[4] milkshake, feat my new friends

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New York is just as exciting as everyone says. My clammy hand is gripped tightly on my suitcase, worn and threadbare but still rolling obediently behind me. Commuters and families bustle around my lost body, chatter echoing off of sparkling grey airport floors. A sly smile slips onto my face as I follow the signs to the exit. My feet somehow manage to work through my shaking stance, clumsily throwing themselves one in front of the other, an action I have never thought so difficult. Adrenaline bubbles up my spine and my smile widens. Fuck you, parents.

The thought is daring and rebellious. I know deep down they don't deserve it, having done nothing but what they thought was best for me since the day I was born. Yet, here I stand. My body steps over the doorframe and cold air surrounds me in a blanket I embrace. New York City falls before me, JFK airport falling away as my eyes follow skyscrapers climbing towards the moon, thousands of people taking pictures, or hurrying in front of angry cars and buses. The smell of smoke and people excites me further, with the sounds of horns blaring rebelliously and yelling people. A crying baby is pushed by me, face scrunched up and red. I laugh quietly, and step down from the top of the steps. I pull my phone from my pocket, and read the time. Midnight. Yup, the city that never sleeps.

Willing my frozen body into action, I follow the directions to Scamder Youth Hostel, almost tripping several times before I break off into a silent back alley. Rubbish bins line red brick walls and my smile falters a little before I'm hauled back into a busy street.

My phone dies a few minutes later and I have to hail a taxi, asking for my destination. The driver puts it into his own sat nav before setting off.

==

My first thought when I step out of the taxi is that I'm in the wrong place. Before me is a frazzled, worn building the complete opposite of what I saw when I booked. The website boasted modern interiors, lined with white walls and tiled floors. What stands before me is an old exterior, coated in chipped brick. A pigeon lands beside me, pecking at my suitcase. I shoo it away and it squawks obnoxiously before obeying. I turn around, but the car is already gone. Sighing, I drag my luggage to a wooden door and grimace at the sign saying I am, in fact, in the right place.

However, before I can knock the door swings open and a girl appears. She looks about my age, and she smiles widely at me, brown eyes shining.

"You must be Kennedy!" She says, I nod hesitantly. She grabs my hand and pulls me in. I stumble over the threshold and she catches me, surprisingly strong for her small figure.

"Sorry," I mutter, an anxiety piling up in my chest. She grins and takes my suitcase from me.

I look up, shock plastering on my features. For a second I think I've just stepped into Narnia. The white walls and tiled floor are indeed here, as they reach up the carpeted staircase and branch off into two rooms. The girl takes my hand and leads me to the right, into a living room where boy lounges across the sofa, eyes fixed on a huge tv.

"Derek, Kennedy's here," She says, his head snapping up at the sound of her voice. He smiles warmly and stands up.

"Hi," I say, slightly off-put by his curly blonde hair and brown eyes, identical to the girl's.

"Hey," He regards me, putting his hand out. I spot a worn looking braided leather bracelet entwining his freckled wrist, shaking his hand, and he laughs at my stiffness.

"Relax, we don't bite." He teases. I chuckle nervously.

"I'm Lucy," the girl speaks again and I turn to her, noticing her expensive-looking outfit.

"Nice to meet you," My voice is delicate and quiet. I slap myself internally.

"Are you two brother and sister?" My weak attempt at conversation makes me wince.

"Nope, just scarily similar." Lucy answers. I then notice how Derek's ghostly pale, freckled skin greatly differs Lucy's tanned body. I make an 'o' shape with my mouth and nod.

"So, Derek will take your stuff to your room, and I will take you on a tour."

"Oh god." Derek says, looking sorry for me.

"What?" I ask, smiling.

"Lucy's tours are deadly." He whispers over-dramatically. She smacks his round the head with a death stare.

"They are not!" She scoffs, "I just like to be thorough."

He nods sarcastically and moves past us to take my luggage up the stairs.

"Good luck," He says to me as he passes, pretending to bless himself as he walks up the stairs. I laugh, and Lucy takes hold of my shoulders.

The living room is large, and open with three dark grey sofas surrounding the flat-screen Derek was watching earlier. Behind the sofas are three desks next to each other, each with their own desktop computer. She stops me and pushes me down on the sofa.

"This is the living room, where we spend most of our time." She begins, and shows me the remote.

=

Two hours. Two hours is how long it took her to show me the house. It isn't even that big. She finishes in the kitchen where Derek is waiting with a blender and some ice cream.

He flashes me a sympathetic look as I flop down on one of the bar stools.

"I understand now," I say. He chuckles and throws some ice cream in the blender and follows with milk.

"Hey, I'm offended!" Lucy exclaims, sitting next to me. Her eyes light up when she sees what Derek's doing.

"Yes!" She cries. I raise my eyebrows.

"Derek makes the best milkshakes ever," She says, but the blender drowns out the last part.

She puts her hands over her ears and I can just hear Derek's hearty laugh over the loud sound.

When he finishes, he dips his finger in and flicks the thick liquid at her. It lands square on her nose and she scowls.

"Oh, it's on." She says, dipping her whole hand in. She gestures for me to follow and so I do.

"Milkshake fight!"

=

Awwwwww, I think this is the longest chapter yettttttttt

K byeeee

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