“Stay together, you lot.” Mr. East, our middle-aged, laid-back, kinda strange but kinda amazing teacher, calls out to us as we trail behind him through the hustle and bustle of the airport.

Our exchange group from Berkshire, England just took an eight-hour flight to JFK Airport in New York. We are all tired out of our minds. A baby cried practically the entire journey, meaning we got no sleep whatsoever. My best friend Grace and I also spent like four hours watching movies, which probably didn’t help with the sleep situation.

We’re all following Mr. East while half-asleep. We reach this security area, I think, where there are people in glass boxes scanning our faces and taking handprints, thumbprints, and each individual fingerprint.

Grace and I glance at each other. They do this in America? Why? Seems a little over the top compared to what we’re used to.

Anyway, after all of that, we’re at baggage claim. Most of us are sat on the floor or on our suitcases, just waiting for the last few of us to get their luggage when Marcus says he needs the toilet.

So then all seven of us go to the toilet. Not a nice experience, absolutely filthy. The water level is so much higher than in the UK, and the stall doors are so high off the ground that you can see people’s lower legs while they’re inside. Not the nicest experience. When I’m washing my hands at the sink, I look at my reflection.

I still have a messy bun from the flight, which I pull out so that my wavy light-brown hair can cascade around my shoulders. My light-blue eyes are sort of bloodshot from exhaustion, but it’s not too noticeable. I didn’t wear any makeup, so my spray of freckles is visible. I don’t really ever wear makeup unless it’s for a nice occasion. I’d rather just be the natural me. I’m also wearing denim shorts, but they’re not really visible under the giant peach-coloured sweatshirt I’ve been wearing.

I was excited to come and live with an American family for a whole month. I hope I’m not going to regret this. Judging from our experience in the airport so far, it doesn’t really seem the nicest. The American family and I have been speaking on and off in a WhatsApp group chat, and occasionally video-calling to get to know each other a little better.

They’re a family of five: Mum ㅡ Angelique, Dad ㅡ Miles, eldest ㅡ Luke, middle child ㅡ Sam, and youngest ㅡ Daisy. Daisy definitely seemed the most excited to meet me. They all seemed really nice from what I’ve seen, except Sam has the tendency to bicker and be mean to Daisy, and I also never actually met Luke. He never spoke and was never on any of the video calls. That made me feel a bit uneasy, but I’m still really grateful that they’re inviting me into their home to be a part of their lives for a whole month.

After a little while, the seven of us head out into the main entrance of the airport.

“Alright, see if you can spot your families. If not, you come straight back here to me, okay? Don’t want anyone wandering off,” Mr. East says, rubbing his sleepy brown eyes. “We’re all meeting at the school tomorrow at eight AM, okay? Your exchange students should take you to reception so I won’t be hard to find.”

Grace and I glance at each other, both nervous and excited. I feel sort of jittery and strange, but I guess that’s normal.

“Best behaviours, you lot. Get lots of rest. Be nice. Marcus, don’t blow anything up,” Mr. East says, causing a few murmurings of amusement. “See you all tomorrow bright and early,” he smiles sarcastically, as none of us are particularly thrilled for an early morning. “Okay, scat.”

So we all disperse in various directions. Grace spots her family instantly.

“Oh my God, they’re there,” she says.

I smile at her encouragingly. “See you tomorrow.”

“Text me whenever you can,” she says.

I nod, and she waves goodbye as she wanders towards them.

“Willow! Willow!” I hear a little voice calling. I glance the other way, noticing Daisy jumping up and down, holding a sign that says Willow Jackson.

I smile and begin heading in their direction.

She’s wearing a small denim dress and yellow buckled shoes. She has jet-black hair and a cute little fringe. Her mum stands behind her, waving to me, also with black hair. She wears red lipstick to match her blouse, and her eyes are friendly and approachable. Then the middle child, Sam, is grinning at me. He’s got a heap of black curls and bright-green eyes which match his T-shirt.

When I’m a few metres away, Angelique says, “Hello, sweetheart!” Meanwhile, Daisy drops the sign and runs at me, smacking into me with the most massive hug. I laugh, hugging her back.

“How was the flight?” Angelique asks, walking closer.

“It was good!” I lie.

“Get any sleep?”

“None,” I say with a little chuckle, and she laughs in response.

“Aww,” she says. “Don’t worry, we’ll get you home so you can get a good rest. You must be shattered.” She squeezes me into a hug before turning to Sam. “Sam, aren’t you going to say hello?”

“Hello,” he smiles awkwardly. He’s fourteen, probably too embarrassed to talk to a sixteen-year-old girl he hasn’t properly met.

“Hi,” I smile back.

Angelique tells Daisy to let go of me so I can walk. She takes my bag off my shoulder and continues to talk as we head for the exit.

“Well, you’ve got your own room, so hopefully you’ll have no trouble sleeping. Miles snores sometimes, but I’ll just punch him to shut him up,” she jokes, making me chuckle.

“He’s working at the moment, and Luke’s out. I think he said he’d be home late tonight.”

I nod, trying to take it all in. I still don’t even know what Luke looks like, he’s never spoken to me online before.

“I’m sure Daisy will show you around and give you the chance to have a nap and unpack. We’ll eat around seven to give you the chance to have a good rest. Do you like pizza?”

“We’re getting pizza?!” Daisy asks excitedly.

“Yes!” Sam says, doing a mini fist-bump.

“Yeah, pizza’s fine,” I smile. “Thank you.”

“So polite!” she says as we step outside. I’m hit with the heat. Wow. A lot hotter in America than the UK, that’s for sure. I’m glad I wore shorts, or I think I’d explode.

We make it to the car and are on our way to their home. Daisy’s pointing out different landmarks and spewing random facts as we go past buildings.

“Daisy, no one wants to hear your word-vomit,” Sam says to her.

“Sam, play nice,” Angelique warns.

“Then by all means, carry on with the word-vomit,” he says sarcastically.

I smile slightly with amusement. “It’s fine, I don’t mind,” I say, and she continues to speak at extreme speed, making Angelique and me chuckle.

Then we reach the house.