Part 31 (1/2)

”I can make it rain inside too!” Doug threatened Christy with his wet hand towel.

”Okay, okay. Let me brush my hair first.” Christy traded places with Katie in the bathroom and closed the door behind her. Her reflection in the mirror startled her. Her cheeks were red, and her brown hair lay flat against her head, hanging lifelessly a few inches past her shoulders.

She thought of how cute Tracy's short hair looked. She had cut it short, just below her ears, especially for this trip. Tracy's hair had a lot of natural body and had kept its shape with only a quick brus.h.i.+ng when they landed at Heathrow Airport.

Christy wondered if she should have gotten her hair cut short for the trip too. She knew Doug liked it long. She liked it long. It just looked so blah.

After trying to pull it back with a headband, put it in a ponytail, and quickly braid it, she gave up.

”Are you still alive in there?” Katie asked, knocking on the door.

”My hair is driving me crazy!” Christy said.

”You're going to drive us crazy!” Katie yelled.

”Okay, okay.” Christy shook out her mane, washed her face, and stuck a scrunchie in her pocket in case she wanted to try a ponytail later. She opened the bathroom door, ready to go. A bright light flashed in her face.

”Thanks, Christy,” Katie said. ”You've become my first official photo in London. Let's go see what other funny-looking stuff we can take pictures of.”

”Oh. thanks a lot.” Christy reached for her coat and followed her friends down the long, winding stairs and into the front lobby.

”I want to get a close-up shot of one of those guards who stands in one place all day and never flinches,” Katie said. ”Maybe I can get him to give me a little smile.”

”Food first,” Doug said as they stepped outside, all bundled up and holding their umbrellas high. ”We must keep our priorities straight.”

The first food they found was, of all things, a Kentucky Fried Chicken.

”I didn't come all the way to England to eat Kentucky Fried Chicken,” Katie said, looking down the street for signs of any other kind of restaurant.

”Come on,” Tracy pleaded. ”It's only a snack. We'll find some fun English place for lunch. I don't think Doug can hold out much longer.”

”Thanks, Trace.” Doug collapsed his umbrella and stepped inside the all-too-familiar-looking fast-food restaurant.

They all ordered from a lit-up menu above the counter that looked just like one from home. The only difference was the currency.

”That's one pound, forty-five p. miss,” the man behind the counter told Christy. Christy handed him a ten-pound note and received a handful of change and a five-pound note. She joined the others at a table by the window.

”Isn't this money weird?” Katie said, examining her change.

”Katie,” Tracy said, ”didn't we already go over the weird money thing?”

Christy was aware that the elderly couple at the table next to them was watching. She was also aware of how quiet it was for a restaurant full of people. Everyone else seemed to be speaking softly and keeping to themselves.

In comparison, Katie was extraordinarily loud. It bothered Christy. She guessed it was bothering Tracy too. Doug seemed unaffected.

He pulled out his handy-dandy map and pocket-size tour book. ”Okay, so we'll see Big Ben first, then the crown jewels at the Tower of London. We take bus 16, I think. No, maybe it's bus 12.”

”Let me see that,” Katie said, s.n.a.t.c.hing the tour book away from Doug. ”Oh, Charles d.i.c.kens's house. That would be an interesting tour. Let's go there after the Tower of London.”

”It's on the opposite side of town. Katie,” Doug said.

”No, it's not. Look, it's right here by...oh, you're right. Okay, then let's go to St. Paul's Cathedral. That's only two inches away from the Tower of London.”

”Let's just go and see what we can see,” Tracy suggested, tossing her trash into a bin that was marked ”rubbish.”

Christy was glad it wasn't up to her to plot their course or decipher how to get there. She was happy being a follower and letting Katie and Doug be the pioneers.

They hopped on a bus near the Marble Arch that took them to Piccadilly Circus. Doug told them to get off and look for bus 12, which would take them to Parliament and Big Ben.

Riding on the top of the double-decker bus was fun, Christy thought, because she had a good view of the bustling streets below and of the statues and monuments everywhere. What she didn't like was getting off, s.h.i.+vering under her umbrella, and listening to Doug and Katie argue. She also hated feeling lost and confused.

It seemed worse when they got off in front of the huge, architecturally intricate Parliament Building and found that the famous old clock, Big Ben, was so shrouded in fog that it hardly seemed worth the effort to take a picture. Christy did, however. Her camera, a gift last year from Uncle Bob, had served her well during her senior year as a photographer on the yearbook staff. She knew when she returned home she would be glad she had the pictures, even if they were all gray and foggy.

”Well, that was a thrill.” Katie spun around and blocked Christy's viewfinder with her umbrella. ”What's next?”

Without saying anything to Katie, Christy took a few steps to the right and adjusted her zoom again before snapping a picture of Big Ben. ”Why don't you guys all stand there by the fence, and I'll take a picture of you with Parliament in the background?”

The three obliged, umbrellas b.u.mping each other and people pa.s.sing in front of the camera. Christy snapped the picture, then turned around and snapped a shot of the street behind them with a black taxi and a red bus pa.s.sing each other in the heavy traffic.

”Do you want to see the River Thames?” Doug asked. ”According to this map, it's right over there, beyond that park.”

”What's to see?” Katie asked.

”It's a famous river.” Doug said. ”Come on. Have a little adventure, Katie.”

”I did have a little adventure. I saw Big Ben. Now I want a big adventure. I want to see the jewels and the guards in the big furry hats.”

”We're so close to the river.” Tracy said. ”Maybe we should look at it so we can at least say we saw it.”

”Whatever we do, could we take a bus?” Christy asked. ”My legs are freezing!” She wished she had taken the time to put on a pair of tights when they were at the hotel. She felt cold. Wet cold. Miserable cold.

”It's only a quick walk to the river,” Doug said, taking Christy's hand. ”If we walk fast, you'll warm up. Come on.”

Off they went to the river. In Katie's words, the wide, gray, fog-mantled water looked ”like Big Ben, only horizontal and without numbers.”

They were hoofing it back to catch another bus when Tracy noticed an old, interesting-looking building on their left.

”Let's check the tour book, Doug. I'm sure that's something important.” Tracy said.

Christy hated standing still in the drizzle. She stomped her feet to get them warm and to shake the chill off her legs. ”You guys,” Tracy exclaimed, ”that's Westminster Abbey!”

”Great.” said Katie. ”What's that?”

”It's a very old church.” Tracy said, scanning the tour book. ”It says here that this site was first used as a place of wors.h.i.+p in the year A.D. 604. Can you even imagine how old that is? And listen to this: *Since the eleventh century. the church has been the coronation site of English kings and queens.' We have to see it, you guys. There's a bunch of famous people buried there. Charles d.i.c.kens is buried there!”

Katie noticed that the drizzle had let up and closed her umbrella while Tracy was reading. With squinting eyes she moved in for a closer look at Tracy. ”Are you serious here, girl? You really want to go look at a bunch of old dead people?”

”This is Westminster Abbey. It's famous, Katie!”

”Well, so was Big Ben. And that turned out to be a real dud!”