You stared out the window of the plane.

And pouted.

You pouted so hard, you felt as though your lips would fall off. A small child behind you gave you a weird look, as though you had grown a second head, and you bared your teeth at him, growling like a dog as you barked, "What're you looking at, punk!?"

The kid began to sob hysterically, and the mother leaned over the top of your seat and frowned. She was a pretty Asian lady with long brown hair and pretty grey eyes. "Excuse me, I think you should apologize to my son."

You glared, feeling your eyebrow twitch. "Sorry," you spat.

The mother found this acceptable, but turned to your mother- who sat next to you- and said, "I think you should try to control your daughter, ma'am."

You mother just smiled happily and waved her hand. "Ah! This won't happen again, promise! Gomenesai!"

The Asian lady then muttered something in another language before going through the grueling process to calm her son. Your own mother turned to you and raised an eyebrow, that happy-go-lucky smile on her face. You shrunk in your seat. Your mom was not a force to be reckoned with. In a voice so weak it would have shamed a mouse, you asked, "What?"

"Starting trouble before we even touch land, are we?"

"No!"

Your mother laughed, sending chills down your spine, despite all the mirth in it. "Oh, don't be so jumpy! If you can't hold your own in America, you won't last a second in Japan!"

You huffed. "Mom, you don't understand how much that would make me happy. Maybe God will strike me down on the sidewalk, so I don't have to embarrass myself in their high school."

"Why would you be embarrassed?"

"Because you came to me a week ago with the surprise news that we were moving to Japan. A week. I CANNOT LEARN A WHOLE LANGUAGE IN A WEEK, MOM."

"Well, that was your fault for being so close-minded before I announced it," your mom giggled, opening her brochure. "Besides, it's the first day of summer. You have a whole three months! That's plenty of time to study, huh?"

You folded your arms, wriggling in your seat and angrily flipping open your sketch book. You tried your best to scribble some drawings onto the paper. "Yeah, sure."

So, for the next eleven or twelve hours, you decided to listen to your phone until it died, draw drawings that eventually ended up being messy because you absolutely cannot draw while moving, and stared out the window for inspiration. You could see miles upon miles of ocean, which made you think of the beach back in the US. You remembered the sand in your toes, and then you remembered how cold the water got when you dove deep down near the bottom. You remembered being scared to death that you would get eaten by sharks, and how embarrassed you were to go to the beach. You had always refused to wear bikinis, and instead wore athletic shorts and a black tank top, always. You had been self-conscious about your body ever since seventh grade, when you saw all the skinny twig girls walking around with hot guys hanging off their arms like jackets. You were never that skinny, except for when you were in your childhood years. Though, your family had a history of thick women in them.

You sighed, memories flicking back to the cold ocean water. Real women were thick. You smirked. You remembered one of your favorite movies: Mulan. Poor Mulan was docked a point for being too skinny. You then frowned. You probably shouldn't have been laughing about that, because the movie Mulan was back in the times where women were viewed as nothing.

You sighed, changing the subject. Maybe it would snow in Japan? You hadn't seen the snow in a few years. It would be nice.

You suddenly snorted, jolting awake as your head hit the seat in front of you. You looked around. Your mother was snuggled up on your father's arm, fast asleep. Your father was reading a book backwards, and when you tilted your head to get a better look, you saw that it was in another language. You had read some manga back home, recommended by your best friend. She was a huge otaku, with anime themed posters and binder stickers.

You blinked at your father, who peered down at you through his thin eyeglasses. He pushed them up the bridge of his nose with his finger, his short, neat black hair framing his face as he smiled warmly. You licked your chapped lips and reached out to push the book down so you could read the pages( as if you could. Heck, you barely knew Spanish. ). "What does this say?"

"It's business," your father mumbled good-naturedly, handing you the book. You pouted. That was the answer to everything, nowadays. You flipped through the pages, reading from left to right, how you'd been taught, when your father stopped you. "No, the other way."

You flipped the book upside down. "Like this?"

A hearty, but quiet, laugh escaped him. "No, it's meant to be read backwards."

