They weren't kicking me out. They said I could come back if I really wanted. They were not kicking me out. I breathed deeply, and turned around to wave good bye to my mom, who was across the hall from me in the airport. Pete had his back to me. She gave me a tight little smile and a wave. I turned back before she could see the tears in my eyes. She was NOT kicking me out. She and my new step-father, Pete, were having a long honeymoon that was all. In Paris. For a year. Without me. The tears welled up, my vision went hazy. The people in front of me started shuffling forwards. I was shoved from behind, and let out a tiny squeal as I lost my balance and kissed the carpet. Gross.
"Are you alright?" I took in a shaky breath and looked up. One of the flight attendants was gazing worriedly at me. I attempted a smile, and nodded vigorously, rubbing my stinging hands on my jeans. The nice flight attendant gave me a hand up, I gracelessly stumbled into her.
"sorry." I mumbled. She gave me another kind smile, and pushed me gently in the direction of the boarding doors. I handed over my boarding pass and passport, flinging my little bottle of hand sanitizer onto the floor at the same time. "sorry." I mumbled again, bending to pick it up, at exactly the same moment as the flight attendant. Our heads banged together with a 'crack' I could feel in my toes. I grabbed my hand sanitizer and stood up holding my head. "sorry!" I cried. The woman smiled sympathetically and gave me my boarding pass and passport. I shoved them quickly into my bag.
"have a nice flight." She said gently. I gave her a watery smile, and shuffled through the doors.
The plane was tiny, and the air was cold and stale. There was a baby wailing in one corner, and a bouncy ten year old boy behind my seat. Luckily, being only five foot three inches tall, I wasn't too cramped, and could fold myself up, until I was warm and relatively comfortable. At first I thought no one had the seat next to me, but a tired looking man in a wrinkled suit, loped up to me. He didn't glance at me as he put his briefcase away, he just sat down, belted himself in, pulled a blanket over him, and promptly fell fast asleep. I eyed him warily. But then the plane gave a jolt and we were off. I put in my headphones, and thought things over, to the soothing sound of The Smiths.
So. I was on my way to Forks, Washington. To live with my dad, Charlie, who I haven't had a meaningful conversation with in two years. My mother had disowned me- no. NO, my mother had not disowned me, she had sent me away to have some private time with her new husband, and I was going to think no more about it. I nodded decisively to myself. I would think about something else, I would think about Forks. And the fact that I would be living there for an entire year. my senior year, no less. Even thought I hadn't been to Forks since I was the tender age of fourteen, I decided I would need some ground rules. Number 1. I would at least try to make some real friends. I would have said it sucked leaving behind my friends in Phoenix, but… I didn't really have any. It wasn't that I didn't try, it was just that, when I first moved there when my parents got divorced, I was in eighth grade, and at lunch I accidently tripped over my own feet, or possibly one of the idiotic boys' feet, but either way, I ended up spilling my spaghetti all over Stacey Bingham's new white dress. And although I apologized until I was blue in the face, people still avoided me like the plague. And I thought it would be okay once we were in highschool, I thought people would forget, but they didn't. Ever. So I guess, although it totally sucked, having to leave behind Phoenix, warm and beautiful and peaceful, and my home; I guess, it may have been a blessing in disguise, having to move to forks. Even though forks was one of the rainiest places in all of the US of A. and so I set ground rule Number 2. Never leave the house without a coat. Simple, but hopefully effective.
