Paris was stupid.
This whole move was stupid.
You see I was living the life in NYC. I had good friends, a nice penthouse, went to the number 1 school in the state, and overall had a delectable life.
Then one night six months ago dad dropped the bomb.
"We both have been moved to Vogue in Paris. So we are moving to Paris." Dad smiled and so did Mom. I stared at them and looked at my sister.
"OH MY GOD! PARIS? MY FRIENDS ARE GONNA DIE!" My sister, Whitney, squealed getting onto her phone.
"Sierra?" He said.
"Sounds great." I smiled a fake smile and went to my room.
In the next six months I was taught a little of the language and packed up. Turns out Dad had already bought a house in Paris and we began to ship things there.
For them it was turning out great.
It was the first day of school and my home room was the science room. Some of the teachers spoke English and some didn't so the office allowed me to grin my phone around with a translated app until I got to know the language better.
"Oh lookie what we have here!" Long fake pink finger nails tapped on my desk I looked up at the skinniest, tannest, and pinkest girl ever, "An American!"
"Yeah." I murmured.
She said something in French to the lossy behind her. Then turned to me and laughed, "Oh poor American can't speak English! It's hard to believe they even put you through education! I know three languages." She said slyly, "Pity the Americans!" She leaned close to m face to the point I could smell the cherry Chapstick.
"GET OFF HER COLETTE SHE DOESN'T NEED TO DEAL WITH YOUR RACIST SHIT!" Some British red head walked in and Colette instantly stood up strait and stared at her.
"Is this your friend, Ruthie?"
"I don't have a clue who she is. All I know is that you need to lay off." She said pushing Colette away from my desk.
"Ruthie." She stuck her hand out. I watched Colette mimic Ruthie and turn around.
"Sierra." I said.
Ruthie instantly became my friend. She was new to the school too except she started with the school year so she new the ropes.
"Do you speak French?" I asked biting into my sub sandwich.
"Not well but I understand people who do. My father has been French all his life and taught me early on before the divorce."
"Oh." I said lookin down, "I don't know any."
"I'll teach you! It'll be fun! What are you doing Saturday?"
"I don't know. I'm still kinda adjusting—"
"I'll bring you to the theatre I work at! Well it used to be an Opera but it's got some secrets! Surely you sing?"
"I do. I'll see you Saturday."
"Saturday." She smiled and the bell rang for classes.
"How was school today girls?" My father asked as I walked in the door. Whitney in front of me strutting though the house.
"Fine." She said and went up the stairs.
"Good. What are the plans Saturday?"
He looked at me and smiled, "Nothing why?"
"Can I hang with a friend?"
"Where?"
"She just wants to show me Paris and the language."
"Sounds fine with me." He said with a smile.
Thus began my new life in Paris.