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Chapter 1 : Prolouge: This Is Dumb
| ||Rating: Mature||Chapter Reviews: 25|
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Not the disability, the adjective of stupidity.
That’s what this morning is.
I’m in this little compartment all by my lonesome on some noisy train. With people. Lots of them. Little budding witches and wizards. The WW. Funny, WW stands for “World War” too.
This doesn’t bode well.
Especially when you know no one at all. Not a single soul. Especially when you feel like you’re headed to your doom.
I’m headed to my doom.
What kind of name is that anyway? Hog-scary pig with tusks. Warts-nasty affliction of the skin. Pig, and warts. Pig Warts. Eew. Can you say “DISGUSTING!”?
I can. And quite frankly, any school with a name like that can and should be considered someone’s ‘doom’. Thus, it is mine.
What a nightmare. I was perfectly fine with traveling the East Coast of lil’ ol’ United States of America. Going to Salem Academy via Floo every day is perfectly fine by me. (Yeah I live in Florida. I Go to New York for school.) And to think, my parents told me this would be “a wonderful chance to explore the world around you!”.
What a lie, they’re just looking for an excuse to get me out of Salem. They lost it when one of my best friends got busted for drug dealing on campus, and another one got pregnant…..for the third time. But I’m clean! Never done anything like that! It must be the senior year hype. They think I’ll “join the dark side” because it’s my last year, and really, I don’t have anything to loose. Hmmfph, well, that shows how well they know me.
Really, I’m not that bad. My parents just didn’t like the “environment.” The areas I was in was crawling with everything a parent wouldn’t want their child to do or be exposed to. But I’m responsible. Good grades, fairly talented I guess.
So here I am. In England. Where I definitely do not belong, I should be in Florida; hurricanes, humidity and all.
I’ve never snorted, smoked, or inhaled anything. I’ll admit to drinking every now and then, but I’ve never been drunk off my ass though. And besides, my parents always give me permission for that stuff. As for the sex, hell, I’ve never “gotten any”. Sure, maybe the school was full of girls I like to call “pregos” (can you guess what that means?), but not I. Little Miss Cecilia Wenton is good kid.
How the hell did my parents even manage to find this place anyway? I’m sure there has to be another school closer to home. Why am I here? Ugg, I swear, my parents have got to be the ones doing drugs, not me.
Ok. No more moaning and groaning Cecilia. Maybe the lack of humidity will be good for your hair, yeah? And since when are hurricanes fun? So see the positive things, be the optimist! Make new friends. All that jazz. Hell, maybe even get yourself a boyfriend. Ha. That’ll be the day. Or maybe it won’t.
And no, I do not have a multiple personality disorder.
Oh god, what have I gotten myself into? Not that I actually got myself into anything, my parents did. This is bad.
I think. I’m pretty sure.
This is dumb.
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