I stood outside, rain drizzling down steadily. I had always hated this type of rain, the rain that was never heavy but somehow you got drenched within minutes of being caught up in it. I should be used to it by now, but that didn’t mean I had to like it. Teens rushed around me, jackets pulled tight around them, hoods covering their faces, others creating a sea of umbrellas. Sighing internally, I make my way to the building in front of me, marked “FORKS HIGH SCHOOL”. Yes, I was in Forks. I still had no idea how I got here though. It was a mystery I had pondered on since I woke up here. I knew for a fact that something was wrong. I mean, you don’t just wake up one day to find you’ve moved from one country to another. And in a hospital no less.
Pulling open the doors, I make my way down the corridor, eyes scanning my surroundings. The place looks just like every American High School sitcom and film I had ever seen. Which was both reassuring and completely foreign to me. I didn’t have much time to dwell on that thought before they were interrupted by a voice from my left.
“Hey. You look lost. Are you new here?” Startled out of my musings, I whip my head around to see a very tall girl with brownish hair and glasses looking at me in concern.
“Um. Yes? To both questions I guess” I reply. “Where can I find the office?”
“I can take you if you’d like. My name’s Angela. I’m the photographer for the school paper.”
I look at her hands to find that, sure enough, she’s carrying around a camera amidst her books and papers.
“Uh, thanks. I don’t want to be any trouble really. I’m sure you have class....”
“It’s not a problem. I’d feel bad if I just walked right past you without helping.” she said, flushing slightly.
“Okay. Well thanks again Angela. It’s appreciated. I’m... Lydia” I say, only pausing slightly on the fake name I had given myself. I followed her to the office and introduced me to Mrs. Cope, the receptionist and then bid me farewell to head off to class. Mrs. Cope provided me with a load of papers with a map of the school, slips for my teachers to sign for the first day and a class schedule. Looking over it, I mentally groaned. This was going to be torture.
Thankfully the day passed by quickly and before I knew it, it was lunchtime. Angela saw me hovering by the cafeteria doors and lead me in, helping me get my food and even paid for it, much to my extreme embarrassment. She really was an angel, but then it IS part of her name, I thought with a snicker. She lead me to a table, we sat down and introduced me to the other people sat there. Mike Newton, son of the owner of the local sports store, Eric Yorkie, a cute nerdy kid who was a reporter for the school paper, Jessica Stanley and finally Lauren Mallory who I immediately dubbed “The Wicked Witch of the West”. Lauren was the kind of mean girl in every cliché teen show and film; she was popular and looked down on everyone else for it and never forgot to remind you of it. Angela asked me how I was finding my first day of school and I told her it was an experience. We chatted amicably for a few minutes before Lauren butted in.
“You don’t sound American.” She sneered.
“That’s because I’m not American.” I replied.
“Where are you from then?” Eric piped up.
“I’m British, if you really must know. Born and raised” I say to him.
“You don’t sound British. I thought they had accents.”
“Lauren!” Angela gasped.
“It’s okay Ang. I can see why she’s confused. I assume you think we all talk like the Queen? Easy mistake to make really. There’s many different accents within the UK. You have about 5 accents within London alone, then the Geordies, the Brummies from Birmingham, the Essex accent, the Mancunian accent from Manchester, the different Welsh accents, same with Scottish, the Yorkshire accent and the Scouse accent from Liverpool. There’s many types of accent depending on where you come from. But I lived in New Zealand for a while, so I sound more Kiwi than I do English now.”
At that, Eric sat up straighter in his seat and leant forward slightly.
“No Eric. We are not interrogating her about her life, even if you think it’d make a good article.” Angela stated. At that moment, the doors on the other side of the cafeteria opened and in walked a group of 5 people. 5 people I recognised immediately. This was the scenario I was hoping WOULDN’T come to fruition.