Tough as Nails, Breakable as Glass

Chapter 10: Home, Sweet New Home

After trying to learn how to use chopsticks, which didn't happen by the way, we called a taxi, and drove back to the airport.  Finally going home.  I was a little nervous, meeting a lot of new people was going to be exhausting, and since Misha's a celebrity, he said that his fans will probably want to meet me too.  Which I found really weird.  Have you ever been recognized on the street by people who weren't really supposed to know you?  No?  Yeah, I didn't think so. 

When we got back to the airport, it was even more crowded than before.   People we're rushing around everywhere, on phones, yelling at the people with them, screaming from across the room at each other, it was a complete madhouse.  I wanted to go sit down, read, and wait for the crowds to die down, but our flight was in fifteen minutes, and we had just barely gotten through security, so it looked like I was gonna have to wait until we got on the plane.  I quickly followed both of them as I looked around at everyone, people watching from a distance.  Everyone had such a sharp look on their face.  Maybe not just angry or annoyed, but also excited, and happy. 

I saw a couple who were walking to their plane, holding hands, smiling at eachother, completely in love, while wearing hawaiian style shirts.  Probably their honeymoon.  I glanced down at their hands, both with shimmering rings on their fingers.  I saw a child with his two parents he was jumping up and down, pointing at the planes outside, while both of the parents laughed at his excitement, all three of them decorated with disney merch.  A vacation for the kid.  Cute.  I looked to my right and saw a woman standing at a gate, anxiously staring into the exit, gripping a sign I couldn't read.  Then a kid, probably in his twenties, came out, wearing a suit and a name tag.  He quickly ran to her with a huge grin, and they hugged.  She was crying.  As I smiled at them, I found myself standing still in the middle of the airport, watching people run around me.  My heart picked up as I frantically looked around, then suddenly my heart jumped out of my chest as I felt someone grab my wrist tightly, I flipped my head around to get a look at whoever was trying to pull me towards them, but my heart beat quickly ceased when I looked into the kind eyes of Misha.  He was smiling, looking a little flustered and frantic, but also calm.

"You need to stop drifting."  I smiled nervously and gave him a small laugh right before he quickly shoved me in front of him, through the crowds and towards our terminal.  I waited for him to run in front, but instead, he linked arms with me and quickly dragged me towards the entrance to the plane, which seemed closer then it felt, if all the people weren't clustering the halls.  I tripped over my feet a couple times as he didn't stop quickly walking behind Vicki, doing his best to keep up.  Vicki handed the woman a paper, and with a kind smile, she let us on board.  We walked on and got to the entrance of the plane, five minutes before take off, and Misha's arm was still linked with mine.  After we got to the seats, he finally let go of my arm, allowing me to sit down in my seat.  He sat down with me, while I shoved my backpack around from my back onto my lap, wrapping my arms around it.  Great, I have to go through this whole "taking off" thing again.  Maybe reading will take my mind off it.  I sighed and reached into my backpack, making sure to feel for the ratty old book cover.  I pulled out The Outsiders and opened it, pushing my backpack forward and balancing it on my knees.  I flipped through the pages and skipped to the end.

"I sat down and picked up my pen and thought for a minute. Remembering. Remembering a handsome, dark boy with a reckless grin and a hot temper. A tough, tow- headed boy with a cigarette in his mouth and a bitter grin on his hard face. Remembering- -- and this time it didn't hurt--- a quiet, defeated-looking sixteen-year-old whose hair needed cutting badly and who had black eyes with a frightened expression to them. One week had taken all three of them. And I decided I could tell people, beginning with my English teacher. I wondered for a long time how to start that theme, how to start writing about something that was important to me. And I finally began like this: When I stepped out into the bright sunlight from the darkness of the movie house, I had only two things on my mind: Paul Newman and a ride home..."