SxMFan: I'm BAAAAAAAAAACK~!! Haha, I guess this new story is going to be a makeup for my unexcused absence. No, I'm not kidding, I just decided to log onto FanFiction for the first time in about five months. Eighth grade is fun, so I guess I spent more time with my friends and on deviantART. I just realized that I after I left, the Hamtaro section is kind of… dead. I'm sad now. So anyway, I'm here! And I'm ready to start writing because I just took a shower and I have my hot chocolate and I'm sorry for disappearing so, here ya go! Because I'm out of practice, this story won't be taken seriously and won't be my top priority. But since it's about Sandy, I'll probably update this once in a while.

Summary: Sandy's moving to, in her opinion, the most boring place on earth. Boring food, boring shops, and most importantly, boring people. But when she meets a person with all of the dullest of personalities possible, she finds herself holding onto her newest dream. It's going to take her annoying brother, a foreign friend, and a cup of tea to make her wish come true.

Warning: It's ham human. If you don't like ham human, click the back button and don't read any of my stories.

Dedicated to: My British readers. Even if I've never gotten a review from one of them… I think. HEY, BRITONS, CLICK THE REVIEW BUTTON TO SEE IF I WAS ACCURATE WITH THIS! Haha, but seriously, I love seeing the graph on my profile say that I have a reader on the other side of the world. It really makes me happy.

Chapter 1: SOS (Save Our Sandy)

"I'm king of world!" Stan screamed at the top of his lungs, sprawling his arms out and leaning out of the top of the double decker bus. His hair waved a little as a gust of wind playfully touched his face while the gloomy sky proved to be something different.

Idiot, I thought. I didn't say it out loud, of course, because there was my parents seated next to me and other tourists scattered on the bus. I gripped my umbrella loosely in my hands, twitching slightly at the thought of rain pouring down on my face. The sky was threatening and it's eeriness made me wonder how anyone could ever live here. I was here for a week and today was the only day there was no shower from the sky up above. When the bus started moving, Stan sat back down, his eyes scanning for any pretty girl that caught his interest. I rolled my eyes and avoided my dad's sad smile.

See, I didn't want to be here in London, England, the dullest place I have ever seen. Canada sounded cooler right now ('Cuz who doesn't love their bacon?). The only reason I was here was because my family had decided to move. My dad works for the New York Times and he got assigned to do some story about the British soldiers stationed in Iraq. Unfortunately, they thought it was best if he wrote in Britain and apparently, kept him there. I was quite upset, mainly because I haven't lived anywhere except New York City and had loved the place to death. It was the most unexpected, coolest place I had been to and I was proud to have lived there. Hey, it's not like I've never been out of the country, it's just… I've never been out of the country. Well, there was that time we crossed the border into Mexico by accident when my dad got lost during a road trip to Arizona, but I should probably be talking about this town. So, yeah, to make things short and sweet and to the point...

My dad made my brother Stan, my mom, and I move here, saying that it would teach me a little culture. As if this place had any. Oh, and there's his job, that's a big one.

My brother Stan thinks that it's awesome because he'll get to "score with some British chicks".

My mom just wants to go shopping. Do I? No.

So there's nothing in it for me. Stan argues that I'll meet some cool guys here. I'd happily go pleading on my knees for a dude from Australia than some Englishman.

Now, I'm not being racist or anything if that's what you're thinking, but for the long amount of time that I've been here, all the people, guys and girls included, have done nothing more than glare at me. I don't know if it's my hair, my clothes, or even my face, but the least they could do was show a little gratitude whenever I'd give them a little wave. To be extra, super polite one day, I walked up to a lady with a scone in my left hand and a napkin in the other. I put the napkin on her table and placed the scone on top, giving her my biggest smile. "The waiter told me to bring you this, ma'am," I said in my sweetest voice. "Enjoy!" Then, she totally went off on me, calling me a bugger (Whatever that means) and asking me if that was a threat. I was out of there in less than a second. When I asked my mom about it, she told me that in Great Britain, it's considered a bit of a command if you say "Enjoy your meal!" or "Have a nice day!". So much for jolly, old England.

"Sis, aren't you so happy to be here?" Stan laughed, putting an arm around my shoulder. If we were in Florida or the Bahamas I would have said yes. But since I'm here, I remained silent. After a couple of seconds, Stan punched me lightly on the shoulder and continued. "C'mon, Sandy, it's not like it's the end of the world."

"Yes it is," I grumbled, putting my face in my hands. "I miss home. I don't want to be here."

