This wasn't my idea [Prologue]
Let I just start with saying that this wasn't my idea. My ideas are not a synonym for a disaster. 'Cause this is a disaster. My personal version of hell, to be honest.
It wasn't my idea to move to this prehistoric, pathetic town. It wasn't my idea to leave everything what's important – like the penthouse, my friends and Nate – behind. It wasn't my idea to divorce, for crying out loud.
So why do I have to be the one to be punished with this whole crap?
And the cream of the story is that the two persons who had thought up this idea aren't here in the first place!
My dad, who has left my mum and me two months and five days ago, lives with his boyfriend at the Côte d'Azur, in France. My mum – the one who came up with this whole thing – is in London to present her new collection for this season.
So basically I am stuck in this distant town with Dorotha! And I am also the one who has to face first day of school, which would suck anyhow, thanks to the amazing start.
I'm forced to walk the whole way to school! I mean, walk? Walk to school? But I have no choice, I realize grim while I march on.
Back home in New York City I wouldn't think about the option of walking. I would take the cab, like always. But this town doesn't even have a railway station, let alone a cab. I make a mental note to take driver's lessons. In New York City there is no point in having a driver's license. But here, it is a necessity.
I sigh as I see the plate which says this is Forks High School. Prada pumps are not made for walking.
After I've visit the secretariat and received all of the paperwork, I walk to Building One for my first lesson of my first day at this school.
This is going to be a global crisis.