Chapter 2
(Bryan Speaking)
So I walk into my new school.
I just moved her from England.
Which no one gets because I can make myself not have the England accent.
I can only do that because my mom and dad like to travel a lot so I go to many schools in one year.
But like a month ago my dad said the same words again with a twist.
"We are moving again…
I stood up to go pack my suitcase for the hundredth time, but his next words stopped me.
For good," he finished with a look that told me he expected me to be okay with it.
Instead I nearly exploded.
"What?"
"We can't move this is my home you can't just tell me this and expect me to be okay with it. You need to talk to me before you make these things up and send me away. Let me guess as soon as you get there you're going to go away on a business trip with mom, right?"
I stood there my face lava red waiting for his response.
Instead of answering me he seemed to like looking at his new Italian shoes.
"That's what I thought," and walked away not even waiting for his response.
Up in my room I started shoving clothes into my case.
There was no point in arguing with my father.
I laughed part crazily.
When I had left my dad had looked darn well shooken up.
No one ever challenged my dad.
Not his mom or his dad, not even his wife, or boss.
I knew I had it coming for me next time I went down stairs for breakfast.
He would probably pull out his belt and make me lean over the bed.
Then….Snap!
Just thinking about it made me rub my back side.
"Well," I thought, "I should head down stairs."
My father always explained the news that we were leaving and get plane tickets to the first plane out of here.
I walked down gloomily.
Didn't bother looking at my momma's probably troubled face and headed to the limo parked outside.
I popped the trunk put my luggage in there and sat up front so the only person keeping me company would be my butler "Charlie."
Charlie is the type of person when he knows someone needs to be talked to or not to be talked to.
I think of him as my butler/therapist.
He always knows the right things to say.
Really he is probably more of a father to me than my real one.
Today he didn't say anything.
We just drove in silence while my father (as usual) droned on and on to one of the worker on the phone.
When we finally got on the plane my father tried to talk to me but I refused to even realize he was speaking to me.
Finally he gave up.
I ended up sleeping most of the plane ride hating to see what was waiting for me at the place I now had to call home.