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Disclaimer: I don't own COTT, any of the characters, events or personalities. I also don't own Birmingham international airport. (Thank god). However, I believe it is a legal necessity to state that any detrimental descriptions about any real life landmarks are employed solely for humorous content, and in no way necessarily represent the actual condition of stated landmarks.
Birmingham International airport was, Archie decided, the most horrific place he'd ever been. And I've seen the inside of a volcano, for Zeus's sake.
It was busy, chaotic, manic, and a million other things. The air was thick with the stench of long haul passengers who hadn't showered or even washed in 32 hours, the screams of toddlers on their way to their first holiday on some sun soaked isle, the blare of notice boards informing passengers that they had exactly 3 minutes before they missed their flight.
There was no space to run or move, no room to breathe, no peace to catch ones bearings.
"Let's get out of here. This place is giving me a headache." Jay yelled over the cacophony, apparently reading Archie's mind.
"Agreed. This place is a hell hole." Theresa shouted back.
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Out of the frying pan, into Hephaestus's forge, Atlanta thought as she held onto the bar in order to remain steady on the train to London. The airport had been bustling, but at least there were gaps there. On this train, it seemed like the goal of this form of transportation was to break the most number of ribs possible by squeezing an ungodly number of people into a limited amount of space.
Add to this the two hooded teenagers seemingly competing between each other as to whose Mp3 player was capable of going the loudest and the unmistakable smell of stale urine, and Atlanta, still irritable from the lack of both sleep and movement, was just about ready to blow.
Suddenly, a man with a suitcase sized briefcase stood up and swung around to the door and barged past Atlanta. She was forced forwards, losing her balance and tilting forwards… onto Archie. Time seemed to dilate as she fell, stretching out into an eternity as their lips met.
"Oh my god Archie! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to…" Atlanta was blushing a colour that would have made most tomatoes feel ashamed.
"No, it's fine… I, I, I should have caught you. It's fine, we'll, we'll just ignore it. After all it was, it was an accident, right?" Archie and Atlanta seemed to have entered into a blushing contest that made the I-Pod war going on 3 rows over look like a friendly conversation.
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Theresa and Jay were sitting down next to each other, holding hands while giggling at the show that their friends were displaying. It was a good job they were sitting down, because Theresa's knees went slightly weak as Jay whispered softly into her ear.
"You know, you're really getting good at disguising your powers. That was very subtle. Though of course, I have to officially disapprove…, unofficially, that was hilarious."
She whispered back. "What are you talking about?"
"Nice try Theresa, but your eyes flecked purple for a few seconds while that guy was moving past Atlanta. How long exactly have you planning that?"
"About ten minutes. Swear you won't tell them!" she whispered, franticly, squeezing Jays hand like a vice.
"Don't worry. It's about time someone did something. It certainly beats my plan, anyway…" Jay said, dazzling Theresa with that trademark enigmatic smile.
"Which was?" Theresa asked, her curiosity seriously piqued by this comment.
"Locking them in a cupboard for 3 hours when we got to your cousins place."
Theresa gave him a look of mock horror at the suggestion, then shook her head. "That would never work. Atlanta would just break the door down."
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Jay had always known that Theresa's family was rich: he'd been to her fathers' house more then once, and had never failed to be amazed by the sheer decadence that their lifestyle provided. But looking at her cousins…mansion, there was no way it could be called a house, he was forced to admit that it put her fathers' "meager" abode to shame.
"Whoa… that house is huge." Archie said, pointing towards the building in front of them.
Theresa grabbed them by the shoulders and said "That's the servants' quarters." She then span them round 90 degrees, then pointed again. "That, that is the manor house."
Jay, Archie and Atlanta's jaws hit the floor in unison.
"Daddy always was the underachiever of the family…" Theresa said uncomfortably.
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Archie hadn't exactly come from a poor family. There'd always been enough money for him to take lessons in sailing or martial arts or any of a dozen other things he'd asked for. But he'd never seen such a level of wealth as Theresa's cousins. It was a hard thing to understand, a family having such a level of wealth when, maybe 5 miles away in the nearby town, there were people sleeping rough, or unsure of how they were going to afford this months mortgage payment. And Archie, having run away from home and lived on the street for nearly 2 years, had a rather oblique perspective on wealth. To him, all it meant was security, safety, a guarantee of a decent meal, and a few luxuries to break up the monotony.
