Trish flipped her hair and hoisted her bag over her shoulder as she stood in front of the airport security desk. A female officer held up a photo ID and glanced from Trish's face to the face printed on the plastic. Trish feigned a smile and tapped her foot impatiently. The officer pressed a few keys on the keyboard in front of her then read the computer screen. She nodded then handed Trish the card.
"Here you are, Mrs. Ester Ellen," the officer smiled. She stamped the plane ticket and handed it to Trish.
"Thanks."
Trish moved forward, but the officer stopped her.
"Um, is there a problem," Trish asked in a confident tone.
"Where is your husband?" The officer read the computer screen. "Your flight information has you seated beside him."
"My what?"
"Mr. Adam Ellen here."
Dez stood behind Trish. He handed his ID and plane ticket to the officer.
"Hello, Mr. Ellen," the officer greeted Dez.
Dez smirked at Trish and wiggled his eyebrows. Trish grimaced at Dez and narrowed her eyebrows.
"Oh, young love. My husband and I got married at eighteen, too. We had known each other since we were toddlers," the officer chatted as she handed Dez his card and ticket.
"Us too," Dez dragged the last syllable. "What a small world."
"That's enough side chat; we have to go! Thanks, bye," Trish snapped.
Trish clenched Dez's arm and pulled him towards the gate.
"She just loves spending time together," Dez yelled as Trish pulled him around the corner.
Dez chuckled until Trish yanked him into a long line at the boarding area. She let go of his arm and shoved it away before standing with her back toward him.
"This is the worst day of my life. I'm so trading seats with someone when we get on this plane."
"Okay, okay. I'm sorry. I'll stop laughing."
Dez folded his lips and pointed to his face. He tapped Trish on the shoulder, but she shrugged him off. She turned to face him and crossed her arms.
"No, we're still in Miami. What if someone from school is at the airport? I don't want to be seen with you. And more importantly, you're super annoying," Trish complained. "I'll sit beside anyone who isn't you."
She turned her back to him. He glanced around the airport then pulled her out of the line and to a corner near a newsstand. He put his hands on her shoulders as he leaned forward.
"Did you forget everything that just happened," Dez whispered. "My dad said, 'talk to no one'. You can't trade seats. It might not be safe."
Trish shifted her gaze from Dez to the boarding area where people walked around. Everywhere she looked, some guy had a feature like the man who shot the missile at the Wade house.
"Fine," she whispered.
She pulled away from him and said, "I'll ditch you on the train."
She brushed past him and got back in line between a little boy and a young woman. Dez watched the girl stand in line. She sneered at the little boy in front of her. She turned to the lady behind her and gave the lady's outfit a disgusted look before turning back around.
"Remember what Dad said this morning." Dez let out a breath and closed his eyes. "Just get along with her. Just get along with her."
"Adam Ellen! Get over here," Trish yelled, breaking Dez's concentration. "Now!"
The line moved forward, and soon Trish and Dez were seated 39,000 feet above the ground. Trish was restless in her seat. She pushed her seat back and then forward; She propped her knees on the seat but eventually settled her heals on the ground. She looked over at Dez, who leaned against the window and crossed his arms.
"Stop pouting," Trish grumbled.
"I'm not pouting. Stop moving around," Dez replied; he poked his bottom lip out and pressed his shoulder harder against the window.
"Well excuse me for being uncomfortable. I'm not use to flying coach, and I wasn't exactly planning on traveling today."
Dez rolled his eyes and sighed. He reached under his seat for his backpack. He removed his camera and flashlight before propping the bag behind Trish's head.
"There you go; your very own pillow." Dez smiled at his work.
"Gee, thanks. The smelly nerd bag you've been carrying ham in since third grade. It's like I'm flying first class now."
"I'm trying to be nice." Dez frowned and leaned forward. "And I am. So can I please go to the bathroom, now?"
"No, De-Ellen! Adam Ellen. You've already gone to the bathroom like four times. What is up with your bladder anyway?"
"Hey, I've only gone twice. And I've had a very stressful morning, Ester."
"I'm having a stressful now," Trish muttered.
She rested her head against the makeshift pillow while Dez stuffed the flashlight into the seat pocket. A male steward in a blue and white uniform pushed a beverage cart down the aisle and stopped beside Trish.
"Would you like something to drink, ma'am?"
Trish sat up and leaned over the cart. "Unless you have seltzer water flavored with fresh raspberries and limes or an iced caramel mocha with coconut milk, no thanks," Trish answered.
