Chapter One
� � � It was a cold, rainy night and I dreamed of the usual
things that would take up my mind as I waited for my usual
bus. I should write a letter to my mother tonight or she'll start to worry about me. I could just see the letter now Hi, Mom, just writing to say hi. Umm,...hi. She
always loves that joke. I can see her chuckle now.
School's great. I got a pretty good grade on my last art
project. All my other classes are boring as usual. I could hear her clicking off on the common routine of
questions. Yes, I'm eating right. I have plenty of
fruits and veggies. No, I'm not seeing anyone. Yes, I'm
keeping my place neat. Maybe I should send her a picture
with that one. My job's fine. It pays whatever bills I
have. Haven't made any new friends yet, just Deb. Oh, she
says hi. Of course you have to end with just the right
ending. Well, I'll see ya Mommy, love ya. P.S. Tell Daddy I have a punk boyfriend who couldn't say hi because
he's in jail at the moment. Tell him not to worry though,
because it happens a lot. Then, take a picture of his face
really quickly and send it to me. I miss his obscure
expressions. And of course with her being mom,
P.S.S. Don't forget to tell Daddy that I was just
kidding.
������Time to glance at my watch, yup, the bus is late. Not surprising. I mean, you have to have safety rules in rain like this. I would be barely staying dry if it wasn't for the little roof of the bus stop. Genius, whoever came up with those things. Or was it just common sense on some worker's part. Who knows, maybe it was just a simple person's idea. My mental jabbering may seem odd, but it makes time fly.
�����A screech of brakes in need of checking up on and the swish of a pair of Plexiglas they call doors announces that the heap of metal I call my bus is here. Talk about safety, I couldn't feel any safer, cough, cough. As I board thy bus of riches I notice I'm going to have to seat with the city sort. Why can't there be just one empty seat just for me? Because that's called being lucky, Sydney, my mind informs me, and you're not in that group of special people to be lucky.
� ���As I'm walking down the aisle, no mother I'm not getting married, I inspect the people that could be possible partaker's in the ritual of this great vehicle chugging down the road. There was a woman who was shaking so much I was afraid she was a threat to the bus. I started to scan one subject, whom I thought was going to pass, until I noticed he wasn't talking to a little dog, but a hand puppet. Well, how about here, NO, let's not sit there unless we want to walk out with a wad of gum up our butt, Sydney.
�����"You can sit here if you want," came a voice from the farthest reaches of the nut house on wheels. It was a very soft voice, but an inviting one.
�����"Thanks," I said.
�����"It's no problem, I was watching you trying to contemplate which wonder of human life you were going to sit with, I almost thought you were going with the gum. Then I figured why doesn't she just sit here? Seemed very reasonable."
�����"Very. I didn't even know there was a seat back here, ya know because of the light. If I had known I wouldn't have even thought about the others."
�����He looked up at the bulb suspended from the ceiling. No light coursing through the thing. I mean people are so cheap they can't even let the bulb do it's job.
�����I glanced over at the thoughtful stranger trying to get a glimpse of what could be another character in the adventure I call my life. It was so dark I could only see a silhouette. I figured I could amuse myself while taking the long trip back home by trying to come up with this identity that would fit him best. Maybe he's blonde...no even in the poor lighting I could tell he wasn't. Seemed to have dark hair of some sorts. Wonder what he does? Maybe I can make a character out of him in my next story. I loved the way he worded things and used the word 'contemplate'. Why did I use the word 'loved'? Maybe I found his voice appealing? Imagine that, me falling in love with this guy on a bus that I can't even see!
�����"Why are you staring at me?"
�����Huh? Wait a minute I was staring at him! Talk about embarassing. And come to think of it, I still am! Aaaaahhhhh!
�����"You're still doing it," he said in this voice unlike any other.
�����"Oh...umm...I'm sorry. It's just that, uhh, well," that's it Sydney, you've blown it. He probably thinks you're a weirdo like some other people on this bus. That's it, I'll have to come up with a lie and quick! "It's just that...have I ever seen you somewhere before?"
