I know that I'm totally not like most girls I know. These are girls who liked dressing up and tea parties when they were little, and now they're all makeup and boys, 24/7.
So wy am I different? Let's see...most girls weren't sent to America for first through fifth grade. Most girls don't have as many guy friends as I have. Most girls don't talk as much as I do.
When I say guy friends, that's exactly what I mean. They were guys I spent a lot of time with. Even today, you could put me in a room with any boy and I could start up a conversation. Honest, I could.
Okay, more on life. My mum and dad died when I was really little. A burglar was raiding our house when they walked in. He shot them both; one bullet each. My world fell that day in 1968.
Right away--well, as soon as I got home from school--I was put on an airplane and shipped to America. Imagine it: you're sitting in the clouds going somewhere you've never been before all alone. It's not the story of my life.
My Aunt and Uncle picked me up from the O'Hare airport after six hours of sitting on a plane. Right away, I could tell that they were rich. Their limo was plush. They weren't even related to me straight: Aunt Mari was my mom's cousin. And Aunt Mari was only fifteen years older than me
Since I was only six, I was supposed to have a 'proper education.' After only two days of getting used to the time change, I started school.
I was enrolled in the California School of the Arts, and expensive private school about 1000 miles away from my relatives in Chicago. Somehow, I fit in right away. Kids loved my accent, and teachers loved my brains. It was nice.
Somewhere in the middle of second grade, around January, I met 'Ian Jake and Peter,' a group of boys liked by every girl in my grade. Sure, they were cute, but we clicked right away. It must have been weird for the other students to see a girl hanging around a group of boys--an irish one with orange-red hair and pale skin, one american with chocolate brown hair, and one korean with black hair--for the majority of the time. But it didn't matter to us. It was kind of funny, though, because Ian and I were the only kids in the school with reddish hair.
We were best buds. During classes we sat together in a corner of the room. The only way they passed was from reading the notes I managed to jot down and getting help from me. After school, we'd all hang out together somewhere, usually their dorm room (because mine was all girly) or the student union.
After hours, while everyone was sleeping, we'd play tricks on people. Almost every other day, we had detention. We took that time to plan more tricks. Once a week, we visited the Dean's office. The secrataries really got to know us.
All this happened until school let out on June 1st. Then, we'd go home, and the guys would usually come over to my Aunt Mari's house since she owned the most land to hang out on. When school started again on September 1st, it all happened over and over and over.
Until the summer after fifth grade.
So wy am I different? Let's see...most girls weren't sent to America for first through fifth grade. Most girls don't have as many guy friends as I have. Most girls don't talk as much as I do.
When I say guy friends, that's exactly what I mean. They were guys I spent a lot of time with. Even today, you could put me in a room with any boy and I could start up a conversation. Honest, I could.
Okay, more on life. My mum and dad died when I was really little. A burglar was raiding our house when they walked in. He shot them both; one bullet each. My world fell that day in 1968.
Right away--well, as soon as I got home from school--I was put on an airplane and shipped to America. Imagine it: you're sitting in the clouds going somewhere you've never been before all alone. It's not the story of my life.
My Aunt and Uncle picked me up from the O'Hare airport after six hours of sitting on a plane. Right away, I could tell that they were rich. Their limo was plush. They weren't even related to me straight: Aunt Mari was my mom's cousin. And Aunt Mari was only fifteen years older than me
Since I was only six, I was supposed to have a 'proper education.' After only two days of getting used to the time change, I started school.
I was enrolled in the California School of the Arts, and expensive private school about 1000 miles away from my relatives in Chicago. Somehow, I fit in right away. Kids loved my accent, and teachers loved my brains. It was nice.
Somewhere in the middle of second grade, around January, I met 'Ian Jake and Peter,' a group of boys liked by every girl in my grade. Sure, they were cute, but we clicked right away. It must have been weird for the other students to see a girl hanging around a group of boys--an irish one with orange-red hair and pale skin, one american with chocolate brown hair, and one korean with black hair--for the majority of the time. But it didn't matter to us. It was kind of funny, though, because Ian and I were the only kids in the school with reddish hair.
We were best buds. During classes we sat together in a corner of the room. The only way they passed was from reading the notes I managed to jot down and getting help from me. After school, we'd all hang out together somewhere, usually their dorm room (because mine was all girly) or the student union.
After hours, while everyone was sleeping, we'd play tricks on people. Almost every other day, we had detention. We took that time to plan more tricks. Once a week, we visited the Dean's office. The secrataries really got to know us.
All this happened until school let out on June 1st. Then, we'd go home, and the guys would usually come over to my Aunt Mari's house since she owned the most land to hang out on. When school started again on September 1st, it all happened over and over and over.
Until the summer after fifth grade.
