****Flash forward to present time****

So now you're caught up to the present. It's been a week since I made up my mind. For the first few days, I gathered whatever money I could. I pawned off some jewelry from my foster mom, skipped lunch, and sold test and homework answers. Then when I was about $200 dollars from where I wanted to be, I pawned my dad's watch. In the end I came up with just over $675 dollars.

I'm now on a Greyhound bus, which cost $75 dollars to take me from Atlanta, Georgia to Savannah, Georgia. I would have thought it would have been $50 dollars because we're just across the state, but no. That was all the money I made from selling test answers. But it was worth it. Savannah, I've heard, is a great place. At night when the street performers come out and the lights come on, it's supposed to be nicer than Paris.

I look down at my bus ticket, Josh Andrews, 15, is written on it. I rarely use my last name, since I know nothing about my family history. My dad left me a watch. I'm glad he did, that'll pay for food for two weeks.

It's about sunset and I'm told, by the overhead speakers, that we will be in Savannah in 2 hours. I'm nervous now; next to me is a man who has been looking at me strangely since I got on the bus. I hope he'll just go to sleep.

I try to pass the time by looking through the bag I brought with me. I brought a hooded jacket, the money, an extra gold necklace to pawn, two jars of peanut butter, a couple water bottles, two changes of clothes, and a sturdy pocket knife.

At some point I drifted off, but I'm woken up a few hours later by a man shaking my shoulder. I look out my window and see a bus station. We're just a few blocks from the river. I get up and grab my stuff, briskly getting off the bus.

I immediately start walking towards the river, following the sounds of ship horns and street performers. At one point I notice the man from the bus following me. I try to ignore him and continue to go towards the river. In a few minutes I make it there. And the elegance of the river at night was not understated. The street lamps and brick roads combined with the slow river boats moving in the distance give the place an Old South feel. One of a place so consumed with its own elegancy that it fails to see the approaching storm.

I look around and see people watching street performers, or going into restaurants, or taking pictures or just wandering around. Most people have touristy looks about them, blondish-brown hair, tall and fit. I have dark brown hair, brown eyes and deeply tanned skin. I'm only around 5'7 so I've always been called the Indian. I think my family had Inuit or Eskimo roots.

While I'm watching the hustle of Savannah, a voice whispers in my ear and says, "Hey there,"

The tone is so strange that I jump back.