Until We Meet Again

Chapter 1

            “My usual, Dan,” I said, smiling at the tall Japanese man standing behind the counter.

            “One spicy California coming up, extra spicy,” he said, winking.

            I paid at the register and sat down to wait, the cold, dry, winter air coming in as someone walks in the door.

            Looking outside, I could see so many people milling about, their quick breaths fogging up the air in front of them. I see building maintenance men putting up Christmas lights on the building across the street. I breathe in deeply, taking in the scent of sticky rice and steaming dumplings.

            “Extra spicy California!” someone calls, breaking me from my thoughts.

            I walk up to the counter and smile at the woman who hands me my sushi.

“Thanks a ton, Jenny,” I say.

She nods and I go back to my seat near the window. I pull my light brown hair into a low pony-tail, so it doesn’t get in the way while I eat, and I pull out the chopsticks. Taking a bite, I savor the spicy mayonnaise from the sushi—my favorite.

Remembering that I was here for lunch break only, I reach into my tote bag and take out my science binder. Might as well get some homework done while I have the time. Along with my binder, I pull out my favorite pink pen, and begin my homework.

The bond formed when electrons are shared unequally is a ____________ bond.

“Ugh,” I snorted. I hated science, ionic bonding especially. “Looks like I’m going to have to use the textbook for this one.”

As I reached into my bag to retrieve my textbook, a familiar voice caught my ear. I looked up at the small TV near the bar of the restaurant, and see our usual NYC news anchor standing in front of a poster of what looks like 5 boys, though I can’t see their faces clearly.

In the background, there is singing. Something about being beautiful.

I have never heard this song before, but something seems so familiar about it. I feel like I’ve heard one of the singers before…

The sound of my iPhone vibrating interrupts my thoughts. The screen reads: “Fallon,” and I smile, pressing the green answer button.

“Heyo,” I say.

She giggles. “You still sound like a Brit, even though you’ve been living in New York for the past three years,” she comments.

“Hey!” I laugh. “I’m trying to keep it with me. I’m hoping my dad will get relocated back to Holmes Chapel so I can go to school with you again.”

“Well, it doesn’t look like that’s happening anytime soon. You said the same thing last year and the year before too, but he never gets relocated back. And besides, we have college next year anyway. We might not even be in the same school.”

I sigh. “True, true.”

“But listen, off the melancholy hooblah, I have to go, so let’s chat later, yes?” she asks.

I smile, already looking forward to video chatting with my best friend. Gosh, I wished I still lived in England.

“Ok,” I reply. We hang up.

I look back to the TV, hoping to recognize that voice that I heard only moments ago. But this time a new anchorwoman was on, and she was showing the weather.

Oh well. Maybe I’ll find out later.