Chapter Three: Stranger Danger
“ALI! ALI! ALI! ALI!” was the first thing I heard after my first night in Iceland. My sister, Libby, screamed and shouted streams of gibberish as she jumped on our bed, attempting to wake me. I wasn’t usually a great morning person, but today was an exception apparently. I laughed, grabbing my sister in a big bear hug. Once we were all freshened up, we walked out of the hotel, and into the great unknown...or Iceland, as it was more commonly known.
The hottest month in Reykjavik, was July, with highs of 14°C and lows of 9°C. Yep, that’s right; the highest temperature was approximately 14°C. Crazy, wasn’t it? Luckily, neither Libby nor I had any particular antipathies towards cold weather. That was England right? A mixture of damp, cold and gross pretty much summed up the country, you had to get over it unless you wanted to spend your whole life moaning because of something which wouldn’t, and couldn’t be changed.
Anyway, the weather didn’t rank anywhere near the top of my “important” list...not that I had a list. Well, as I was saying, we were walking down the streets of Iceland, and Libby was pointing at random things which she thought were pretty, running and laughing, the way children do. I was just happy to see that she was happy, as cheesy as that may sound. The fresh air and change in atmosphere was good for us both, I felt, lighter...floaty. For once, I would unashamedly admit I had my head in the clouds, the day was perfect.
Suddenly, I was snapped into the harsh lands of reality; as I saw Libby accidentally bump into a haggard looking lady. She was the kind of lady we, as in people my age, ran away from because they looked like “wicked witches.” I know, that’s mean and harsh, and completely goes against what I was telling Libby before, about not judging a book by its cover and all, but children are narrow minded and perceive things however they want to. Which made Libby even more special for being so, open minded. The length of my strides quickly increased until I was standing with Libby, I knew some adults could be mean to kids, and she wasn’t having any of that. I was especially worried because they seemed to be talking, and, well, another one of those things we’re told, “Don’t talk to strangers,” comes to mind.
“Oh, hello dear, are you Libby’s mother? No, you’re far too young!” she smiled kindly. I looked at the lady hesitantly, okay, sure some people were nice, and while logic said she was safe, my gut instinct was screaming danger at me, urging me to run as far away as possible. So of course I did the opposite.
“Yes, I’m her sister,” I responded cautiously. Usually, I would be fine talking to strangers, but the childish part of me, coupled with my over protective big sister side, making me extremely wary.
“No need to sound so worried dear, it’s just nice to talk to people from England, especially the youth, I’d love if you would have a little chat with me, there’s a little coffee shop just up this road, tea and cake on me,” the lady said smoothly, persuading me. Well when she put it like that I was a whole lot more open to the idea...
“Can we? Can we? Oh, please!” Libby begged, tugging on my sleeves. Even if I didn’t want to, I wouldn’t have had a choice because she was asking so openly, it would just be rude!
“Come on then,” I said with a small smile, leading the way to the coffee shop. I expected the lady to talk a little, she had just been so eager to go to a coffee shop so we could talk more, and now she wasn’t talking at all! Huh! It was a bit strange. Oh well, old people thought differently, maybe she didn’t like walking and talking, though I didn’t see how anyone could be opposed to that. I don’t know...
