Growing up we had been incredibly close, whenever the shit hit the fan it was always Scott I turned to. When he left for London eighteen months ago I cried terribly, only my friend Summer understood how I really felt. So when I needed to run somewhere and start over I called Scott and asked him what to do. To my utter amazement twenty minutes later I found myself agreeing to move to London. My grandmother and mother are Scottish, a fact both my mom and dad are very proud of, which is why we all hold dual nationality. Funny to think that technically I was British, yet here I am on my first visit to the place.We would be landing soon so I quickly popped to the bathroom. I fixed my hair, deciding to leave it down then touched up my make-up. I took a look in the mirror, red hair, pale skin, blue eyes…all things I hated growing up, I wanted olive skin with dark hair and eyes like my friend Summer. I had learned to love my body though, I’m a petite 5’4” and have a few curves so it wasn’t. I'd had a few drinks earlier in the evening, but that was a few hours ago, and I was past their effects. If I had been drunk, or even slightly tipsy, the whole thing might have made more sense to me.I was heading home from an office Halloween party down in the loop, and was traveling down Archer Avenue, heading southwest past the Frito plant. The plant was, well, pretty noticeable. The whole area smelled like burnt Fritos. And please, don't ask me how I know what burnt Fritos smell like; it's a long story and not very pretty.I was just at the Chicago city limits when I saw a young girl standing by the side of the road. Now I don't usually stop for hitchhikers, but it was around 10 PM, and this was a pretty rough area. Lots of bikers and rednecks, and not really a safe place for a young, blonde hitchhiker.I pulled over near where she stood, rolled down the window, and asked, "Are you in trouble? Do you need a ride?"She looked puzzled for an instant, then her face cleared and she.
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