The Real New York

Chapter 2, Becca

      I woke up to shadows dancing upon my sunlit wall. I sat up, stretching my arms, and shook my head, letting my blonde hair fall to my waist. My teal eyes started to adjust to the blinding light. I climbed out of my canopy, king-sized, four poster bed, and drew the drapes back, revealing the loud, busy, glamorous New York City.

I laid back on my long sofa that sat it the corner of my room, next to a ceiling to floor window. A angelic sound echoed through my room. I hopped off my sofa, now fully awake and ready for the horrid school day ahead. My mum got me into waking up early to be prepared for the rest of the day. I immediately do a mad dash to my walk-in-closet, (My dad made sure everyone who paid for them got them. Yay!) pressing a button which recognized my finger. Yes, having a Canadian walk in closet is amazing, but, almost all of them had a glitch.

Today, Tiffany (Yes, closets have names) decided on a flowing white t-shirt that revealed my shoulders, jeans, a black choker, opal studs, a simple bracelet that read Each Day Live in The Moment, and a pair of Converses. I looked in the mirror, checking out my outfit.

"What do you think Tiff?" I asked my closet, yes talking closet. I had my dad change and reprogram my other closet because the Russian (I know, Tiff, RUSSIAN?!?!) one started cursing and got mad at me. The evil Russian one was known by the name of "Water Cursing Dude". I woke up, mad at my walk in closet, because of it's cursing. See, Water Cursing Dude knew I was mad. He started glitching out and spewing water everywhere, cursing happily.

"Oh yes! I love it. I also have another, would you like to see it? I think you'll love this, eh. I am soooooo sorry about the malfunction I had in 2014. It was a big accident. I never meant to embarrass you, ma'am, eh." A fun, outgoing, Canadian accent replied.

"Okay Tiff, show me." I replied. Automatically, two, huge birch doors opened into a large room filled with clothes being whisked around by a robot arm. The center held a single outfit. Inside, I found leggings, a dance shirt, and easy-to-dance-in ballet flats.

"Tiff, I'll bring that to school, but I can't wear it walking on hard concrete streets. But it's nice."

"OH MISS, I am soooooooo sorry. I didn't think that through!!!!" I smiled and then awkwardly patted a wall. People ask me if Tiff is like Dobby, from Harry Potter, because of her high pitched voice and constant apologizing. Then I say "he already has all the socks in the world". These so-called "fans" just stare at me.

Once I had my outfit on, I texted my best friends. I met them when I first moved to NYC, from the UK. First, I befriended the amazing Hazel Gwin, as she persistently insists I call her. She's super nice, funny, and great best friend material.

I met Jordan Nightingale about right after I became friends with Hazel. Their trio used to be Hazel, Jordan, and Sadie Olympia Smith. My trio was Alison Abbott, Abbigail Abbott, and me.

Sadie was a jerk, so they left her to find another friend. Sounds mean, but she made our lives miserable. When my iPhone 6s finally notified me that my friends were texting me, I was putting my hair in a messy lace braid bun.

@DazzleTheDancer: Good Morning, Jordie!

@DazzleTheDancer: Angelica, you there?

@DazzleTheDancer: OH JORRRRRRRRRDAAAAAAAAANNNNNN!!! ANYBODY HOME?!?!

@DazzleTheDancer: Jordan Nightingale!

@DazzleTheDancer: Respond u crazy cinnamon roll!

@DazzleTheDancer: I'm leaving NOW!!!!!!!!

@Ham: Hey *finger guns*

@DazzleTheDancer: I'm killing you now *Death glare*

@Ham: K.

@Ham: Gotta go, "school" time.

I grabbed my school bag and dashed down the stairs, hugging my dad and mom good morning and good bye.

"No breakfast?" My dad asked.

"I'll get it on the way!" I brushed past my dad and mum.

"Bye, baby girl!" My mum called out in her fuzzy pink robe, clutching a steaming hot cup of black coffee. She tried to give me a kiss on the forehead, but I was practically gone. 

"Have fun at school!" my dad yelled from the window. I ran to the parking lot. My chauffeur, Ryan, opened the door to the Warlin family lamborghini. I switched on the radio, waiting for Hazel to arrive. Ryan pushed opened the door, smiling. I kind of zoned out listening to her, but then she brought out Sir-Hiss-A-Lot, her cute siamese cat. I was going to ask her where she was going to store him during the school day, but Ryan zoomed out of the driveway at about 50 million miles per second. I simply took a sip of my coffee, smiling at the amazed Hazel. And, then, we were at school, with Sir-Hiss-A-Lot stored away in my locker.