Student Exchange

Rarity's Perspective

'The truth is...

I am Iron Man.

The movie ends and I turn back to the computer, having been momentarily occupied with the end of Iron Man.

I'd watched that movie so many times in the past couple of days, hearing that my exchange host was a fan of Marvel superheroes. Along with Thor, Captain America and Hulk, of course.

Tomorrow I'm heading all the way across the world to New Zealand, where I will be staying with my exchange host, and I'm really looking forward to it. I tap the screen of my iPad and a Facebook notification comes up.

(1) Message from Applejack Apple

Tapping read, a Facebook messaging app opens and the message expands into readable form.

Get off the plane from New York at the Auckland Airport and we'll meet you there.

Auckland? What a quaint name. What was that, a small town?

I type in the name to my little laptop, also next to me on the floor in the bathroom, and I find that it's a huge city in New Zealand. Nothing compared to New Yorker standards, of course, but if this Applejack is a farm gal, she's probably unused to the amount of people there.

I finish the long task of shaving myself, made even longer by the amount of tech I brought in here, and run a hand over my leg. “Beautiful and hairless!” I exclaim, smiling.

I press the lock button on my iPad, close my laptop and put my Nokia in my pocket. I put them in my room and go back into the bathroom.

My hair is a lovely purple, but unfortunately it's kind of out of control. So I spend half an hour in the bathroom every morning trying to tame it. Usually I comb it, style it down, so that the curls don't go everywhere. I don't really want to look like that girl from Brave.

And then you've obviously got to do your eyeliner, your eyeshadow, your blush, fake eyelashes, make yourself look acceptable.

Which means I get up an hour early to make myself look nice.

After two hours of forcing my hair to be good, I head down to the lounge. The widescreen is on.

“Sweetie Belle?” I yell in the direction of her room.

“Rarity?” comes the reply.

“Did you leave the widescreen on?”

“Yes,” comes the sheepish answer. “Do you want me to come fix it?”

“Not right now,” I say, shooting a glance at the DVD in my hand. “Later.”

“Okay, but later I wanna watch American Idol,”

“Sure, Sweetie,”

I turn the DVD player on and put the unmarked DVD into the slot. Casting my eyes across the back of the case for the millionth time, I read:

Hiya Rarity!

I hope the USA customs let this through. I don't know whether they work different in America than they do in New Zealand.

So you are coming over soon. I thought you might appreciate having a look around, as they say. Look forward to meeting you. AJ.

Then the DVD player comes on and I lose all interest in the case.

A handheld camera, looking at a pair of booted feet. It swings up to show a tanned girl of about fourteen in a brown Stetson and denim shorts. She wears an orange lumberjack shirt pushed up at the sleeves and her blonde hair is tied up loosely down her back.

“Thanks, Mack,” she says, evidently to the person holding the camera.

Then she beams at the camera lens.

“Hiya, Rarity!” Her voice is heavily accented Southern English. “Ah hope y'all're seein' this! But anyways,” she swings her arms out “welcome to Sweet Apple Acres!”

The camera pans out to show hectares and hectares of apple trees. “Y'all're comin' over soon an' Ah hope y'all're happy about it. Y'all will meet mah whole family!”

The girl grins. “Hope ta see ya soon!”

The camera cuts to black.

“Wow,” comes a deep voice from behind me. “How many times is that now, Rarity?”

I turn around to face him and smile sheepishly. “Um... about seven,”

“Seven!” He shakes his head in mock disbelief. “This Applejack will be the end of me,”

Dad smiles and passes me a rectangular parcel. “In case you miss us during your four-week holiday,” he says. “Enjoy yourself for me, won't you?”

“I will, Dad,” I promise.

He smiles and leaves the room.

My father, Magnum Belle-Hudson, is one of the major veggie suppliers for New York's supermarkets. My mom is a well-known fashion designer for FancyPants Industries.

So generally our family is kinda rich.

I open the package and a framed picture falls out. It's one of the whole family.

There's Sweetie Belle, in that little white dress, grinning widely with her boyish friend Scootaloo. Sweetie is very like me in skin tone and face shape, except she's eight and I'm fourteen. Sweetie has pink and purple shoulder-length hair which has a pretty kink in it near the end. Scootaloo has brick straight purplish hair which she shaved off a couple months ago, so now she looks a bit like a dude. She always wears this super-annoying bright orange jacket and she's never seen without her scooter. I must say, she's a whizz on it though. I don't know anyone better.

And Dad, in a crinkled white shirt and a pair of old jeans, with his old straw hat, which Mom got for him on their wedding day. Next to him, Mom, in a bubblegum pink ruffled dress.

And me in the middle, in my white denim shorts and patterned singlet.

I smile at the photo, knowing I can't forget my family with this photograph.

I take Applejack's DVD out of the video player and go back up the stairs to my room.

I have the best room in the house. Seriously. I'm on the second floor, so I overlook the sea, but I'm also the only bedroom on this floor. So I don't get... noise... like poor Sweetie Belle does.

We have a huge house, built on a ridge next to the sea. It's a whitish-grey, very modern, with a computerised security system and things. It's nothing on Bill Gates or Tony Stark, but it's pretty cool.

I've already packed most of my stuff, so I zip open my bag and put the photo in alongside my photograph of my boyfriend, Spike, and me. He's thirteen, tall, he has the most amazing green eyes I've ever seen, and he's the sweetest boy I know.

“Rarity!” calls my mom. “Dinner, come now!”

Dammit.

* * *

After dinner I go back up to my room and get into bed straightaway, because I need the sleep.

But I can't.

I'm too busy worrying about what will happen tomorrow.

What will Applejack be like? Kind? Boisterous? Honest? Narcissistic? I don't know.

I suppose I'll have to wait and see.