*** A. N. ***
Since I'm german, it's possible I'm making mistakes. If there are some, take them, and buy a cookie. I'm learning english since I'm 8 and this is my first movella. I decided to write it in english because as I've seen, there aren't many people out there reading or writing german ones, and I want you to enjoy my story.
*** Kate's P.O.V. ***
I would not call me the most popular person at school. But I do have friends, I do also have some really good friends, but some that only invite me for partys or greet me when they see me, too. I'm happy with it. Could be worse, eh?
I'm 16 years old and I currently live in Germany. Currently. In about two weeks, I will move to Paris. Yes, that lovey-dovey-shit Paris in France. And guess who decided to send me to France, to improve my french and my design talent? My Dad. I could hate him for this decision, if he wasn't my Dad. He was also the one who decided to name me Katrin. I mean, nobody today is called Katrin - except me. But to make it easier, you can also call me Katie or Kate. I like these names better anyways, haha. My little sister Janika (Jani) and my big brother Moritz (Mo) will miss me.. Well, I hope they'll miss me, hehe.
Enough to my person. You will find out the most things later, as long I will tell you :D
*** No one's P.O.V. ***
She sat on her bed, crying, pressing a pic of her with a guy to her chest. She let the tears just fall, making their way down her face. It didn't bother her her make-up was also floating away. Nothing did bother her, she just don't wanted to leave. Finally, she managed to sit up and wipe the tears away.
'I won't cry again, I swear!' she thought just for herself.
She picked up her phone, scrolling through the love messages her boyfriend, now ex, sent her just one day ago. But when she told him today she would be leaving in only one and a half week, he decided to break up. It would be better for both of them, he said. Stupid asshole. But she promised herself not to cry again - so she just won't think about him. She had to pack things anyways.
She stood up and just watched through the clothes her mother had already put in her pastel lightblue suitcase, seeing that her Mom had already put in the most important thing: Her design-book. It was the only thing that could pull her up out of the hole she threw herself in when the first school stuff arrived. Her Dad bought the books on the internet so she could already go and have a look before she would fly to Paris. Her Dad was a man who could never stay un-prepared, and so he thought of his daughter.
The next weeks flew by like only half an hour. Finally, it was the day to leave. She would fly alone to Paris, getting a first image of the city and her housemates, since she would have to live in a student's hostel. About three weeks later, her parents would also come and give her a quick visit to see if she was doing good. Then, school would start for her - in the Académie des Beaux-Arts in Paris.
*** ---'s P.O.V. ***
"Mais maman!", I shouted, "Je veux aller la!"
"But Mom!", I shouted, "I really want to go there!"
"Dear, we don't have the money..", my Mom answered, while looking through her E-Mails. "But wait - I cannot believe this! My little boy got a scholarship!" she suddenly cried out. I stood in the hallway, frozen. I couldn't believe my ears. Me, I got a scholarship? For that little bit of painting and drawing and design I did?! My Mom ran out the door of the bureau to hug me tight. "My boy! I'm so proud of you! You'll become a gread artist! But now, we have to pack your stuff, since school starts in less than a week..", the last sentence she mumbled while rushing towards my room, picking random stuff on her way and leaving me standing excited but still frozen in the hallway.
When she brought me to my bus - we can't afford the money for a plane, and Paris isn't that far away - she cried the whole way. "But Mom, I'm not out of world. You can call me, send me messages, and so on. Just pretend I'm going on a holiday, like I did last year, promise?" I tried to calm her down. She was really sensitive since my Dad died in a car accident a year ago. He was also an artist, so she hoped I would become one too - now I'm on the best way, heading towards one of the best art schools of Europe - l'Académie des Beaux-Arts in Paris.