The Fortune Teller (One Direction)

Chapter 2 - Unlikely Encounter

But that was days ago. Well, two days, to be exact. I’d slept since then and if it weren’t for the stupid smell of incense still lurking about me, I wouldn’t remember the experience with Vita at all.

I tried my best to forget it, but whenever I had succeeded, my hand brushed against the smooth Sun card at the bottom of my bag and the memory hit me like the stench of incense. 

Eventually I had managed to force myself into focusing on other things around me, for example, LONDON, BABY!

My three friends, Raya, Darcy and Wendi, and myself have the honour of spending a whole week in London! Goodness knows how we managed to convince our parents into letting four barely-sixteen-year-old girls spend their half-term break in London, completely unsupervised.

“You should be at home over half term, revising!” my dad had told me countless times. He was not pleased, and my friends’ parents had reacted similarly. I expected them to all scream “NO” in our faces and not let us have our mini holiday.

But we did it! We had to promise that every moment we weren’t spending sleeping or eating, we were revising for our exams once we got back. A tough sacrifice, but I’m sure it’ll be worth it!

After a two-hour train journey and a ride in a wonderful London taxi, we were outside our hotel! Admittedly it isn’t the most fantastic hotel in the world, but it’s good enough for four teenagers who worked their butts off to earn the cash to pay for the trip themselves. 

When I went into Vita’s shop, it was our first day in London, and we had decided to visit Camden market. Wendi has been many times, but she didn’t bother to warn us about the huge creepy horse statues lurking around every corner! Raya was terrified when she skipped off joyously down the cobbles, already loving life in London, turned a corner and came face to face with a large, brown, horses head, welded to the ground. Oh, how we had laughed!

Right now, we’re sipping coffee in Starbucks. We’re exhausted from three hours of shopping around the magnificent streets of London. Our four-person table has shopping bags crammed underneath it, some stacked on top of others.

Raya leans backwards in her chair and says dreamily, “I still can’t believe we’re in London…” she sighs and looks out of the window as if in a trance. “Beautiful, amazing, London…”

I attempt to break her from the trance. “Yes, but tonight,” I tell my friends, building up to some sort of climax, “We get to be in the same room as the beautiful and amazing One Direction!”

Raya and Wendi start cheering really quietly, almost ultrasonic, at the name of their new favourite boy band. The mere mention of One Direction will make my friends go mental. I’m not a huge fan like those two are, seeing as the group hasn’t even released their own sound yet, but I’m still a fan.

Across the table, Darcy settles in her chair and folds her arms, shaking her head and tutting.

“Issy, Issy, Issy…” she says to me, “You One Direction girls are crazy! ” At this, Raya, Wendi and I all flick our heads around to glare at her.

“Oh we know that. And we are DAMN PROUD of our boys!” Raya practically yells, raising her arm above her head. I looked around us, glad that everyone here is too engrossed in their conversations to care about a crazy teenager like Raya. 

“Amen to that, Brotha!” says Wendi, reaching for her drink so she can take a victory sip of coffee, but she catches a glimpse of Raya’s face and notices her mistake, “I meant Sista…” she corrects, before pushing her untouched drink to the other side of the table.

One corner of her mouth twitches into a smile, the side that Raya cannot see, and I simply laugh at her.

I do adore my friends.

“Yeah, well I’m damn proud of my girls!” Darcy says, only without the same effect as when Raya nearly screamed the place down. By ‘her girls’ she means Cher, Rebecca and Katie. A huge Cheryl Cole fan, Darcy had followed all four of Cheryl’s girls right up to Rebecca in the final two. She was devastated when she came second.

“So you should be!” I say to her, raising my fist above my head as if it held a sword, and we were celebrating a victory. I spy my watch concealed beneath my black sleeve, “Oops! C’mon, girlies, we’d better get back. We need to look perfect for tonight!” I jump from my seat, grab my bags, and run for the door.

Behind me I can hear Wendi and Raya’s boots squeaking on the floor as they run after me, trying to beat me to the exit. We are so childish. I yank the door open, peering over my shoulder at Wendi and her crazy curly hair flying backwards.

Seeing as I’m so stupid, I didn’t realise that there was someone else on the other side of the door, and I ran straight into whoever it was, almost knocking them flying.

“Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry!” I say to the girl. She doesn’t look injured, but I’d better check “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine-” she says, but she stops when she looks up, “…Isabella?”

How does everyone in London know my name?

Wait a minute. I recognise that voice. I know this girl…

Realisation hits me, and I shriek with happiness, “Felicity?!” I scream, and we throw our arms around each other.

Fliss was my best friend in primary school. The year I started at our local High School, her parents shipped her off to a private school near London. We kept in touch for about a year, texting, e-mail, sending letters. But soon after I made new friends, Raya and Wendi and Darcy, as well as others. Fliss and I lost contact, and since then there hasn’t even been a poke on facebook.

“Wow! How amazing is this?” she’s saying, grinning from ear to ear. “You look so different!”

“So do you!” I laugh, remembering her tatty blonde hair, now swapped for a darker chestnut, cascading down her back.

In awe, I stupidly ask, “What’re you doing in London?” when I know she lives nearby. I’m not great with reunions.

“Actually, I’m going to the X Factor tour tonight, to watch my cousin.” She tells me, smiling.

“Oh wow! So are we!” I stop, clicking on to what she said, “Hang on. Your cousin?”

She laughs, “Yeah. Don’t you remember?” I stare at her blankly, hoping to God I don’t look too creepy. Actually, I hope I don’t look creepy at all.

I was eleven when I last saw Fliss. Even though we had been best friends since nursery, I never really knew much about her family. I know that her little brother is called Thomas, but that’s pretty much it. How am I supposed to remember who her cousin is?

Still smiling, obviously amused by my shocked expression, she speaks as if it were so obvious, “My cousin…Harry Styles?”