I'm sitting in the front seat of my dad's green Mazda and dreaming about what it would be like to be normal. You see, I'm the girl with limited friends, - five at the most-no phone, and nothing to do but read. In other words, a nerd. So, you can imagine why I'm dreaming about normal.
The reason I'm in my dad's truck, you ask? Well, we are trailing the slick black Dodge Charger ahead of us. The reason for that you will soon find out.
"Dad," I warn. The Charger has stopped and I don't want him to hit it. We stop a few feet behind the car. The driver, a slim blonde woman wearing a business suit, steps out. She walks to the trunk and pops it open. My dad steps out and walks over to the woman. They converse for a while until my dad hands the woman an envelope. Then he comes back into our car.
"So, Ari, are you ready to go?" he asks. He is referring to the trip we're taking to Paris on a secret mission. Don't tell anyone, but we're spies. Shocker.
I roll my eyes."Who doesn't want to go to Paris?"
"That wasn't the question. Now answer it." He looks at me. I love him, but sometimes he can be a pain. I know he's my dad and I shouldn't say things like that, but he's the only one I have left in my family, so he is like a brother and a dad.
I look back at him. "No, Dad, I am not ready. This is our first out-of-the-country mission and my first time on an airplane. Of course I'm not ready."
He gives me a half-hearted chuckle. "Well you don't have to be so negative."
That does it. I am angry. This happens a lot because I have a disease and it triggers sensitivity at the most awkward times. Like if I'm flirting with a guy, and he says something sarcastic, I'd probably take it literally and begin to rearrange his face. "Well what did you want me to say?" I explode.
"I wanted you to at least be a little bit positive. You've never said anything nice to me. Ever." I'm about to protest this when I realize I really haven't said anything nice to him.
"I'm really sorry, Dad. I- I just am really nervous about everything." I say honestly. He rests his hand on my knee and squeezes a little, an international sign of 'it will be okay'.
We drive north for awhile until we reach the airport. I climb out of the car and run to the gate separating us from the airplanes. I've seen planes in the air, but never up close. I gawk at the size of the wings. Everything is much bigger than I imagined. I can't believe I made it this far.
Paris, here I come. I think. Dad comes up behind me and clamps his hand on my shoulder. He looks at the planes and then he looks at me. Our gazes meet and we both smile.
"So, bud, want to go kick some Paris butt?" he asks. I laugh. He hasn't called me bud since I was five, back when Mom was alive.
"Sure, Pops." I say, using the nickname I gave him back then, too. He smiles wider.
We walk in the door and find our way to the receptionist desk. At the desk, there is a pretty twenty year old woman with light brown hair. She beams at us. "Reserved tickets?"
"Uh, yes." My dad tells her. "We have three tickets to Paris. Name, Maxwell." My name is Arianna Maxwell, my dad is Thomas Maxwell. I used to have a mom, Lailiata Maxwell, and a brother, Ronan Maxwell. Ronan was my twin and he died when he and I were twelve. He was biking with me and out of nowhere, a semi truck turned and instantly killed him. I cried for days on end. I only had my dad. My mom died when I was six from cancer.
"Uh yes." The woman says. "Step this way." She leads us down a narrow hall and to a room. "Dr. Montoya will be in within minutes." She then steps out, leaving me alone with my dad.
"Three tickets?" I question.
"Um, yes. I thought maybe you wanted to bring your friend. What was his name? Josh, right? Well, he's coming, too."
"You invited Josh?" Josh is one of my best friends.
He looks at me, about to answer, but then the door opens. I see a brown shaggy haired boy step in. Josh!
"Ari!" he yells and outstretches his arms. I quickly run to him and literally jump into his arms.
"How have you been, Joshie-poo?" I poke his nose for effect.
He shakes his head and rolls his eyes. "I've been terrible." I frown.
"Why?"
Josh sets me down. "Because I couldn't do this." He grabs me around the waist, swings me over his head until I am set down on the other side of him. I squeal in delight. My dad looks at us with a mix of disgust and awe.
"What was that?" my dad says. I look at Josh and he looks at me, then, simultaneously, we burst out laughing. "What?"
In between laughs I manage to choke out, "You wouldn't understand." I clutch my stomach and both Josh and I calm down. I grab his arm and ask, "How did you get here?"
"I drove."
I touch my heart. "For me? I never knew you could be sweet."
"I'm not. Your dad dragged me into this. Something about you needing a friend."
I look back at my dad. "Aw, Daddy." I run up to him and give him a huge bear hug.
"Um, Airhead? The awesome one is over here." Josh says, drawing my attention to him.
"Shut up, Bean ball." We call each other the oddest names. One time I called him Professor Mustache. The sad thing is, he hasn't even started shaving yet. So the nickname was more like torment. To him.
"Both of you shut up." A deep voice rumbles. I turn and find myself face to over sized stomach with Dr. Montoya.