CHAPTER FOUR
Everything was backwards in Britain. The way the people pronounced their vowels, and the the way they drove. It was different, and the change was almost agitating, but somehow it refreshed me. Like someone had dunked me into a bucket of ice cold water, but held me under until air was no longer a priority; I had to like it.
There was a man in a cheap black suit with a skinny black tie holding a sign with my name written in block letters. I approached him and cautiously introduced myself, "Hello, I'm Bethany."
"Hello there miss. I will be your driver today. I hope you're prepared for quite a trip, Worthington is a ways away from here." His accent was still amusing to me. I smiled and nodded my head, accepting the task. "Shall we?" He opened his body toward the closest door and I followed.
The car was small, much smaller than an American Taxi. But I supposed a lonely passenger like myself didn't need much room. "So, you're from America?" He questioned.
"Afraid so," I responded keeping my gaze out the window.
"What's that suppost to mean?" He laughed.
"Well, you probably have heard a lot about American stereotypes. I'm afraid I don't fit very many of them." I shifted in the seat to look at the driver through the rear view mirror.
"True, I have heard many interesting things about you Americans. But I promise I won't judge you." He looked up from the road and flashed me a quick smile. He was nice, and I appreciated it. A part of me feared being ridiculed for my American heritage. I then began to think of Cecilia and how many stereotypes she fit perfectly under. The reflection made me sad so I focused on my chipping nail polish. "So what are you doing out here anyways?" The driver continued to question.
"I got accepted to school here, that's where we're going, Worthington." I stated.
"Oh, right. I forgot that Worthington was a school for a second. So you don't miss your mum or dad?"
"Not really. I was ready to move out when I was twelve." I laughed at the thought. I was a stupid twelve year old. I indulged myself into reading novels and fantasising that I was the main character living in a mythical world. I was no where near ready to leave the grasp of my parents, but I thought I was at the time.
The car ride was long. I tried not to fall asleep due to unfamiliar surroundings. So when we arrived at the school, I was extremely groggy. The school looked old and Victorian. The walls were brick and the steps up to the two giant oak doors were made out of stone. I got out of the awkward little car and stretched until my ears plugged and unplugged. "Here we are miss, your other driver should be here soon, I suppose. Why do you need another driver, speaking of?"
"I'm living in a boarding house since I have no relatives here. I'm living with, um, Mark Dunstan." I said sitting on my luggage.
"Mr. Dunstan? Oh my that man is a millionaire. But be careful miss, I hear he's got a tempa'" The driver warned. I looked over at him, he was tall and pale. I presumed we was quite handsome back in his younger days. But his wrinkly eyes seemed concerned, which worried me. However, I was in no position to show fear in a foreign land.
"Hah, men don't scare me." I lied. I was terrified of violent men, which was strange considering my father was never harsh. However, I knew very well that a woman was essentially designed to be submissive. By then it was dark, and the only thing that lit up was the driver's cigarette. It reminded me about how long it had been since I had had a smoke. My mouth began to imagine the taste of the marijuana smoke inside my mouth.
Lights appeared from down the road. "Ah, there's the other lad," said the driver. The car parked behind the taxi. It was larger and sleeker. It looked elegant and warm, and I wanted to explore the inside. The new driver remained in the car as the original one helped me with my bags. He then opened the door and let me off with a warning, "Be careful, miss." Then I was off to my new home.
