• Prologue



    I fell down on my bed in the morning, but I didn't bother getting back up. School has got to be a waste of time, I decided, or else why would everyone insist on me going there. I have been moved around from country to country ever since ... I was little? I don't know it just takes to much effort to remember.
    I only remember the important parts.
    I started out in Italy, apparently. That's how I got my name, Fiametta. It means little flame, which suits me only because of my wavy, red hair. Then, I moved to Australia and, two years later, to Switzerland. Next, to France and Spain. Later, U.K. and Ireland. Finally, I ended up here, in Tennessee. I mean, it's a great place, but nothing like home, or what I remember of it.
    I've only been here for a few months and now it's the first day of school, a phrase pre-teens everywhere shake their heads at, in disgust. I didn't bother wondering how the other kids would react to a red-head, Italian girl in their class. I know, I know, I'm a rare combination don't bother reminding me.
    The first questions they'll ask are the "innocent" and "well-intentioned" ones. They might be, "What are your hobbies?" I'd say "Procrastinating and dreaming, now buzz off" and of course I'd say it in my heavy Italian accent, just to make them doubly speechless.In the next round, the smart ones will start asking me about the history of my country... blablabla whats my culture... blablabla.... and so on. Obviously everyone will misunderstand me by the first day but because of my reluctance to give information. Don't worry though, I always find a way to blame it on them!
    You might not have noticed, but generally I don't like people.