Dan: you're from England!

I groaned as the tannoy cheerfully announced "orientation in fifteen minutes". As if I didn't feel out of place already, now I had to go to some newbies convention. They never had orientation in England...Yeh, that's right, I'm English. Mum and Dad had a big bust-up, Mum packed some bags for me and now we live with my aunt across the pond. I have been out about three times since a month ago when we came: every time I have spoken somebody has exclaimed: 'You're from ENGLAND!' (I'm not actually kidding.) Some people would call that welcoming and friendly but I'm a cynic. So I would call them any of these things. Usually I answer back 'No, I'm from Mexico' but Aunt Teresa's friends do not understand the concept of sarcasm so I have to admit that I am in fact from the Midlands. ('Where's that honey?' '...the middle of England?') Mum has told me not to be so sarcastic around everyone, but quite frankly I find it amusing.

I drudged along to the orientation hall and looked about uncertainly. There were quite a few newbies...then again this was a big place. Not like the tiny school I used to go to: I was there for five years and we had two new people over this period. My best friend, Charlie, assured me that I would love America because to quote him "all the hot girls dig British accents". I told him that if he ever used the verb "dig" again I would disown him.

A girl, fairly tall and with short blonde hair walked over. 'Hi.' she smiled. 'I'm Drew.'

'Daniel Rivers, but I prefer Dan.'

Drew looked at me funny, before flicking her hair about and going 'Oh my gosh are you English?'

'Yeh.' I muttered, half smirking at the fact that Charlie may have been right for once.

The End

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