I stand and stare up at the small house that is now my home. It has a tatted roof, dusty windows, a splintered door, chipped bricks, dead flowers and plants in the front yard. I stand there and think how much my life has suddenly gone down hill.

My family and I have recently moved from Manchester in the UK, to USA, Colorado. When dad had first told me about it, I was pretty excited. I'd seen pictures of Colorado in brochures, and I spent hours researching it on Wikipedia, and looking at photos and Google images. It looked so beautiful. Some of it looked like places from my story books that I used to read when I was younger, you know with all the magical mountains and lush forests and country sides?

Mum said she was fed up of living in Manchester, as we had no family there, all of our family lives in Cortez or somewhere nearby. So we moved to a town just off from there, Mancos. Dad didn't want to go, because it meant getting new work. But mum works from home, so she would be able to keep her job...maybe. She said it depends if it works well enough, and if it didn't and she got the sack, that she would manage and get new work.

So overall, I was rather happy and excited about the move...but as the time drew closer, I began to think how much I would miss Manchester. It wasn't the most impressive place on earth, but it certainly has it's perks. One of these being the football stadium, Old Trafford, another the Imperial War Museum (Not the sort of place you'd go to have fun, but still rather amusing). But the thing that I personally loved the most, was my friends that I had there. I would miss them a lot.

Before we had left, my two best friends, Hannah and Ryan, had come round to my house for a final goodbye. We had said that we would email and text and phone regularly, maybe even come over to each place to visit for summer or something. I agreed, but I knew that this wasn't going to happen, not with the money we have. We're not poor, but we're not rich either. We could probably afford to go abroad maybe...once every three years? Anyway, I know that there is a slim chance I'm going to see my friends again any time soon.

And now, here I am in Mancos. Me, my brother, mum, dad...oh yeah, and my dog, Angel. We are at a house on the border of the town, in the suburbs, so it's quiet. It's on a bit of slightly raised land, like a miniature hill, so the chipped driveway was long and lead from the house all the way down to the edge road. It is two stories high and has the tiniest balcony you have ever seen sticking from one of the sliding doors on the second floor. You could probably fit a small table at one end, about the size of a night stand, and maybe a chair or two at the other...and still it didn't look quite stable, like it would collapse at any moment when you were stood on it.

I glanced at my mum, her eyes were downcast, like she didn't want to look, but I don't think it was the house that she didn't look at, more like she's trying to avoid eye contact with any of us..

The place looked good when we had seen a picture of it when we were looking to buy somewhere. It looked like it does now, though not so....ugh. We wondered why the price was so low for such a nice looking house, well, at least I did anyway. Now that I think about it, I hadn't seemed like mum and dad have given it much of a second thought at all.

"Well then..." Mum says, "It needs a bit of work, but I'm sure we could do something with this place to make it nice and lovely!" she sounds confident, but I know she isn't. A little bit of work? This place would need a whole construction team!

"I thought you said it was going to be a nice house?" My little brother, Jake says.

Dad just looks at him, "It is a nice house." He tries to convince him, "Anyway, we're not going to get anywhere just standing here! Let's go inside! Juliet, watch the step and take your bag," he says enthusiastically and I just nod.

I shrug to myself. Maybe it's not so bad inside? Maybe it's like a demented version of that TARDIS thing from that TV show Doctor Who? I used to watch that in Manchester. I don't know if it airs in Colorado, I think it might do...but what do I know about the USA?

I take hold of Jake's hand and lead him inside, dragging my small travelling bag along with me, as dad lugs the suitcases through the door. When I step inside, my hopes of it looking better inside than it does outside are wiped away, because it's almost as bad, peeling wallpaper and chipped paint. I stand there and look around for almost a minute before reaching over to flick the light switch on the wall, only to have to pull my hand away again quickly as a small spark flies and sends a jolt into my hand. Okay then....no lights.

The hall stretches all the way from the door to the open kitchen, a wooden staircase up against to wall half way down. There are two doors leading off from the hall. I let go of my brother's hand and drop my bag onto the floor.

"You go and have a look around." Mums says, rather too enthusiastically.

I don't look at her, just head to the nearest door and push it open slowly. I poke my head through to see that it's the living room...or supposed to be anyway. I step inside and shut the door carefully behind me. There is a small, dusty fireplace on the far wall, with a few logs piled up in it. There is also a miniature TV up against the front wall, under the windowsill that lined the bottom of large patterned windows. A black sofa rests opposite the TV, a small coffee table at it's side. I walk over to it and brush my hand along the seating cushion to check that it is alright to sit on. I then lower myself down onto it carefully and look around again.

I now notice a wooden bookcase in the corner...with books in it. I shrug and stand up and make my way over to it, pull out a book and blow on the cover, sending a cloud of dust flying into the air. I can feel the specs of dust go down my throat and into my nose, causing me to cough a few times and then let out a tremendous sneeze, dropping the heavy book onto the floor in the progress. I sigh, sniff and bend down to pick up the book and place it back on the shelf.

