Living The Dream...Or Is This A Nightmare? (Sequel to Finding Hope)

Chapter Nine: Touring Doesn't Mean Vacationing

Edited 08/27/15

Aviva's POV

We're in Paris! I've always wanted to go to Paris! Everything just seems so old. You can hardly go down a street without seeing at least one old, historical building. Okay, so I'm exaggerating a bit. Still, you get the point. Paris is any history lover's dream city. And I happen to be a history lover. We only just got here, and I already have my nose pressed against the window. The guys keep laughing and taking pictures of me, instead of the beautiful city all around us. I swear I'm gonna kill them someday. Maybe after this tour. I can start a new band easily enough. No, I could never kill them. I'd miss them too much. I think to myself with a sigh. The bus comes to a stop and I run off it, camera in hand. I instantly start taking a million pictures a minute. There's so much to see, so much to do! Where do I even start? Of course, just at that moment, I'm attacked by fans. Not literally, of course. They don't attack me, but they do surround me and start asking fifty million questions. I smile and turn the camera to video mode.

"Your accents are incredible. Would you be willing to say something into the camera for me? I'm trying to record my entire experience here in Paris." I ask them. There are only five of them at the moment.

"Oh, sure." One of them says. She's a pretty girl, about fourteen, with long black hair and bright green eyes.

"What would you like us to say?" The only guy in the group asks. He's about 5'10" and has short black hair and blue eyes.

"Could you say 'Welcome to Paris!'?" I ask them. They all nod eagerly. I count down and they all say it.

"Bienvenue sur Paris!" The guy says, which is the French translation. I took French in high school.

"Merci beaucoup." I say, trying hard to get the accent right. "Quels sont vos noms?" (What are your names?)

"Je m'appelle Natalie." The first girl says.

"Je m'appelle Paulis." The guy says.

"Harrieta." A second girl says. Her hair is medium length and blonde with blue and black streaks.

"Danielle." A third girl says. She has bright red hair with black tips and it comes down to about her chin.

"Teresa." The final girl says. She has plain brown hair that comes to her shoulders.

"Sont des noms belles." I tell them. (Those are nice names.)

"Puissent vous inscrire ces affiches pour nous?" Danielle asks. (Can you sign these posters for us?)

"Je serais heureux de." I say happily. (I'd be happy to.)

"We can stop speaking French now if you want." Paulis says.

"I don't mind, really. I haven't had much chance to practice it." I say.

"You did quite well." Harrieta tells me. (A/N Sorry if my French is terrible. I don't actually speak French, so if it's translated badly, blame Google Translate, not me. I only took two months of French.)

"Thanks. I know I need to work on my accent." I say. They all nod. I take the posters from them and kneel on the ground. I sign them, after handing my camera to Natalie. She keeps recording. I sign the posters and we talk for a little while longer, switching back and forth between speaking French and speaking English. They correct me when I mess up on my French, whether it's just the pronunciation or I get the entire word wrong. Then they leave and I start walking. I now know my French is good enough to carry on an extensive conversation, so I know I can ask for directions if I manage to get lost. But just in case I decide to go no more than two blocks from the bus in either direction. I'd only been walking for about ten minutes when I get a call.

"Bonjour." I say.

"Get your ass back on this bus now!" Mitch yells into the phone.

"Okay, okay, I'll be there in ten minutes." I say.

"Good." Then he hangs up. I wonder why he's so upset. Probably just worrying about me again. I turn around and retrace my steps easily. I get to the bus with no problems.

"I'm here." I say when I walk on.

"Don't go out alone. We can't risk anything happening to any of you." Mitch says tiredly. I just raise an eyebrow.

"My French is good enough that I can pull off pretending to be French. If any creepy fans pop up I'll just pretend I'm not me, just a dedicated fan." I say.

"And if it's not just obsessive fans? What if it's just some random rapist or something?" Mitch asks.

"I can defend myself. You know how strong I am!" He makes it obvious that he's not impressed by that answer either. "Fine. I'll make sure at least one of the guys are with me. But that'll make it much easier for fans to spot us."

"Two of the guys or you don't leave the bus." Mitch says. I sigh. I'm too anxious to go out and explore to fight with him.

"Fine." I walk into the back lounge. "Two of you need to come with me so I can go out." I say.

"I'll come." Will says, getting up.

"Me too." Alex adds.

"Good." I turn and all three of us leave the bus. We don't get very far, maybe about three yards down the street. Then we're surrounded by at least thirty fans. I'm never going to be able to anything if this keeps up. But I stop and sign things and talk to them anyway. More and more people show up and before we know it, it's time to get ready for the show. I still haven't gotten to see any monuments. But I don't complain, I know better than that. After all, touring definitely doesn't mean vacationing. I'm not here as a tourist. I'm here to spread the love and the message of our band and to give all our fans a chance to see us play live. Anything else we want to do comes second. But still, I find myself wishing- and not for the first time either- that I could have just an hour to be normal and do normal things. Byw