Chapter One

Moving to England wasn’t the problem. It was the timing. Middle of the school year definitely was not ideal. Not that I had a whole lot of people that I’d miss. Not even a best friend, not really.
Tresia had already been out in college for almost a year by the time we moved, and we’d barely been able to see each other, so it wasn’t as traumatizing as one would think.
No, I think it was more of a struggle and a pain to move my older brother and sister. They were the ones with social lives. Me, I was the bookworm who stayed in the back of the library eating my sandwiches or, if I went home or out for lunch, I’d take a book and read while eating, making sure to not get a spot of food on any pages.
No, I’d always been the one who wanted to go to England. Just, not right then.
My mom was transferred from her job in Saskatoon to London. When we first heard, we all went, “Across the country?!”
To which, my mother sighed, sat down and replied, “I’m afraid it’s farther.”
Of course, the siblings didn’t get it. It was me who went, “You’ve got to be joking?”
“No, would I?”
“Uh, maybe?”
That was posed as a question. Because, there was a possibility. I’m not saying that my mom’s all strict and what not. She can actually be really all right and lenient.
“Mom, can you and Kari please quit talking dork for a moment and let us in?” This was my younger sister, Nila. Nila Ebony Kristenson. The girl who just happened to be almost a complete opposite of me. Meaning she wouldn’t know that there is a second London on this planet if her life depended on it.
Actually, it’s quite astonishing that she knows that there’s one in Ontario…
“Honey, don’t call your sister names.”
“I’m just stating facts.”
“Nila, I don’t have the patience.”
Sighing, my sister resigned herself to rolling her eyes and repeating herself in her most irritated voice, “Alright. Fine. But, seriously Mom. Where are we moving? And why? You do know that cheerleading tryouts are coming up. If I miss those…” she trailed off at the sight of our Mom’s eyebrows hiding somewhere in her hairline.
I could tell that she was trying really, really, really hard not to laugh. I mean really hard.
In her most soothing ‘I’m really not laughing at you’ voice, my mom attempted to explain to my sister that there was, indeed, a second London.
“Across the what?!”
I think she finally managed.
“Mom, you’ve got to be kidding me! Why would we move to England! Only dorks like Kari would want to go there.”
“Hey, why would you say that?” I asked, only slightly insulted. If we were moving somewhere where my sister didn’t like, and I absolutely loved, that would make it all easier.
Rolling her eyes (once more. It’s her favorite thing at the moment), “Because Kari,” she started, emphasizing each syllable, “It’s got nothing. It’s all old. And ruined. And dull. And…” her voice trailed off trying to find another adjective.
“Orlando Bloom’s from England,” I told her, “And you like him well enough.”
“Kari, do you not know anything? He’s old news.”
“Well, so’s Daniel Radcliffe, and most of the Harry Potter cast.”
At this, my younger sister’s eyes widened, “For serious?”
“No, not really.”
“Kari,” my mom interrupted my evil delight in seeing my sister’s face wither up in the way that makes cabbage look delightful.
My brother, Cai, who happens to be a little more like me, finally spoke up, “Will I have any problem with school? Actually, scratch that: when are we moving?”
This was the question even I’d forgotten to ask, and stopped both my sister and I in our (perverbial) tracks.
Playing with her coffee cup, my Mom put off answering for a few moments.
“Mom, when are we moving?” I asked, prodding an answer from her.
“As soon as possible,” came her almost soft reply.
Chaos can erupt from three people. Alright, mostly two. Cai and Nila both erupted into reasons why this was definitely not possible, reasons we had to stay in this god forsaken place.
My mom finally put her hand up and shushed the two of them up, “I know that this is quite a shock to the two of you, but please, one at a time.”
Pausing for a moment, she put a hand to her chin and shook her head, “On second thought, we’ll talk about this at supper. Now, all of you homework.”
Groaning came from the other two of the Kristenson kids, while I happily made my way to the computer. I’d (of course) finished mine in class.

And that was the last day of our somewhat normal lives.
Within a month we had everything planned and ready to go: place to live, tickets, way to transport my sister’s makeup and my brother’s excessive amount of movie posters. As well as my massive pile of books.

