New York

Continued...

I couldn't help myself. I squealed when I stepped off of the plane.

This is insane. I shouldn't be here. I'm not prepared for this. This is way out of my 'normal'.

"I cannot believe that I'm in New York."

It was totally exiting, but I couldn't help but think, The band should be here. Trying to ignore my dark side for once I dragged my suitcase, backpack strapped onto it, ever present satchel over my left shoulder and walked into the lobby. 

I worked easily against the churning people. I had never been in such a large crowd but the rules where the same; mine.

Slipping out of the mainstream and into a slower patch of people. Seconds after entering it I adapted to the new rhythm and starred looking for my ride. 

"Excuse me, sir?" a tall woman in her thirties with greying brown hair was talking to an elderly man nearby. He turned.

"Yes?"

"I'm Molly Travison. Are you...?"

The man grinned toothily, which surprised me. "Ah. I see. Looking for the Author, are we?"

Ms. Travison shrugged and smiled. "One can hope."

"Well, have a nice day, Miss Molly... I hope you find him." the old man smiled and waved as he walked away.

"So do I." Ms. Travison murmured, gazing anxiously into the churning mass of bodies. She was looking worried so I walked up to her.

"Um, ma'm?" she didn't turn and I silently cursed the instinct that made my voice quiet when I wanted to get someone's attention. "Excuse me," I brushed a hand over her shoulder, not that it did much good, and spoke louder. "Ma'm?"

This time she turned, much to my relief. She smiled wearily.

"Yes? May I help you?"

"Actually, I was thinking of helping you." I reached into my bag saying, "I'm your passenger." and showed her a picture of a sunflower and a box of Candie's chocolates.

Her grey eyes widened and traveled from my recklessly arrayed brown hair and green eyes to my Shakespearian styled shirt to me worn bellbottom jeans and torn hiking green boots.

"Oh! I'm sorry. This is rather... shocking." she grinned weakly. "We... I mean, no one..."

"No one expected me to be an eighteen year old girl?"

Ms. Travison shook her head. "You must have been fifteen when your first book You Can't Save Me won the Aga Khan prize and the Gold Meddle!"

"Yeah, somewhere around there." I slammed my hand to my forehead. "I'm sorry, my name-" 

"No, please." Ms. Travison smiled and held up and hand. "No one is supposed to know who you are until Thursday night for the unveiling of the Author. We want it to be a surprise for everyone. I'm Molly Travison." we shook. "But you may call me Molly. Please follow me, I'll be driving you to your hotel."

I nodded. "Alright." 
I smiled and followed her out of the airport.

To Be Continued...

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† Silent Guardian †

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