Chapter 2

My integration experience has continued to feel like a drawn out walk to the electric chair. In a grisly way, I am quite interested to see the outcome. With no car, no job, no money, no parents, I feel like a lost soul floating around those mortals who are blissfully unaware of some of the pain that is filling the air between them.

FATE?

As I sat babysitting my father's small art store, I stared mindlessly out of the large window that encompassed the entire facade of the ancient building. My mind was drawn back to Earth as I felt a distinct vibration under my feet and heard a barely audible rumbling coming closer. As the rolling thunder rounded the corner of the shop, frantic knocking resounding throughout the tiny room. Sensing the urgency, I ran to the door and looked out to register the desperate refugee.
Icy blue eyes met mine in an instant, begging me to understand the urgency behind them. I was stunned as I recognized that perfect face, the ruffled hair, and the tall lean frame. Only now, he was standing in front of me, in front of the tiny art store on the corner of the small Florida town of Ocala, and not on the small TV screen behind me. I pulled him in and lead him behind the glass case which took up half of the small interior of the shop. He laid flat on the ground, just below the glass just as a stampede of screaming girls ran past the giant window in a blur. By the time a few suspicious stragglers paused for a quick scan around me, I was already sitting at the desk, my legs propped up nonchalantly and pretending to talk on my phone. I looked up and smiled hesitantly, using non-existant acting skills to look as confused as I normally would in such a situation. The three girls, finding no valuable hostage, slumped their shoudlers and walked away. I sat musing at the frantic tennagers and said to myself, "Great, I'll have to clean that damn window again."

"Sorry," replied the soft voice coming from behind the glass case. His easily recognizable British accent sent a chill down my spine. I jumped backed to reality and spun around on my chair to look at Rob Johnson, collecting himself as he slowly got up off the floor.

"Hi," I said, trying not to let my face give away my level of shock. "I almost forgot about you." A small smile broke on his smooth face and a nervous laugh sounded quietly as he undoubetly recalled his narrow escape.


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