Hi! Chocolate Powder here. I published this chapter ages ago but I deleted it soon after as I was unhappy with it. I hope you like the story and I hope I don't abandon it!
New York. I can't believe I'm going to New York! All the other kids loathe me but I don't care. After all, I've only been at Sunnyhill Children's Home for one month. The kids here call it Darkhill because the sun never shines here. I have been orphanage-hopping since I was nine. That was when my mom died of brain tumour. My dad died in a road accident the year before, well, at least they call it an accident. The Social Welfare people came after a two days on my own and brought me to Dardinham Orphanage For Girls. That place stank of mould! I have never settled down since.
My foster mom says I am an easily distracted child and I will be taught how to be a proper lady by her. She wishes! She must be the fourth foster parent to say that. She is a cold woman, she has a cold flat, and she even has a cold name! Sheevra. Who would call their daughter Sheevra? Sheevra says it's Irish but I lived in Ireland for four years and I've never heard anything like it! I call her Shivera in my head. Anyway, Shivera says that going to New York is her own little treat but I know better. It's actually funded by Darkhill. They hope they can kick me out so they can cut the cost of food.
Shivera also says that the reason we are going to New York is to visit my only living relative. He is a grand-uncle or something like that. She probably hopes she can dump me with him. Well, he can't be too bad because he lives in New York! Only fancy people live there, well, at least in some parts. New York will be so cool! I'll see the skyscrapers, the yellow cabs and maybe I'll catch a glimpse of those awesome protector guys. I think they're called the Avengers. They have a god on their team! There was a boy in my last school whose family converted to Odinism, a form of German Neopaganism, and at lunchtimes he had to pray to Thor. Thor must be so chuffed.
As the aeroplane lands in J.F.K. International Airport, I have butterflies in my stomach. What if he doesn't like me? What if he's a serial killer who is on the run? What if we both get killed by Hydra drones before Iron Man can save us? My mind makes up the worst scenarios possible.
"Stop it, brain," I say under my breath as I slap my head.
"What was that?" asks Shivera as the seatbelt sign flashes green.
"Nothing," I mumble as we take our seatbelts off and pull our bags out of the luggage compartments. I thank the air hostess as we pass by. We walk through the corridor to Passport Control and start queuing. Soon we are out of the airport and in a traditional yellow cab to my uncle's home. I still find it hard to believe I am in New York!
The taxi driver seems quite confused when we tell him the address.
"Stark's tower? Not much people live there," he mutters. He turns on the radio and listens to the news. It was the usual stuff like; Civilian death toll grows in Syria, President Obama declares slight rise in tax, blah, blah. I observe the pedestrians as we drive by. Some of them wear crazy clothes, some of them wear suits and smart dresses but they all have one thing in common; they all look busy. It must be great to be a New Yorker.
After a while the taxi pulls up outside a tall skyscraper. I can't help but stare at it as Shivera pays the driver. It is gleaming in the sun so it hurts my eyes. We walk through the massive doors to what looks like the reception area.
"Hello, how may I help you?" the receptionist asks. She is wearing a grey waistcoat over a white shirt and has black frizzy hair tied back in a bun. I think she is very pretty.
"Good day, this is 200 Park Avenue, right?" Shivera replies. The woman nods. I am so excited to see my great grand-uncle (or whatever he is) that my hands are quivering.
"My foster child and I are here to see a relation of hers. I think his name is Steve Rogers or something like that," Shivera says.
My jaw drops in shock.
"You are saying my great-great uncle or whatever he is is Captain America?" I ask her, to clarify. Shivera raises her eyebrows in confusion.
The receptionist seems unsurprised.
"Mr. Rogers is expecting a certain Celine Rogers. Is that you?"
I nod quickly when she says my name. The receptionist stands up and walks over to a metal detector.
"You and your guardian must go through this metal detector. But first may I see your ID?" she says.
We hand her our passports and walk through the detector. The receptionist returns our passports and gestures to the elevator. As we enter it, a male, electronic voice rings out in the box.
"Good day, I am JARVIS. You are Celine and Sheevra, correct? I shall take you to Steve Rogers," it says. As the elevator rises, I literally jump up and down with excitement.
Captain America! I am related to Captain America! Lots of people would kill to be as lucky as me right now. Wow, that sounds weird. I am lucky. Never in my life have I been lucky, well, at least not since my father died.
As the lift doors opened JARVIS speaks up.
"Goodbye, Celine and Sheevra, and have a pleasant day."
"You too," I reply. Shivera and I walk into an empty corridor. We pause there for a minute or so, not knowing what to do. I hear echoing footsteps. I am frozen. Those worst possible scenarios come to mind again. Alas, this time I cannot smack my head as the footsteps are drawing closer.
Thank you for reading! Will update soon! Remember, reviews are love! Seriously, please review!