Change Happens

Louisa's dad has just been given a life changing oppertunity - to own 25% of a resteraunt! This sounds like it will resuly in more money, and a better way of life. Theres just one tiny problem....
Louisa is in Kent. The house and resteraunt is in Cumbria.

She has only just started Oakmoor Grammer School, and is very close to her new friends! She's adimant about staying in Kent.....Will she go? Will She Stay? Will she?

Find out now!...


1. Chapter One Of Many To Come.

   Scooping a spoonfull of shreddies out of my crisp white bowl, I drove the spoon to my hungry mouth, tightened my lips round the spoon, and gently pulled away, so that the shreddies came off the spoon, into my mouth, a little like a shovel and weeds, meaning the weeds would go into a bin  my mouth) and the shovel would put them in to the bin ( my spoon).
   After a few more mouthfulls, I went back to writing in my privat diary. "It's beautiful weather today," I wrote in elaborate, curly, swirly writing. I pursed my lips, peered out of my window, and then added, "But I'm afraid tomorow will bring miserable drizzel, prehaps even heavy down pours." Certainly, I dont mean to brag or anything , however I do presonally think that I predict the weather exeptionally well, for an eleven year old. That's what I want to be when I'm older you see- a weather forcaster/predictor. Popstars, make-up artists, dancers and singers are what my friends want to be. Sometimes, they make fun of me, just a little, saying Your strange, wanting to predict somthing that may or may not happen. And then if your predictions go onto the news and they are wrong, then people will get angry at you, and you'll loose your job! Nodding, I just say "Well maybe you should try and predict peoples futures if you are so brilliant at it!" However, they don't understand I'm being sarcastic, and tell me that it would be a rubbish job, just like weather predicting.

   Suddenly, I stop writing, hearing a short creak coming from behind me. Slamming my diary shut, I swivelled round on my chair, only to fid my annoying brother James, age nine, sneaking up on me. Immedietly, he put his hands in his pockets and started to whitsel, as if nothing has ever happend. I swivelled back round to my desk, my diary still firmly pressed aginst my chest. Rythmic kicking started jolting the back of my chair, and withour turning round I sighed, "Ugh bog off James!"
"Uh huh?" said James, clearly not taking in anything I has said, yet I was always the one with my head in the clouds or daydreaming, according to mum. "Hmm, what you writing in that soppy diary then eh?" Laughed James menecingly, snatching my diary out of my now empty arms. Trying to make a grab for it from my chair, I failed, and ended up face first on the floor. Blinking back the tears, I made a secind grab. Useless.

   "Oooh. Nearly hurty wurty your ickle wickle facey wacey then Lou Lou!" Shrieked James, mimicing my own voice in an unaccurate, squeaky tine. I charged at him, grabbed his arm and whipped my diary out of his clammy, sweaty hand. Running back to my room in distress, I tripped yet again, causing an upshot of my sqeualing in pain, and James nearly weeing himself laughing!
   Back in my room, I heard James going, "Oh no, ikcy wicky Lou Lou hurt herself again!" In an annoying, babyish type voice. Honestly, he does not know when to shut up! I wish there was somthing to make him shut up! I wrote in my diary, carefully curling all the H's and the S's, so that it looked at pretty and beautiful as possible. Little did i know that there was going to be somthing to make him quiet-no, speechless. And all that was going to happen... tomorow morning.

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