About 13 hours later, a tired grumpy Maaya and her mother were running to find a taxi.
“I wouldn’t need a taxi if we were in Tokyo,” I murmured to myself. Mom’s car would have driven us to Grandma and Grandpa’s house. They live in Enoshima and it's a 1-hour drive anyways. We finally got an Uber after 20 minutes and Mom was trying to cheer me up about Ottawa. She said that it would be amazing and that you drink hot chocolate every day. Thank god we skipped February and since March was spring, it would be fine.
“Mom, why is there still snow??” In March, the snow usually stops.
"Well Canada is different from Tokyo," she sighs and then smiles "take time to get to know Ottawa and it'll feel like home again." I can tell that she feels weak from the travel but doesn't feel like telling me. It’s fine though, I'm going to school tomorrow and that's why I bought school supplies. As soon as we got home, I thought it was amazing. I've always lived in an apartment my whole life. The house is colossal and it's way bigger than any of my friend's houses in Japan. It somehow seems kind of like a second home. Oh yeah, this is my only home now. I look at our basement, it has glow-in-the-dark lights and a cozy fire. Our living room has so much space and is attached to our kitchen. As soon as I see it, I recall the thing I was nervous about, my room! I ran upstairs faster than the Flash. I open the door and then my big bright smiling face turns into a puddle of disappointment after seeing my multicoloured wallpaper with vomit green lights. I try my best to ignore it since I'm going to school tomorrow. It's gonna be great!
I wake up and race to the bathroom. I'm going on the bus today and I don't want to be late! I put some eggs on the pan and got some toast out. The homeowners were so generous to supply food for us. I pack my backpack and make it on the bus. There are more kids than I expected. It seems cool. I try to talk to a kid beside me.
"Uh sorry? I only speak English," he says. Huh? I thought everyone here spoke Japanese. It takes me a while to finally understand that everyone in the school speaks English. The vice-principal gave me a translator. Great, now everything I say will sound like a monotone Siri who thinks she sounds exciting. Everyone who's ever heard Siri's voice knows it's boring. I enter my homeroom. Not much is going on until they give us a french project right off the bat. This day keeps getting better. My partner is wearing baggy sweats and a turtleneck. It's bedazzled but that's all I noticed before getting blinded by all the sparkles. She types in my translator with a huge smile and presses the audio button,
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