Strange to think, being surrounded by all this decadence would make me think about the poorest times in my life. These people, they have so much while people who work so hard can't even afford their rent. Hardly fair.
Archie sunk down into the excessively thick carpet and propped his head against the wall.
Still, these people are your hosts, and Theresa's family to boot. It wouldn't do to go insulting them in their own home. Keep the social commentary to yourself Archie.
Suddenly, he felt a vibration in his pants pocket. He pulled out his PMR and read the text crawling over the glowing blue screen.
{Heard you and Atlanta got busy on a bus today! Nice going lol, how's the mansion?}
Underneath, it said the message was from Odie. Typical smartass. Archie wouldn't be surprised if it turned out the little genius had rerouted a spy satellite again to check they had arrived okay.
{Shut it, or I'll tell Valerie all about Calypso. The mansions fine.}
That ought to keep the little genius quiet for about half a week.
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Atlanta stared down at the table. In front of her lay one of the most extensive spreads of fine cuisine that she'd EVER encountered. She was surrounded by Foie gras, caviar, the most amazingly tender joint of beef she'd ever seen.
She hated it.
It wasn't just the fact that she was a vegetarian. She'd learned long ago that it was never a good way to behave to insult your hosts dining choices, and that it was always easier to just ignore the beef and eat the vegetables.
What really disgusted here was how much there was. There were six of them at the table, yet there was enough food on the table to easily feed 10 times that number. And each of those portions must have exceeded the teams' average food bill for a week. And with Herry included in that, it was really saying something.
And all this foods gonna get thrown away. She thought bitterly. It appalled the hunter within her, taught never to waste anything if it could be used.
"So, Atlanta," Theresa's cousin, a slender woman of maybe 30 (though, with surgery, she guessed anything was possible) started "Theresa tells me that you and her are on the school hockey team together. I used to be a dab hand at lacrosse myself; I believe many of the skills are similar. Perhaps you two would enjoy a game tomorrow?"
Atlanta shot a look over to Archie, hoping he would have a clue what this "Lacrosse" thing was. Unfortunately, he seemed as lost as she was, and quickly buried his gaze into a roast potato.
"Ummmm…that sounds… fun." Atlanta agreed, hesitantly, while already wondering what the best dodge would be to avoid it. Illness would work, but if she over did it, she could wind up confined to bed for the whole holiday. Perhaps a small injury to her wrist…
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Theresa sat in the frilly pink room that she had stayed in so many times before. Every summer she had come here to stay with her wealth cousins, attended functions, dined with lords even. It had all seemed like a fairytale to Theresa. She had been so used to privilege that the extra privilege just seemed like a natural extension.
But that had been before the team. And more importantly, before the Brownstone. Now, all the…stuff, she could find no other appropriate word for it, was just…oppressive. She simply wasn't used to such a level of luxury. Still, they had two weeks for that to change. Of course, knowing Theresa's luck, the change would come about 3 days before they had to go back to Canada. In the meantime, however, she had a more pressing concern. How to avoid Cousin Lucinda's Lacrosse game. She hated the sport, had dome ever since she was a child.
She fell backwards onto the feather soft mattress, with a memory material futon wrapped in the finest silks. Some things, she could definitely get used to here.
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"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" Jay heard a piercing scream run through the house. Grabbing his xiphos, (though he had the sense to leave it sheathed until he knew what was going on) he ran towards the site of the screams. He bolted through the house, leaving doors open and nearly knocking over several priceless vases. As he neared the source of the screams, he began to be able to make out the sound of the persons voice, though, obviously his initial impression must have been wrong. It sounded like Atlanta.
He crashed through the door like a ton of bricks and landed in a combat roll across the floor. He stood, span around, searching for Cronus, only to find…
Ahhhhhh, I love cliffhangers. I hope you enjoyed this edition of COTT: Britain. I love reviews, so any you send will be most appreciated.