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Chapter One It was 2pm Eastern Time when I landed in Chicago Airport - by my body clock it was seven o'clock in the evening. I didn't feel tired. Overwhelmed, the first ticklings of homesickness and regret, but not tired. Lucy was by my side, as she had been during the whole five-hour flight from Cardiff airport to Chicago. It had still been an adventure then. Somehow being in another country made the adventure a little less fun. The cabin crew had told us to follow the crowds upon departing the 'plane. They led to a large open area of space and five very long queues started forming. I saw two girls I recognised from the flight, near my age and friendly-looking, so I guided Lucy into the queue behind them, hoping to spark up a conversation with them, to share the fear that was starting to bubble up in my chest. I knew if I spoke about it I'd feel better. Instead I heard the girls whispering together - they were obviously a couple. "I wouldn't have noticed if you hadn't of mentioned it," said one, the younger, cuter one, looking back over her shoulder at me. I smiled, just to be friendly, then the elder one sniggered. "They think I fancy them," I whispered to Lucy. She didn't say anything, just lifted her nose snootily in their direction, pretending that she'd never seen them before. I thought to tell her about how they were lesbians and maybe they wanted her to fancy them but then thought better of it. Lucy was in a mood. I didn't know why. Perhaps she was tired or maybe I'd pissed her off. Apparently I did that quite often without even realising it. The queue was long and after the bitchy remarks from the girls in front and Lucy's refusal to talk to me, I decided to just relax and to remind myself why I was in Chicago. This was just a stopping-point, after all. One little moment that would lead me to the greatness of Los Angeles. There I would find happiness - acceptance. Los Angeles was the place |
for misfits and weirdo's to find a home. It was why I had picked the city as my destination when Lucy had first offered to fund me on my first holiday abroad. It wasn't like she couldn't afford it. Her father had all the money in the world at his disposal. He had invented a great new gadget that halved the amount of fumes car exhausts expelled. It had made him and his family billionaires.
"Let me pay," Mr Joynson had begged my father. "The boy's never been on a 'plane before. Let him have some fun. I insist," he had added when my father had become flustered. And so it had been decided and arranged. Wanting to act out against her father, Lucy had planned the trip herself. She wanted to prove to him that she was capable of taking care of herself. So, although she had never been to Los Angeles before, it had been she who had booked the hotel and flights. I had gone along with all of her arrangements, just grateful that I was being spoilt in such a way. It was true: I had never been on an aeroplane before. Not a lot of people had. The restrictions had started at one flight per year per person but that had been quickly dropped to one flight per every-five-years per person. It was to make up for all the flights that businessmen and government officials were forced to take. I didn't really mind. How could I miss something I'd never known? The flight over from Cardiff Airport had been rather boring. Upon take-off Lucy had curled her hand over mine and clung on tightly. Take-off was her least favourite part about flying. I hadn't minded it. It was in fact when we were stationary that I began to become panicked. Sitting on the tarmac for so long, trapped in that long, white tube; claustrophobia had struck me. Maybe that's what had annoyed Lucy, I reasoned. My irrational fear of the stationary machine. The queue moved slowly before me and it took a further twenty minutes until I was finally called up to a desk. Lucy came with me and together we moved up in front of a large American man - the first American I had ever met. He didn't smile but instead threw peanuts into his mouth, chewing on them for a very long time, looking down his considerable nose at me. "Purpose of visit?" he grunted. |