Meeting John...

My eyes finally opened. The two agents who came in France to get me, asked me to leave the car. The taller, the nicer, looked at me with a smile and take my arms (my sweater) : « Come on…viens !! ». This day more than any other days on my life, I learned how to always looking up. All this men, all in black it freaked me out, walking without see you, without notice you…all similar, like too many blood coupling, too many twins problem…all mesuring one meter eighty, ninety and you…the little teenage dressed with old pierced jean and a green top, to large for me...I was the task in the perfect vision of hapiness. When some of them looked at me, my bodyguards answered in an incomprehensible american english with a accent hot potatoe and I just participated in moving my hand shyly.

The agency was in the middle of nowhere. Around us only trees, foxes, sand roads. At first, I thought about asking to my new friends if we was going to meet the Olson family. But I shut up and followed the men !

After twenty minutes of labyrinth running in the corridors (did you ever try to stay beside a man who have definitivly bigger legs than yours and ignore it ?!?), we arrived in a office and my two companions let me here, in front of a old bald boss. He started speaking to me but I never understood him. I stayed here, nodded, looking around for some help, staring at the spun by slaver in his mouth. Then I realized that I looked like a gold fish, surrender by shark…but anyway, I was the stranger so I had to adapt myself.

When he finished to talk, he look at me surprise. He had a question and I never answer…how rude !! I blink and apologize : « Can you repeat please ? ». He called my translator. Few simple things was mentione : First : my parents signed a paper (for my freedom) and so the organisation gave me a tutor to live with, not yet determined…second : They’ll try to find a way to cure my ‘disease’. For the second part, they’ll need all my attention and my consentement…knowing my feeling and I’ll have to touch many laboratory pets. What could I say ? « No thank you, see ya ! » ??

I spend the night in a hotel, under great surveillance and naturally the next morning, I went to the restaurant to get my breakfast…without feeling hungry.

I sit in front of a bagel and a hot tea less and less hot. He arrived, like that, innocently. Asked me if he could take the chair next to me. I didn’t know that it was not fate.

He looked at me…he had this pretty and sweet face. Two blue eyes deep like atlantic ocean and brown hair. Maybe he was thirty, thirty five, not more.

« I’m John Smith… »he told me before giving me his hand, to shake it. I refused it, and acted like i never see it. « John Smith ? I repeated. Like in Pocahontas ?!?

-         Yep, you can call me John ! And you are, little miss ?

-         Plume.

-         Plume ? That’s it ? Just Plume ? ». From this moment, I became just Plume. No other identity, no last name…Just a french feather…a ordinary disease with a dream first name.

« Where do you come from, Plume ?

-         France.

-         Well, frenchie, I’m here to be your english teacher, but aparently, you don’t really need me !!

-         Excuse me ?! » I wasn’t sure to understand him good, he had a very pronounced british accent, a Hugh Grant who’s not a actor !!

He smiled again and then stand up… « Nice to meet you Plume, and, by the way… » He bent to whisper : « You can eat the bacon with your fingers, it’s a tradition !! ». He gave me a wink and walked away.

Seconds after, a waiter came and put his hand, gently, on my shoulder. I strated screaming, scared to death…not my death. Hopefully, I had a tee shirt but I was so afraid that I stood up, and bumped in agent behind me. Hysterically, I yelled : « DON’T TOUCH ME !! DON’T TOUCH ME !! ». The agent just stopped me with his in-gloves arm and explained nicely but coldly to the waiter : « She’s very contagious, nobody should touch her. »

Nobody should touch me…Nobody…Nobody…NO BODY…