So you must be wondering how my life spiraled out of control into this abyss of despair. Was my family not as amazing as I described? Was I such a rebellious whelp that deserved to be exiled? No, that wasn't it. I knew fairly well why all this was happening.

My mom came from old money—in Britain. Like heiress of an estate kinda lifestyle. My grandmother (I usually call her Gwan like Tweety so get used to that) was—seriously called—a lady. Like Lord and Lady, related to blue-bloods and all. She had two girls—my mom, Margaret Westrope, and my aunt Hildegard Westrope, her younger sister. Naturally, owning an estate and all, she expected her eldest to marry well, settle down and run the estate. But Mom had other plans. She attended King's College and met a handsome young blond American who swept her off her feet and married him right out of college. Or as my Gwan says, 'stole my daughter and tainted her for life'. Gwan hates my Dad's guts for that.

But Dad wasn't all big talk—he could walk the walk too. He'd been a smart investor in his youth and accumulated enough wealth to call himself a self-made millionaire. If you ask me, he was shoving it in Gwan's face proving himself worthy of my mom. Not quite so crudely, but still. In your face, old lady.

By then he'd taken Mom to America where they promptly settled in Venice, Cali, his hometown, and had two babies. They would've gone for one more if I hadn't been such a handful. And they weren't the nanny-hiring type. Tony was easy; I kept them on their toes and drained them of all youthful energy so by thirty they were definitely over the baby-making stage. Don't get me wrong, they still love each other like newlyweds. It's frigging unbelievable. I always looked at them and wished I could find a love like that too. And I think I did, in Kevin.

My chest felt heavy as I thought about him and I sighed deeply. I was leaving so much behind...

Gwan was a widow and between both her girls had four grandchildren (I've never even seen my cousins) and had 'great expectations' to make one of the third generation heirs the Lord or Lady of her estate after her death. It was in her will and all. Mom told me that whenever I brought up Gwanma and Gwanpa when I was a kid and asked her why we never met them—Gwan didn't have the guts to visit us until two years ago in California. Why? She and Mom had—issues. Like 'you married a bloody American and disgraced the Westrope name!' issues. This feud has been going on for close to a quarter of a century. Needless to say, they don't get along. And now Mom thinks I'll get along with Gwan. The irony. Let's say Gwan rubbed me the wrong a lot and often made me wanna commit myself to an asylum. On the few occasions we interacted.

Where was I? I got off track, sorry. So, Gwan wants an heir and while my British blue-blood cousins seemed the ideal nominees, Gwan wanted her eldest daughter's kid for the job. Just one problem; Tony was an American-born rebel who'd stand by Dad through anything. He's not gonna give up on Dad's multimillion-dollar company which was promised to him to run a deadbeat estate in the middle of the English countryside, seeing to milking cows and selling pigs. No siree.

So Tony got away with upsetting Gwan, my cousins were still fighting over ownership of the estate, and I was the variable that needed to be eliminated from the picture. Scary, right? But while they have their own plans for me, I'm on a different roll altogether. No way in hell am I staying in London forever to run the estate of a grandmother who didn't give a damn for my mom's family until she needed an heir. I had my own dreams to pursue and they didn't have any connections to London. So yeah, I had my work cut out trying to make myself as disagreeable as possible and get disqualified as heir to the estate. This was gonna be hard since I was battling the Brits alone. I sighed, my thoughts going back to Kevin, the one person who never let me feel alone.

Last week I had to tell him and Trini, my best friend, that I was leaving for London—forever. Four years forever. They were mad, sad, and everything in between. Kevin even brought out the foul language—I don't think I ever heard him swear anything worse than 'damn'.

"What the," he inserted a profanity, "do you mean you're leaving?!" he asked me when I told him the news.

"Kev, I can't help it. I'm busted up to my eyebrows for having that party," I said, wishing there was a way to make this less painful.

"So you're leaving? Just like that?" Trini asked. I nodded sadly. Her lower lip began to quiver.

"How will I survive college without my best friend? You won't even be in the country?"

"So what, that party last week was your farewell party? This sucks like hell, Lys!" Kevin punched his fist into thin air. Tears came to my eyes. I hated leaving him; especially since I saw how much he cared that I was leaving.

"I know it's hard, but I promise I'll call and—"

"How?! There's like—twelve hours time difference!" Kevin grumbled angrily. "And it's not like I'll get to see you or go out on a date with you!" Eight hours actually, but I didn't have the heart to correct him.

"Kev, please." This was breaking me. "We can video chat every day. I'll even get my parents to let me come home for Christmas—"

"Like hell, Lys! You actually expect me to try a long-distance relationship with you?" Kevin shouted. Trini began to sidle away.

"I'll give you some privacy..." She mumbled. I felt relieved; this argument was getting out of hand and it was awkward having her watch.

"Kevin, please. I can't survive without you." My tears finally fell out. They must've calmed him because he put his arms around me and pulled me flush against him.

"Sorry. I'm not mad at you, it's just—this sucks," he said in a calmer voice.

"I know," I mumbled against his hard-muscled chest. "So what do we do?"

