Chapter 2
To never hear an Angel sing…
(Runaway--Avril Lavene)
"Goodbye, Maggie," my mom hugged me. This was followed by continuous hugs from my friends and a bear hug from Frankie.
"I'm going to miss you, Mags," he whispered in my ear before saying aloud," write to us." The rest murmured in agreement. I laughed.
"I will, for sure," I hugged each one of them, before joining the rest of the cooks. I found the one that had given me the instructions yesterday.
"Ah, Miss Clearwater. There you are. We've been waiting for you," she told me, sounding slightly irritated. She called out to someone, and a young blonde girl came through the crowd.
"Yes, Miss Shraw?" she said, standing beside me, completely ignoring my presence.
"Miss Snow, I want you to look after our new recruit, here, Miss Clearwater," she gestured towards me. The girl didn't even look at me.
"The whole tour? Can't you find somebody else?"
"No questions, Miss Snow. Now I don't want you to let her out of your sight for one minute, ok?"
"Fine," the girl nodded. They talked as if I couldn't handle things by myself.
"Thank you, Natalie." That was the first time I'd ever heard Miss Shraw call anybody by their first name.
As Miss Shraw moved away, Natalie grabbed my wrist and pulled me away from the others.
"Ok. I don't like this anymore than you do, so let's get a few things straight. I am the cook's first assistant, you are now the second. I am in charge of taking any personal orders from any and all members of the band. They ring, I come. Since I am unable to let you out of my sight, you also, unfortunately, will come with me whenever they do end up calling. If for some absurd reason, I am unable to come when they call, god forbid, you will have to take their requests. You must remember every detail of their order. If they want exactly twenty-four pieces or choose on their sandwich, you make sure that there are exactly twenty-four pieces of cheese," she told me quickly, "Do you understand?"
"Uh--I think so--" I was cut off as she spoke again.
"We will be sleeping in a different hotel than the rest so we can be there as soon as possible when they want something."
"What hours do we work?" I asked. She looked at me as if I were stupid.
"We're on call twenty-four seven." Before I could object, she pulled me back into the group as they began to board the plane. Natalie sat beside me, taking the window seat. That was fine with me. Looking out the window would probably just make me sick. I wasn't a big fan of flying. I preferred to keep my feet on the nice, solid ground, but if it meant flying would get me closer to Tokio Hotel and Bill Kaulitz, then I was all for it.
The plane ride was terrible. At first, I was sick to my stomach, almost puking twice, before I finally fell asleep. Then the nightmares begun. First was the normal, like a plane crash on a deserted island, but then they became more realistic. I was walking down the hallway, and suddenly Bill, Tom, Gustav, and Georg were all there watching me, laughing at me. What were they laughing at? And then I knew. I was on the floor, tripped again. Damn. They were laughing at me. The four people I admired most were laughing at me. Great.
Then I woke up. Natalie was staring at me.
"What the hell was that all about?" she was staring at me like I was crazy.
"Oh. Nothing. Bad dream." I sat up and found some headphones to watch the airplane video, or what was left of it anyways.
When the plane landed, I jumped up and grabbed my bags. I wanted to be off the plane as soon as possible. We hurried out, or should I say, I ran out as Natalie tried to keep up with me. When I was safely on solid ground, I stopped to catch my breath. Natalie ran up beside me.
"What the hell are you running from?"
"I…hate…flying," I struggled to say between taking deep breathes of air.
"Well, then, you picked the wrong job."
"No. I picked this job because I love to cook and I love music. This job has then both together."
"Yes, Well. It's not like you can actually go watch then anyways."
"Why not?" I asked, confused.
"Because we'll be in the kitchen, preparing the meal for them when they come back."
"So we don't get to hear them play?"
"Nope," She smirked, seeming to enjoy my disappointment. The announcer spoke to the airport. Our group was moving again, "Come on. Our transfer is loading."
As I sat down in the plane seat, preparing for another long plane ride, I popped in my earphones and quickly fell asleep to the sound of Bill's voice singing '1000 Meere.'