For the slightest second, I thought he would have comforted me about it, but he just let out a boisterous laugh and that made me even more ticked off. "Dude, you're in one of the greatest cities of the world. Like, I thought you always wanted to go to Sydney or Paris or some place like that. What's the difference here?"

"The accent."

He wrinkled his nose in disapproval and his eyes pleaded for me to like this place. I wasn't moved. After five awkward seconds, had scooted away from me and looked out at the water as we went over a bridge. Feeling a little regret, I continued to focus gripping my umbrella so it would snap in half. Before I knew it, we had gotten to our destination and my family swung down the ladder to get off, myself dragging behind.

My new home was still having all the stuff moved into it. So for now, my family and I stayed in a hotel. I spent most of my first week in England gluing my eyes onto my laptop up in the kitchen, gathering all of the birthday e-cards from friends back in America. The one that had touched my heart most was from my best friend, Pashmina, whom I met in preschool. She was totally different from me, only interested in shopping and helping people with their problems while there was me, wanting to jump into mud and beat up kids for their lunch money. You would think she would hate me, but in preschool, I remember some mean dude ripping up her pink scarf because he thought pink was stupid. I beat him to a pulp and since I was too young to be grounded, my parents just gave me the old "Don't do it again" kind of thing. Pashmina kind of stayed at my side from that point on and had always helped me on my crushes and such, since she didn't care much for guys. I remember I had this totally mad crush on a kid named Panda in second grade and she was the one who gave me all the tips for walking up a boy and saying hi. Panda was a shy guy and at the beginning of fourth grade, I had kind of grown out of my crush on him, but we're good friends to this day. His birthday wish made me smile too. It wasn't my birthday until June 6th, which was next week, but I had gotten an email from everyone in my high school either wishing me a happy birthday or a good time in the UK. I ignored anything that mentioned London and read over every funny e-card five times each.

"Sandy, can you go get a carton of milk for me to make dinner?" my mom called to me once I had reached the hotel room after we got off of the double decker bus. I let out a small sigh and threw my dad the room key, walking towards the elevator we had just ridden. I could hear my dad whisper, "Why is she going?" and my mom replied, "I was hoping she could see the town by herself. I think the poor girl needs some alone time."

Pip pip cheerio, my arse.

I was walking briskly towards the supermarket. There was only one in this place since many people ran their own shops and I guess no one here believed in a giant business. Again… How can anyone survive here? Keeping my head down, I tried to make my way through the crowd, shoving my fists in my pockets angrily. I was downright outrageous that I was the one who had to get the stupid milk. It was just so… stupid! I had e-mailed Pashmina the night before and was almost shaking with excitement for her reply. Instead of sitting at my computer doing something important today, my family decided to take a bus ride through the city to only see the sights, not actually go out and take pictures of them. I guess if you lived somewhere, you didn't have to take pictures except for your friends who were in town and you had to show them anything and everything. But still, getting a shot of Big Ben would have brightened my day a little bit.

In my opinion, the only thing I liked about the United Kingdom was the music. I mean, how could you not like bands like Queen or Maximo Park? And of course, you could think of the greats like the Beatles or The Rolling Stones. To be honest with you, their rock is a lot better than American rock, what with a guy named Jingle back home listening to screamo. It drove me insane. So, I took my iPod out and chose "Books and Boxes" by Maximo Park over "Burn It to the Ground" by Nickelback. Halfway into the song, I passed by this group of boys about my age hanging out at the entrance of Cambridge School. There were four of them, each in their own uniform that came from something like Harry Potter. I couldn't help but stare at them all, each boy chatting and laughing with one another. One boy had his eyes reading a book, but he was talking and chuckling along with all of them. They were nothing like my stereotype for Britons and looked more like my kind of people. I stared at the British money thing in my hand (I swear, it was fairy money) and the paper felt as if it was pleading to be spent on something. Caught in between choosing to buy milk like my mom said and talking to these guys was like being choked. If I walked up to them, they would think that I was some idiot who hit her head one too many times, but if I went to go buy the milk, they could be gone before I got back. The last thing I wanted was to lose the chance of making just one friend here. Being lonely wasn't the best thing and I had endured it for a week. Hastily stuffing the money in my pockets, I put my head up and starting making my way towards them.

At first, they all looked up, even the boy reading the book. I froze, but smiled at them warmly. They still stared at me as if I was Irish dancing. You would think they would be a little more gentlemanly, this was England, for Pete's sake! So, being cool and controlled, I turned right and started heading for the school's entrance, walking up the cement stairs and sitting down on the top step. I took out the fairy money and pretended to count it. They all went back to talking.

