Personal Narrative: My First Day In America

I am currently in the U.S.A., the Eastern side of Michigan. It is my second day in America, and my first day of 7th grade in a different country. I see faces, faces with many colors. Faces with many backgrounds. Faces with many emotions. I look at a woman–with blond hair and very tall stature–approaching me. While her hand is hovering in the air, the woman smiles at me as she says, “Hi,” which is one of the few words I can understand. I nervously try to interpret information around me, but as I stare at her extended hand, I cannot figure out the appropriate response; I do not know what to say. I guess I should not have slacked off when my personal tutor was trying to teach me English. Eventually, it strikes me that I should shake her hand. I wonder whether I have lost my ability to understand social cues; I am not sure.
She says something to me in her native language but I, trying to recall what I had been taught, fail to provide an answer. She understands that I am …show more content…
My friend, Zaphod, continues to smile and then points me towards a figure to my left. I feel the throbbing on the left side of my face and start to head towards the figure holding the first-aid kit. I approach the kit, but open up the blue box crammed with ice instead. As soon as my face makes contact with the ice, the debilitation, caused by the smack of quarter pound cricket ball, starts to diminish. Perhaps ice is the only elixir that can alleviate me from the anticipation of the flight to U.S.A. tomorrow.
The sun starts to creep down as the blanket of shadow encompasses the sky. The game is over, I say to myself as the drops of moisture slithers on the surface of my skin. I observe the dried up portion of the soil around the rich field of grass. It must’ve been caused by repetitive contact of the cricket bat with the–. I suddenly hear abrupt footsteps. “So, tomorrow it is?” Zaphod mentions in