Chapter One: The Magnificent Mile.

Note: I do not own Avatar the last Airbender. This story is Rated T, for safety, they may be cursing and… I'm not sure yet. There might be some references to sex, because my stupid neighbors are going at it every 5 secants! THAT'S RIGHT YOU SICK PERVES! I CAN HEAR YOU!

Oh and the was the story works is that each chapter will be landmarks in Chicago, some may be big, like The Mag Mile, or they may be small like My Bathroom, and all in between too, like, the Alleyway Next to the Burger King, and the Nursery.

ENJOY! And REVIEW!

Now there are some weird people in Chicago. I mean some really crazy people. Like there's this one guy, we call him Frenchy, I'm pretty sure he thinks he's living in the seventy's. He wares big old bell-bottoms and this white blouse he refuses to button up properly. He smells like dead cats, and he has this horrible (French) accent. He wanders Michigan Avenue cursing and muttering to himself. NO JOKE! This guys a real lunatic!

But wait, I've only gotten started. There's this lady, she has this bee-hive, no joke, a real live bee-hive-hair-do! And she never brushes it out. You can seriously tell what side of the bed she slept on because that's the side of her hair that's flat. She comes to every free event that Chicago has. She's always at the museums. One time on a field trip in seventh grade, I waived to her, as if I knew her. My friends were laughing so hard, and then she gave me the middle finger. Which, to say, made them laugh even harder.

So you're probably like, "What dose this have to do with avatar? Jeez, I come her for a fanfiction, and all I get is your life story, which is depressing, and now you're talking about people who have issues. I. DON'T. CARE! Give me the Zutara, Ger'Dam'it!" My message to you. CHILL! I'm almost there.

So I'm out on the Mag mile, basking it its polluted and corrupt glory I'm in the weather thing. Waiting for the bus. Ladies in suits walk by hurriedly. Teenage boys bounce past me, their iPods in hand. Tourists walk with their faces pointed to the sky, in awe of the sky scrapers (may I just say that if you come to Chicago, please don't walk like this, you'll cross the street, not looking were you're going and get run over. It has happened!) And there he is. Looking like he just stepped out of a Asian fighting movie, HA! Hidden dragon! And I find myself doing something that more then normally pisses me off. I'm staring.

I mean, come on, what would you do if some guy just showed up on the Main street of your town in these weird Asian clothes? I mean he had the whole get up. Even the pointy hat! Okay, so sure, the nude biker protest was yesterday, and the soccer games are coming up, so you constantly see people wearing there flags as capes. But come on!

Bad thing was, he noticed.

Crap.

I quickly turned my head as I saw him come towered me. Two words entered my mind as he did so.

Oh crud, oh crud, oh crud, oh crud, oh crud.

Natasha's book of tips, lesson #109:

NEVER converse with weird people. Don't make eye contact. Don't give them spare change. Oh, and did I say. DON'T MAKE EYE CONTACT!

I felt his presence and I tensed, grasping my purse just a little bit tighter.

"Excuse me?" he asked, I felt his gaze upon me. His voice was raspy and a little on the frightened side.

I looked around pretending I didn't hear him

"Excuse me?" he asked again, this time a bit loader.
I know, I thought. If I pretend I'm deaf he'll leave me alone! Just look up and ask if he knows sign language, in the said language, and he'll leave you alone! Brilliant!

But before I got the chance the boy sighed and sat next to me on the wooden bench and said. "I know you can hear me."

"Shit…" I whispered under my breath.

"Listen." He said. "I need directions. And I swear I'll leave you alone. I'm just really lost."

I looked up to him. Under his sun-hat, I could see a scar, which grazed over his left cheek and down his ear. I decided to ignore it. I had never liked to talk about my own scar, so I did not think it too wise to start up a tense conversation, seeing as he might ask about mine.

"I don't usually ask for help. I'm sort of desperate." He continued.

"Why are you asking me?" I whined. "There are thousands of people in this city, please, leave me alone!" I said and scooted farther away from him on the bench.

Thankfully, the guy got up and left. I really didn't want to get molested, and hopefully he wouldn't go find some one else.

My bus came in the next few minutes and I climbed on. Nearly no one was on the ride, I paid my fair and walked to the back, I pulled out my iPod and stuck the buds in my ear awaiting the long ride, accompanied only but the southern classics of the Ditsy Chicks.

I thought I could chill, and forget about china scar man.

But oh, how wrong I was.

What do you think?

REVIEW!