I can’t remember much of what happened. Not that I was upset with leaving. Not really. I think my teachers were more upset than I was about moving, me being the hard working student and all that.
No, I think the real reason that I don’t remember it is because I was too dazed about the whole bit. I didn’t think it was real. That maybe I was imagining it. And that, was such a large possibility that it was more than a little scary.
I had the ability to imagine and make something real.
I couldn’t change the way the world worked. I could imagine something and I could appear real to my eyes. Couldn’t make it real, but it would seem real to my eyes.
It made my days seem more bearable. Even though it would fade away within a period of time, I could how I wanted to for a period of time, which both made me happier and caused people around me to wonder at my oddity.
Not that I can blame them or any thing. Seeing someone that’s seemingly talking to herself can definitely put someone off.
Moving to England also meant that I could put that behind me….if I tried. Really hard.
The plane trip over was pretty much uneventful. We flew. The ocean, however, was amazing. I’d never been on a plane before, and watching the liquidized pieces of crayons too my breathe away.
My breathe caught in my throat as we crossed that large expanse, and my mom leaned over to tell me, “We’ll be surrounded by that where we’re going,” which, of course, I already knew, but, it gave me a surge of excitement, which brought with it something close to hyperness.
I couldn’t sit still for the life of me, which is quite unusual. Bobbing up in down in my seat, I’m sure I gave the rest of the people on that flight motion sickness.
I wasn’t quite that bad, but I was bouncy.
Finally, our plane landed and I was in the place of faeries, of some of this planet’s most famous authors. The land of tea and crumpets. The land of the Queen and Palace guards. Red double decker buses and cobbled streets.

Entering the airport was something that deflated me. Almost literally. Disembarking the plane and standing in a place that full was almost too much for my over tired body, for my introvertedness, and for my fear of getting lost and stuck in the airport (have you ever seen the movie, ‘The Terminal’? It could happen, is all I’m saying).
The walk through that great crowded space, getting our bags (the rest of our stuff was being shipped), and somehow managing to get out of that place was a blur.
Just people, and accents, and smells, noises and the rainy damp feeling in the air.
The sound of airplanes on the tarmac and flying off, all of it was just a little much for me.
That may sound weird for someone who can imagine whatever they want. My ‘gift’ also deals with the fact that I have to expiernce something to get the full effect of it.
And, I had never expierenced anything like that up until then. Maybe it was something akin to realization. Maybe I had just realized that I had moved to London. London, England.
I sat down quickly on a bench outside while my parents tried to find the car my mom’s company had sent for her.
Nila sat beside me, her bag at her feet, and a frown on her pretty face, “Why did this have to happen?”
And for the first time, I realized that my thirteen year old sister was leaving behind the only life that she had ever known.
She had put up such a brave, snotty, this-sucks-ass attitude that I’m pretty sure no one guessed that she thought this was a life ruiner.
Slipping my arm around her shoulders, I forced a grin onto my face, “Aww, look at it this way Nil,” I told her, squeezing her shoulder with my hand, “You get to meet guys with hot accents. Eat food that no one at school has ever eaten.”
That didn’t make a dent into her worried look. Even the mention of boys.
Ditching the fake-ish smile, I told her, “Look, we all had to leave something behind. We’re all going to have to deal with this culture change, timezone differences, being the new kids, all of that. But, we’ll get used to it.” Looking up into my face, she told me, “Yeah, it might not be so bad,” she said, trying to make herself believe it.
We sat there for a few moments, people rushing in and out of the doors, coming and going to places that we could only guess at, the rainy air hovering over our heads, smoke coming out of the honking cars and taxis and buses in the streets.
Nila turns to me as our parents finally find the car that showed up late, fighting through the tidal wave of traffice.
“you know what Kari?”
“What?” I ask as I grab my bags from next to me on the bench.
“I’m jealous of you.”
Those words are almost the only ones that I’ve never expected to exit my sister’s mouth. Trying to contain my shock, I ask, “Really? Why’s that?” “Her eyes stay small and serious and sad, “Because, you didn’t leave anything behind. You always care everything you need with you,” she tells me, and next thing I know, she’s bending down, picking up the bags that I’d bugged her about before we left, saying that she’d packed more make-up than Kiss had all together, calling her a Prima Dona, sticking the fact that we were leaving in her face.
My parents’ voices break through my thoughts, and I shake my head, haul my bags up, and stagger under their weight to the black vehicle belching smoke.