"Tess!" screamed my mom.
'Oh,No,' I thought as I clambered down the steps, considering there are 30 steps separating each of the three floors, I was doing preety well.
If you haven't guessed it already my name is Tess, what!? You want to know my last name too, well it's classified. I'm seven years old, but you'll get to see how I age through this story.
Finally I got to the first floor.
"What?" I asked in a small voice, hoping she wasn't drunk.
"Meet your new nannie," she said in the angrey voice that told me that she was in fact drunk.
I've had thrity-eight nannies in all my life. All of them getting fired for doing something nice to me, like taking me to the park. The big plus is that I live in London. London,
Egland, I'm not kidding you.
I soon learned that my newest nanny's name was Nia. Nia had mexican skin and long black hair. She runs a hard ship, but I could get her fired just as easy as snapping my fingers. Like begging for a glass of watter that I could easily get myself.
"Nia, what is school like?" I asked.