THE DANGEROUS MAFIA KING AND HIS SUPPOSED SLAVE

Wednesday, 7th of September

For the fourth time today, I'm forced to stand in front of the class with a seemingly bright smile. I can't believe they still make people do this. I take a deep breath before introducing myself to faces I'm beginning to recognise.

"Hi there." I awkwardly wave. "I'm Christine Beckley. I recently moved from Brisbane, Australia. I love surfing, reading, and cooking."

I glance at the teacher, and she smiles, so I hurry to my desk and lower myself into the chair. The teacher takes my place with a warm and eager grin.

It's the first genuine smile I've seen all day. The administration lady was grumpy, most likely stressed from the first day of school, and then our math teacher seemed to hate life even more when I told him how beautiful the beaches were. I get it-this town is small and gloomy compared to the beaches on the Gold Coast.

I understand, it was only last week that I stood on the beach covered in sand and sea salt. Now, I'm in a classroom halfway across the world, filled with weird customs I think I'll never understand, and people gawking at my accent.

Sometimes I think I'm speaking English, but the way they look at me, perhaps I'm speaking gibberish?

"We'll be learning the basics of photography so that we can cover school events."

The woman holds a camera and explains how it works. My mind wanders to the beach. I miss sand under my toes, the smell of salt water, and the sun on my cheeks.

I'd do anything to catch a wave or two.

When Dad mentioned moving to America, I begged for somewhere on the coast, but no, he wanted to return to his hometown in the middle of freaking nowhere.

When the school bell rings, I realise I've spent the whole lesson daydreaming.

I collect my things and wander to the cafeteria, which is different. I'm not hungry, so I bypass the line and head outside where it's quiet.

I take a seat at the empty picnic table and laugh at the students scrambling to find seats inside. The sun heats my cheeks, and if I close my eyes, I could pretend I'm standing on the beach.

That illusion is shattered by someone yelling.

"Hey you, yes you," a boy calls as he races over. "This table is reserved for the football team!"

"Oh, I'm so sorry." I scramble to my feet. "I'm new here."

As I grab my bag, another student shoves the first boy out of the way. He topples to the ground and shoots them a glare.

"Don't listen to that idiot." He sighs. "You're the new chick, the one from Australia?"

"Uh." I look at the guy on the floor, then back at him. "Yes, that's me, I'm Christine."

"Is Christine a nickname for Charlotte?"

"No, just Christine."

"Oh, hm!" He sighs. "I'm Arthur, and that's George, he's a little entitled."

"I am not!" George grumbles.

"Okay." Arthur laughs. "He's very entitled."

"I'm sorry for disturbing lunch, I should, um, go somewhere else."

Arthur frowns and shakes his head.

"Stay and tell me about Australia. I want to know more about that place."

"Cheers." I take a seat with George and Arthur sitting across from me.

They're both wearing varsity jackets, except George is leaner than Arthur's wide, muscular frame. I wonder about George's position, given that he isn't muscular. Perhaps something small if he's quailing over a table.

"It's amazing, you should go one day. I used to live by the beach, so we'd go there all the time to hang out or watch the sunset."

"That sounds rippa, is that how you say it?" Arthur smiles.

"Yeah." I chuckle.

"Are you enjoying your time in America so far?"

"It's certainly interesting." I force a smile.

I wouldn't be a fish out of water if we just lived near the ocean.

"It can't be that bad." He gasps.

"Starting over is hard, and there's pressure from my father to make things work. I keep wishing I were at home with my friends."

"We'll be your friends, right, George?" Arthur elbows George, and he groans.

George frowns, but he also nods.

"Well, thanks for the offer."

More people wearing varsity jackets and cheer uniforms wandered outside and gathered around the table. A redhead with brown freckles joins me, and a preppy girl, Savannah, from my English class, perches on Arthur's lap. He forgets about me, Australia, and focuses on her seemingly magical lips.

I hope someone yells for them to get a room, but nobody does. This better not be a regular occurrence. I scroll through social media and frown.

There are tons of pictures of them at the beach, our favourite café, and a hiking spot. There's also statuses about exam prep and how studying sucks.

If we'd stayed, this could be me, close to graduating from high school. Instead, I've just started the last year of high school. At the end of my eleventh year, I went to TAFE before packing everything up to move here in August for senior year.

Dad wanted to move a lot earlier, right after Mum died, but I begged him to let me enjoy some time with my friends before the big move. I couldn't uproot my life like he could; I had everything there, a whole life and a future just waiting for me to take it.

In that time, I hoped he'd miraculously change his mind, but that didn't happen. He was determined to put as much distance between Australia and himself, while I would do anything to be back.

When the bell rings, Savannah untangles herself, and a long string of saliva connects the pair. She whispers something before bounding away. From the smile on Arthur's face, I'm glad I couldn't hear it.

People wander away while I retrieve the school map. With the endless hallways, grey lockers, and tons of doors, it's borderline magical how anyone finds their way around.

Arthur rips the map from my hands and inspects it. After a second, he passes it back with a goofy grin.

"What's your next class?"

"Uh, woodwork."

"I'm surprised but excited because I have that class as well."

"Darn, that doesn't sound good." I laugh.

"What, the fact we're sharing a class?" He gasps.

"No, that I'll be the only female." I sigh.

I shove the map into my bag and follow Arthur around the school. Towards the back of the building, there's a small workshop detached, which has 'woodwork' written across the wall.