I cussed under my breath as I once again scanned the huge crowd of people inside the John F. Kennedy International Airport. I adjusted my black Ray-ban sunglasses and scowled. Where are they?
Amongst the huge crowd, which was threatening to suffocate me more and more each second, I caught a glimpse of a strand of jarring blue highlights. I scurried towards the 5'6" girl and saw a chestnut-colored hair boy standing beside the girl, with his back turned to me. The girl glanced at her expensive-looking leather watch every five seconds, whilst the chestnut-colored hair boy was doing hair flicks far too many times as well as rambling on and on about a topic the girl wouldn't give a damn to.
I walked towards the two ordinary looking people with an oddly slow pace for a New York-born eighteen-year-old. Maybe it was because of the enormous Louis Vuitton suitcase I was dragging along on the cold tiled-floor. Or maybe it was because I was starting to lose that New Yorker side of mine.
I tugged on the loose stitches of my black ripped jeans and fixed my grey sweatshirt with the words "If you can't beat 'em, join 'em" printed huge on the middle. I hugged the chestnut-colored hair boy from behind after I finally get to them, catching him off-guard for a second before he realized whom it was. He turned around and hugged me, squishing me in between his two muscular arms. I inhaled his French scent of "Eau de Cologne", remembering the last time I met him, which was five months ago.
The chestnut-colored hair boy finally released me from the deathly hug and I stared at the girl beside him. We were quiet for five seconds until the girl started squealing and muttering random words at the same time. I laughed at her odd reaction to my arrival and attacked her with a life-threatening hug. She hugged back with no hesitation. Her famous hugs soothed me quickly as she rubbed my back – one of the factors that make her hugs the best ones in the entire universe.
"You're finally back," she whispered in my ear as we stayed in each other's embraces in the midst of the bustling New York airport.
:::
"You look so different!" Mike exclaimed once again as he drove us to our $88 million penthouse at 15 Central Park West, which both my brother and I hated. Our parents had insisted on us staying there after the huge incident with my sister.
I snorted in response. Even though he can be so stupid and oblivious at times, he is still my twin brother.
"I'm pretty sure we've covered that, Mickey," I replied with a taunting smirk on my face, knowing that he hated my nickname for him.
"Now, now, Nicolette, there is no need to be arguing with your twin brother on your first day back to your hometown," Mitchie retorted with a snort tossing her purple highlighted black hair over her shoulder. I scowled as she smirked. I have always hated my middle name. Mike laughed as he saw my expression through the small rearview mirror.
"Now, now, Ms. McAdams, you should appreciate the fact that you are the daughter of the famous billionaire," Mike joined in with the same annoying tone as Mitchie, while doing his infamous hair flick. "Not everyone can be Mr. McAdams' daughter!"
"Am I missing out on something? Is this bully-poor-Mikayla-on-her-arrival-day day?" I asked with a fake innocent face.
Both of them just laughed it off in the front of the BMW car. I rubbed the seats I was sitting on, feeling the smooth leather under my touch. I knew there were still tears waiting to fall from the back of my eyeballs. I knew there was still a side of me where I truly cared and loved them. But after what happened six months ago, I am fully assure that those feelings of care and love will never come back.
I felt my eyes starting to droop from the fatigue due to the exhausting seven-hour-flight from London to New York. I let my eyes rest and I felt myself floating to another dimension of the world.
:::
I woke up in a peaceful manner, something that has not happened ever since I moved to London. I kept my eyes close, not wanting to wake up to the nightmare of the real world. Humming Taylor Swift's "Safe and Sound", I let my hands wander around the bed. The bed sheets were smooth, almost as if they were silk. Silk.
My eyes opened up with a start. I got up and sat on the edge of the king-sized bed. This room was somehow familiar, I just didn't know why. Maybe it was because I have had a bad memory since I was just a little innocent girl. Or maybe it was because I used to fall asleep in this room with dried tears and mascara running down my face.
I moved away the silk blanket and walked towards the huge window on one side of my room. I opened the peach-colored curtains swiftly and gazed at the beautiful scenery of New York at daybreak. The sky was pink, just starting to turn yellow. The sun was still climbing halfway up the sky and the breath-taking sunrise just made me tear up out of the blue.
With tears slowly dripping down my cheek, I whispered, "I miss you, mom."
:::
"Morning," Mike greeted me through the sizzling of the pan he was using to cook breakfast. "How was your sleep?"
"Good," I replied simply, not wanting to drag out the conversation on how I missed our beloved mother. Mike was never the best at showing his feelings to others, while I was the exact opposite of him. I could babble hours and hours of what I feel to someone I feel like I could trust; for example – Mitchie. The mischievous and daring black-haired diva has always been my best friend since tenth grade. Our friendship didn't take off as one of those cheeky stories where we click instantly. Instead, we had a few conflicts in the past because of silly misunderstandings. Mitchie was the goody good girl in the cheerleading squad, while I was known as the bitchy, snobby millionaire's daughter. Even with our differences, she has always been there by my side through every situation. "We will always have a perfect ending," she always quoted, every time I feel upset. "If it's not perfect yet, then it's not the ending."
I took a seat on the island in front of the kitchen watching him cook. I never knew Mike could cook. Mike placed a few plates on the island in front of him. I winced as I saw what were on the plates. Two large stacks of pancakes stood in front of me on one of the plates. A scoop of vanilla ice cream was on one of the stack, while a scoop of chocolate ice cream was on the other stack. Different types of berries were scattered around the plate. Two sunny sides up eggs, six strips of pork bacon and three very delicious looking hash browns lay on the other plate.
"This was what mom cooked for us every Saturday morning," I mumbled, not noticing that I just thought that aloud. But Mike seemed to notice.
"I just thought you needed a warm welcome home, Kayla," Mike replied with an assuring voice. Just like our beloved mother.
"Well this isn't very 'warm' is it?" I snapped at Mike, making him flinch. "Being reminded that our parents have separated? Very warm indeed, Mike."
I marched back into my room as quickly as I could before I could hear his explanation. I regretted it as soon as I slammed the door behind me. I looked around the foreign room, trying to get re-acquainted with it. This, though, taught me one thing. When life hits you like a baseball bat, you stay down at the ground and think of a tactical plan before you decide to stand back up on both of your feet.
An exquisite chandelier hung still from the top of the ceiling. Two doors were at my left. I walked to the closest door from me. I opened it slowly, and as it creaked, my mouth was left opened in agape ("I pulled on it slowly, and as it creaked open, my jaw dropped in a gasp."). In front of me was a walk-in closet. No, that was not (what) left me at a very shocked state. What surprised me was that it was full. Five months ago when I had decided to move all the way to London, I had taken everything out of my closet and placed it in a single, hug suitcase. That, my friend, takes skill.
I was still in shock that I didn't notice someone entering my room and stood behind me.
"Welcome back, Kayla."
:::