"Well, it's not like we weren't gonna try long distance when you headed off to Berkeley... But still, that was just twenty minutes away! This is another country, Lys!"

"Kev, if there was anything I could do to stop this... you know I would. For us." I sobbed into his shoulder. He patted my back.

"If this is the way things are gonna be... Fine. We—we make it work, I guess." He didn't sound convinced. But that was all I could hope for at the moment.

I opened my eyes, coming back to the present. I looked out the window of the Boeing triple seven Airbus I was seated in to see a sea of white smoke below, hallowed by the blue dome above. Mom and Dad got me a first-class seat but even that didn't cheer me up. They even tried one last time to soften me up to the idea of living in London at the airport.

"You'll love it there, Lys. it's not as bad as you think," Mom said when they dropped me off.

"Yeah honey, it'll be fun in King's. Trust me, your mom and I had a blast," Dad added kindly.

"At least you had each other. I'll be all alone and the only American there." I said with a sniff. They simply hugged me tight at that and pushed me along.

"We'll call you every day," Mom promised. Feeling rather hurt, I lashed out, "Don't bother." It was the most hurtful thing I ever said to them in my life but I wanted a little satisfaction. I was being exiled from home, for crying out loud! But the hurt in their eyes that I saw really did sting as I walked away towards the immigration. Maybe... I did deserve this after all.

I tucked my head between my knees, sitting curled up like a wounded cat on the seat. The early noon sunshine warmed my toes as it glared through the window. Five hours passed; five more to go. A bloody ten-hour flight was maddening and the fancy steak and potatoes lunch they served didn't help. 

Excuse the 'bloody', I figured since I'm going to London I might as well start talking like a Brit. That was the only Brit word I knew though. How in the Sam heck was I supposed to understand British? I didn't even speak it. And no doubt I'd drive Gwan to insanity with my American accent—I recalled she loathed it from the time she visited us two years ago.

I had a few more hours to brood and brood I did. Moving to London was like starting a whole new life; not just the language, the weather, and the food, but everything. My thoughts went to my beautiful orange Lotus Evora back home. I pulled out my phone and opened a picture of it—I took pictures of everything I loved about home before leaving with the dread of not seeing them again for a long time. I'd miss my sweet ride. I got her for my sixteenth birthday and have been driving her since. But I couldn't take her to London with me because of the right handed wheel thing. Stupid English road rules. Well, that and with Gwan I'd only be driven around, not drive myself. And there's not much driving to do at college, apparently.

I briefly considered running away the night before my flight—but dismissed that idea for obvious reasons. One, I didn't have a bank account not controlled by my parents. Two, I didn't have a job and never worked a day in my life. Three, I had no place to crash and I wasn't ready to room with someone, not even my best friend Trini. So the lack of necessity could not nurture invention or independence.

I scrolled through the rest of my photos, painfully skipping over one of my parents and landing on the last one of my brother. Tony. I clenched my jaws. I didn't say goodbye to Tony before leaving—he had already gone to work by then. He works as the President of Dad's company. But while Dad took the morning off, Tony insisted on going to work. He was gonna run Dad's company someday anyway. I didn't bother seeing him off. I knew it would be ages before I saw him again but—I couldn't help blaming him for this whole situation. If he hadn't sold me out, my parents wouldn't have exiled me to London and I wouldn't have been on a plane right now. I would've ended my party in peace and cleaned up before my parents came home—they weren't due back until three in the morning. But dammit, Tony ruined it all. And for what? His misguided judgment of my boyfriend.

If he hadn't betrayed me, I'd still be living with him while my parents went off to Tokyo...

I leaned back, suddenly feeling lethargic from the sheer flood of thoughts that invaded my mind. Maybe a little sleep would help—it would make this blasted flight end sooner. I leaned back, plugged in my earphones, and went to sleep. After all, when I woke up, I'd be five thousand miles away from home in London.

It was dark, raining, and gloomy when I landed. Shoot. I'm already sneezing. The saturated chill in the air would take some getting used to. I couldn't help thinking depressingly that the weather was mocking me with a wet welcome because it knew I despised it. I'd probably get R.W.D.S. because of it. R.W.D.S. stands for Rainy Weather Depression Syndrome, by the way, and I made it up; although I'm pretty sure it's real. Damn rainy weather. Urgh, I'm arguing with the weather in my head. I already missed the warm kiss of sunshine on my bare skin at the beach back home.

Mom made me wear a staid, plaid cotton dress with a modest turtleneck and ankle boots while traveling because she wanted me to make a good first impression on Gwan when I set foot in the estate. Hmph. As if I'd stick with the heinous outfit. Heck no.

I snuck into the bathroom after collecting my luggage from the carousel and opened my suitcase. A devious smirk splashed across my face. Forget about a good first impression. I was gonna shock the living daylights out of Gwan. I pulled out a lavender-colored v-neck crop top with lacy flowers, almost like a bralette baring my stomach, my magenta moto jacket (scandalous, right?), a pair of flattering skin-tight ripped jeans paired with the perfect pair of black glittery high tops. Damn, even I have to admit I looked good as I dressed up. I completed the look with a black lace choker and a flashy charm bracelet. Oh yeah baby, I screamed 'American'. Look out London, here I come.

