SUMMARY: Melanie's parents get divorced and she is sent to boarding school in London. At this school she deals with some pretty mean people and falls in love.

I'm writing this for my awesome friends who, like me, love all things British. No offense to you Brits out there… if I get something wrong, please correct me. The last time I was overseas was two years ago.

Disclaimer: I do not own McFly, Just My Luck, Son of Dork, Chris Pine, or any other thing I happen to mention….

My Perfect Story

Chapter One

They did it. Finally they followed through on one of their promises. Unfortunately for me, it happened to be one that changed my life completely.

My name's Melanie Thompson. I'm a medium-height, brown-haired, brown-eyed, fairly fit, sixteen year old. Three weeks ago today, my parents, two power-hungry workaholics, got divorced. I guess it's about time, considering how they have not spoken for the past five years, other than to say "It's your turn to call Maggie to let her know Mel needs a ride home from school today". I'm really not that sad about it.

The thing I am sad about? Yeah that'd be the fact that they decided it would be easier for them if they shipped me off to boarding school. But to my perfectionist parents, not just any boarding school would do. Instead they chose St. Mark's Boarding School in London. Yes you read that right. London. As in London, England; a city 5,000 miles away. That's where my parents chose to send me.

That is why I am currently sitting in this airplane, starving and sweating like a pig. I've stripped off my t-shirt and my pants and am sitting here in a too-small tank-top and shorts combo. I have eaten all of the food I bought at the St. Paul airport and am now regretting turning down the food on the flight from LAX to the Twin Cities. To add to my discomfort, I keep randomly crying. This puzzles me seeing as how I have not cried since I was ten and Ricky Nelson pushed me off a swing and I nearly popped my knee out of its socket. But I guess when your parents kick you out the door of their $50 million Beverly Hills mansion, saying "Have a great life, if you die we might not show up at your funeral", it's kind of hard not to cry. I'm glad my best friend, Lucy, convinced me to pack my deodorant and make-up in my carry-on. Now I can get off the plane looking somewhat normal.

Now if I could get the flight attendant's attention and get another glass of water, I might be a little happier.

God, it's only been two hours and I've already been to the bathroom four times. That's once every half hour! I'm so sick or reading at this point and I'm incredibly bored. Everyone says you are supposed to sleep during international flights, but I'm just not tired. My mind is going at a hundred miles per minute and refuses to shut up.

I flip through the movie choices, looking for something that is happy to distract me. I choose 'Just My Luck', that terrible movie with Lindsay Lohan. She's such a skank and the first time I saw the movie I thought it sucked. Now I kind of feel like Chris Pine's character, the one with the bad luck. At least this movie has awesome music by McFly, my favorite currently popular Brit Pop group.

I plug in my headphones and slip them into my ears. My legs have cramped up and the fat guy in front of me has his seat leaned back all the way so I can't really see the screen. You know, the least my parents could have done for me was spring for first class. Even a seat in the front row of economy would be better, but oh no! That might mean they actually care somewhat for me and my comfort.

So instead I have to settle for listening to the words.

Twenty minutes into the movie, I fall asleep and don't wake up until the stewardess pokes me with my breakfast tray. I take the tray from her eagerly and my stomach growls. I gulp down the food and eat every crumb on my plate. The pilot comes onto the PA system and announces we will be landing in a little over an hour. I decide now is the time to fix my hair and make-up and take care of my personal hygiene.

I get out of my seat and reach up to the compartment above my head and attempt to pull my stuffed carry-on down. Just as I do this, the most beautiful guy I have ever seen bumps into me on his way to the back, and my bag pops out of the storage bin and hits him on the head. I start blushing furiously.

"Watch it," he says in this gorgeous British accent.

"S-s-s-sorry," I manage to stutter out. His beauty blinds me and my mind stops functioning. He stomps off and I am forced back into reality.

Exactly 73 minutes, three mascara touch-ups, six new hairstyles, and four applications of deodorant later, the plane touches down and makes its way over to the boarding gate. Row by row, we are let off the plane. I notice British Boy leaves alone.

Walking into the airport, I'm greeted by a rush of cold air. It instantly cools me off and I am more ready to face my new life. I hear my flight's number over the loudspeaker of the airport. It's saying something about customs and baggage claim, I think. I just follow the rest of the people from the plane and hope some of them are American like me, so we can get lost together.

It takes thirty minutes for me to get my bags, and more than an hour for me to get through customs. It took only twenty minutes for British Boy to get through customs. I counted.

Finally I am cleared and I head over to the pick-up/ taxi area. I see a man holding up a sign that says "St. Mark's Public School". I was told that for only one person, the school did not usually send out a driver. I look back at the man and this time, I notice Brit Boy standing next to the man, checking his watch.

My heart leaps into my throat and the realization that I am really starting over comes over me.

I walk quickly over to the sign and the two guys look up at me. Not positive this is where I should be, I ask, "Is this the carpool for St. Mark's Boarding School?"

"That's what the sign says," British Boy answers with a smirk. The other man sniggers, like he is twelve, rather than a full grown adult.

I blush in front of this guy for the second time that day. I decide this boy must be popular at school if even adults think he's funny for insulting newcomers. Back home, I would have tried to suck up to Brit Boy, in an effort to be popular, but a new school means a chance to start over and be the kind of person I really want to be. So instead of acting like nothing is wrong, I stick out my hand for a handshake and say, "My name's Melanie. Most people call me 'Mel' though. I can already tell most people call you an asshole." His smile fades and he gets this look on his face like he wants to murder me.

Brit Boy picks up his small carry-on and duffel bag and storms off towards the door. The man with the sign follows him and I attempt to run after them with my overly stuffed carry-on and suitcase. When I get to the door, I take one last look at the inside of Gatwick Airport. I turn around and seeing the guys were already standing next to a black car, so I take one last breath, and step through the doorway, into a new life.