A/N: Yay, another story! This one is really different from my first one, A Walk to Remember, and I hope you'll like it. There will be some French in it, and I'm not just talking about the language. If you have any problems understanding what the french characters say, just ask me about it, it will be my pleasure to explain. Notice that I'm from Québec, and not from France, so I might use both kinds of french.
Enjoy!
----------------------
France
"It is truly weird how some people get used to change, when the real whole point of change is to get rid of the usual. If you manage to get used to it, it means you really need to change. Some people only change a little part of their lives, like walking to work every morning instead of driving, or buying blue Egyptian cotton sheets to replace their white flannel ones."
"That's what is wrong. When I say change, I mean change. Like buy a camper and go on a road trip, get a new look that's totally different from the one before, go back to school, go to parties, buy a pet, changes countries-"
"Sakura-chan, get down here, supper's ready!"
Sakura emitted a low growl and rolled her eyes. Every time she started to rant about something in her diary, her mum would come down the ladder that connected her room to the rest of the house and tell her to do something. Okay, eating wasn't that bad, but she knew her mum would ask her to wash the dishes and would not let her go until everything was clean, dry and back on its shelf.
It was hard to keep the entries of her online diary up to date with her mother around. Oh how she wished her mum started dating someone again. Since her father's death, she had rejected several date propositions from men. In fact, all of them. Let's face it, she had closed herself up from the whole male population in Japan, and probably on the planet.
So now, she was devoting her whole life and love to her one and only daughter, Sakura. The poor girl had had to endure her mum's never ending rants about her clothes (which were usually jeans, T-shirts with band names and Converse shoes), her make-up (almost nothing, maybe black eyeliner when she felt bold), her nail polish (Sakura never understood what was wrong with black nail polish), and various other stuff that mothers always complain about.
Sakura had been seriously thinking about hooking her mum up with one of her teachers, especially her French teacher, but it would have been rather weird to have her step-father try to explain to her the difference between "oui", which is French, and "we", which is English. She therefore abandoned the idea and created her online diary, where she could talk and talk about everything her mum and herself could never talk about.
Sakura saved her new entry, turned off her laptop and climbed down her ladder. The sweet smell of sautéed onions and red peppers came to her nostrils, along with the slightly salty scent of roast beef and the almost unnoticeable odour of mashed potatoes. She had always possessed a fine nose and a strong smelling sense, and could always tell what they were going to eat by just sniffling the air.
When she was little, it was her favourite game with her father. He was the one who gave her the smelling gene, and every night, they would try to discover what her mum was preparing. He always won, knowing every dish name, except for macaroni and cheese, since he was the one cooking it. It was her favourite meal above all, and she was still trying to reproduce it exactly like the one her father used to make.
She sat down at the table, where the onions, peppers and potatoes were already fuming from their bowls. Then, her mum arrived with the beef and put it on the table. She started cutting the meat and serving it in their plates. She had a nervous look on her face, and seemed to have a hard time focussing on what she was doing.
Her movements were mechanical, unsteady, almost difficult. Finally, after spilling half of the sauce on the floor and almost cutting through Sakura's hand, who was innocently trying to help her mum to calm down, she sat down and started eating. She was only taking small bites, which clearly showed she was nervous about something.
"Er, kaa-san? Are you alright? Do you have something to tell me?" Sakura asked carefully. Her mum jumped a little and wiped her mouth with her napkin.
"Well, Sakura-chan, n-now that… you mention it, I d-do have something to-… to t-tell you." Whoa. She stuttered. Bad omen, really bad omen.
"You see, I… have found you… a job," she declared. Sakura didn't really understand what she was so nervous about.
"Really? That's it? But that's great, kaa-san! What is it, where is it, how much does it pay and when do I start?"
"Erm, well, it pays you 20 dollars an hour," she started as Sakura's eyes widened. "and you start tomorrow."
Sakura couldn't believe her ears. Her mum had found a job that paid 20 dollars an hour and was offering it to her. While the wild side of her mind danced around with joy, screaming at how good of an entry for her diary that would be, her rational side got suspicious and urged her to learn more about the whole offering thing.
"Er, Mum? Why don't you keep it? If it's such a good job, you could enjoy it and gain more money than you currently do!"
"Well, actually, I couldn't take it," her mother replied.
"Why?"
"Because it's in France," she admitted bluntly.
"WHAT!?"
----------------------
"…change countries, unless you are underage and not ready to move out. If this is the case, do everything in your power to stay where you are and not become like me. Dear Diary, I am officially second personal assistant to the Japanese ambassador in France and tomorrow, I am moving out to Paris. Alone and underage. Haruno Sakura signing out."
----------------------
A/N: Well, here it is. First chapter of my new story. I know that writing three stories at the same time is almost suicide, but I'm sure I can handle it. I'm not putting A Walk to Remember on hold, nor am I discontinuing it. Of course, it will take more time to update everything, but I will finish all of them. I promise.