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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Action and Adventure  |  House: Booksie Classic
Once upon a time two teenaged girls decided to spend their Junior year in Italy expecting to find designer-clad matches and adventure. What they didn't expect is everything that followed; lizard men and evil lairs, love, and friends in the most unlikely of places. Hop on the roller coaster ride that is "Incidental," it will take you places that you never knew you wanted to go before and make you feel emotions that you never expected to feel. It is, in the best possible way, like going through puberty all over again.

Submitted: October 13, 2014

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Submitted: October 13, 2014



Chapter One (Alli):

One cold hard winter night I thought to myself, is there nowhere else I’d rather be? Is there something I'm missing... an opportunity lost in the middle of words?

Little did I know that was exactly what was going on. On the first night of March I had decided: I would spend the next year of my life in Italy.

I was in the plane a good 6 months later, looking at the faces I would be among, the entirety of this year. The results looked bleak. A few sunny faces, a few depressed dark-haired people, and maybe some weirdos that were weird in just the wrong way.

I was thinking that I would end up grabbing a gelato and pondering life, the intricacies of the human cell, and dogs every day in Italy. Suddenly as I was setting my luggage into the overhead bin, a hand slapped me in the face, ow, I said to the boy in the red floppy hat. He looked at me for a second and flicked his lizard tongue. Ew, I thought. I sat down in my seat and the boy in the red floppy hat, with a dark green t-shirt sat next to me. "What are you doing here?" I asked.

"Nothing." He said, but with his lizard tongue it sounded more like "noth-shingsss." I was utterly intrigued by this individual's compositional anomaly. "Where are you from?" I asked. "I'm from Nasia." I didn't recall ever having heard of such a place, but then I almost failed geology, or geography, whatever it's called.


Anyway, I spent the entire flight trying to sleep; I even covered my face with my jacket to speed up the process. Every hour or so I would stick my head out and peer at the lizard-man. He looked different every time. Sometimes his eyes were blue, and sometimes they were yellow-er. I didn't care, as long as he didn't emit strange lizard-like gasses from his pores. He was watching a movie with blue birds, Rio 2, I think. I got up to go to the bathroom and a girl with rusty gold curls and a blue Patagonia greeted me as she left.

Chapter Two (Cecile): Does that girl even own a mirror? I thought as I pranced down the aisle. She obviously didn't get the memo that blankets were not adequate headwear. I was looking especially pretty today; my golden curls were bouncing and my Patagonia designed specifically for me was bringing out the ocean blue color of my eyes. Alas, it isn't hard to look beautiful when you're as naturally good looking as me-what a trial it is to have my eyes assaulted every minute by the pimple covered, polyester wearing, ratty haired bunch of teenagers that I have to call my peers. It was my hope that I would find my designer clad matches in the fashion capital of the world- Italy. 

The plane touched down which made the woman fat rolls next to me jerk and bounce in an unfortunate manner. I averted my eyes and proceeded to daintily vomit at the atrocious site into the barf bag provided to me. I was in the process of petitioning a law in which persons over the BMI of 26 cannot leave their house lest they care to be stoned by healthier people- I debated whether I should see if the obese lady next to me would sign? OwI screamed after she karate chopped my proffered pen out of my moisturized hand-that witch broke my nail! Some people just can't seem to appreciate it when angels such as I come down to help better their lives. I waltzed out of the plane as quick as my Zumba-toned legs could carry me and prepared for my grand entrance into Rome. The air was warm and a gentle breeze caressed my face and blew my hair lightly around my shoulders. I shoved my Louis Vuitton luggage set into the arms of the extraordinarily pregnant woman behind my and tuned out her grunts of pain and shock so that I could make my way down the stairs in a ladylike fashion. My reverie was as short lived as a one of Taylor Swift’s relationship because as soon as I stepped into the sun, a pigeon pooped on my head. 

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