"Well." The steward cleared his throat and looked at Dez. "What about you, sir?"
"Could you pour a little of every soda in one cup? Oh, and throw in some apple juice," Dez replied.
The steward scrunched his nose. "Sure, sir."
Dez bounced in his seat while the steward mixed the carbonated flavors in a little plastic cup. The steward handed Dez, who let the bubbles from the fizz splash against his nose, the drink.
"You two make an interesting pair," the steward said.
"We are not a pair," Trish and Dez shouted simultaneously, which caused the steward to jump back slightly.
Trish's eyes wandered to a man seated in the row in front of her on the other side of the plane. He wore an all-black suit and looked intently at her. She refocused her attention to the steward and gave him a feigned smile.
"I mean because we are so much more than that," Trish said quickly.
"Huh," Dez asked before taking a sip of his drink. He sputtered and scrunched his nose. "That's nasty."
"Tell me about it," Trish muttered. She forced out a laugh. "I mean, that's my, ugh, husband."
"That drink is awful," said Dez as he handed the cup back to the steward. "And what are you talking about Tr...,"
Trish nudged Dez with her elbow. She jerked her head toward the man in the all-black suit. The man stared at Dez.
"Oh, yes, my wife. I'm her husband. We pay taxes and share our snacks," Dez said in a deep voice, looking at the steward.
The steward offered the cup of mixed soda to Trish. "So would you like the other half of this concoction?"
Trish pushed the cup away. "Gross, no! My husband's an idiot, and I married him for his looks. Now, leave us alone."
The steward huffed and pushed the cart down the aisle. Trish leaned over to watch the man in the suit turn away. She let out a breath and slumped down in her seat before fixing a hard look at Dez.
"No more drawing attention to ourselves, Adam. Stop being loud and annoying."
"I wasn't the only one being loud, and I'm sorry I almost blew our cover. I forgot."
"Whatever. We need to be on high alert until we get to wherever we're going." Trish leaned over and whispered, "And once we're there, I can really ditch you."
Dez slide down in his seat and leaned closer to Trish. "We're going to the same place."
"But I'm sure wherever it is has to be some huge city with lots of people. That way it will be hard to find us, right? And just because we're going to the same place, it doesn't mean we will have the same caregiver. My dad loves me. And he's met you."
Trish leaned away from Dez and crossed her arms. She closed her eyes and blew some strands of hair out of her face. Dez took out the flashlight and turned it on and then off a few times. He stuffed it back in the seat pocket before slouching in his seat some more. He looked over at Trish and nudged her with his elbow. She didn't respond, so he moved closer and hummed.
"What, Adam Ellen?"
"Is that why you date all those shallow guys?"
Trish opened one eye and turned her head slightly toward Dez. "What?"
"Looks. Because they look good?"
"One, I do not find you attractive at all. It was the first thing I could think of after I called you an idiot. And two, Yes, I like to date hot guys. If you ever dated, then you might understand why." She closed her eye and turned away.
"It's all about status. I always had my suspicions, but this confirms it."
Dez sat up straight. Trish opened her eyes and mimicked his posture. She tilted her head up to glare at Dez.
"What are you saying, Adam?"
"I'm saying, Ester, you dated Trent, Jase and Roger."
"So?"
Dez pressed his fingertips together and held his hands in front of his face. He looked down at Trish.
"Trent has dated every A-list girl, and a few B and C-list girls, at Marino. He also wins the talent show every year. Jase is the captain of like every extreme sport team, and Roger is the best dancer in Miami."
"So I have a thing for talented guys."
"You have a thing for status, and so do they. In fact, I don't get why you walk around acting like your better than everyone when people just use you."
Trish narrowed her eyes and gripped Dez's collar. "Watch it. I don't act like I'm better; I am better."
Dez wiggled out of Trish's grip. He slid down in his seat to be eye level with Trish.
"You don't have to get all defensive. I'm just saying, maybe if you stopped acting so bossy then you could get some real friends or a real boyfriend."
"You don't have any friends. How would you know?"
"You don't have any friends either. Trent just wanted to date the most popular girl so he could hook up with her friends. You dated Trent for like, what, three months before he started hanging all over Kira. Next thing you know, Kira's dad is producing Trent's EP. You dated Jase for a year before he was sponsored by the PowerUp Energy Drink's pro skateboard team. And isn't your mom friends with the PowerUp CEO's daughter? Roger dated you for a week and a half before he was the new backup dancer in the Jasmine Fiera music video."
"You stalk me?"
"You use those guys to become even more popular by being the one to date them first."
