Thanks! So here is the second chapter. You'll get to meet our 'angel' in the next part 
This is more of a filler chapter so I'm sorry if it bores you 
It was necessary 
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Chapter One
I had to push back the tears and I bade my former life goodbye, as our car pulled out of the cobbled driveway of my home for the last time. I almost felt like waving goodbye to it's quaint bricked walls and it's dainty red door. It was my home, and I had been ripped away from it by my parents. If I had my own way they would have had to have pulled me from it kicking and screaming, but that would have been very immature.
"You don't always get what you want in life," my mother, Marie, had said to me after telling me we would be moving fifty miles from our home town. I had not liked the idea of course. Not that I would have much to say goodbye to... I didn't exactly fit in with the people at my current school. They just couldn't understand why I would rather stay at home and read than go out to parties with boys.
I sulked in the back seat as my little brother Rocky wailed like a police siren while throwing toy cars into the air.
“Weenahh! Weenahh!” he screamed, as squirmed in my seat. I gripped the fish bowl tight, watching my goldfish Isaac swim around in panicked circles. I tried to yell over the racket. “Rocky! Please stop!”
He paused for a second, making the car seem silent compared to what it was.
“Peyton, look at my nice cars! You pway with this one!” He flung the yellow sports car to me, and it dropped into the fish bowl with a conspicuous ‘plonk.’ He then continued his police noises, but now paired with fire engine wails.
If fish could scream, Isaac would probably cough up a lung doing so.
Wait, fish don’t have lungs. I sighed loudly, but the noise was unheard.
Mum angled her head towards me from the back seat, shooting me a sympathetic look.
"Don't worry honey, you'll make plenty of new friends at your new school," she said, eyeing me with her muddy coloured eyes. "Isn't that right, John?"
Dad made a gruff coughing noise, but I could see his balding head nod from in front of the head rest. "Of course, pet. You're a great kid, you'll get more friends," he finally managed to wheeze at me. He had a bad cough, and it was causing him speech difficulties. I tried not to speak to him that much so he could spare his breath, but my mother relentlessly demanded his opinions on everything.
The greens and russets of the countryside melted into a messy blur as the car sped towards our new 'home'. Rocky eventually tired himself, his siren noises dying as his blonde head gradually tilted over until it was leaning on the side of his car seat. The natural hues slowly seemed to gradually get duller as we passed through small towns during our journey. I shifted uncomfortably as a large case full of clothes dug deep into my side. My legs throbbed, craving to be stretched out. I was folded almost into the foetal position, as our car was so jam packed with cases and boxes. The small van we had hired had not been big enough to carry all of our things, so I would just have to grin and bear it until we arrived.
"Are we there yet?" I whined, feeling like a six year old on a five minute trip to the beach.
"Nearly. Two minutes," Mum said, looking out of the window eagerly as see stared at the neat little houses we passed.
"Ah, he we are," Dad announced excitedly as we pulled up behind the white van. "Number eleven, our new home."
I grumbled incoherently and pushed the car door open, feeling the relief as I chased the blood trapped above my waist the whole way down to my stiff toes. I checked that Issac wasn’t boots up in his fish bowl, and I was glad to see he had survived the car journey.
I gazed around the small cul-de-sac accusingly, looking for some major flaw that could prevent us from staying. It was perfect. Too perfect, to my liking. All the front gardens were flawlessly trimmed, bushes and trees seemed to be in check too. The neighbours where all outside in their gardens enjoying the buttery sunshine. I saw a bunch of toddlers chase each other in the garden opposite mine, whilst two mothers watched them carefully while nursing glasses of lemonade on their laps.
The house itself was nothing special. Ivory coloured walls, a tiled roof, and a door than was the most disturbing shade of green. I made a mental note to find the nearest shop. That door would look much better if it were red, in my opinion.
I almost expected someone to march right up to us with a basket of muffins to welcome us to the neighbourhood. It was like Wisteria Lane in looks, but I really hoped the people here were nothing like the residents of that place.
I reached back into the car, lifting out a large box of records and CD's. I lifted them and struggled to get to the house, when I walked straight into something solid. There was a loud, "Ooof," and a record bounced out of box and landed on the driveway with a slap. I inhaled in horror when I saw it was my dad's favourite The Who album, My Generation. If it broke, I was as good as dead.
I poked my head around the box agitatedly. "What are you-"
I paused when I didn't recognise the man. He was grinning at me from behind a ridiculously long brown moustache. His hair was slicked back, and he wore a woollen green jumper with an ugly pattern on it.
"Hello," he said, in perfectly pronounced English, which didn't fit in with the other accents around here. "My name is Rob Cunnings, and I am your new neighbourrrrrr." I watched his moustache reciprocate in and out of his mouth as he spoke in horror, felling a sudden urge to rip it off his face like a plaster.
"I uh..." I resulted to clearing my throat awkwardly. "I'm Peyton-"
"Oh, dear dear. The Who? My my." He leaned down, lifting the album off the ground, brushing dirt off it's worn cover.
"What's wrong with The Who? I said, taking it off him and managing to return it to the box.
"It's nothing really. They just are not the best musicians in the universe. Anyway I should go meet your parents. Excuse me."
I glared after him, mumbling, "Who do you like, The Jonas Brothers?"
I continued trying to ignore him the whole time we moved things from the van to the house. He made snobby comments about our car, saying that we should get a Mercedes because the Clio was totally pathetic...
The only joy that I got out of the whole thing was when Rocky threw a toy fire truck at his face.
It hit its target, much to my joy.
Dad had several coughing fits during these comments, but was too breathless to make any objections. Mum just pursed her lips and nodded, too polite to defend our poor little Clio.
So this was to be my new life in Willowgrove. Rob the Snob for a neighbour. A great start.
As I set the last box at my feet, I gazed around the cold bare walls. With a sharp feeling of sadness, I said goodbye to everything I had known and hello to the unfamiliar ways of Willowgrove.
I cant believe I didn't notice the one when her brother throws the toy car 