Chapter 1

I may not be the smartest individual ever, but I am most definitely smart enough to know that snow equals not fun. I am also smart enough to know that snow plus rain equals s****y weather conditions in the lower regions of Ontario. In fact, that was the exact same argument I used against my parents when they suggested we move there. 

It's not like they listened to me. They never do. It's kinda like they're the Gods of Life, and I'm like, noise in the background, you know? Anyway, that's how I ended up in Ontario. Before you jump to conclusions, I am not another naive American. I am actually aware that Canadians do not live in igloos or ride polar bears to school. I know it doesn't snow there twenty four seven. I do know, however, that it is a hell of a lot more different than Los Angeles. 

In November in L.A., it's quite frequently around thirty three degrees Celsius. Canada is usually around three or four. It's quite a change, going from warm and sunny to cold and snowy. I don't like snow. But I'm rambling. I'm here to tell you my story, and my hatred for anything wet and cold shouldn't get in the way of that.

November 23rd, 2007 was the day I ended up in surprisingly sunny Oshawa, Ontario, Canada. My mother and my step-father Darren had picked a nice little two story house on a quiet little street to move into. Again, like I mentioned before, I didn't really have much of a choice in the matter. I was not a very happy child on November 23rd, though. 

Back in L.A., I'd had a life. I mean, I wasn't the most popular girl in school, hell, I was far from. But back in Los Angeles, California, I'd had friends. I had people to hang out with, to share my interests with. My parents didn't get that. Apparently my opinion didn't matter, even though I was the one that was supposed to be free, supposed to be living a normal life as a normal sixteen year-old with lots of normal friends. Not that I was normal or anything, just saying.

I took a deep breath and hopped out the door of our car that looked like it was from 343 A.D. God, my parents needed to get with the program. A car from the twenty-first century would have been nice. I walked up the drive way of my new house, stopping beside the moving van to look at my step-dad, who was grabbing boxes and handing them to my mother. 

“Need any help, Darren?” I asked quietly. He looked at me and nodded.

“Sure kiddo. Here, this one's goes to your room.” Darren said, handing me a medium sized box. I looked at him questioningly. 

“And that would be where?” I inquired, wondering where in the hell they had set me up. I hoped it wasn't going to be one of those rooms the size of a friggin' closet. No, I had had enough of those. 

“Up the stairs to the right. I think you'll like it.” he smiled. I weakly smiled back. I wasn't looking forward to this at all.

I pushed the white front door of the house open and walked inside. I don't know if you've ever been in a brand new house, but it's creepy. When you walk in, everything is just completely empty. Nothing is there at all. It's just...weird. 

I tucked the box securely under my arm and headed toward the staircase. It was covered in white carpet that matched that of the living room to a tee. I walked up, stopping at the top landing to look around, looking for the farthest door on the right. I walked over to it and pushed the door open, walking inside. The room I saw was fairly large, bigger than the one I had had back in L.A. The floor was made of a light oak coloured hardwood, and the wall were painted a soft lavender colour. I hated purple. There was no bed in the room, or course. We had all gotten a new bed just before we moved. There was a fancy looking black desk in the corner, a spot for both my laptop and my computer.

Although the room was nice...It was nothing like my old one. It felt, I don't know, a little too cozy. I sighed and placed the box of items on the floor and walked over to the window. I glanced out at the view. No glamourous view of the pacific ocean, no. No palm trees or sandy beaches in the distance. The view out my bedroom window was the dull, green grass of my neighbour's back yard. I sighed and stalked out of the room.

As I made my way out of the house and back down the drive way, I saw four unfamiliar people speaking with my parents. The neighbours, I assumed. There was a woman with dark brown hair and chocolate eyes, a man with blond hair and blue eyes, and two boys. The one boy looked to be around eleven or twelve. He had dark brown hair like his mother, and blue eyes like his father. He was average height for his age, I guess. I assumed he'd get along great with my little brother Alex. The other boy looked my age. He had short-ish strawberry blond hair, and blue eyes the colour of the Oshawa sky. I smiled. He was kind of cute.

My mother looked over at me and smiled.

“Christina! Come here and meet the neighbours!” she called. I flipped strands of dyed black hair from my green eyes and walked over.

“Nathan, Helena, this is our daughter, Christina Morgan.” My mother said, flashing the man and woman a smile.

“Nice to meet you, Christina.” The woman spoke with a quiet, coarse tone, “I'm Helena Tyne. This is my husband Nathan and our sons Luke and Jeremy.”

I gave a half smile. “Nice to meet you guys too.”

Helena smiled. “Christina, you're sixteen, right?” I nodded. Helena looked over at Jeremy, the blond, “Jeremy, why don't you and Christina get acquainted? You could tell her about the school and get to know her and such.”

Jeremy nodded and smiled at me. “Sure, why not? Come on, we'll go to my place.” 

“Okay.” I said quietly, following this Jeremy character as he walked next door to his house. We walked in the door and Jeremy lead me up the staircase and into a large room painted black. I smiled. My room back home was black.

“Welcome to my room!” Jeremy said, gesturing around the room with his hands. I looked around. The walls were plastered with posters of bands like My Chemical Romance, Panic! At The Disco, and The Used. My favorite bands, too. Clothes scattered the floor and a guitar was propped up on a stand in the corner.

“It's kinda messy, but...” Jeremy trailed off. I smiled. 

“I like it.” I said, turning to look at him. He was wearing grey skinny jeans and a black tee shirt with a striped grey hoodie. I stopped staring at him.

“You like all these bands?” I asked him.

He nodded. “I love them. MCR is my favorite.” I smiled. Oddly enough, MCR was my favorite band too.

Jeremy flopped onto his bed ans patted the space beside him. I walked over and sat.

“So,” he began, “Tell me about yourself, Christina Morgan.”