chapter 2 revision

chapter 2

Peanuts

Wallace's turn...




Thanks a lot congress, Wallace thought. Give everyone with a plane the right to start an airline and this is what you get. It had been four hours since his flight had been scheduled to leave, but there he was, stranded at the gate with a hundred other very edgy passengers. Since his mom rushed him out of bed at 4:00 am and out the door not more than 15 minutes later, he hadn't had time to grab any breakfast. There would be food on the plane, but he wasn't sure if it was ever going to come at this point. It was hard to remember, but it had been a long time since he had eaten anything at all. How long has it been? 18...no wait, 20 hours now? Anything, even airline food, would have satisfied him. What I wouldn't give for a pack of peanuts right now.

Stretched across three seats and using his backpack as a pillow, Wallace figured out that there was just no way to get comfortable in an airport terminal. He sat up, stretched, and changed position on the seats, a routine he had repeated every twenty minutes or so for the past two hours. He scoped out his fellow passengers, passing the time categorizing them and guessing why they were going to Japan. After a while he realized that there weren't any wearing suits, which meant two things. One: all of the first-class passengers were gone, which was why he had enough room to lay down in the first place. Two: they (mostly businessmen) had either been transferred to other flights or had been given some VIP treatment, courtesy of United Airlines. Either way, it wasn't good news for him or anyone else waiting.

He had hoped that his dad would let him fly first class this time. It was not as if his family could not afford it, but once they actually booked the flight, coach was all that was left. He had flown alone before, but never overseas. His dad had been in Japan for more than a week now, immersing himself in his new job and preparing their new residence. An apartment in the middle of Odabia would be quite a change from their roomy house and the vastness that was Colorado, but Wallace was used to change; it wasn't the first time he had moved. He felt like a nomad sometimes, but it was his life. Still, the prospect that this might be his home for good, that he could settle down and find himself was always at the back of his mind.

His mom had dropped him off with two heavy suitcases at the gate, kissed him on the cheek and sped off in their Lexus. They had found a buyer for their car, but there was still a lot to do over the next week. Moving was always a hassle, but it was ten times more complicated if you have to leave the country. The flight from Denver to L.A. went smoothly, but the 30-minute layover had now stretched itself to almost four and a half hours. Wallace studied the passengers around him again. Two Japanese women were sitting behind him, speaking very fast and sounding quite irate. No matter what culture you're from, there's nothing as stressful as airline travel, he noted to himself. This humorous observation soon gave way to a more realistic concern. To him, the words he was hearing were gibberish. They weren't just meaningless and indecipherable to him, the basic phonics of the language were completely indistinguishable to his ears, and he was sure they were quite unpronounceable to his Anglo-conditioned tongue as well. There's no way I'll ever be able to learn this language, he thought.

It wouldn't be a problem at home, although he would probably be alone most of the time. His father would be working and traveling back and forth from Japan to America constantly, and his mother would be working at one of the biggest clinics in Tokyo. Their jobs had no set schedules, which is to say that they were on call 168 hours per week. They're professionals, he thought. They'll get through this easy. What Wallace was worrying about was school, and although he had attended many in his life, he knew that nothing could prepare him for this. The curriculum and the workload was going to be exponentially harder and he would have to wear a uniform for the first time, not to mention that he would probably be the only American in the whole school. There was an entirely new set of cultural practices to learn and master too. If I can get through the first week without accidentally offending everyone, I'll be lucky.

He sat up and pulled his wallet out of his backpack. He didn't have enough money for any outrageously priced airport food, but he wasn't looking for cash. He flipped through some of the plastic cardholders and pulled out the contents of one. In between a library card and an his school ID (these are both useless now) were two small photos. One was a picture of him next to a pretty short haired girl. The picture was smudged and bent from him taking it out and putting it back in his wallet dozens of times over the past week. It seemed like it had been taken a lifetime ago, although Wallace knew that it had scarcely been over a year. To one minute think that he would never see her again, and to find out the next that he was not only moving to her country (practically on the other side of the world) but to the very city she lived in was almost too much to take in, even though he had been preparing for it for over a month now.

She would be there to greet him when he finally touched down. Should I hug her? Shake her hand? She has no idea how I really feel about her. They had only been together a few days, and although they had shared few precious "moments" together, Wallace felt drawn to Hikari Yagami. Sometimes he wondered if this good fortune was some kind of sign, like it really meant something. Japanese people bow to each other, right?

He unfolded the other picture. There were more faces on this one, more that he hoped to see over the next few days and hopefully see more of in the coming months, years, or however long he was going to live in Japan. If he could spend his life with friends like them, with Hikari, Daisuke, Miyako, Takeru, and…Wallace rubbed his eyes, attributing his inability to recognize the short kid in the photograph to a lack of sleep and food. Who the…what the heck is his name? He racked his brain, trying to remember what his name was or anything about him at all for that matter. For crying out loud, he's a Digidestined! You have to know him! He did remember a strange looking Digimon with a drill on its face, but he could not remember its name, nor the child it was sworn to protect. His thoughts drifted back to Hikari and the look on her face when he stole a quick kiss to spite Daisuke. It was a great feeling though, and her expression indicated that she felt the same.

Daisuke…I never could have guessed it man. He smiled, wondering why he ever worried that Hikari would succumb to the boy's constant flirting. She had made it quite clear in her letter that he had given up chasing her, and had moved on to other pursuits. At first that news had shocked him, but over time he had come to accept the idea. Besides, it would be the least of what he would have to get accustomed to. But Takeru too? He sighed and laid back down across the seats, his thoughts roaming back to Hikari. He remembered vividly every detail about her, and although she had mailed him many pictures since, he always imagined her as she was when they had met. She was wearing those tight shorts, that cute pink top and those Lycra gloves…or are they sleeves? He remembered how they felt when he took her hand, when she hugged him goodbye...smooth, soft. What if she wears them today? He imagined her greeting him at the gate, smiling, embracing him in a hug before he would lift her chin for a kiss, their tongues dancing as she pushed him away, shouting, "Wake up…hey!"

"What are you talking about?" Wallace stared into her deep brown eyes, puzzled.

"You know what I mean. Now wake up! It's time to go."

"Are you serious?" This is too weird. What the heck is going on?

She rolled her eyes as if she was thinking, 'Seriously, how dense are you?' "Alright, I'll explain it slowly. Right now you're at LAX and your flight is boarding. If you wake up right now and get on that plane I'll be waiting here for you tonight. If you don't, you won't get here for another week, that is, if your parents don't kill you first."

She was just like he remembered her. It wasn't just her face, or her body or anything evident to others. It was the way she spoke to him, like they had known each other their whole lives and she already knew everything about him. She certainly knew how to persuade him. He had to ask one more question though.

"So this isn't real?"

"If it was, would I have wanted you to stop?" She replied, smiling.

Wallace released her hand and grabbed a fold of skin on his arm. "See ya later," he said, pinching himself.

...end of chapter 2