�����"How can you recognize me if you can hardly see me?"
�����Ooh, witty, I like that in a man. "I mean your voice! I recognize your voice. And I was just staring at you to see if I could recognize you facial wise."
�����"I doubt it. I don't know any Americans." I could tell he thought it was funny that I would know him. "You are American aren't you?"
�����"Yah, I'm from mostly the tri-state area."
�����"What are you doing in Birmingham, if you don't mind me asking."
�����"No, I don't mind at all. If you were in the States I would probably ask you the same. I'm going to Birmingham University for art. I really just wanted to find some way to get out of America, ya know. I wanted to be adventurous, go to different places, get away from my parents, that sort of thing. Being cooped-up in one place makes me depressed. How about you, are you originally from Birmingham?"
�����"Yah, West Midlands sort of place. Not very special."
�����"Oh, I don't know. Sounds special to me."
�����He was probably giving me a strange look. "And how is it 'special' to you?"
�����"Well, its England for one. For another, I don't have the slightest idea where the West Midlands are. They could be in Arabia for all I know."
�����That made him laugh. I could tell he needed the humor.
�����"Oh, come on," he replied in a teasing voice, "you know the West Midlands are in England."
�����"I don't know," I said with a wry smile, "are they?"
�����"Now you're just flirting!" he said matter-of-factly.
���I just simply replied, "Am I?"
�����Well, I thought that was just perfect. Yes, I'm being sarcastic! We were both flirting feverishly to one another and then my stop came. Why me? I wanted to spend more time with him, but NO! I had to get off! At least I know his name. Nick. Not Nick Smith or Johnson or any other typical last name, just Nick. Just sweet-I-have-no-idea-what-he-even-looks-like Nick. They really should get those lights fixed in that bus.
�����I wonder if I'll ever see him again? He said, "I'll see ya around" and I figured he meant it. I know I would have. Hhhhmmmmmm. What to do what to do. A story would be nice at the moment. It'll make me feel better. Especially if I write about him. Stories always make me feel less depressed.
�����I sat down at my desk trying to figure out some kind of story that could fit him best. He seemed very mystical in a way, yet rather smart. His voice sounded innocent, yet informative. First, I got to figure out an identity for this guy. I know he had dark hair, but that's it. I'll just have to choose myself. How about black hair and blue...no wait green, yah green eyes. Emerald green that sparkled in the sun. He didn't seem that tall when I was sitting next to him. Maybe around 5'7" or 5'8". I wonder if he really is that tall, considering I'm 5'10". I might as well put down some kind of character sketch.
�����I stopped at the occupation part. Nick could be anyone and do anything. Of course it is me who is to decide, but I want to fit him just right. I know, the perfect answer for everything.
�����I love that word. Now to start. Easier said then done.
�����I saw him standing there in a beam of light. He was beautiful. His dark black hair was perfectly parted, his eyes beamed like Emeralds. His clothes were all white, not a speck of dirt on them. How could he be so clean if he came to save me from this ditch I had fallen in. Wouldn't he had gotten a little dirty if he had climbed, which was the only way, down here?
�����"Hi," he said. Then with each word accented with a fine Brummie accent and a voice just as intriguing he continued, "don't worry, I'll get you out of here."
�����"But how...how did you get down here? You're so clean. And how did you know I was here?"
�����"That's easy. I'm your guardian angel."
Chapter Two
�����Beep, beep, beep, beep. Damn alarm clock. Why do I have to get up for school, mom? Oh yah, I forgot. I'm in Birmingham, England taking a college art course at where else, but Birmingham University. I have to remind myself every morning or I'll go back to sleep and forget about my life totally. Which wouldn't be too bad, except for the fact that I would forget about Nick. Dark, mysterious Nick. Who would want to forget that?
�����The telephone rang on the bedside table. Why me?