Gwan pulled out the stocks for me—there was a uniformed butler (I assumed) holding up a large picket card with my name on it when I walked to the arrival area. The guy even had a hat. Wow. I hoped he got paid enough for wearing it. Still, I felt a stab of disappointment that Gwan hadn't come herself. I guess she was too important for stuff like this.

The butler's eyes widened as he caught sight of me and I swear I saw him falter against the railing in shock. I smiled to myself. If that was the butler's reaction, I'd better keep my camera ready for Gwan's.

"Miss—Alyssa?" The butler asked me. He must have been in his sixties, with gray hair peeking out from under his hat and a kind, wrinkly freckled face; only his twinkling brown eyes exuded a bright personality. I nodded with a sassy wink at him.

"Howdy do, dude?" I offered him my hand warmly. I thought I'd mortify him with my fake American greeting but to my surprise, he smiled jovially and shook it—I noticed his hand was steady but gentle.

"It's a pleasure meeting you, Miss Alyssa. I'm Benjamin Bealey, butler to your grandmother, Lady Gwyneth. You can call me Bealey. Welcome to London. I trust you had a good flight?"

"Eh, it was alright," I shrugged carelessly, waving my hand in like motion. He grinned as he wheeled the trolley in front of me.

"It can be rather tedious I suppose, sitting ten hours on a flight. But not to worry, we'll be in Hertfordshire in no time."

"Hertfordshire? But I thought Grandmother lived in London?"

"Oh, Hertfordshire is a province near London, not as congested as the city. Ramsden Estate is situated in the middle of the countryside—here we are." Bealey stopped in front of a sleek blue Bentley.

"Damn, nice ride," I couldn't stop myself from exclaiming. Bealey chuckled at my statement.

"It's part of your grandmother's collection," he explained.

"You mean there's more?" I asked. "Will I be allowed to drive one? I left my Lotus back in Venice."

"You drive a British car too?" He asked in mild surprise. Boy, this guy was really friendly, almost made me feel more welcome than I wanted.

"I guess. I didn't know the Lotus was British."

"Hmm, perhaps Lady Westrope will let you drive one of her prizes, she's rather possessive of them you see." He leaned forward to whisper, "But don't tell her you heard that from me or she'll have my head." I laughed outright at that. This guy was a riot.

"Don't worry, your secret's safe with me," I assured him.

We drove in relative silence, as I was somewhat interested in watching the countryside roll by out the window. The rain had stopped so it was easier to see the mist-soaked hills covered with daffodils, roses, and whatnots, dripping with raindrops... I had a real 'sound of music' moment there. Bealey had turned on the radio or something and Satie's Gymnopedie filled the car. I felt calmer, soothed. The pleasant scenery outside coupled with the relaxing music inside felt as good as a trip to a spa. Not bad. Not off to a lousy start for my first evening in London.

"I hope you enjoy your stay at Ramsden Estate, Miss Alyssa, you will have plenty of company as well, what with your cousins staying there for the summer."

"My cousins are there?" I sat up in surprise. "But I thought they lived with their parents in London."

"Oh, it's just for the holidays, although they do visit every weekend," Bealey said. I saw his eyes flicker to me through the rearview mirror with genuine concern etched in them.

"I feel inclined to warn you, Miss Alyssa, they can be—rather different."

"Different?" I suspected he almost said 'difficult'.

"Yes, they er, shall we say come from a different set and don't have favorable notions towards the American culture."

"What are you trying to say?" I asked with narrow eyes.

"Do be careful, Miss, and don't take what they say to heart," he said gently. "And it might be better if you dressed up for dinner, Lady Westrope is very particular about certain traditions." I hummed under my breath.

"No offense or anything, but I don't intend to dance my grandmother's tune. Thanks for the warning though." He sighed at me. I could tell he was actually worried about me. Nice guy. But no one was gonna run my life for me. And if I was gonna get myself kicked back home, I had to create a spectacular scandal with my American ways. Especially since I was entering a nest full of rigid traditions that suffocated one to an asylum.

"Here we are, Ramsden Estate," Bealey said as we passed through twelve feet high iron gates leading to the estate. I gasped as I saw the house—it was big enough to incorporate two of Dad's mansions, maybe three. And that was just the house, the grounds were big as a football field.

"Hot diggity dog!" I exclaimed. "Gwan's really loaded!"

"It would be best if you refrained from such expressions, Miss Alyssa, your grandmother will not be too favorable of them," Bealey mumbled. I sighed. Boy, this was gonna get old soon.

Bealey opened the door for me (points to the old guy for being a gentleman) and gestured for me to enter the house ahead of him. I quickly went over my rules in my head—I prepared a list of survival tactics you see.

Rule number one: don't take crap from anybody.

Rule number two: don't back down to bullies.

Rule number three: fly the stars and stripes. Mom might have British roots, but I was an all-American girl and I was not about to let anyone belittle me for it.

"Okay. Here we go," I said to myself as I entered Ramsden Estate.

Howdy! 

So whatdya think of Lys's plight? Self pity? or