Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider. Although, there's really not much about him in here. Just brief mentions here and there…for now. For now, it's all about Austen.
Transfer
Red Raven
Chapter One.
Austen sat by the window in her apartment, staring down into New York's streets.
As she sat there, thinking how all the people and cars looked so very much like ants, and that their lives were so insignificant, she was oblivious to the fact that thousands of miles away, on an island called the United Kingdom, her presence would change many others' lives, as well as her own.
And that there was a conspiracy taking place, and it would be up to someone, not necessarily her, to change that, for so many people were to be hurt, or, mercifully, killed.
*********
"WHAT?!" I shouted in mock disbelief. I shouted because it was expected. It would have been normal to be indignant after hearing that being said.
"You heard me, we're moving." my mother said wearily, her mousy brown hair hanging limp around her haggard face.
"But…but why?" I asked, already knowing the answer.
"Because your father has been transferred." You could almost see the thought bubble over her head saying, Again.
I stomped out of the room and down the hall to my bedroom. I slam the door for theatrical effect, because that's what my mom expected, for me to be upset, and I sat down on my bed, contemplating. Looking across the room at the mirror that showed a girl of 14, short black hair, gray eyes, no fashion sense.
We were moving again.
It was a relief, actually. I didn't have any friends at my current school anyway, and I was sick of the "Big Apple." It was too noisy and crowded, and too…evil for my taste. Not everyone here is bad, but there were some people who are just evil, and they don't, in my opinion, deserve to breathe even the most polluted air.
I started taking my stuff off of the walls and began packing. Although mom had said that we weren't moving until the end of the month. It was August 8th. We were moving on the 28th. So I suppose it was alright to pack this early, although I know I could do it in much less time that I was given. I don't have all that many belongings.
I took an envelope off the shelf by my desk and read the front. "Too Austen, my bestest frend evar." It was in a messy handwriting and it was misspelled. I figured it had been from my friend Abby, from Arkansas. I had lived there when I was 5, and had made a couple of playmates. I hadn't spoken to Abby since I was 6. We used to be pen-pals, but that quickly ceased. It was too much effort, especially for 5 slash 6 year old girls.
I set the envelope back on the shelf and began to rummage in my almost-empty closet for boxes.
I had moved at least thirteen times that year. I don't understand why we don't just live in hotels so we don't have to pay rent for an apartment that we'll only live in for two months at most.
I pulled out the boxes and began to put the clothes from my dresser in them. I could do with the clothes that were in the wash at the moment…and what I was wearing. I doubt anyone at school will notice that I'm wearing the same thing for however many days straight, but I thought they might start to smell, or else I'd just wear what I was wearing at the moment all month. Plus, I would probably start to smell.
As I was shuffling through clothes, not so much folding as rolling the clothes into messy balls, I doubt I'd take all that much out before we moved again.
Then, realizing I hadn't even asked mom where we were moving to, I walked down the hall to the kitchen to find my mom sitting at the table, her mousy brown hair framing her haggard face, smoking yet another disgusting cigarette, she was looking fed up with the world.
"Mom?" I asked, seeing if she was in another funk where she couldn't comprehend her surroundings. She grunted, showing she was listening.
"Where exactly," I asked, "are we moving to?"
She cleared her throat with a 'aggghhmm…' and then said, "The U.K." in a raspy voice that told me she had been crying.
The U.K.?
"Where??" I asked, not sure I heard right.
"The U.K." she said, "You know, United Kingdom, England, et cetera." She was getting annoyed. Again.
I got angry. Fast. I mentally screamed, England?! We were moving to ENGLAND? I'd have an even harder time fitting in there than New York!! Damn Dad! Damn Dad's 'Job' that apparently took us all over the bloody world. Oh dammit! I was even starting to talk like a Brit.
Augh. I needed to sit down, so I collapsed on the chair that was about to fall apart. Which it just so happens chose that exact time to do so.
…..Damn.
**************************
Airplanes suck. No, seriously. All you've heard about them being one of the best inventions ever, I can rebuke absolutely, and I'm sure I'd have an army to reinforce my opinion.
I'd have rather taken a week long boat ride. I got sat far away from my parents-my father with his black hair and his nerdy glasses, and tweed coat, along with my mother and her very thin frame, I didn't want to be seen sitting by them-which is great, but instead I got sat next to this creepy fat dude that kept leering at me. I tell you, they shouldn't have allowed him on the plane, he was so obviously a pervert.