"Don't waste your two brain cells trying to psychoanalyze me."
"And you let them use you for connections to get ahead."
Trish growled and pressed her nose against Dez's nose.
"I'll have you know that I set up every meeting and every deal for each one of them, not Kira and not my mom. I'm always the manager. And yes, I date successful dudes because bosses date bosses."
Dez scooted back and rubbed his nose. "But who do you date now?"
Trish snatched Dez's backpack from behind her and threw it at him. "You are so annoying!"
A few heads turned toward the couple and the audience murmured.
Trish lifted her hand to her cheek to cover her face. Dez rubbed the back of his neck. He widened his eyes at Trish, who flared her nostrils and folded her lips at him.
"Uh." Dez gave the audience a wide smile. "Screaming is her love language. Don't mind us. Happy couple right here!"
Trish grabbed Dez's ear and brought it down to her lips.
"You can go to the bathroom now. And while you're in there, do me a favor and fall through the toilet."
She pushed him away and crossed her arms. Dez rubbed his ear and climbed over her to get to the aisle.
"We need some time apart, Mrs. Ellen."
"Good. Let's start now, Mr. Ellen."
Dez rubbed his ear and pouted as he walked down the aisle. Trish huffed and forcefully hit her back against the seat before shutting her eyes.
"Excuse me. Excuse me. Oh, excuse me," Dez apologized as he maneuvered through the aircraft. He paused at the bathroom door at the rear of the plane and read the sign taped to the door. "Hmm, 'broken lock.'"
He looked to the right and saw the steward from earlier sitting with his legs stretched across two seats. The man had a magazine in his hand and earbuds in his ears. Dez tapped him on the shoulder.
"Excuse me, sir. But can I use this bathroom with the broken door?"
The steward took out his earbuds and looked up at Dez. He grimaced and said, "Oh, you. Look, when I'm rolling that cart up and down the aisle, I'm at your service. Right now, I'm on break."
"So, yes?"
The steward put his earbuds back in, cranked up the music and stuck his nose in the magazine.
"So, yes," Dez said to himself. He stepped inside the bathroom and pressed hard on the door until it stuck.
"I better make this quick."
Dez whistled while he used the restroom; he glanced around the small space. He saw a few "Do Not Mess with the Smoke Detector" signs, a small sink and a smudged mirror.
"Yay! Happy bladder," he cheered as he zipped up his pants. He flushed the toilet and stepped over to the faucet.
"Copyright infringement is not fun; sing a different song, everyone," Dez sang. He glanced up at the mirror and jumped back when he saw the image of the man in the all-black suit. Dez held up his arms and spun around to face the man.
"Is this about the Happy Birthday song? I don't sing it when I wash my hands anymore!"
The man's silvery hair swept over his dark eyes. He held up a syringe and sneered. A blue serum glistened from the tip of the needle.
"Don't test me," the man replied.
Trish opened her eyes and stretched in her seat. She gave a bored look to the couple beside her then looked at the row in front of them. She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes.
"Where is Mr. Black Suit," she murmured.
She turned to her right and saw Dez's camera in the seat. She looked back at the empty seat in the row in front of her and frowned.
"We've only had like five minutes apart, and I have to go look for him," Trish grumbled.
"Move. Move. Ugh, move," she ordered as she maneuvered through the aircraft.
The bathroom door was cracked open when she got to it, so she tiptoed and moved her ear as close to the crack as possible without pushing open the door.
"Um, test? I'm horrible at test, especially grammar test. Did you notice I didn't make the noun plural at all in that sentence? And you didn't even use the word as a noun; you used it as a verb. Well, I really should be getting back to my seat," Dez babbled. He took a step forward, but the man blocked the exit.
"Your daddy has something that my boss wants. Now, I'm going to give you this nice shot to help you sleep for the next twelve hours. You're going to help me make a trade," the man said. "This is going to hurt."
Dez gulped, but the reflection in the mirror of long curls poking through the door caught his attention.
He cleared his throat and loudly said, "Shouldn't you step back some before you do that. So I don't fall into the toilet after the shot?"
The man glared at Dez. "Don't play games, kid. We could do this the easy way or the…"
"I have to fart," Dez interrupted.
The man took a step back, towards the door, and tilted his head to the side. "I'm threatening you and…"
The door swung open and hit the man in the head, making him drop the syringe. He whipped around to see Trish. Dez moved to the side of the stall and grabbed the syringe.
"I'm going to rip the curls off your pretty little head," the man snarled.
