I'm so sorry about uploading this chapter…it didn't work at first! It was really weird how it showed up on this site. Just 'Chapter Two' and then two exclamation marks. Weird…
Anyway…
Chapter Two
It happened on one of those rare occasions that I actually got out of the house. In fact, this occasion was very rare, because I had actually gotten out of the country. Yes, dear friends, I was walking the streets of London, England. A place I had dreamed of visiting for a greater portion of my life, and when I received the news that some friend's of my parents had invited me over for a month in the summer, I nearly passed out from the excitement. And don't doubt that I can fall unconscious from excitement; remember that 'excitement' is a word that doesn't enter one's vocabulary when describing my life. But nevertheless, I was going to England. I was ecstatic, to say the very least. It was going to be the trip of the lifetime.
If I only knew…
The details of my arrival and so forth are unimportant. They are miniscule facts that need not be regurgitated to you lovely readers, so I will skip to the important part of the story.
I was walking the streets of London, as I said before, on one of those rare cloudy days that hardly exist in the great city. Okay, so it was just as gloomy as always, and that day was no exception. It was unusually cold, though, and I cursed myself for not remembering to bring gloves as my hands froze in the pockets of my sweatshirt. Then I remembered; it was summer, and if I had brought gloves I would have been way too prepared. The icy breeze whipped my face as I trudged along the busy streets, trying desperately to avoid running into anyone in case they started shouting at me in a cockney accent with words that just didn't seem to be English. Trust me—that was hard trying not to bump into others. In fact, it was impossible. But it was easier to avoid the English and bump into the other Americans instead. They were easily distinguishable as the ones with the cameras.
Americans always have cameras.
And Japanese.
No, for crying out loud, I'm not stereotypical, I'm just stating facts. But back to my walking...
I ducked onto a side street to rid myself of the claustrophobic atmosphere of the main road. The air was less stuffy and the sidewalks less populated. With my hands still stuffed deep into my pockets I preceded cautiously down the concrete path laid out before me.
I had this thing; you may think it kind of weird, but it's important that I tell you. You see, my brother died when I was fourteen years old (as my mother put it, "he lost his battle with depression", or if you want it in lamen's terms, "he put a shotgun in his mouth and..."). But the interesting thing about this disturbing story is that my mother went to see this psychic (yeah, whatever, just read it and roll your eyes afterwards). And my brother actually talked to her. See, ever since he died she would keep finding these pennies all over the place. You know how that is—finding loose change in various places in your little world. Well she started collecting them, calling them "pennies from heaven", and she honestly believed that that was a way for my brother to communicate with her.
I always thought it a little eccentric.
But my brother, through the psychic, told my mom that those pennies were in fact from him. Believe it or not, it's up to you. But I definitely believed. So I started up my own "pennies from heaven" collection. But whenever I found change it was usually dimes and quarters, which I was always bragging to my mom about. I shut up, though, after she said, "Maybe the reason why he gives you so much change is because he knows how you like to spend all your money all the time."
Ouch Mom, ouch.
So that's that story, and now on with the other. As I was walking, I stared at the ground. I always do this to avoid eye contact with strangers. It's always easier to just avoid faces altogether instead of looking at them and wondering whether to say hi or not, and then feeling like an idiot when you do and they give you a funny look, or feel guilty when you don't. Anyway, I was walking. With my head down. And then I stopped. I saw a penny lying on the ground. And I smiled for the first time that day. I stood staring at it for a while, smiling. I must have looked like a complete putz as I look back on it, just standing and staring, and smiling. I must have looked really creepy. No wonder everyone crossed to the other side of the street when they approached me. As I stared, smiling, standing, I thanked my brother silently for finding me all the way in London and letting me know that he was with me. And I leaned down to pick the penny up. Heads up, it was. That's always really nice to find. Luck and reassurance.
But my happiness didn't last for long.
It soon drifted off as I held the coin in my hand. A very peculiar feeling spread over me. I started to get dizzy, and it looked like the world was spinning. In fact, it was spinning. The dark colors swirled around me so fast that I felt like I was going to pass out (I feel like that all the time, but this time I really did feel like I was going to pass out). As I spun—or the world spun around me—I caught sight of a cafe door being thrown open and a woman sprinting toward me. Before she reached me, I felt as though a hook just behind my navel had been jerked forward. My feet left the ground, and I was pulled through swirling colors and endless sky.
It was the oddest and most sickening feeling I had ever felt, and when my feet hit the ground, I threw up.
It was really gross.