The walls are painted with a white interior, black outlines of flowers printed onto it, like daises. The floor is also white....well, I think it was...once. It is now covered in dirt and dust and has a few stains here and there.

....To tell you the truth...I think that mum actually knew that this was how the house looked, didn't tell us because she thought that we wouldn't want to come. Chances are that Dad knew too...why else would they just say that this was fine and not complain about it?

The kitchen is the next room, it has no door to it, only an open archway and a little window slot like they have in the McDonalds drive-thru where you could see from the living room to the kitchen. It looks good enough, with a round dining table in the far corner and four chairs seated around it, a fridge, a washing machine, a cooker, a sink, and a few cupboards. There are also some sliding glass doors near the table, leading outside, down a few steps and into the small back garden.

I think it's better to skip the garden tour for now, so instead I walk out into the hall again. No one is in there anymore, I can hear people upstairs though, so I go and have a look, but not before opening the other door in the hall, just to find it's a small bathroom with a toilet, a sink and a mirror.

Once upstairs, I see that there is a landing, a wide one that spreads across from the staircase to all five doors. Mum and dad are standing on the wooden boarded floor, chatting intensely about something, "...which room is mine?" I ask and they both turn to look at me.

Mum smiles at my and then points to the door furthest away, "That one is yours. You get it all to yourself, you don't have to share with Jake like you did in Manchester!" She says, sounding rather pleased about it herself, "It's the biggest one of the two single ones. Shhhh, don't tell Jake," she says more quietly and winks at me.

I force a smile and then go over to 'my room'. The door is painted white and has a brass door handle, it feels cold and unwelcoming as a touch it and open the door....the room is....quite big. Not as big as my one back home, but I suppose that is OK because I did have to share it. There is a single bed pushed up against the back wall, with a small, open window place above it, a book case and a wardrobe along the near wall, and miniature desk with a wheelie chair at it on the left, and a wooden toy chest next to the bed. Though the thing that I take a liking to, is a single paned sliding door near the foot of the bed, lilac curtains draped over half of it.

I walk to it quickly and pull the curtain back, slide the door open and step out onto a balcony. It's even smaller than the one at the front....which I guess is probably mum and dad's room. You could probably fit one chair on it to sit and look out onto the garden...but there's not that much to look out upon in all truth. There's the garden, small and filled with half living plants...but then my eyes rest on what lines the back of the garden. A huge forest, lush green trees for half a mile! And then beyond that, I can see mountains! Snow-topped mountains! They look so beautiful! And for one moment, I forget where I am, forget that I've been taken away from my home and my friends and just gaze out at the view.

But, unfortunately...I am pulled back into reality by my brother shouting me from, what I suppose is, his room. I sigh and step back into the room, pulling the door shut and the going out onto the landing again. I listen to Jake's voice and then go into the room it's coming from. When I open the door, all I can see is the content of Jakes bag strewn across the floor.

"Look, Juliet!" He says excitedly, "The walls are blue!"

I think that's all that he's bothered about, not that the light bulb doesn't work, not that the ceiling is peeling, not that there is a rip in the carpet near the corner, only that the walls are blue. His room is in the same layout as mine, apart from his doesn't have the balcony, and my walls are purple and I have a wooden floor instead of carpeted. I sigh again as I glance around the room and then make my way over to my brother and sit down on the floor next to him, "You like it here?" I ask him and he looks up at me with a confused expression.

"Like it? Well, it's not as good as home, but there are worse places we could be..." He says and I just stare at him. It wasn't like Jake to be....you could say accepting?...grateful?...normal? He's obviously seen my distressed look as he leans over and hugs me. I pause for a second, a little bit lost, but I then hug him back.

I watch as he lets go and then stands up. "You better go to bed now." I say to him as I also get up and pick one of his comic book things off the floor and put it on the side.

"Okay!" He says and picks up his pyjama top and then looks at me again. He obviously wants me to leave. I just smile at him and then walk out and shut the door behind me. I can now hear mum and dad downstairs, and I hurry down them to pick up my bag at the bottom, using this chance to glance into the kitchen where my parents are stood at the glass door, dad with his arm around mum, looking into the garden. I can't hear their voices clearly, but they sound heavy and serious, mum occasionally letting out a misguided sighing sob or squeak, like a lost kid at a super market. I frown and look at the walls and ceiling and the floor, and everything else in the hall way.

What are we doing here? Why aren't we back in Manchester? Why aren't we home? I then begin to feel the tears well up in my eyes and I run upstairs quickly and throw my bedroom door open. I run to the other side of the room and collapse onto the bed, dissolving into sobs as I roll over and stare at the ceiling. I don't want to get changed into my night clothes. I don't want to move. I don't want to do anything that will make this feel real. What I want is to be back home.

There are worse places we could be. I think about what Jake had said. True, there are worse places. But there are also better.