So there it was, my big epitome of the day. I was a Valley boy, born and bred. Only I'd been in America so long I guess I forgot. How did I forget? I mean, it's not like a Welsh accent fits in in American schools, is it? Then again, my sister's got an American accent and my brother barely says anything understandable so I guess I could have forgotten.
I stormed out of the lesson after it finished, ignoring the fact that I was hungry, and went straight up to my room. I lay on my bed, wanting to get under the covers and sleep away my boredom but didn’t have the determination. I lay silently on my bed and a familiar scent washed over me: tobacco. I’m not exactly a smoker anymore (I gave up two years ago, apparently that was one of the things that kept getting me expelled) but the mere smell of it brought back memories. I got off the bed with a sigh, determined to find the owner of the cigarettes and “borrow” one off them, when I saw…a lion walk out of one of the rooms. Seeing a lion kind of made me walk back into my room. I shut my door, which was open a crack, and sighed again. I was losing it, I swear to god. A lion in a school. Yeah, right. I leant my head against the door and sighed again. I needed a smoke.