Jerks.

I let out a groan by accident and a guy with blonde hair spoke. "Something wrong?"

I quickly put my head down, the money looking like a blank piece of paper to me. "No, I'm fine," I said quietly. Of course, I wasn't fine. I was miserable, but I couldn't tell these guys that. I was afraid they would just run away from me. It was as if someone else was speaking. That wasn't my voice, my voice would have screamed out "No, I hate this place, I hate everything about it and I just want to go back home to see my real friends!". I pressed my fingers to my eyelids to push back the tears that were trying to escape as I thought of Pashmina and all of my other friends that were on the other side of the ocean. A shock went down my spine as I realized that I was all alone here, my family wasn't by me and I was accompanied by four strangers.

"Hey, hey, no need to cry," a shorter boy with red hair said in a Scottish accent, seating himself next to me. I really did appreciate how he was trying to make me feel better, but what could he do?

"Are you lost?" the boy with the book asked me, politeness and chivalry burning lightly in his British accent. The way he spoke gave me three seconds of entertainment as I shook my head.

"Well, like me mum always said," a guy with a darker shade of red hair chuckled, leaning against a wall. "Why do today when you can put it off tomorrow?"

The blonde punched him on the shoulder. "Really now, Clarkland, how does that help the girl?"

"I was just trying to help!"

"Some help," the boy with the book said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. I couldn't help but giggle. They were all so nice, I felt kind of like a baby for nearly crying. This group was something you could get used too. As the blonde and red head argued, the boy with the book sat down on my right side, the other red head on my left. "That's Collin." Bookdude pointed to the boy next to me. I smiled at him and he beamed at me. "Peter is the blond one. Connor is the annoying one."

"I am not!" Connor yelled, taking a break from his fight with Peter.

"Yes, you are," Collin chortled. He turned to me. "Connor and I are brothers, just so you know. Moved here from Scotland when we were five."

"Oh, yeah, well I'm from Wales and moved to London when I was eight," Peter bragged and Connor slapped him upside the head.

"Thank you for wasting two seconds of my life that I'll never get back," Connor scolded and Peter gave him a dirty look. I didn't know whether or not I should laugh or feel bad for Peter.

"And Maxwell here was born, raised, and probably will die in England," Collin introduced, gesturing to the brunette on my right. Maxwell blushed for some strange reason when I grinned at him. His red face looked away, focusing on Peter and Connor's bickering. I myself felt a tinge of pink disperse across my face.

"If you're wondering, they fight a lot," Collin whispered to me, referring to the two others in front of us. I giggled when I thought of Dexter and Howdy back home, two boys who would always fight over Pashmina. They just loved to fight, it was actually pretty funny to watch and seeing Connor and Peter fight made me think of home. I closed my eyes.

Home. That word never sounded sweeter. But my home was going to be on Kent Avenue and not in an apartment near Chinatown. I was, once again, realized of how I would never be going back. Before I knew it, tears were streaming down my face and everyone had stopped what they were doing to gather around me. I put my face in my hands as they asked so many questions. I don't know about you, but whenever I cry, I look away. I really hate people seeing me cry, it just makes me feel so weak. None of the boys approached me or tried to do anything except demanding me if I was okay. Well, at least they weren't like the people back home who would pull me into a bear hug. I was happy that they left me have a little space. I finally managed to control myself and rubbed my eyes with my hoodie's sleeve and everyone looked a little relieved.

"Don't keep doing that, I swear, I was going to die of a heart attack if you keep going all sad on us," Collin commented and I shoved him lightly, smiling a little. The look in my eyes told them not to ask why I had cried and instead, they asked for my name. I heartily gave them an answer.

"Sandy? Short for Sandra I presume?" Maxwell asked me and I nodded. I was glad he didn't notice me cringing when he said Sandra.

"So where you from, Sandy the Sandra?" Connor asked me. I opened my mouth to answer when Collin interrupted.

"Wait, let me guess… Based on your hair and your tan…" He searched my eyes and face. "You're an Aussie!"

"What are you crazy?" Maxwell chastised. He turned to me. It was then I realized how tall he was. I swear, he was looming over me. "She looks more Canadian."

"For Ireland's sake, I hope she's not French," Conner said, his fingers stroking his chin in thought. Everyone nodded and it shattered my brain to think of why they didn't like the French.

"I'm a little French, but I'm mostly German, Irish… And I think Scottish," I murmured shyly. "So I'm an American mutt."

