After grabbing what few belongings we had, withdrawing quite a lot of money from my bank account and converting it to dollars then getting new passports we were finally ready to leave for the airport.
Catching the bus was easy. Finding the right gate was not and so we had successfully got lost, yet again. I blamed Tom.
"Come on," I whined, hopping from foot to foot impatiently. "We're going to miss the damn flight!"
"Maybe if you hadn't changed my hair colour," Tom grumbled, forcing through the throngs of people staring at him, "then we'd be able to get there quicker."
"I have it worse with these scars," I said, falling into step with him. He raised an eyebrow and said nothing.
"Gate B will be closing shortly," a snooty voice said through the speaker system. I yelped in fear and blurred through the crowd, dragging Tom behind me like he was a piece of luggage. We had no suitcases, only things that counted as hand luggage - little rucksack style bags that were almost splitting apart under the strain.
"Speed, peasant, speed!" I yelled. Tom was too busy keeping his balance to answer verbally or even think a rude thought to me but he glared at me instead.
"Gate B will be closing shortly," the voice repeated. Luckily for us I spotted the gate and ran, sliding through just as the boarding woman was just about to close it off.
"Sorry," Tom apologised for me. "He gets excited."
"Plane!" I hollered, sprinting across the gangway and up the stairs. Tom followed close behind, his long legs keeping up with my mouse strides easily.
"Shut up, sit down and calm down," he growled, forcefully pushing me into the window seat and sliding the rucksack things into the luggage compartment.
"Seatbelt," Tom reminded me. I clicked it into place and sat there with a large smile plastered on my face, jumping about in my seat.
"Please calm down," Tom murmured. "You're being incredibly embarrassing."
"I aim to please," I said cheerfully. "When does the plane take off?"
"This is your captain speaking, the plane will be taking off in approximately one minute. Please fasten your seatbelts and listen to the stewardess as she tells you where to get off in case of emergency, thank you."
"I thought all planes were controlled from afar?" Tom said to me.
"They are," I nodded, "the pilots stay in the air control tower and fly as if they're in a simulator. They can see everything that the plane sees but there's less risk of it being hijacked."
"What if the pilot goes to the loo and there's no one to take over?" Tom asked.
"Only you think of awkward questions like that," I muttered. "There's a co-pilot ready and waiting."
"What if they go to the loo?"
"You're afraid of flying, aren't you?" I realised. Tom twitched his nose and looked over at the stewardess as she moved her arms to point where all the escape routes were.
"Allons-y," I said as the plane's wheels began to rotate, taking us along the runway and into the air.
Tom whimpered and stuck his earphones into his ears, turning up whatever he had on his television screen to drown out any interference. I glanced over and saw that somehow he'd found Romeo and Juliet, the Leonardo DiCaprio version.
Has Leo ever won an Oscar? I sent Tom, knowing that anything I said wouldn't get through the soliloquies.
Not to my knowledge, no. He should have got one for either this or Titanic, I think.
Agreed. I'll never let go, Jack!
And then she lets go.
I know. Stupid, right?
We continued discussing films and Leonardo DiCaprio's fabulous hair for an hour or so, bursting into songs made of thoughts every so often.
Every night in my dreams I see you, I feel you, that is how I know you go on, I warbled silently. Tom was struggling to control his laughter and his face had gone bright red.
Stop it! he cried, tears of laughter pouring down his face. Stop, stop!
I cackled evilly and got some very weird looks shot my way. Tom had his head resting on the seat in front of him, shoulders shaking with suppressed giggles.
"I love irritating people," I sighed, sinking back into my seat and crossing one leg over the other. "It's so much fun, don't you think?"
"What happened to starting afresh?" Tom said, sitting up and wiping his eyes. "You're being the same as usual."
"So are you," I pointed out, tugging out his earphones and putting them over the armrest. "Anyway, when we touch down in America we have to be someone new. Now, what's your name?"
"William Rogers," Tom replied.
"Age?"
"Twenty three."
"Why are you in America?"
"I got expelled from all my schools and then the one college that allowed me in was drowned. Only I survived but was blamed and so I fled to America."
"How did the college drown?"
"Water flooded through the hallways and rose and rose, not splitting any window seams or trickling under door cracks. Everybody was trapped inside as the doors to the roof were all locked. I got up to the highest point and broke the window before climbing onto the roof to watch the foundations of the college sink into the ground."
"Did you have any part in the drowning?"
"That's for me to know and people like you to never find out." Tom formed his fingers into a gun shape, encasing his hand in ice to make it solid and a lot more threatening. He raised it and aimed it squarely between my eyes.
"I ask the questions now. Who are you?"
"Blur Jerries."
"Is that your real name?"
"Who's asking?" I had no powers to make my own gun so I raised my fingers in a pistol shape and pointed them at Tom.
"William Rogers, I said. What is your age?"
"Twenty four."
"Aw, no fair. Why are you in America?"
"I'm running away."
"From whom?"
"The police, the government, take your pick."
"I don't believe you."
"Oh yeah?" I sneered. "Ask MI5. They have hundreds of files on me. And the rest of the secret service."
"What did you do to make them hate you?"
"Genocide, mass murder, killing sprees..." I shrugged. "Nothing big, really. Drowned a college for a friend. Burnt down a few places, too."
"We have this covered," Tom grinned, high fiving me and making the gun disappear. "But what do we say about relationships?"
"You're a charmer," I said. "Tall, relatively quiet, intelligent and polite. Basically, you're yourself but more of a player."
"And you?"
"I'll be mysterious, relatively offensive and extremely cocky."
"Pretty much yourself."
"Hey!" I swatted Tom on the head with the wire from his earphones, using it like a whip. He fought back, spluttering with laughter. I was giggling too and eventually stopped, lowering the earphones and then tossing them back at him.
"We stick together, yes?" I said, eyes going serious. Tom nodded and then noticed my austere look.
"Of course," he said. "If we get separated then make sure we stay in contact telepathically."
"Good," I said, relief plain on my face. "Because you know how much common sense I have."
*
At some point in the journey I managed to fall asleep, head resting on Tom's shoulder, hugging his arm like a hot water bottle. He continued watching Shakespeare plays until the plane landed and I woke up.
"What time is it?" I muttered, rubbing my eyes and yawning.
"I have no idea," Tom replied. "My watch is out of sync and so's my body clock."
"I want more sleep," I said, eyes closing again. Tom rolled his eyes but stifled a yawn himself.
"So do I," he admitted. "And I haven't had any shut-eye at all."
After a lot of bustling about, complaining and shouldering people out of the way we got off the plane. I pushed through the crowds of tourists and businessmen into the bright American sunlight, feeling my skin begin to sizzle.
"It's a brilliant day to have icy powers," Tom sighed, appearing behind me. My arm brushed his accidentally and I shivered. He was cold all over, the sun not affecting him.
"Yeah, well," I sniffed, "at least I'll get a tan."
"You burn, don't you?"
"Shut up!"