He lunged at Trish, but Dez pulled him by the blazer. The man stumbled and fell back. Dez jumped to the side and the man landed in the toilet.
Trish snatched the syringe out of Dez's hand and stabbed the needle into Mr. Black Suit's neck. She injected the medicine before the man could pull the needle out. She grabbed Dez's sleeve and pulled him out of the bathroom. Dez slammed the door and stood beside Trish.
"Are you nuts," he asked in a hoarse whisper.
She gripped his sleeve tighter. "I watched a movie last night and that's how the nurse gave the hero a shot."
"What kind of movie was it?"
"Zaliens Ten."
"You get your medical advice from a zombie slash alien movie?"
The steward stood up from his seat in the back and tapped Dez and Trish on the shoulder. Both teens jumped and yelped in surprise.
"Excuse me, I'm about to start our second round of beverage service, so if you don't mind, please take a seat," the steward instructed.
Dez pointed over his shoulder to the bathroom door. "You aren't going to ask about anything that just happened? You didn't see any of that?"
"If what I saw was a features article on the country music sensation Gavin Young, then yes, I saw everything, and my only question is do you know where I can get discount concert tickets."
"I'm going to assume you're being sarcastic about the discount concert tickets," Trish said.
"Then go to your seats," the steward replied.
They returned to their seats and plopped down. Dez noticed Trish chew on her bottom lip.
"Don't worry. That stuff will only make him sleep for the next twelve hours. We'll be long gone by then," Dez assured her. He patted her head and added, "Your curls will be safe."
Trish let out a small laugh but immediately cleared her throat and said, "Yeah, whatever."
Dez picked up his backpack and offered it to her. "Mr. Ellen doesn't want any more time apart," he let her take the bag, "at least for now."
"Fine. But no more talking about my exes," said Trish. She put the bag behind her head and closed her eyes.
Dez didn't reply, but fiddled with his camera instead. He switched between messing with his camera and flipping through the pages of the inflight magazine for two hours. He tucked the magazine into the pocket of the seat and picked up his camera. He pointed it at the girl beside him, who still had her eyes shut.
He pointed the lens at her shoes and zoomed in to see the embellishments that lined the printed flowers. He zoomed out and then pointed the camera at her face and zoomed in.
"One, two, three, four, five, six—wait, I already did that one. One, two," Dez counted aloud.
"What are you doing," Trish asked without opening her eyes.
"Counting the sparkles in your lip gloss."
"Get that camera out of my face," she said with her eyes still closed.
"But I'm bored!"
Trish opened her eyes and looked up at him from her slouched position. She pushed the camera out of her face and sat up straight.
"I've been sitting here for two hours trying to sleep, but I can't because of the stupid loud plane engine. I can't text or tweet or snap selfies because I don't have my phone. So I don't care if you're bored."
"It looks like everyone around us is asleep. We could talk," Dez suggested.
"No we couldn't. You don't have anything interesting going on in your life."
"Fine. You could talk."
Trish sighed and took the backpack from behind her head. She put the bag in her lap, turned her hips and faced Dez.
"I guess I don't have any other options. I mean, I let Margo come to my party last weekend and hangout with me, so I guess I could handle a conversation with you."
"Whoa, you actually hung out with Margo? The serial hugger?"
"She blackmailed me. She can be a real bully."
"This coming from you?"
"I'm serious. I didn't know she had it in her, but she is sneaky. I would rather have her on team popular than trying to troll me on the Internet."
"I don't understand your group at all. I knew you didn't have any real friends, but I didn't realize it was this bad. You actually want a girl who blackmailed you to be in your circle."
"Don't start with the 'real friends' stuff again. You wouldn't understand because you're at the bottom of the hierarchy. I'm like a gluten-free salted caramel cupcake with organic ganache filling and you're saltine crackers."
"But aren't saltine crackers better for you?"
"Ew, are you hitting on me?"
"I'm just saying that real friendships are what matter. Having someone that has your back. Someone to watch movies with, and fly kites with, and dress-up in fun costumes with."
"You know you have like zero chance with me right."
"I'm not hitting on you, Ester. Stop trying to change the subject. Also, for anyone listening, we have the weirdest marriage ever."
"What do you know about friendships anyway? You don't have any."
"I have friends."
"Name two."
"My parents."
"Family doesn't count."
"Your parents."
"I actually feel the doofness radiate off your body."
"Fine. I don't have any friends," Dez confessed. He put his head down and looked at his hands in his lap. "But, one day I will. I'll have a best friend." He lifted his head and smiled, "Maybe even two."