"You're from America?" Connor asked me. I bobbed my head up and down, my short, side ponytail following my lead. I put on this look of pride that went in vain. Everyone had this funny smirk on their faces and Connor hummed, "Oh, nooooooo…"

My face kind of heated up and I was ready to bash him for having something against Americans, but I guess that I kind of deserved it for thinking Britons were boring. Then, Peter zoomed up to me and winked. "In that case, you can dump tea in my harbor any day."

Back home, I used to always stop Stan from flirting with any girl and that usually led him to being slapped or punished in a way that used force. And I really didn't mean to slap Peter smack across the face since he was a funny guy, but it just kind of happened. I blame my wicked fast reflexes.

After Peter had the wind knocked out of him, everyone except Peter and me let out a laugh. Connor, it seemed, guffawed the most. Peter grew a little angry and had yelled at everyone who laughed. "You would think gentlemen like yourselves wouldn't laugh at such a thing," Peter mumbled.

"I think you should rephrase that, Peter," Collin chuckled, amusement flickering in his blue eyes. "Gentlemen like ourselves could laugh at someone like you anytime."

"Especially when the yankee girl completely pinned you," Connor said, grinning from ear to ear and his red freckles seemed to glow with happiness. Peter's face blew up like a balloon and he started chasing Connor, throwing his fist in the air and yelling out insults.

"Don't mind them," Maxwell said stiffly, regaining his composure far faster than anyone could have, though I saw some of the past hysterics still aflame in his brown eyes. Collin listening intently. "They're just two chaps who can't see past the ends of their noses. It's getting late, we could walk you home."

I happily took his offer as he was correct, the sky was starting to turn from grey to black and everyone was leaving from work to go to their houses and families. So we all walked towards my hotel, either recalling events or telling jokes. Connor told most of the jokes and everyone either smiled or laughed. I didn't get any of them, but I chuckled to be polite. I even told one.

"Okay, so there's a priest, a rabbi, and a minister," I had said. "The three want to go see who's best at his job. So they each go into the woods, find a bear, and attempt to convert it. Later they get together. The priest begins: 'When I found the bear, I read to him from the Catechism and sprinkled him with holy water. Next week is his First Communion.'

'I found a bear by the stream,' the minister says. 'And preached God's Holy Word. The bear was so mesmerized that he let me baptize him.'

They both look down at the rabbi, who is lying on a gurney in a body cast. 'Looking back,' he says, 'maybe I shouldn't have started with the circumcision.'"

I laughed at it, but no one seemed to be as happy as I. Maxwell told a joke that was returned by a blank stare from yours truly.

"A week before my grandfather died, my grandmother spread lard onto his back," he had told us. "After that, he went downhill very quickly."

This was the joke that everyone laughed at the most and I felt totally out of it. I didn't even smile and my brow furrowed in confusion as I tried to understand it. Collin explained that lard was slippery and that at some point, his grandfather fell and died a week later. At first, I thought it was a true story. It turns out that Maxwell's grandfather was living in the English countryside. I was not amused and I walked farther away from them, scolding them like a mother for some joke like that. They quit laughing until Peter pushed Connor into Collin and that started a fight. I had to turn around to witness it and I sniggered. I wish we could have kept walking for the rest of the night, but I reached the hotel about five minutes later. We all said goodbye, as the boys had to go home and I had to retreat to my bed. Before they went, each one of them gave me his phone number and e-mail. I returned the favor before turning away to face the elevator. When I walked into the metal box and looked outside the lobby window, they were gone and the loneliness followed close behind.

SxMfan: Those jokes that I told were voted America's Funniest Joke and the United Kingdom's Funniest Joke, America's being the joke with the priest and rabbi and Britain's being the one with lard.

Sandy's reaction to each of them was based on my mine. I laughed for five minutes straight at America's funniest joke and hated, HATED the British one. It just seemed so evil that it's not funny. "He went downhill very quickly", that's so MEAN. Oh, and Sandy's output on London is mine too. I honestly would rather go to Paris or New York because London just seemed kind of boring. No offense, I still think that it's cool in it's own way and I'd actually kind of like to go. Don't kill be, Britons, I'm going to make fun of Americans too. (I'm American, BTW, so that might make you feel better.)

Now, I know you all are going to bash me for making Maxwell have a British accent, but I felt as though it fit his personality. Besides, Maxwell is an English name, so there.

My dad bought an American and British English book that showed all the differences in our languages. I guess that's what inspired me to do this. THE MORE YOU KNOW! :D

Review please?