You flipped the book back over and held it as you were told, then scrutinized the back- you mean, front page. Big bold symbols emblazoned the front- the title- with smaller ones that decorated the bottom- the subtitles. It was a plain book, with a pale grey exterior. You didn't doubt that this book was filled with business things that you probably couldn't understand( despite your extremely intelligent mind. You could read things many people in your junior high couldn't, but that also may be because your junior high was filled with people who cared more about texting and doing their hair than learning. ).

You blinked, then laughed in shame. "Oh, yeah. I remember reading [Friend's Name]'s manga like this." You smiled down at the letters on the pages. Wasn't it called "kanji"? Or "romaji"? Something like that. You sat down in your seat, leaning against your mother, reading right to left, as though you knew what the heck you were reading.

The symbols were pretty cool to look at, though.

"Wake up, honey, we're here."

You gasped in horror, sitting up and karate-chopping away the hand that was brushing through your hair. Seeing that it was only your mom, you took the time to catch your breath. "You scared the living daylights out of me, mom!"

While your mom was trying desperately not to die of oxygen deprivation, your father managed to talk over her, despite her loud wails of laughter. "We're here. Hurry, get your things." He pushed his glasses up his nose and held out his hand for you. You took it, scooting out of the seats and grabbing the suitcases that your father handed to you.

You stayed close behind your parents like a baby duckling, clinging to your mom's beige purse and watching as she squealed when you exited the plane. She took so many pictures within the first five minutes of arrival, that she had to pull out another one of her old "print the pictures after the film runs out" cameras. You forgot what they were called.

You didn't bother to pay any attention to your surroundings, so that was probably why you got lost.

You were scared out of your freaking mind. There was a bench nearby, so you sat down, hugged your smallest black suitcase, and let your eyes frantically search the area for your parents. You had no idea where you were. The airport? You sighed, hanging your head. "I'm so lost. Sooo looossstttt."

Maybe your parents would hear you groaning like a beached whale! Yeah!

"Lost, are you?"

You looked up, scanning the area for the sign of the voice. "What."

"Ciaossu."

You looked down immediately. There was.. a baby. Well, not really a baby. He looked around five years old. He was so adorable. That was only intensified by his fedora and suit, and his little green lizard. "Oh dear lord you are the cutest thing I've ever seen."

The baby smiled. "I heard you from across the airport. Are you lost?"

You nodded, not even questioning the extensive vocabulary of this child. "Yeah. You seen a couple? A wife with a big tourist look, complete with camera, the other a strict-looking business man?"

"With looks that kill?"

"Yes."

"Over there." The baby pointed to a long line of people doing God-knows-what. In the midst of them was your wailing mother and your calm father, who looked more like a security guard than a husband. He was scanning the crowd for something- someone most likely. When he saw you, he took your mom's hand and began to drag her reluctant, crying form in your direction. You stood and squealed in happiness, flailing your arms like an idiot.

"Here! Here! Mom! Dad! Nyyaaahh!"

You ran towards them and leaped into your father's arms. He hugged you close, though he was looking at something else. You didn't pay attention, instead too busy on focusing how to breathe with the way your mother was squeezing you. "Oh, honey! We thought we lost you!"

"I love you mom!"

"I love you too!"

You both broke down into emotional messes while your father carried on an in-depth conversation with someone. You couldn't hear with the loud atmosphere of the airport, and clung to your mother. "Let's please get a cab or something. My life almost flashed before my eyes back there."

"Sure thing, sweetie pie. Richard! Cab! Now!"

"Of course," your father replied, now directly behind you. He took your mother by the waist and held his suitcases with the other. You dashed away to the bench to get your own suitcases, only to find that the baby had gone. You stood there, scanning the area for him.

"Hey! Little baby-dude!" you called, crouching to search under the bench. "You there?"

"Honey, what's wrong?"

You stood and grabbed your suitcases, turning to peer curiously at your parents. "There was a little kid here. He was so cute. He was wearing a suit and hat and everything, like in those mafia movies."

Your father's glasses glinted mischievously, and he pushed them up the bridge of his nose before saying, "Come on, now, [Name]. Time to see our new home."