"Think of the happiest things, things that give you wings, to the magic beyond words, to stars above the world. You can fly."

Two more days, just two more days and they will come and get me. Just two more days. She kept chanting her internal monologue over and over again. It had to be only two more days and her grandparents would come and bring her home. Just two more days. They had cared for her for 5 years, they wouldn't just leave her in California, thousands of miles from home with people she didn't know. Two more days and they would bring her home.

She stopped pacing and flopped down on the mattress. It was pink. She hated pink. The last time she'd owned anything pink was 10 years ago. There were many other colours she liked, although most were basically green. And yet the room was pink. Why?

There was a knock on the door, "Sammy, you alright, baby?" The woman, her aunt Hayley, seemed concerned.

"Yes, I'm fine," she replied cheerfully, trying to keep her voice even and free of malice. Being rude or naughty or disrespectful meant bad things. She rubbed the back of her neck absentmindedly.

Her parents' had separated when she was little. Things had been amicable for a while. Years had passed though and there had been more fighting. Then her dad died. From what, she'd never been told. That had been the last time that she had seen her older brothers. Their father's funeral. That was 5 years ago now, and the only thing she knew was that Leo had become a solicitor and Joe was now living in America.

Life was so complicated. Her family was split up. Joe and Leo had moved out when they went to university, her dad was dead, her mum didn't care and she was here because of her grandfather's heart attack. It was so frustrating. What could she say though. I hate this place, I want to go home. No, she would just have to stay silent. Silence was always best.

She got up and pulled on the black tank top and shorts that were lying on the chair. School was starting next week and Hayley was opening her new cafe then as well. There were still lots of things to do so she was going with her after breakfast. That and she wanted to get her mind off of her approaching entrance of the 8th grade.

Her uncle was sitting at the table examining some fossils. Grandma had said once that Tommy had a fascination with dinosaurs.

"Morning Princess," he smiled at her, when she sat down. "How did you sleep?"

"Pretty good," she replied, smiling.

Hayley walked over and put a box of cereal on the table in front of her. "Tommy, what happened to not playing with rocks at the table. That's why you have an office."

He put a hand on his heart, "what's so wrong with wanting to spend time with my wife."

Hayley rolled her eyes, "just eat your breakfast."

Standing, balanced on a stool trying to hang pictures, really wasn't one of her best ideas. Especially as the stool was half on the rug and kept wobbling precariously.

Hayley had asked her to hang pictures on the wall. They had been fairly easy to hang, except for the few right now. She had to stretch over the spikey plant while trying not to fall off. It was a good thing that she had attended dance lessons from the age of five.

"Um...Hello?"

She twisted around suddenly, lost her balance and ended up on the floor.

"Hey, are you alright?" a boy said offering his hand to her. He was fairly tall, with messy dark hair, and eyes, that seemed very familiar.

She grabbed his outstretched hand and stood up. "Thanks...uh...is there something I can do for you?"

"I'm looking for Hayley, I need to give her this," he gestured to the piece of paper. "It's about the bus boy job."

Hayley had mentioned something about looking for a bus boy. "She's kinda busy right now, but I could give it to her for you, if you want."

"That would great, uh?" he said handing her the application.

"Sammy, and it's no problem," she glanced down at the name, "Trent. I'll give it to her later, when she's finished."

He smiled at her, "thanks." He opened his mouth again, as if to say something, but promptly shut it.

"Is there anything else I can do for you?" she asked, filling the obvious silence.

"I...hm...your accent it's..."

She knew what he was going to say. Being welsh came with two problems, tourists trying to do the stereotypical welsh accent and endless jokes about sheep.

"Before you say anything else, I'm welsh. No, Wales is not in England, not everyone with the surname Jones is related and we do not have sexual liaisons with sheep..."

"Wait," he said, interrupting her rant, "I was going to say that I like your accent. It's different."

"Thanks," she replied, quietly.

He was the first person outside of the family who hadn't made some stereotypical remark about the welsh.

"I should probably be getting back," he said suddenly, breaking the silence. "My Dad doesn't know about any of this and I want to keep it that way. Maybe I'll see you around."

"Um... sure," she replied, confused as to the sudden exit.

"Hey Sam," Hayley said coming out of the backroom, "I need your help sorting stock."

"I'm coming," Sammy replied. Her eyes lingered on the door a moment longer before following her aunt.