Chapter 2
My face went red in an instant.
Every now and then, people walked by. I was so embarrassed that I wanted to melt into the ground.
But that cop didn't show any impatience. He watched me quietly, waiting for me to finish.
I took a deep breath and changed my words. "I-I just think you're very good-looking, so I want to take a phantom with you."
He was silent for a few seconds.
Just when I thought he was about to turn me down, he suddenly said, "Sorry, I can't chat while I'm working."
His Veyrish was flawless, crisp and clear, like that of a TV announcer.
I was stunned. "Wait. You're from Veyran?"
"No," he replied calmly, shaking his head. "I'm a Sterkenlander, but my mom is from Veyran."
"Oh, okay," I said, standing there awkwardly, my toes practically digging a hole in my shoes.
I'd babbled a bunch of nonsense in Sterkisch to a Sterkenlandish cop, only to find out he spoke Veyrish better than I did.
"Sorry for bothering you," I said in Veyrish.
He gave a slight nod and turned back toward the booth.
I spun around and bolted, wishing I could stuff myself into a trash can.
After running about 50 yards, I finally slowed down, covering my burning face and letting out a long, deep sigh.
Edward Carter, you had really made yourself a fool.
After that embarrassment, I had zero interest in sightseeing anymore.
The festival was still going on. Somewhere in the distance, someone was singing, their voice drifting on the wind, fading in and out.
I wandered slowly down the street, hands stuffed in my puffer jacket pockets, eyes glued to the colorful reflections of the lights on the ground.
Then I checked my pocket. It was empty.
I froze, then checked again. My left pocket, right pocket, and inside pocket were all empty.
My wallet was gone.
My head buzzed.
My wallet had my student ID, bank card, subway pass, and over a hundred dollars in cash. The money was my entire month's allowance.
I stood there, checking every pocket, even shaking out my puffer jacket's hood.
I found nothing.
My phone was still there. I pulled it out and checked the screen. There was only three percent battery left.
So there I was, standing on a street in a foreign country, wallet gone, phone about to die, surrounded by strangers speaking a language I barely understood.
The wind hit me again, making me shiver.
After a moment's thought, I decided to head to the police station.
About ten minutes into my walk, my phone let out a final beep and died.
The screen went dark, the last bit of light snuffed out like a candle blown by the wind.
I stood by the roadside, suddenly clueless about where to go now.
Shops in Sterkenland closed early. Although their hours were somewhat extended during the festival, by this hour, most of them were already shut.
The crowd thinned out, the lights still twinkled, but the wind had scattered most of the excitement.
I sat down on the steps by the roadside, hugging my knees, curling up into a small ball.
The wind was fierce, whipping my scarf loose.
When I looked down at the little puddle between the tiles, a bunch of memories hit me all at once.
I thought about the time I first arrived in Sterkenland. I had looped around the airport three times, totally lost, and in the end followed someone else out.
Then there was my first night in the dorm, starving, opening the food delivery app and seeing nothing but dishes I couldn't read, so I ate some packaged pasta from home.
I remembered sitting in class, the professor talking so fast that I only caught half of it, and my notes were all over the place.
I remembered that sometimes I couldn't quite find the right words when I talked to my roommate. When he laughed, I couldn't tell whether he was laughing at me or at what I had said.
Lost in thought, I looked up at the sky.
The moon was almost full tonight, hanging beside the pointed roof of an old house, its edges blurred, half-hidden by clouds.
At that moment, my Veyranian blood suddenly stirred. When I stared at the moon, my nose tingled and my eyes grew hot.
"I lift my head and look up at the bright moon," I recited the line softly in Veyrish, my voice quiet and raspy.
"I lower my head and think of home," someone said the next line behind me.
I jumped, spinning around.
A guy was standing a few steps behind me, wearing a dark coat, holding a cup of something in his hand.
The streetlight behind him bathed his blond hair in a soft golden glow.
It was the cop from earlier.