Like my mother says, life doesn't always go as planned. And I find this true at heart. Not only will I be forced to go to America on a ship I have a terrible feeling about, but now I will also have to make new friends and go to a new school. My parents weren't happy about putting such a heavy change on me, but it wasn't my fault that my father got a job transfer that happened to be in the new world.
My name is Danielle Fitz. Not only is my family one of the wealthiest in Southampton, but once you see me, you will notice that I have refined bloodlines. Straight brown hair, hazel eyes with a tint of blue, soft pink lips, and a stunning tan is all you will see when you catch a glimpse of me. Boys tend to stare, but that's the least I care about. What's important to me right now is to make a straight-A education and to support the career option of my choice. But today I decided to embrace my childlike behavior on the last day of school as we headed off on our yearly spring vacation.
Once the school bell rang, I was the first out, my pouch full of books hanging from a branch but hidden between the newly budded leaves. I had to admit that climbing a tree with leather shoes—boots, to be more specific—was hard, but within just a few minutes my body was perched on a branch with a view of the whole school.
My plan was to flip over on the branch at the last second and scare my best friend, Jennifer Thornton. I called her Jenny, but that's the least that matters. Jenny's appearance was quite close to mine, but her blue eyes, curly blonde hair, and skin the shade of a dark pale makes her seem like a nickelodeon star. Jenny once said that she would be in a popular nickelodeon when she got older, while she also told me that I would make a perfect female in one of Shakespeare's productions. Though I confess I am not much into acting, that career choice wasn't out of reach.
"Danielle!" Jenny called. I saw her clearly in the distance, and I just had to smile at the way she looked. Jenny loved pink, so she wore white and pink dresses, skirts, and blouses with white stockings—which no one ever saw, anyway; it was inappropriate to show your ankles—and white leather shoes or boots. She always wore her favorite hot pink ribbon, which matched her blonde hair so perfectly you would've thought that it was part of her.
As she got closer, I firmly planted my legs around the branch, the rest of my body leaning forward, crouching like a tiger waiting for the right time to pounce. And when she got closer, I let my body fall and concentrated my mind on my legs to support me so I wouldn't fall and crack my head open.
"Gah!" shrieked Jenny once she saw me flip over the branch. I started laughing hysterically. Her face was that funny. My good-natured laugh caught the attention of some boys not far away.
"Calm down, Ophelia. You haven't drowned yet," I joked.
Jenny clearly did not find that funny. "Danielle Genevieve Fitz, what do you think you're doing?" Jenny's pale face now turned red with humiliation and anger.
"Is using my full name necessary?" I laughed again as I flipped off the branch, landing with a loud tap of my patent leather boots.
"Well, in this situation it is," she said, her hands crossed over her chest, a pout escaping her lips. She never liked being scared or made fun of.
"Oh, come on, Jen," I coaxed. "I was just joking around with you. Everything's all right now. You see?" My hair flew in the breeze, straightening itself out. I pushed a strand away from my face.
"Oh, that's a load of poppycock," Jenny pouted. "I wasn't scared one bit. And just before you make a rude comment, why do you play these childish games, anyway?"
I twisted my hair between my fingers, biting my lip. Jenny never cared much about my thoughts, except for now. "Well, I like to be free and to be able to do what I want. I don't want to give up my childhood yet. Not now, not ever…"
Jenny frowned at me. "Danny, we'll always be friends. Just…promise me you'll become…er…well, more…adult-like or something like that?"
I sighed. "I promise." Then I shot a smile at her. "Always."
Jenny seemed pleased with this, and so we made our long walk home together as best friends. Always.
*****
"How was the last day of school?" my mother asked me when I opened the door.
"Oh, like usual—nothing. Just fun and games before our spring vacation. They even let us run around barefoot in the grass," I responded. "Where are you?"
"In the kitchen." Though I knew Mother loved to be in the kitchen, I asked anyway. It wasn't because I didn't know her well, it's just because I was bored. My long, ankle-length skirt in the color of navy blue swished at my feet, my booted feet clicking on the tiles. The skirt did restrict me during my climb up the tree, and when I noticed the tear as I walked down the hall leading to the kitchen, my face flushed and I did my best to hide it.
Walking into the kitchen, an aroma of different smells diffused and filled my nose. "What are you making?" I walked over to my mother, who was stirring something in a boiling pot. "Pork stew?"
Mother nodded her head. "Yes. Today's a very special day."
"Not that special, Mother. You didn't make pork stew last vacation we took." I rubbed my eyes as the steam from the boiling pot reached them. "So, what's so special?" Mother started to fidget. "Tell me. Buying pork is expensive these days. Most likely you'll be cooking up chicken or beef or something," I said. Even though we were wealthy, pork was something we liked to keep a luxury so we didn't seem filthy rich. I started to get annoyed, because I hated it when Mother fidgeted. She would move from one foot to another, bending her knees and such, or even twirl her hair around her fingers. It was quite uncomfortable to look at.
"Oh, you'll see. Your father said that there will be something special announced tonight." Mother stopped fidgeting, and I'm sure I saw her give a sigh of relief.
"Announced?" I asked.
"Yes. Announced."
I ended that conversation and I walked out of the room, my mind racing. What is she hiding from me?
I slowly closed the door to my large bedroom, keeping my eyes on the floor. What could possibly be more special than the life I already have?
*****
That night at dinner, I feasted on rich pork stew with tangy fruits and vegetables. Not only did I forget about what Mother said earlier, but Father didn't even say anything at the dinner table. Or, not until…
"So, Danny, how was school today?" Father asked me.
I was about to respond when Mother blurted out, "Just tell her, Jerry."
"Tell me what?" My mind raced back to the special announcement Mother said was to come later in the day. "Tell me now."
Instead of talking to me, though, Father told my mother, "Not now, Sarah. Give the girl some time."
"Some time for what?" I was desperate now, my voice rising higher. "I have the right to know."
Father sighed. "Oh, Danielle, you're so funny. Your mother and I are just talking about grown-up things." Father's face turned a dark red, from anger and humiliation.
"Father, I know you." I moved my hand over the table and put it over his. "And this isn't like you. Please, tell me the truth." I gave him my puppy dog eyes, staring into his mind and trying to read it. "To be or not to be. That is the question."
I knew that Father hated it when I quoted from Shakespeare, and it usually worked when I wanted something. Who wants to hear old phrases repeated over and over again? But right now he was just not buying it. Whatever happened to the good old Shakespeare days?
"We'll talk about this later," Father said, his face still red. "Now, clean your plate and go to bed."
Picking up my plate and pouting, I got up from the table, dish in hand, and stomped into the kitchen. After dropping my plate off at the sink, I ran up to my room, only to find Mother and Father having a deep conversation. They must have left the table evasively when I was in the kitchen. Supporting my body against the wall, my ears perked up, I planned to eavesdrop to feed my curiosity.
"Jerry, why didn't you tell her? You know that we need to start with the packing and cleaning!" I heard my mother complain.
"Oh, Sarah, this is going to change her life so much. I mean, a new school, new friends, and even a completely different area, full of people with strange accents. She's going to be the only one saying mum, I'm telling you! She's not going to like America, even if we are boarding the Ship of Dreams—the Titanic!…"
And that's all I heard, except for the sound of my sobs echoing in my mind.