�����"What." It's my usual morning phrase.
�����"Sydney! Wake up! It's me Deb!" Deb is my only American friend here in England. I've known her since kindergarten and we both decided at eight we would go to college in England together.
�����"What are you so perky about? Don't tell me you're looking forward to going to school this morning."
�����"No, silly, I'm trying to wake you up." Deb is a regular morning bird, but she doesn't like worms. "When did you get in last night? I called and called, but no one answered."
�����"I was writing another story," Deb knows when I'm writing I'm not to be bothered.
�����"About?"
�����"Some angel guy."
�����"Angel guy? Did you happen to meet this angel guy somwhere?"
�����"How did you...I mean no."
�����"Ah hesitation. I know what that means. What does he look like?"
�����"Who?"
�����"Don't give me that 'who' stuff Sydney Jenifer Winters"
�����"Eck, don't use my full name, you sound like my mother. Hold on a bit, I got to make tea."
�����I absolutely LOVE tea. It's the only thing that gets me up in the morning no matter what country I'm in. As I set my Mrs. Teapot 'on', I started to wonder what Nick was doing this morning. I wonder if he's thinking about me. I could hear Deb screaming into the phone in my bedroom. What a voice that girl's got.
�����"I'm back. How do you yell like that? The people in your apartment building must hate you."
�����"Don't try to change the subject girly. What is he like? Tell me!"
�����"I don't know. He's...I don't know how to explain. Mysterious maybe?"
�����"Skip that part. What's he look like?"
�����"All I know is that he has dark hair. I met him on the bus and there was terrible lighting."
�����"So, he doesn't know what you look like either?"
�����"Well, he might have seen me when I got on the bus. The lighting was alright in front."
�����"You are such a big help. Sarcastc tone, sarcastic tone, cough, cough. I'm just kidding. I can see...er, hear you're up. Have a good day at school. I'll call you later. Got to go, bye!"
�����"Bye."
�����That is one weird friend.
�����
�����"Are you sure you don't know a girl named Sydney?"
�����"Nick, for the thousandth time, I'm sure." Nigel...er John...nah, I'll call him Nigel assured Nick as they were walking to a record store. He and Nick had been best friends since Nick was eight and Nigel was ten. They both knew eachother so well he knew Nick was hiding a little something about this girl. "So, tell me about this girl again. She says she's taking art in Birmingham?"
�����"Yes. You got to know her, Nigel. I have to give her her wallet back."
�����"Can I see her wallet?"
�����"Why would you want to see her wallet?" I hope he doesn't push me farther. I'm no good at lying, Nick thought.
�����"Maybe she has a picture of herself and I might recognize her in one of my classes."
�����"Umm...I left the wallet at my house."
�����"Why?"
�����"So I wouldn't lose it."
�����"Wouldn't lose it like she did right?"
�����The sound in Nigel's voice was making Nick uneasy. Nigel was on to him and Nick knew it. "Right."
�����"You're making this stuff up, don't lie to me! You met a girl and you liked her and you're not telling me. You just want to meet her again. Why didn't you tell me that?"
�����"I don't know, but I don't know how I'll ever meet her now since you don't know her."
�����"Winters."
�����"What?"
�����"That's her name, Winters."
�����"You lied to me."
�����"I lied to you because I knew you were lying to me."
�����That made Nick laugh. Nigel knew him too well. "Well, then what class is she in of yours?"
�����"Art. She had a great midterm project. It was somekind of abstract painting of these characters she writes about in stories or something. Pretty cute if you ask me."
�����"Hey!"
�����"Sorry, Romeo."
�����"When do you have class again?"
�����"Tomorrow morning. Would Nick-eo like to take his Juliet to lunch-eo tomorrow after school-eo?"
�����"Would you knock off that Romeo bit."
�����"I'm sorry I couldn't resist. It just went so well. So are you?"
�����"Am I what? Oh ya, I guess. Lunch. Where should I take her?"