Chapter One

I Left My Heart in San Francisco

10:02 P.M.

San Francisco International Airport

My parents died in a car accident at the intersection of Clay and Powell, in front of the Imperial Dragon Takeout Restaurant and Shan's Quality Nails/ Feng Sui Consultations.

Apparently I wasn't aware of this fact until yesterday when Luna, while chopping onions, starting crying and talking about a mysterious Henry and Lynda, whom I assumed were one of Luna and Margaret's freaky heroin addict friends. Margaret shushed her and sent a withering glance in my direction when I rolled my eyes, but not before Luna blurted out, "Oh how much I miss your parents Samantha. Poor creatures, dying like that!"


I was always told I was "donated sperm" they issued to Luna so that she and Margaret could have a kid!

Possibilities and thoughts swirled through my mind as I tried to wrap myself around this new piece of important information. After listening to much of the argument between Luna and Margaret, I finally digested and analyzed the true seriousness of the situation.

My parents were dead and I had been living a lie. I was living the life of "donated sperm" that had two lesbian mothers in an incredibly small loft filled with cats in San Francisco when in reality, I was an orphaned nonentity, worthless to world.


Luna after debating hotly with Margaret, finally turned to me, embarrassed, "Samantha, dear, I'm sorry for letting that slip out. I really didn't mean to hon," She smiled kindly at me, "Forgive me?"

I closed my eyes, this was all a dream.

I'm Samantha Pierce, daughter of an anonymous donor and Luna Specter. I live with my two moms in downtown San Francisco with my 23 cats, Luna Jr., Bart, Fluff, Socks-.

"Samantha, are you alright?" I open my eyes to find both Luna and Margaret staring intensely at me, "Marge, she looks sick; I think we should get her upstairs."

I saw Margaret give Luna a curt nod, before closing my eyes, finding that sleep was comforting. The only place not any more confusing than it was before.

When I woke up, Margaret was in silent vigil, hovering over my bedside, "Samantha, how do you feel?" She whispered anxiously.

I groaned, "Confused and hurt," I searched the room for Luna, "Hey, where'd Luna go?"

Margaret furrowed her brow, "Luna went to go pick up something from Lucky's Chinese for you."

I sat up straight, "Margaret, I want Luna here. I want to know what's going on and I want to know now."

She lowered her head and pretended to fuss with my pillow, "Samantha, dear, I…we…don't feel that you're ready to handle such a big blow right now. You're probably in shock and we didn't want to-," She faltered, her breath shaky, "All I'm…we…are saying is that you may want to hear the truth some other time other than-."

"Margaret," I sighed, rubbing my eyes, "I think I deserve to know what's going on and why you've been hiding what you have from me for so long."

"Well Samantha, it's not necessarily very easy information to digest-."

"I don't care. I want to know the truth Margaret."

Margaret after dual consideration, seemed to hesitate, before finally sighing, "Sammy-kins," she used my nickname from third grade, "You know how I hate lying-."

"Then why did you and Luna lie to me?" I questioned curtly, "I don't like being lied to."

She buried her head in my comforter, "Samantha, the truth is that your parents are dead."


"Tell me something I don't know," My voice was cold and indifferent, the voice of a stranger.

Margaret blushed, "Well Lynda was Luna's sister and yesterday was the anniversary of the day they died."

I quirked my eyebrows, "How'd they die?"

Margaret didn't look up, "Car accident."

My mouth formed a perfect 'o'.

She continued, "They were on their way to their artist friend, Victor's house, you see they were both artists, that's how they met," she coughed, "And well en route Henry, your father, almost ran into the visiting British monarchy limo with the current Prince and his father in it," She paused again to cough, "They were on their way to a press conference."

My eyebrows rose even higher, "So my parents were basically murdered on accident by visiting British royalty?" I had always found distaste in modern monarchies and now I knew why, "Are you sure you aren't making this up Margaret? Because it sounds pretty unbelievable to me."

Margaret shifted in her seat, "There was a newspaper article about it that I saved from the Chronicle."

I considered the notion for a while, "Margaret, how old was I?"

She averted her gaze, "You were two."

A silence seemed to consume the room, making the room overly warm, something I hated.

I nodded anxiously, "And Margaret," I paused, "Why am I not dead?"

"Your parents left Luna and me to care for you until they got back. When they never did the courts legally gave you to us."

I looked at Margaret as she tensed up, knowing what I would ask next. I narrowed my gaze, "So tell me, why you and Luna find it necessary to lie to me and only reveal the truth by mistake?"

