Moving.
I'm moving.
A different town. A different state…
A different school.
Just the thought frightens me.
I mean, sure, I have friends here, in Wilmington, Ohio, but I never really fit in. I never have, and never will, and a new school, where I know nobody, doesn't help that.
To make things worse, I'm moving to Nevada.
Nevada.
Me, Victoria Weltch, small town girl, moving to a high class town, with a high class school, with high class people…
This is torture.
"Tori! Hun, we have to go! The plane leaves in an hour, and the airport is busy, we have to get a good start!" I heard my mom yell up the stairs.
Yeah mom, why not rush hell? No big deal, right?
That's a big fat wrong.
"I'm coming, mom." I yelled, more like droned. I looked at my bare room, and had a quick flash back…
"Mommy!" I screamed, as I laid on the floor. Pain coursing through my arm, as I looked at the lump protruding from it. Even though I was only four years old, I knew it had to be my bone. I had seen enough of my dads patients to know what a protruding bone looks like.
Mom rushed in, and looked wide-eyed at me, laying on the floor.
"Jim! Jim, Tori's hurt!" Mom called at my dad. I heard and felt the thumping of feet fleeting across the creaky wooden floor. He got to my room, and took in a sharp breath at the sight of my arm.
"Okay, now honey, you cant move, okay? Don't move. I'm going to go get my supplies," Dad said, and ran out the door. Obeying what my dad had told me, I didn't move. I just dwelled on the steady pain over-riding the feeling in my arm.
Dad came back with a bag of his equipment, and pulled out a syringe still in its sanitary package. He takes it out, along with a bottle of clear liquid, and plunged the syringe into the bottle.
"Now honey, this is going to pinch a little bit. This is something to numb your arm, so when I work on it, you wont be in pain, okay?" He said, cleaning a spot of my arm with a swab, probably covered in rubbing alcohol.
"But… Daddy, I don't like shots!" I whined, trying to resist the grip of my dad's strong hands. He then let go, and sighed. He opened his bag, and took out two bottles, a plastic spoon, and a tiny cup. He filled the spoon up with a liquid from one bottle, and poured it in the cup, then repeated with the other bottles' liquid, and mixed them together.
"This is what we Doctors call a 'Kid Martini'. This will make you a little loopy, so be prepared," he said with a smile. I knew what the kid martini was, I had had it before in the actual hospital. It gets kids to calm down, basically.
I drank the martini, that tasted nastily of cherry cough syrup. I grimaced, and waited for the martini to kick in.
Then the last thing I remember was my dad, re-wiping my arm with a new swab, and then I blacked out.
That memory was one that stuck out in my mind, and I always think about it. It was the first time I had ever broken a bone, and the first time I had ever gotten treatment at my own house.
It was special.
"Honey, come on, we have to go now!" I heard my mom call back up the stairs. I sighed, rolled my eyes, and took another glance around the bare room. A single tear slid slowly down my cheek, as I realized this is the last time I will see this room, except for in fuzzy memories. I didn't wipe it from my cheek, for that tear contained my emotions. I took a deep breath, closed the door, and walked slowly down the stairs, leaving my happiness behind me.
…
When we arrived at the airport, I was shocked. It was packed.
As soon as we stepped in, the air smelt disgustingly of body odor, mixed with overpriced hamburgers that the airport was selling at a booth across the large room. It made me grimace. The room was oddly warm for an air-conditioned airport, not that I had a problem with that. I like the warmth rather than cold. I looked all around me, and I saw the ceiling was made of glass, as was the left wall, facing the runways. I stared up at the ceiling, looking at the sky, with its fluffy white clouds, the sun smiling bright and warm throughout the lobby. I looked down, and saw black, shining granite tiles reflecting my face back at me.
Mom tapped my shoulder, lifting me out of my trance. It was our turn to the front desk.
The perky blonde receptionist gladly took our tickets in false amusement, and guided us to the doors we have to go in to get to our plane.
The metallic electric doors slid open in ease, and a burst of cool air dances around me. I stepped out into the sun light, and squinted, shielding my eyes with my hand. The morning air smelled of dew and freshly mown grass, with a little smell of gasoline. I saw our plane, sleek and a row circling the plane with circular windows, passengers faces peering out of them eagerly.
We walk to the entrance to the plane, climbing a tall set of stairs, careful to hold the hand rail, resisting the morning wind.
My ticket had my seat number on it. It was seat 21. I compared my seat to my parents seats, and saw we were all spread out. Dad had seat 11 and mom had seat 38.
Great, more people I don't know.
I gave a weary smile to mom and dad, trying to assure them I was okay. More like trying to assure myself I was okay.
I slowly walked down the isle toward my seat, counting the numbers of my steps to distract myself from this whole situation. I guess I still need to have the whole "realization that I'm moving to an unknown environment with unknown people, and unknown surroundings" thing sink in. Adding to that, flying in an airplanes scares the daylights out of me.
I find my seat thirty two steps later, and I sit down. Luckily, there are no other passengers in the seats next to me. I exhale a breath of relief I did not know I was holding. I looked out the window, seeing the surroundings. The light blue sky, some leaves fleeting across the pavement in the breeze, and more passengers ready to board planes. I studied the expressions of other expressions of different people, all very different. Two teenage girls, on Blonde and one Brunette, with a mother and an infant. I see that the infant was asleep in the mothers arms, while the two teenage girls were staring at the plane with two different expressions on their faces. The brunette had a face of excitement and awe on her face, obviously excited, while the blonde had an expression of anxiety and fear. The mother was just talking casually into the cell phone in her hand. Well, at least I'm not alone in being afraid.
I get my book out of my purse and start reading to distract my mind, when I feel and hear a "thump" in the seat beside me. "Hello," a voice said.
I looked over and saw a boy, probably my age or a year older than me, so probably around 17. He had ashy blonde hair, and pale skin. His eyes were a brilliant gold, and his features were delicate, yet resembled a Greek god. He had a slight smile on his lips, his teeth unnaturally white. He held out his perfectly shaped hand, "I'm Ash," the boy says.
I held out my hand, and he took it, shook it, and brought it to his lips and kissed it delicately. "What might your name be?"
"I-I'm Victoria. Tori," I said, stunned by his charm and confidence.
"Victoria. Beautiful name," He said, still holding my hand in his. I took it away and fumbled with my book.
"Thank you," I mumbled, trying to focus on the words in front of me.
"It's my pleasure. The name fits you, Victoria," He smiled, and looked at me passionately.
Well, I thought, This should be interesting.