off from the door frame and made her way to the stairs. Stomping down them, she tried again. ‘Mum, I’m practicing!” This time, she was granted a reply. “Our guests are here!” Mouthing the word guests in confusion, she racked her brain and cringed when she remembered barely listening to her mother mentioning dinner guests when she’d gotten home from school. With another deep sigh, she continued down the stairs. Figuring it was just more of her mom’s friends, she didn’t bother going back up and changing into anything more presentable, the shorts and sweater like shirt she’d changed into upon returning from school was far too comfortable and there was no need to impress her mother’s friends.
Reaching the last step, she rounded the corner into the living room only to be rushed by a tiny blur of color. “Ali, Ali!” Laughing, Alissa picked up the small child and swung her around in a hug. “Renee!!” Kissing the girl’s cheek, she held her to her side and made the walk further into the living room, it not registering to her that if Jacob’s sister was there than—“You.” Had those words really left her mouth? Staring across the room at the boy next to her mother and Mrs. Armstrong, she was certain they had. Quickly recovering, she set Renee down as the mother’s looked between the two teenagers. “You two met?” Ali nodded at her mother’s question. “Briefly.” She answered dismissively, before feeling rude. “We met today. At lunch. While I was trying to practice.” Crossing the room, she kissed both of his mother’s cheeks before taking a few steps back and finally looking at him again. “The infamous Jake Armstong.”