When we finally landed after I'd gone to the bathroom to throw-up because I was so grossed out- I don't suppose those peanuts helped either though- we gathered our luggage and went to a car dealership. We bought, not rented, a car because apparently my father planned on us being here longer than usual. Yeah. Right.
We headed for the rent-a-house and parked in front of a suburban home that apparently had about five million twins/triplets/quadruplets.
It had a manicured lawn, happy garden, and millions of smiling neighbors standing around it…at least I'm sure there would be if we hadn't gotten there at two in the morning.
We went inside and the first thing that hit me was 'Alien.' That's what screamed at me as we unloaded the suitcases and boxes in the entry-way. The perfect home. The lovely kitchen, the cozy living room, the sophisticated bathroom. Every room had its own aura.
And everything was strange. I'd never seen such a gleaming stove, or the tidiest living room, with a rocking chair in the corner with a small table next to it with a basket on it containing a remote for what looked like every appliance in the house. The huge TV that sat over the prepped fire place that was ready to have a match struck to the flint to make it burst into flame and crackle cheerfully. The cushy couch that I was sure I would sink into and never be able to get out if I cared to try.
The bathroom was luxurious. It had a Jacuzzi, and a shower that's showerhead was in the ceiling and would spray you with steaming water like rain. And there was a steam shower. AND the sink just came out of the wall, gleaming black with wrought iron handles in the shape of roses. Everything looked as if it had been dipped in onyx and then polished until it gleamed like a diamond.
I nervously opened the door that Mom had pointed to and said it was my room. I nearly collapsed when I opened the door.
Its walls were painted a tasteful color of blue-green, it wasn't ghastly. The bed's frame was made of what looked like teak, and was polished to a sparkle, (if wood can sparkle) and the covers were off-white with huge, blooming lilies that, if in any other room than this one, would be hideous. But in this room, it looked graceful and elegant. The dresser was made out of the same wood as the bed frame, and just as glossy. The room also contained a small desk, a computer, and a vanity with a mirror and all.
I dropped my bags and boxes on the floor just to the left of the entryway and stared at everything, thinking, Could I really touch anything in here without ruining it?!
Mom entered the room with an extremely rare smile on her face.
"Do you like it?" she asked, not quite hiding the worry in her voice. She wanted me to like it. I couldn't imagine why.
I just cried. Which is odd, because I haven't cried since I was 8.
"I love it." I choked out between sobs. Mom looked panicked. She wasn't used to my crying either. She just patted me on the back and told me I needed to get to bed. I had to go to school tomorrow.
School. I had forgotten about that. Life Sucks…but my room was majestic, and I was able to not totally freak out and worry about it. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a bad student. In fact, I was an honor student at almost every school I went to. That is, if I stayed long enough to even make it to honor student. I was smart. Realllllly smart.
I don't mean to brag. Seriously. But my dad, at least, when I had time to spend time with him as a kid, was completely and utterly obsessed with me being at the top. He got me Rosetta Stone for Japanese, Chinese, German, Russian, French, and so on. I was put into Karate classes, so I could defend myself pretty well. I made it to Dan, which is black belt. First degree. I liked karate. It helped me vent my anger towards my parents. Not that I had as much back then as I do now. I loved my dad. My mom though, we didn't get along the best. But as I was saying, my dad was obsessed with me. Completely.
I told my mom I would get ready for bed and went to the bathroom that was, apparently, mine. I had my own bathroom. It didn't have a steam shower, but it did have a Jacuzzi.
I settled into it and blasted the jets. I almost shot out of the thing. But I gripped onto the sides of the tub for dear life and eventually I found a position that was comfortable and the jets started to feel nice. I almost fell asleep. Around 3 o'clock, I got out and dried off, feeling a bit light-headed.
I pulled on my pajamas from the box and settled, nervously, into the large, plush bed that I was afraid to touch in fear of ruining it. I'm sorry, I have a bit of a problem with things that are nice. I don't feel like I can not not ruin them.
I reached over to the nightstand and set the alarm for school…a first for me.
I drifted.
******
A/N: WELL! That certainly took a while. I hope you liked it. I may end up editing it or whatever, but I'm not sure quite yet. I'd love any constructive criticism you might have! R&R please, please, pretty please.
~ Celina~