One-Hundred and Fifty Planes

Chapter 1: The Welcome Party

Day: 1

Plane count to date: 0

Quote: "There are far, far better things ahead than any we leave behind." ~C.S. Lewis.

(From the point of view of Annabeth)

I was cruising along the highway when I saw it. The first plane. A white speck against the vivid blue sky. It doesn't count, I told myself solemnly. Not until you can see the town sign.

As usual, I was lying to myself. I could see the town sign. It was in the distance, just a big, green graffitied blob on the horizon. I knew what it said before I my old car even rattled within sight of it. Bryson. My next home, my next haven, my next safe place for a couple of brief months. I had a rule. I never stayed in one place for longer than it took for me to count one-hundred and fifty planes. Otherwise, my past would catch up with me. They would catch up with me. And that meant, in all likelihood, death. If I didn't die, then my life would become a living hell. Neither idea seemed particularly inviting.

I took the bare necessities, got a part time job to pay the rent and tried to make absolutely no friends, no ties, nothing traceable. It was a fragmented life for an seventeen-year-old, but it was a life. It was better than what was waiting for me if I dared to stop running.

I stole a glance at the rear-view mirror. The road stretched long and flat as a liquorice strap behind me. Checking the mirrors was a nervous habit I'd developed. I remembered the first week I'd been running. The firsts few days of this life I was living. Back then, being the paranoid fifteen-year-old I was, my eyes flickered to the mirror every few seconds. I'd almost missed an old truck pulling out onto the interstate once because I was too distracted by watching the road behind rather than the road in front. I knew better now. I'd trained myself, taken something from every old house I'd stayed in, every town I'd visited, every one-hundred and fifty planes. I could fight, shoot, incapacitate somebody with only toothpick and my bare hands. Well, maybe I wasn't that good. But let's just say I had pretty good self-defence skills. But as I drove down that long, straight road towards that blot on the horizon I had no idea that there are some things you just can't fight. Some things that are just too strong. And when they walk into your life, you can't force them out.

I blinked as a sign flashed by. Did it say The Inlet? Or was I dreaming? An inlet in the middle of the continent? I shook my head. It didn't matter. The blob on the horizon was bigger now. In fact, buildings were taking shape. Roofs and walls and windows sprung out of the ground to make the tiny town. Even the large white letters of the town sign were painting themselves across the green canvas. I breathed deeply. How many times had I done this before? So many. I ran quickly though my five rules in my head.

Number one: don't make an impression.

Number two: don't let anybody get close to you.

Number three: don't make any enemies.

Number four: don't stand out.

Number five: most importantly, never leave a trace.

Those rules were my constitution, my code. Live by that, I survived, nobody got hurt. And maybe a life like that, a life without love and relationships and a family, is a life on a path to self-destruction, but living any other way than that had consequences that it hurt to think about. I had a future that was less than uncertain, a future I didn't even want to think about. My entire life was a map of ifs. If I make it to the next town. If they don't find me. If the stars align, then maybe I'll make it one day. But, in some part of my warped and broken heart, I knew I wouldn't make it. You never make after you've done something like I have.

The Tarmac passed below my car and with each bump in the road my heart beat faster. It wasn't the normal nervousness that I felt each time I moved. Not the lock-all-the-doors-and-windows-and-check-your-rear-view-mirrors kind of nervousness that had become my. norm. This was a different feeling, like something important was around the corner waiting to jump out at me. Something big.

The old car rattled into the center of the small town. I checked the fuel gauge. The little needle was bobbing dangerously low. I sighed and pulled into an old gas station. The paint was faded and peeling and the whole place looked like the smallest breath of wind would send the old boards crashing to the ground. Not that there was much chance of wind in this hot, dry town.

I leant against my old car as I filled the tank and watched two girls argue. The day was hot, like the town was trying desperately to hold onto whatever was left of summer. The first girl, of Asian appearance, had a flushed face, perfect hair and make-up and contempt written all over her face. She had an orange tank-top hitched up so it showed her midriff, cut-off jean shorts and a hand on her hip. The second girl had her back to me but was wearing jeans and a t-shirt, her hair was brown and pulled into a tangled braid, her hands were clenched at her sides and she looked about ready to punch someone. A third girl with dark hair and shocking blue eyes was sitting in the shade of a dying tree a ways away seeming absolutely unconcerned by their argument. Her head was buried in a battered paperback novel.

"Let me tell you something, hon," the first girl was saying, "I don't like new people. I don't like new girls. I don't like-"

"You don't like anybody," snapped the second girl, with attitude.

The first girl scowled. "Shut up. Let me finish. I don't like girls like you prancing into my town and stealing my guys."

"Your town? Your guys? What is this! Some kind of shop? Am I a shoplifter?"

"This is a very small town," the first girl emphasized. "We're all friends here. Things are ordered, people have places. We don't like weird people messing us up."

"Oops!" the girl with the braid said with mock panic. "Looks like you're already messed up. Shame about that. And what's with the royal we? Who is we?"

"Everyone but you and freaks like you."

Braid-girl snorted. "Freaks like me? You're just a tragic queen bee desperate to hold onto power. Don't waste my time." She pushed past hitched-up tank-top wearing girl and walked into the service station. The other girl's scowl deepened and she crossed her sun-darkened arms. I glanced at her and she shot me a venomous glare. I sighed and pulled the gas pump out.

"What's your problem?" she growled as I walked past.

