"R-E-S-P-E-C-T! Find out what it means to me!" Aretha Franklin's voice pounded from my stereo speakers, shaking me out of my unconscious state. I groaned and shuffled over to the blaring sound equipment, slamming my hand down on the 'Off' button. As much as I loved the oldies when they were helping to put me to sleep, I was not such a huge fan of them in the morning.
"Yeah, show me a little respect," I mumbled to the stereo. "Don't blare music at 5:00 AM." I always talk to my inanimate objects. I give them personalities. The stereo is a caring but firm mother, who always wakes me up in the morning with a stern yet gentle hand. The kind of mother I wished I had... mine, a former New York model and now a socialite, was always at a gala or a ball or some black-tie fundraiser for a charity. Her idea of cooking was giving Macy, our chef, the night off and ordering in Thai food. My dad is no better. He's so obsessed with stocks and other people's money that when he tried to give me the "sex talk" he ended up talking about the "bulls and the bears" (of the stock market) instead of the birds and the bees. I suppose I should feel lucky. My parents are together and they both make gazillions of dollars, and they give me anything I want (except for maternal/paternal love, of course). Somehow, these things aren't comforting thoughts.

I am grateful for this new start, though. Granted, the only reason we moved to Toronto was because my dad's company opened up operations in Canada, but I'm still glad that I get a new beginning. To my friends at my school in NY I was the "rich girl", the one who had access to anything her little heart desired. Here in Toronto, at a new school, I had the opportunity to make a new name for myself. No one here had to know about my upbringing. No one had to find out that my parents were a hot topic on the famous page 6 of the New York Times. Here I could begin again, and make a new life for myself.

I had just begun to doze off when I suddenly remembered that it was 5:30 and I still had to shower and get ready for my first day. My heart did a little leap at the thought of starting a new school and seizing that excitement I bounded back out of bed, hopped into my bathroom, threw off my pajamas and stepped into the shower. Half an hour later, I felt jubilant and refreshed. I turned the radio back on as I began to straighten my chest- length 24-carat golden blonde hair, and sang along to the Britney Spears tune. Pop music is what gets me rejuvenated in the mornings. I save the oldies for the nighttime. Finally satisfied with my hair, I carefully chose items from my closet--I was already feeling a little bit nervous, and choosing the wrong outfit would just make me even more scared. I settled on jeans and a black tank top, accessorizing with a toggle-heart bracelet, and, after penciling on light black eyeliner and brushing on sparkly cherry- pink lip-gloss I raced down the stairs to the kitchen where Macy was preparing breakfast. Seeing that my parents were nowhere to be found, I began to get a little angry.
"Where's my mom?" I asked flatly, not trying to disguise the hurt in my voice. I mean, I knew my mom had been up late the night before, but it was my first day of school and I had expected her to at least come down to breakfast to wish me good luck.
"She's in bed, with aspirin. Hard night last night," Macy chuckled. "She did tell me to tell you to have a great day though." This was a comforting thought, at least.
"What about Daddy?"
"He's at the office. Making arrangements. Finalizing things. Yelling at stupid clients who don't give him proper bank statements." Macy laughed again, and I could see a sparkle in her eye as I plopped down at the kitchen island table. She and I ate quickly together-I was anxious to get to school and she was preparing a big meal for that night, so there was no regular mealtime small talk. Macy and our housekeeper, Gail, were my real mothers. They were the ones who had raised me and paid attention to me. I felt like screaming this to my mom, to get her insulted and finally notice me, but she would never tolerate a hissy fit in public. It was unacceptable to tarnish the Gillingham name, and this meant no screaming in public or embarrassing a family member. These were stupid socialite rules, and I wanted nothing to do with them. But until I was 18, I was legally bound to the guidelines of the Gillingham family. And let me tell you, I was not pleased.

Macy grabbed the keys and we climbed in to my mom's Mercedes. I didn't want to show up at my new school in such a flashy car, but the other option was my dad's BMW and my parents' new Range Rover. Slowly driving down the other Forest Hill residential streets, Macy pointed out different trees and flowers in gardens. In New York the trees are scarce and skinny, and flowers are almost non-existent unless you live in a ground-floor apartment. Screeching to a stop in front of Degrassi Community School, Macy let me out and kissed me on the cheek as a parting gesture.
"Have fun, Lexie. You're going to be fine." She smoothed my hair and fondly smiled at me, then sped away. I stepped back and took a look at my new school. Degrassi. Nice, modern. I could get used to this. I trotted up the steps and pulled open the entry doors, all too acutely aware that a wavy-haired boy with an Elijah-wood-as-Frodo-'do and a tall, lean figure was watching me. Just as I had walked inside, Frodo pushed past me, never breaking his stare. I have to admit, I was a little creeped out by this behavior. He had been looking at me like I was some sort of super freak rock star or something. It scared me, in fact. But, I knew as the day progressed that I would forget about it, so I shoved Frodo's face out of my mind and headed down the hall to the office.