Cursed

1. Belle and Books

650 or so years later...

1. Belle and Books

I can't believe they made me move. I hate London, hate everything about it. I hate the cold, I hate the smog, the lack of sun, and the people. I hate their stupid accent, and their stupid etiquette, and all that stupid tea.

Can't wait for school tomorrow, where everyone can make fun of my American accent and laugh at my sense of fashion. I'm a straight up California girl, I like short shorts, tank tops, flip-flops, sunshine, heat, no littering, tolerance and everything else that can't be found in London. I hate my dad's stupid wife, it's her effin' fault I'm here. All that sun and happiness depressed her. Ugh, really? Is that like even possible?

Dad's a freelance photographer, so his job is pretty flexible when it comes to where he works. He certainly doesn't mind the change of scenery. Calls it a challenge. He married Saundra about a year ago and I can't say I love her. I mean, she's okay and she makes Dad happy so that's what matters, right?

But boy is she high maintenance. Lucky for her, she's got quite a bit of money of her own or we certainly wouldn't be able to support her with Dad's unpredictable profession and my odd jobs. Let's just say she came into a bit of an inheritance months before the wedding.

Damn, I'm awful, I really shouldn't hate on her. She's really not that bad. Wonderful cook.

I rolled grumpily out of my bed and put on a black T-shirt and jeans. I slipped into my sneakers, grabbed a jacket and left the house with just my cellphone and some money. I walked 15 minutes to the nearest Underground Station and boarded the Victoria line.

I passed through the rows and rows of people until I found an empty seat that was surrounded by more empty seats. I took a seat and leaned my head back, closing my eyes.

“Hey, you're in my English class, aren't you?” I inched open my eyes, annoyed at the British accent. The voice belonged to a guy with big red and black headphones around his neck. I could hear the bass notes vibrating and wondered whether he would become deaf one day from blasting such loud music into his eardrums. He was wearing a black sweatshirt with the picture of some metal band on the front and really muddy jeans. I blinked twice, I didn't recognize him.

“Robertson's fourth?” Yes, I was in that class but I wasn't surprised that I didn't recognize him. I never noticed anyone, didn't really bother to. No use making ties to a place I plan to bolt from as soon as possible.

“Um... I'm Nick,” he said, obviously uncomfortable by my silence.

“Belle.” I looked at my phone, pretending to be occupied by a text. He laughed nervously and rocked from foot to foot.

“So... um...” he mumbled, obviously not getting the hint. I sighed and gave in.

“You wanna sit down?” I offered.

“Love to!” he laughed, relieved of all awkwardness.

“Belle, huh? Your from Cali, right?”

“Yup, that's me, designated Cali girl,” I answered dryly. He laughed longer than was necessary.

“So how are you liking London?”

“Hate it.”

“Oh, um, well, you'll warm up,” he flashed me a hopeful smile.

“No I won't. It's too cold here. I miss the sun,” I pouted. He laughed again.

“Well you know, if you're really that cold, I could keep you warm,” he winked. I fought a deep blush, no one had ever said anything like that to me before.