We all walk down to the busiest part of London. A group of five punk teens will get noticed very easily. On our way down, we heard a bunch of people calling us a variety of names from distasteful to the thieves that had been stealing from a nearby neighborhood. We pushed past all of those people with such force, that they might have actually fallen into the streets, but we were in such a rush we didn't see. We finally make it ten minutes later to my cousin Lucy's bakery.
"Hello, welcome to, Amber!" she screams as we walk through the door. I suddenly find myself in a tight, awkward hug.
"Hey," I squeak out, finding it hard to breathe.
"How have you been?" she asks, squeezing tighter.
"Up until this point, able to breathe," I say with a dizzy head. She lets go, holding onto my shoulders to steady me.
"Sorry," the 23-year old says. She hasn't changed must since I left a year ago. As usual, her auburn hair is pulled back into its signature braid. Her sparkling green eyes take me in. "It's so good to see you," she continues, turning to my friends. "Oh look at you all," she says going in for a group hug but is stopped by Arrow.
"We're good," he says with his hands up in defense.
A timer in the back chimes. "Oh, looks like the buns are ready, I'll go get them," she says perkily and then runs to the back of the shop.
"I can't believe you two are related," Dalton says settling in at one of the booths.
"Ya, sometimes I'm surprised to," I say with a laugh as the rest of them join Dalton. He pats the space next to him. I roll my eyes, but sit down next to him as Lucy comes out of the back room with a steaming tray of cinnamon buns, well unglazed cinnamon buns.
"I'll help," I say, rising from the booth to join her behind the counter. I pick up an apron off the rack by the double doors that lead to the back. I put the flour encrusted thing on before grabbing a white glaze bottle.
"Do you remember how to do it?" she asks grabbing her own bag.
"Of course, I learned from the best," I reply, smirking back at her.
Seven minutes later, we have almost perfectly glazed buns, still warm. I pick up the tray as Lucy puts the bags back in the refrigerator. I walk over to the table where everyone is sitting.
"Who wants a bun?" I ask in a singsong voice. Everyone reaches out and grabs a bun as someone walks in through the front door. "Hello, welcome to Crossroad Bakery," I say to the older woman who had just walked in. I set down the tray as she turns to me. Her eyes grow twice their normal size as she looks me over.
"Oh my word," she whispers. I start to ask her what's wrong when she starts screaming. "Lucy! Lucy what have they done to you? Lucy!" she screams.
"What's going on?" Lucy asks bursting through the doors in complete confusion. She looks from us to the woman, and gives me a stern look. I roll my eyes again and grab myself a bun. Lucy looks back at the very stern lady, looking as if she was going to explode.
"What the bloody hell woman?" she yells, slapping her hands onto the counter, "you made me come running out here for this? I thought someone had come in here and murdered my cousin!"
"Your cousin?" the woman mutters under her breath, very startled. I sit on the table and watch the scene unfold in front of me.
"Ya," Lucy continues, "my cousin you dumb old hag. You have no right to walk in here and automatically assume that she's a bad person. You should count yourself lucky I'm the one shoutin' at you instead of her, because she," Lucy cuts me a devious look out of the corner of her eye, "she is the reckless one in the family."
"And the one fresh out of juvie," I add making sure to have a devious grin on my face. It isn't exactly true, the last time I was in juvie was a few months ago after I assaulted a crazy Total Drama fangirl. She had been asking me a bunch of odd questions about Duncan a few weeks after the first season started. Apparently, she wanted to get to know everyone before reporting to her blog. I just pushed her into a parked car, and she probably wouldn't have pressed charges, but a police car just happened to pass, so they took me in. With my record and a witness, they didn't even need a trial. The woman looks completely scared of Lucy, me, and everyone behind me. She runs out of the shop in such a rush, I thought she would forget how to open the door. But she go out, but not without giving us a little shriek. My cousin laughs while rubbing her shoulder. Part of her shirt slips to the side, revealing the top of the dragon wings tattooed to her back. I smile, remembering the day she came home with them when I was 10 and she was 17. She showed me, but made me promise not to tell, and I kept my promise till the day came when her mom found out. I was able to convince her that she had gotten it with friends on her 19th birthday.
We all leave the bakery at around five. We walk onto the "dangerous streets" of London in the afternoon. I hold a bag of cookies in my right hand while we talk of the night's performance. We finally get to the motel a quarter to six. Sophie and I walk to our suite and put on our clothes for the gig. I put on a red, green and white plaid skirt, a white tank top, red suspenders, knee high white socks and worn-red Converses. Sophie, who just walked out of the bathroom, is wearing a green spaghetti strap tank shirt, a tiny black skirt, slightly torn floral lace tights, and black boots. Her long red hair is pulled into two pigtails. She would look childish if it weren't for the green eye shadow and black eyeliner that was slathered around her eyes. I chuckle as I apply a little of my own red eye shadow.
"We are not bringing any boys back tonight," I say.
"Aw, where's ta fun in that," Sophie complains, with a pout on her face.
"It's defiantly not in the bathtub, which is where I will have to crashin' if you start midnight fling with someone," I reply.
"Ha, the life of a rock star," she says putting on her dog collar necklace. I roll my eyes, and grab my bag with my change of clothes and walk towards the door. "Oh, I can't believe you're still single and a virgin, you could go to so many places with someone on your arm."
"Yes, I know you have told me before," I say putting my hand on the doorknob, "But I kind of don't want in someone's pants." I swing open the door to find the boys in a fit of giggles "What?" I ask very bluntly.
"Girl's talk about the weirdest stuff," Arrow says letting out his laughter. I walk right by them, pushing Arrow over as I walk pass him.
We pile into the van, bags and instruments in tow. Duncan has the great privilege of driving tonight while the rest of us sat in the back. Duncan is wearing his usual clothes, a long sleeve black and white T-shirt with a skull on it, his jean capris and his red high tops. He seems oddly eager to drive tonight, probably to get away from all of us for a few short minutes. I look back at everyone else. Arrow and Dalton sit beside me, across from me is Sophie, who is trying to keep the instruments in place. Dalton has his hair in its usual mess, with a faded black Led Zeppelin shirt on, with dark blue jeans and black Vans on. He's playing air bass and humming to some random song. I look farther down to look at Arrow. He has on a blue shirt with the sleeves ripped off, torn, light blue jeans and dirty combat boots. Really, it looked like he just threw on random clothes, which he probably did. He is playing with his silver lip ring, swinging it back and forth from finger to finger. I lean back in my seat and look up at the beat up ceiling. This seems to keep me occupied until we get there. We unload the van, everyone takes a guitar, bass, or microphone and a piece of the drum kit. I am the last one to unload and as I close the rear doors, I spot something in the distance. It's a jumbo plane, with, in great detail, Chris McLean's face on the side of it. I look away from it. So they're in London tonight, I think to myself. They won't show up here I say to myself as I turn and enter the building.