The trip was a sudden notice, and he had barely had any time to say good bye to his friends back in England. He barely had time to pack his things. One part of himself was scared and depressed, as he realized he never seemed to be able to set down roots... But the other part, the bigger part, was happy and excited for the new opportunities. His father had secured a small studio-sized apartment in the small town of North Hillshire, where he'd attend High School for a few months until graduation.<br/><br/>When he arrived, things had been just as expected. Clean and organized, with things he'd need, and a few notes attached to some places with instructions on how to operate the more complex household machines, like steamers.<br/><br/>The trip was long and tiring. Easily he had lost a whole day, if not more, just on airplanes and airports. And by the time he had touched down, he had to get into a taxi for a few hours as well. It was night, he was hungry and tired, and he felt really gross. So, without a second thought, he checked the fridge... Nothing. "Doesn't matter. It's not like I'll die... I think." He said quietly to himself, his british accent strongly present as he let out a chuckle.<br/><br/>He took a shower, changed into a fresh set of underwear and a plain white t-shirt, and plopped down onto his queen-sized bed.<br/><br/>The night went by quickly, his dreams nothing but a hazy memory from the moment he woke up. He stretched himself, and yawned. "Breakfast! Seven eggs, two slices of br- Right. No food." He said with an annoyed sigh, before swiftly getting out of bed and stretching himself a bit more, walking over to the bathroom in a relaxed posture. After his daily routine of rinsing face, brushing teeth, brushing hair into place, shaving, applying cologne, deodorant, and obeying the calls of nature, he put on some clothes. But just as he opened his admittedly small baggage, his sight was greeted by a sad sight-<br/><br/>A picture of him surrounded by his five best friends back at the last High School he studied at. He smiled a bittersweet smile, and put the framed photograph on his nightstand, besides the bed.<br/><br/>Once dressed in a casual black pair of jeans, black dressing shoes and a dark navy blue long-sleeved vertically striped shirt, he walked out of his small apartment and headed for the school.<br/><br/>The student's reactions- specially the girls -had been surprising! Pleasing as well, but more surprising than anything. Maybe ti had to do with the town's size, or something he didn't know about the United States of America, but they seemed to be extremely curious about him and his accent. And of course, he had calmly answered any decent question, and left any indecent one to the imagination of the girl who asked it.<br/><br/>The teacher approached him and introduced him. A common practice, the teacher seemed to be a nice man. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Simons. Thank you for the welcome, and well.. I don't know who Ayn Rand is, heh..." He mentioned with a slightly nervous chuckle, as the teacher shook his head with what seemed to be a smile. Though it was impossible to know due to his extremely tired look.<br/><br/>As soon as the class ended, a certain girl, one who had not approached him before, introduced herself with a smile. He shook her hand, smiling back.<br/><br/>"Mine's Leon, as you might have caught up from the teacher's kind of hasty introduction," he said (take note of british accent!), nodding as he let go of her hand, "I prefer Charlotte. I think it's classy, it has elegance to it."<br/><br/>"I'm fairly new, so... I do need help getting to the next class. I'd be very thankful if you gave it to me!" He affirmed as he stood up, grabbing with him his bag.