My stomach starts to flip flop the moment that we began taxiing down the runway. Through my clenched jaw, I take deep breaths, but the airplane smell does little to settle it. I close my eyes as I lean my head against the cool window as the plane leaves the ground.
Everything is going to be alright.
It's my new mantra. I've been repeating it often enough that maybe I'm starting to believe it. There is no alternative. I'm moving to Forks, I'm enrolling in a performing arts academy, and returning to the town that my mother escaped with me when I was only a few months old.
There's nothing wrong with Forks, unless you like sunshine, or privacy, or friends. It rains in Forks more than anywhere else in the continental United States. There is no such thing as anonymity in a town that small, and if you thought traffic slowed down around a police cruiser, try making friends in high school when your father is the chief of police.
I take a few cleansing breaths, my thoughts wandering to this morning, to lying in the sun with my mother, soaking up as much sunshine as possible before returning to the Forks. Something in the way that Phil had winked at me as he handed me my boarding pass makes me think that he pulled some strings, giving me the opportunity to watch as the sun baked earth disappeared from view.
Despite his relative youth, Phil's good for my mother. He'll make sure that bills are paid, groceries are purchased, and that there's gas in the car, but Phil's always willing to indulge Renee's latest whim. I worry about his ability to reign in my mothers crazier plans...
Though we're barely off the ground, it's already becoming too cold. Renee firmly believed that "airplanes, theaters and restaurants can always be counted on to be too cold", but still, I chose to wear my favorite shirt. It's my final protest of my decision. The white sleeveless shirt with eyelet lace threaded just below the bust had a way of making me feel pretty, and I likely won't be able to wear it again.
Gingerly, I reached down to my backpack that holds a parka and my copy of Jane Eyre, trying not to wake my snoring neighbor. I grab the book, hoping that the story would divert my mind from the chill, even I know that I'd be looked on as strange if I put on the parka. My elbow catches on the tray table of my sleeping neighbor, sending my book flying into the aisle. Luckily, no one is injured, but I'm thoroughly embarrassed. The flight attendant winks at me as she hands me my book. I sputter out my thanks and settle in to read before I actually hurt someone.
All too soon, the ding of the fasten seatbelt announcement sounds, and I'm flooded by anxiety. I hate landings, but what's scarier is waiting for me at the gate.