"Maybe you should be asking yourself that," I said coolly and walked inside. A blast of air-conditioned air hit me and I sighed. I found braid-girl standing with the drinks freezer open letting the waves of cold ruffle her hair. She turned to me as I grabbed a drink out of the fridge. Her eyes were a startling mix of green and blue with little flecks of brown. I smiled at her. She smiled tiredly and shut the fridge door regretfully.

"God," she said, "I hate small town small minds."

"I'm sure they aren't all like that," I reassured her.

"Maybe not. But she is. I'm Piper, by the way. I just moved in yesterday."

"Annabeth. I'm moving in today."

"Huh, you don't say. Where?"

"Um..." I struggled for the address. "Beacon St or something."

She grinned. "Me too. See you 'round then."

Piper walked off. I grabbed a packet of aspirin off the shelf, paid for my petrol and drink and walked out just in time to see Piper drive away in a small silver car. The other girl was making obscene gestures at the back of the car. I raised an eyebrow. Another car had pulled up in the no-standing zone. It was a blue vintage convertible, perfectly restored. Nothing like my ancient cream-colored Plymouth Valiant that was speckled with rust-spots.

"Give it a rest, Drew," said the driver with a sigh. He had sandy colored hair that was a little bleached by the sun and sparkling blue eyes. His friend riding shotgun had dark hair that looked wet, like he'd been swimming, and sea-green eyes that anybody could easily have gotten lost in. I tore my eyes away before I could drown in them. He smiled lightly at me and I returned it, but hesitantly.

Hitched-up tank-top girl smiled a sweet smile at the blond guy. "Oops!" she said with a girly giggle. "Just messing, Jason. Freaks like her don't care."

The guy in the passenger seat rolled his eyes. From the looks of it, he couldn't stand her. The driver, Jason, just sighed. "If you want a lift, get in the car. If you don't then don't get in. Your choice."

Drew smiled and sashayed over to the car and slipped into the back seat. "Alright then. I'll take the lift. It's so nice of you Jason."

"What about Leo and Grover?" protested the guy with the green eyes.

"They said that they'd get a lift, remember? Rachel or Juniper'll drive them," replied Jason absently.

"Rachel's-" began the dark haired boy.

"Yeah, whatever, on vacation I know," He waved a hand and turned his attention to the girl reading the book in the shade. "Want a lift, Thals?"

The girl looked up, glanced at Drew, and shook her head. "I'd rather walk."

Behind Jason's head, Drew held a hand up to her head in an L shape and mouthed loser.

The guy with green eyes and dark hair clenched his teeth. I stepped out of the shade of the building and decided it was a good time to leave. All eyes turned to me. Drew's features settled into what I was starting to think was an ever-present glare of contempt. I hoped the wind would change and that her face would be stuck with its features twisted like they were.

"Hi." His eyes settled on me.

"Newest freak," Drew said with a roll of her fake-lash fringed eyes.

"Actually," I said with an all-too-sweet smile in her direction, "I'm usually known as Annabeth but feel free to call me 'newest freak' as much as you like but it does sound a bit long for you. I'm surprised you managed such large words. But if you think you can handle it..."

Drew crossed her arms. "Told you she was a freak."

"Is that as far as your vocabulary extends? Freak? Good luck getting into college."

I turned away before I could see her cheeks flush. Just as I was slipping the key to my car out of my pocket, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned to see her face inches from my mine. She narrowed her eyes. "What did you say?"

"Oh, my apologies, you didn't hear? I said you have a terribly narrow word-stock, a less than average IQ and from what I can see seriously warped priorities. Honestly, I don't want to ever have to have anything to do with you. With some luck, I'll be out of this sad little town in a few months and you'll be history. So, Drew, have a nice life, and I'll live my own without you."

I paused. Her jaw clenched.

"Yeah, well, hon-" she started.

I sighed, cutting her off. "I really don't want to have and argument with you. I'm over all this high-school drama. If you leave now, it'll be a whole lot better for you."

She couldn't seem to think of any reasonable comeback and so instead she tried to hit me. Her hand flicked out in an untrained, unrefined swipe at my face. I dodged with practised ease, and before she could react I shoved her away from me. Sliding into the car smoothly, I started the engine. She looked slightly stunned, sitting flat on her butt on the burning concrete for a few seconds. I leaned out of the wound down window and tossed the packet of aspirin I'd bought into her lap. She looked down at it a little dazedly and then looked back up glared at me.

"I was going to use this to fix my heart, which is broken due to the fact that we'll never be friends, but I don't think I'll need it," I said. "Maybe you should just take a chill pill, a few deep breaths and work on being less of a bitch. Have fun with that, hon."

I backed the car out onto the main road. The guys in the car were staring after me with stunned expressions on their faces. The girl reading the paperback in the shade had dropped her book because she was laughing so much. I smiled a little to myself as I drove away, then scolded myself.

"Way to keep a low profile, Chase," I muttered to myself. "Great freaking job."

For some absurd reason, my heart was beating more quickly than usual. Sure, she'd gotten under my skin but I was usually pretty good at keeping my cool. I wasn't overly tired or anything. Still, this wasn't a good start.

I kept driving until I got further into the town. After a few minutes a little corner bookshop caught my eye. I swerved the car to the side of the road. Perfect, I thought. A distraction.

I buried myself amongst the words and emerged thirty minutes later with three books, a newfound sense of calm and a large chunk of my bank account missing. I hoped I'd have enough to pay the rent.

Armed with some books, a half empty can of cherry cola and a few boxes of possessions I drove down the road on my way to a fresh start. This was going to be an interesting few months. And still, inside me, there was this little voice that whispered 'maybe this time, things'll work out.'

Maybe, just maybe, this little, sunburned town in the middle of nowhere was going to change things for me.