"Yeah, and a unicorn," Trish added sarcastically. Dez crossed his arms and turned his head away from her. "Fine, fine. Don't pout. You're right. It could happen, maybe in college. But right now, at Marino, unless the nerds finally let you join their group—and I'm talking about the aesthetically challenged nerds, not the hot nerds—two friends just isn't going to happen. I mean, just think about Carrie."
Dez slowly turned to the girl and stared. "What about Carrie?"
Trish widened her eyes and lifted her shoulder to her chin. "Nothing. Don't worry about it."
Dez shook his head and let out a breath. "Tr-Ester. What do you know about Carrie?"
"What do you know about Carrie," Trish echoed.
"I know that she was the coolest girl to come to Marino High. She just moved to Miami a few months before summer break and was into all the stuff I'm into: Zaliens, pizza, choreographed dance moves and knitting. Well, maybe not that last thing, but we had a lot in common. Until she ditched me."
"You seriously don't know what happened?"
"One weekend we were going square dancing and the next she was telling me we couldn't hang out anymore."
"Yeah, because you're weird and weird isn't a good reputation to have at our school. Don't you know Piper?"
"The new girl that hangs out with you and Kira. Yeah, everyone thinks she's hot, but I think she's mean. She tricked a bunch of sophomores into carrying her around on a surf board just to get a date with her."
Trish chuckled and raised her brows at Dez. "You can recount every guy I've dated, but you can't even piece together that Carrie and Piper are sisters? Come on, I didn't think you were that clueless."
Dez dropped his jaw. "Huh?"
"Uh, duh. Piper is my kind of girl. I told her that you weren't exactly the most popular guy anywhere."
Dez's chin quivered. "And she told her sister to stop hanging out with me."
"I know! Honestly, I didn't think she was going to do anything about it and just let Carrie join the D-list with you. But I guess she cares about her sister. That's cool, too."
Dez snatched his bag out of Trish's lap and opened it. He took out the umbrella and the picture frame. He grabbed the flashlight out of the seat pocket and put it with the other things on his lap.
"This stuff was for both of us, but I can't do it anymore. Dad said to get along with you, but I just can't."
"Oh, come on! I've been trying to split up this whole time and now you want to stop bothering me? It's not my fault about Carrie. I told you I didn't know Piper would squash that."
Dez packed his camera and handed Trish the flashlight.
"The camera was already mine, but you can have the flashlight."
"Mr. Ellen, lighten up. It's not a big deal."
Dez narrowed his eyes at Trish. "She was my friend. We had things in common. Do you know how often that happens? She was nice and fun and liked that I wore fun clothes and made silly jokes. But you wouldn't know anything about that because you don't have any friends. You're a bully. You force people who wouldn't hang out with you to hang out with because of your money and your parties and your big mouth."
Trish bit the side of her cheek and locked eyes with Dez. Their eyes were narrowed and their fists were clenched.
Trish spoke in a low and threatening tone, "Have it your way. As far as I'm concerned, once we get to our caregivers, we never have to speak again. You go your way and I'll go mine until your dad comes. Until then, don't speak unless spoken to."
Dez broke eye-contact and put the umbrella in his bag. He lifted the picture frame and, even though he was furious, he couldn't help but smile at the photo.
The photo was taken the year before on a Friday night. The Wades and De la Rosas were having their weekly dinner party and Mrs. De la Rosa had forced Trish to come. That night in particular was special because Mr. De la Rosa and Mr. Wade had received a multi-million dollar contract to design a high-tech device for some private company. It wasn't the first big project the team had taken on, but it was supposed to involve some high level science that the men were excited about. Mrs. Wade had cooked a huge meal and Dez even helped make some of the desserts. After dinner, Mr. Wade forced everyone to stand in the den and take a group photo.
Trish interrupted Dez's thoughts. "He obviously wanted us to have the photo in case we got homesick. But it is actually kind of dumb because it's evidence," she said.
Dez put the frame on her lap. "Then keep it safe."
Trish stood with the flashlight and the frame. "I'm going to go sit with the snarky steward in the back. Try and not get kidnapped," she snapped. She turned on her heels and stomped down the aisle. "Never get married!"
Dez put his bag in the empty seat then rested his chin on his fist. He noticed a wrinkled hand reaching over the seat in front of him. He lifted his head and saw a white card clenched in the old fist.
"Take the card, son. There's no shame in marriage counseling," a shaky voice called over the seat.
Dez took the card. "Uh, thank you." He shoved the card in his pocket and slouched down in his seat.