No sooner had I muttered the words that Luna barged in through the door with a big plastic bag filled with warm Chinese food and the matter in itself was entirely forgotten.

Until now.

As I sit in the British Airways waiting area in San Francisco International Airport, I'm filled with a sense of nervous anxiety. I was now a legal adult and could do as a pleased…even if it meant stealing Luna's wallet in the process.

Okay, I'm a delinquent. So sue me.

But can you blame me? I found that I had lived a façade for 17 years. The life of Samantha Pierce and not the one of Samantha Sanford. Samantha Pierce was meek and submitting, she smelled like cat food everyday, and she definitely didn't run away whenever her lesbian "parents" lied to her. The new Samantha Sanford though, well let's just say Luna and Margaret had another thing coming if they thought she'd just stay home, mope, then bounce back like a spring again. Nope, this would be the shock of the century, because Samantha Sanford was going to London.

No more Miss Nice Whatevers because she was a woman, a strong, independent one at that…with a twisting stomach and crushed heart.

Oh God, I can feel my heart slamming against my ribcage, Am I really doing this? Me? The girl who couldn't even answer a question in Mrs. Schibler's class is defying her parents to go to London on her mom's credit card?

Jesus Christ, what had I gotten myself into?

I suddenly felt like I had to puke, so cupping my hands under my mouth, I scrambled for the bathroom, dragging my hand-me-down Travelpro with me as I unceremoniously puked all over the shiny chrome sink. Shit. I attempted to wash the sink off with a paper towel but somehow that only made the mess worse, so instead I switched sinks and opted to just make my appearance less…hello-drag-me-back-to-the-asylum-ish.

I sighed, splashing water in my face. My freaky almond shaped, hazel eyes stared dully back at me, the long, dark brown tangled ropes regular people liked to call hair, framed the grimace I tried to hide, and my normally glistening tan skin was dry and cracked…god I wondered if they made Chapstick for your face

"Flight 129 departing to London at Gate 12 is boarding. Flight 129 departing to London at Gate 12 is boarding, "a dreary, monotonous voice bleated over the static filled intercom.

Shit, this was it.

So I basically have two choices: hail a taxicab and go home and replace a couple of Luna's bills, or take the chance of a lifetime and leave the States for the cultured and distinguished London.

"Last call for passengers boarding Flight 129 departing to London at Gate 12. Last call for passengers boarding Flight 129 departing to London at Gate 12," came the same tired voice over the intercom.

It was now or never.

Evidently, I chose now.

4:13 P.M.

I was awoken by a rough shake and a gruff voice, "Hey, get up, we're landing in fifteen minutes."


Why the hell am I on an airplane being awaken by a flight attendant?

Oh, right.

The lady next to me was talking eagerly to the man sitting across the aisle from her, letting the rest of the plane know that she forgot her bratwurst in Berlin last week. All of the windows in the plane had their shades up, letting the bright, cheerful English sun shine blatantly through the Plexiglas windows. People stretched their legs and put on their shoes, tidying up their seats and herding all the hyper children together. I tugged self consciously at my old Wisconsin sweater and the cheerleading shorts I had so stupidly worn on the plane. I hope London isn't that cold in the middle of September…

"Hello, this is your captain speaking. We are right above Heathrow Airport and should be on the ground within ten minutes. The weather in London is a cool 68 degrees Fahrenheit and it is currently 4:13 P.M. We hope you have enjoyed your flight with British Airways and we hope you fly with us again," Static, "Thank you."

By now Luna and Margaret must have discovered I'd left with Luna's wallet, they've probably already alerted the police and are combing the streets of San Francisco as I speak!

My pulse quickened, heightened by the adrenaline I got from the actual thrill of being in a foreign country…much less England: home to sexy boys, big furry soldier hats, and tea times. I had always dreamed of spending time in London, I mean to think the classics of Shakespeare, Dickens, and Austen had all arisen in this very city! I would walk the streets of Becky Sharpe, meet the haughty men of Jane Eyre, and see the urchins of the street like Oliver Twist.

Good god, I think I just fainted, because we just touched down and Heathrow Airport is right in sight. Oh god, oh god, oh god. What will Luna and Margaret think when they find out I'm in London?! Shit, I miss the old Samantha Pierce…

A/N: Yes, okay I know, my story is really bad but I don't know, I guess I was just inspired to write this story because it's been stuck in my head of for so long. Well anyways please review and please, please, please no flames. Thanks, I love you guys.