Bucket List // Michael Clifford

Part 1 | Chapter 1

Her mother would wake soon, so she had to hurry. She had already packed the things needed: clothes, shoes, toothbrush and toothpaste, her laptop, her phone and laptop chargers, makeup bag, underwear, hair straightening iron, and her pen and paper. Zipping up the bright blue suitcase, she looked at her old room. The remains of past years taped to her mirror, poems written with Sharpie on the baby pink walls. She sat defeated on the corner of her bed, on her Pokémon comforter, a feeling of nostalgia bathing her thin body. It's not that she had any good memories in that room. But she grew up there, and now she was leaving it. It's an odd feeling, when you're so young and already leaving your home. Especially what she was leaving it for.

She took the crumpled sheet of paper in her hand, smoothing it out and studying the carefully written words.

BUCKET LIST

1. TRAVEL TO SOMEWHERE FAR
2. SPEAK YOUR MIND FIVE TIMES
3. SKATEBOARD ACROSS SOMEWHERE UNKNOWN
4. SLEEP WITH MICHAEL CLIFFORD
5. JUMP

Nobody would know what she meant by the No. 5. Nobody could ever know that her Bucket List was more morbid that anyone could ever imagine. Nobody could ever know that she intended to jump off the Golden Gate bridge once she'd completed her Bucket List. It was a secret she intended to keep until the day of her death.

✿✿✿

Airports had always given here a sense of excitement. There were so many places she could go! She could go as far as she could imagine. She could travel to see statues, museums, pyramids. She could disappear into a country, learn a new language, change her name, get married, start a life. She knew that that wasn't what God intended for her, but a girl could dream. She loved dreaming, this girl. She loved the feeling it gave her, like anything was possible.

She always dreamed of being a mermaid. She could imagine her legs changed into a tail. She always thought her tail to be a prismatic effect of different beautifully bright colours. Swimming across the vast ocean, her hair tied up in a soft braid so it wouldn't bother her. It doesn't hurt to dream.

"Group B," the airport employee said into the microphone, making her and various other people stand and shuffle to the gate. In her backpack, she had her tiny skateboard, her wallet, some extra clothes, and her drawing pad, complete with a pencil and eraser, earbuds, and Jane Eyre to keep her entertained during the long flight.

She handed the woman her ticket, to which the smartly dressed lady nodded, allowing her to keep walking. She was then inside what looked like a worm, and it was fun. The suitcase rolled behind her as she skipped down the ramp into the large airplane.

After having found her seat, and a flight attendant helping her put her suitcase in the bin, she sat down and slid her backpack under the seat in front of her after taking out her phone and earbuds. She clicked it on, and saw 49 missed calls from her mom. She frowned. It wasn't her mom's fault she drew the short stick on life. It wasn't her fault that her daughter was a complete fuck up.

Deep down, she knew that her mother's alcoholism was caused by her. Because she never did well in school. Because she was always in trouble. Because even with the threat of juvie, she wouldn't snitch on who her drug dealer was. After the 3 months she spent there, she then noticed the omnipresent flask in her mother's hand. She knew it was her fault.

So she unlocked her phone and blocked her mother's number.

She had left a letter telling her mother her plans. She was going to travel, she was going to sleep with someone famous, and then she was going to disappear. No big. And even if her mother decided to call the authorities and put out a missing person's case, nobody could do anything. Because she was 18, not a minor anymore. She could obviously create a case, but nobody would care enough as to look for her. She was going to be out of the country by that time, anyways.

"Hello, welcome to Flight 108 to Amsterdam. We will be taking off shortly, so please fasten your seat-belts and change your seat to an upright position, store your trays and turn off your electronics," a voice came from the speakers, then repeated the same thing in Dutch. Soon, everyone on board had followed instructions. She turned off her phone.

"Excuse me, miss," she heard a female voice with an accent to her right. A flight attendant was there with an apologetic look in her blue eyes. "I'm sorry, we have had a surplus in the economic class." Her heart sped up. She was sure they were gonna throw her off the plane. "We have prepared a seat for you in first class. We are very sorry." She smiled at the flight attendant, nodding.

"It's alright," she told her before she reached down to grab her backpack. "Sorry," she whispered to the man besides her as he pushed his legs to the side so that she could exit the row. A male flight attendant grabbed her suitcase from the bin and carried it to first class, putting it carefully in another bin. She sat down in the large seat, putting the backpack under the front seat again and buckling her seatbelt, shifting around with a smile on her face. Either this was the airline wishing her a happy birthday, or the universe knew she was going to die soon, and decided to pity her and treat her well.

Soon after, a short film came on the screens that were behind each seat, explaining what to do if the plane ever came down.

She wasn't worried her mom would find her. She had prepared. For the last three years, she had refused to take any photos of herself, or to allow others to take pictures of her. Two weeks before, she had gotten a fake ID and passport -curtesy of her dealer- so that she wouldn't be trackable.

The airplane sped on the runway, pushing her head back. She felt her stomach drop as the plane took off, and a smile stretched her lips.

Goodbye, America. 'Til next time.