The Secret Six

Chapter 2: Honesty loves Company

"A friend is someone who knows the song in your heart and can sing it back to you whe you have forgotten the words."



Chapter 2

I never liked travel. Planes, long trips, and disgusting airplane food were not my personal all time favorite things.

My mother and father wished me good luck with my new life in Seattle with my grandfather, but I went cold during the time they were saying their farewells. My father’s eyes were glued to his Blackberry, as if he didn’t care that his only daughter was leaving his life for however long they felt I needed. I didn’t take long when I was telling them goodbye, because I didn’t have much to say. There were no tears; there were no shaking lips. There was only tension and an awkward atmosphere that sifted through the air as thickly as smog.

I got on the plane and sat through the long silence of self reflection and well deserved hatred. Why should I have to do this? Why should I be punished when others are simply too offended by simple observations? It’s not like I made an effort to make others angry. It was simply…an unpleasant side effect.

The plane must’ve landed a few hours after the huge troll with a “mom” tattoo next to me fell asleep and began mumbling about wanting mac & cheese in his sleep. It took more than my fair share of time to push him away, and thankfully, all the commotion of everyone getting up and moving about the plane, getting their luggage, caused the fat oaf finally got enough energy to open his heavy eyelids and get up, allowing the oxygen to move freely through my bloodstream again for once.

I dusted myself off, got my luggage, sanitized every visible part of my body, and got off the plane and sauntered into the terminal. My mother had warned me that my grandfather probably wouldn’t be in the airport, so I went through security, and the usual procedures, and ended up at the exit. I looked out of the transparent double doors and took note of the streaked glass and the gray skies. Back in Arizona, it barely rained a drop of water, and now it was pouring right before my eyes. I’d never seen more than a couple of drops in my life; this was ridiculous. I swear, all this rainwater could fuel a thirsty African village for a year.

Sighing, I opened my ready umbrella and apprehensively stepped outside, testing my black sneaker in a puddle. I hadn’t seen many puddles in my life. Actually, I hadn’t really seen any, except when some water would splash onto the ground in my neighbor’s pool. With a heavy knot in my stomach, I continued my way outside and into the bustling, rainy city of Seattle. I looked through the pouring rain to hopefully locate the car my mother told me my grandpa had; she’d only said it was a blue Volkswagon Beetle. There could be a million Beetles in this city; there could even be dozens around this street corner. It’s not like it was a very uncommon car.

Groaning, I surveyed the area with no luck in finding any Beetles around me. There were only big, honking trucks and taxi cabs taking away happy passengers that just got off their flight; meanwhile, I was cold, wet, and unaccustomed to this city and unsure of where my ride was. My mother didn’t give me any number to reach my grandfather, either, which was probably not the smartest idea on her part.

For what felt like forever, I leaned against the side of the wall of the airport, waiting for my ride to pull up. It was 3 o’clock when I got off my flight, and it had to have been 4 by the time I was finally fed up with the madness of waiting for a man who would never show up. Thankfully, my mother hadn’t been stupid enough to not give me the address to my new home, and she happily scrawled it down in barely legible handwriting for me to see. I grumbled to myself and picked up my heavy luggage, struggling to balance my umbrella under my chin and still have it cover my head. I reached the corner of the street, however, and suddenly, the umbrella slipped, shocking me and causing me to drop all my luggage, ending up in me falling on my ass with nothing more than a bruised butt and damaged confidence. While I rubbed my damaged side, wincing as I pulled myself up, I saw something in the distance. I didn’t know if I was hallucinating because of the flight or if I was just confused, but I thought I saw a blue Volkswagon Beetle. But it wasn’t the type I expected. It was an old style, robin egg’s blue Beetle with a dented door, a cracked windshield, and a rusted bumper.  I grimaced, hoping to God that my grandfather wasn’t the owner of such a cheap piece of scrap metal. Much to my luck, however, just as my vision started to settle, I was able to see who was inside the car.