The Teenage Traveller
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About this ebook
What follows is a tumultuous sequence of events that will transform Carolines life from drab and dreary to thrilling and jet-setting as she embarks on a series of adventures that will take her across Europe. From the dusty halls of St. Edmunds to the romantic boulevards of Paris, Caroline will meet a host of exciting new people, including a dreamy stranger that might just change her life forever.
Nicole Turner
ABOUT THE AUTHOR Nicole Turner is a teenager from Canada. She loves to write and her dream is to travel everywhere the protagonist went too.
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The Teenage Traveller - Nicole Turner
Introduction
L et me introduce myself properly. My name is Caroline Johnson. I live in Connecticut. I go to a pretty bad public high school even though it is located in the best part of town. Most of my classmates are thoughtless future dropouts. Even worse, my teachers are community college graduates. My mother, Rachel Johnson, is a former publicist but, where we live, her job mostly involves finding good opportunities for people who couldn’t make it in the big city. My father hasn’t lived with us since I was nine years old. I’m not exactly sure where he is. My mother always told me he was a very successful man, but that he lost all his money during a period of intense gambling that left him broke on the streets of Las Vegas. I guess you can say I’m an average teenager, but surely not for long.
Well, there you go, a summary of a sixteen-year history. The future will be yours to discover. This story, or what I’d also call a diary, was published seven years after I graduated high school. Lean back, put yourself in my shoes, and allow yourself to discover the unknown.
Part 1
I can fly;
I’m just terrified of falling
CHAPTER 1
School Day
I t all started in my school cafeteria on September 9, 2014.
My friend Lola was sitting with me at our usual lunch table next to the janitor’s closet. In my school, people were divided into two groups: the rich and beautiful and the poor and ugly. I am not sure where I’d place myself. The lunch line was so long I had to wait thirty minutes just to get my precooked meal. Tired of waiting, I sat down next to a group of art freaks, put my head on the table, and closed my eyes, falling sound asleep.
* * * * *
Caroline! Let’s go! We have class. It’s junior year, let’s not act like seniors just yet,
Lola shouted.
What class do we have now?
I asked.
Chemistry.
The class that everyone fails,
I said with a laugh.
Lola and I have been best friends since first grade. A few years ago, she moved a couple houses away from mine. Lola loves to draw in her floral notebook. There are days when I feel like Lola is very distant. But aren’t all teenagers distant in their own way? I mean partying and sleeping in late is a way to zone out of the world. Everything is a blur at this age. I myself am lost. For example, my teacher once asked me: What will you do when you graduate high school?
For a moment, millions of thoughts went through my mind. Then it hit me, I had absolutely no idea what I planned on doing later on. A few seconds passed before my teacher said: Well Caroline, hurry up.
Did this elderly English teacher expect me to have an answer so quickly, without thinking for a single second? The point is, Lola is a wonderful friend, and she’s the only person at school I truly adore. Lola once told me she wanted to be an artist, but her father refused.
The reason I am not social is that I never seem to fit in any crowd. Most teenagers in my school spend their days hanging out
and their summers partying. Their parents have no clue what goes on behind their backs. I’ve spoken to a few teachers in the past. They all told me that teenagers had the right to make terrible mistakes because it’s a part of growing up. I never understood this logic.
Anyhow, Lola and I paced down the teeming hallways until we reached our afternoon class.
Chemistry class
Everyone take out your notebooks, we are starting a new subject,
Miss Linden yelled out.
Lola and I always sat together at the back of every class. Unlike most students, our priority wasn’t to make trouble, it was simply the spot where no one bothered us. The students in our class have always varied since every class was at different ability levels. Lola was in every top group except for physics. For this reason, I dreaded physics class which I had twice a week since I had to sit next to Pete, the class clown. I have a feeling the teacher placed me next to him so he could learn to concentrate.
Guys, who’s down to party Friday night at my house?
John, the football team’s quarterback huskily asked.
The whole class turned towards him.
What time?
a random student asked.
Any time after nine,
John explained with slight annoyance. This boy always sounded a bit annoyed and judgemental.
What’s the occasion?
Lola asked from the back of the classroom.
Uh-huh, why would there be an occasion? It’s a party just like every other party,
replied Jenn with an attitude.
You must be wondering why the teacher wasn’t talking over the class’s conversation. I also wondered this but, as soon as I looked at the front of the class, I saw she was sitting, staring into the distance as if she expected everyone to suddenly stop talking. What a naive thing to expect. Anyways, the continuation of this sixty-minute class was purely wasted. Surprisingly, the teacher couldn’t have cared less.
Lola ran up behind me just as I exited the classroom.
What are we doing Friday night?
she asked.
Anything but that party at John’s,
I said.
Let’s go to the big city Friday night and spend the night at your aunts.
What do you wanna do in Manhattan?
I asked.
Walk around, spend Saturday on Broadway.
Will your dad let you?
Not sure, but I’ll make up an excuse.
Sounds good.
I smiled warmly at my devious friend.
The day went by quickly and, at four o’clock, the bell rang dismissing all the students. As usual, I sat at my desk for a few minutes waiting for the crowd to leave the hallways. I never liked small spaces, crowded with hundreds of sweaty, loud people. Luckily, the teacher allowed me to stay for a few minutes while she packed her things for the upcoming weekend.
CHAPTER 2
Little Trip
I live on a street called Park Hill. It was a beautiful street filled with tall trees and large homes. My street was not far from Grand Hill, where all the rich people of my town lived. Journalists, doctors, business owners, the usual. I lived in my stunning home surrounded by white picket fences since I was born. Every morning, when I was in primary school, I waited at the corner of my street for the yellow school bus to come and pick me up. Good times.
Walking into my house, I knew exactly where to find my mother. She was always in our living room right next to the kitchen, reading her novel.
Mom, can I go to Manhattan this weekend to visit Aunt Laura?
I asked.
Who are you going with?
Lola, of course.
By train?
I think so. We’ll leave at six tomorrow evening. If her dad lets her.
Be careful and don’t go out late,
Thanks, Mom.
Leaving the living room, I walked directly to my room. I planned on calling Lola and finishing up last minute homework. I loved being in my room since the new renovation. In the past, I had a single bed with a metal desk and a large gray dresser. It was a jail cell, but until recently it never bothered me. After several weeks, my room was completely transformed. The single bed became a white linen queen size. The gray dresser is now a white wooden bookshelf and finally my new desk is beautiful pearl white.
8:13 Thursday evening
Lola improved my mood as we sat on the bed and gossiped about the latest school drama.