When the rest of the pre-boarding group was lined up, we were allowed to move forward. I heard Emmit hand the man our boarding passes and left my head down as I walked through the silent tunnel. The plane’s engines hummed softly at the end. Right before I stepped onto what I called the F-TOT (flying tube of torment), one of the female flight attendants said, “Watch your step, dear.”
It was pointless to argue. I smiled and let go of Star’s harness since the aisle wasn’t large enough for her to walk by my side. With my arms out, I moved forward.
“Do you want any help to you seat, Miss?” the flight attendant asked.
“I’ll be fine, thanks,” I said.
I followed the sound of Emmit’s sneakers as he took a seat on the left side of the F-TOT. As usual, the spot by the window was mine. Star followed behind and sat at my feet as I fiddled around with the seatbelt.
More passengers started filing on. I listened and chuckled as nearly every passenger asked the flight attendant, “Where is my seat? I have no idea what this means.” I mean, it only said online when they got the boarding pass that the plane had open seating, not to mention that the guy announced the same thing at the gate nearly three times. I reached into my purse and pulled out my headphones, then dug for my phone. Once I found the blinged-out case, I plugged the headphones in and held down the home screen button.
“Play country playlist,” I said.
It let out a low ping in response, and soon my ears were filled with the sweet sounds of acoustic guitars and southern drawls. A good country song was the best solution for F-TOT anxiety. I opened a bag of gummy bears as I listened. At the end of the first song, there was a nasty smell of the snotty woman’s overly-flowered perfume as she clotted down the aisle. It faded as she headed to the back of the tube.
When the last round of people started to board, it appeared to be a normal flight. The post-Thanksgiving, full flight where everyone put their bags on the seat next to them, thinking that maybe, somehow, the seat would stay open. Mom and Dad would be taking a nice, quiet car ride back home to Williamsburg since they both had an abnormal fear of flying.
I paused my song and shook my head as flight attendants tried to squeeze the last sardined passengers into middle seats and told mothers with young children who missed the special family boarding group that no; they would not be sitting next to their kids.
I groaned and leaned my head back, long awaiting the day when I’d be famous enough to have my own private plane and never have to ride on an F-TOT again. After four days away from my drum set in the basement, I was dying to get back and start playing. The few days away from school cleared my head enough to finally think of some new song ideas.
Then, just as I was starting to daydream, Emmit nudged me in the arm. Were we actually leaving now? I put my headphones down and listened to the flight attendants explain the same evacuation procedures. Once they were done, I resumed the music and began my two-hour long array of daydreams.
Since I was little and started drumming, that time was spent thinking about fame. Now that I was approaching my late teens and still single, my fantasies revolved around what every one of my friends already had: guys. And then there was me: lonely Lia. Since it was hard not to eavesdrop on everyone else’s hallway conversations with my super-hearing, I knew how much drama relationships caused. Somehow, my friends couldn’t shut up about how great it was.
After all, there were benefits: having someone to hold hands and dance with, to go out and have a nice dinner. I’d been wishing meet someone for years. Since it was almost December, I still hoped that someone would come along who would be my date for the school’s biggest event of the year: February Ball. To make it harder on everyone who was single, of course it was Valentine-themed: hearts and roses, things like that.
Personally, my favorite part of Valentine’s Day was stuffing my face with chocolate, but that’s beside the point. I figured maybe once I found someone, that would change. Not the part about loving chocolate—the one about having a good reason to enjoy the most romantic day of the year.
I never really planned on being sixteen and still single—not even a first kiss. I figured once I got into middle school, I’d find someone. In my mind, middle school officially marked the “dating age.” Being a sophomore, I alone and felt pathetic. I knew that my situation would make finding someone a little more difficult, but honestly it was starting look a little hopeless at that point. Lately, when I thought about it, I kept saying over and over in my head: who would want to date a blind girl? Clearly no one I ran into in my life so far.
“Would you like something to drink?”
I took the headphones off my ears. Flight attendant. “Just some water, please.”
“Certainly.”
I put them back on my ears and resumed eating my box of gummy candies. There was this one guy though. Alex Steinberg, the best friend of the football team captain. At first I thought he was being sincere when he offered to take me out for coffee. I even got all dressed up to go with him, only to find out at the end of the “date” that taking me out was his prize for losing in a drinking game with his friends. Lucky me, right?
I paused the song again and leaned over to Emmit. A baby was screaming in the back of the plane. Once again, Star was fast asleep.
“How much time left?”
“We’ve only been off the ground for ten minutes.”
I bit my lip and shoved another gummy worm into my mouth. When the sweet, yet bitter taste of lime slid over my tongue, I tried to remember the color green. Then there was the smell of bleach. I dry-heaved and plugged my nose, waiting for the memory to fade. My eyes burned like the day my two-year-old self reached up onto the bathroom counter and pulled at the white container. The horrified expression on my Chinese mother’s face was the last thing I saw. There was a mumble in my ear. I pulled the headphones off.
“It’s just the flight attendant cleaning the bathroom,” Emmit said. “You need to calm down about this fear of bleach thing.”
I put the headphones back on and turned up the volume. Even my little brother, who came out of the same orphanage as me, didn’t know what happened. I made my parents promise not to tell him. I couldn’t even remember why I pulled at the container. In the end, it was just too embarrassing. As far as everyone knew, I was this way from the beginning, and I intended on keeping it that way.
The flight attendant was coming. I reached my hand out and waited. Eventually, she placed a cold, fruit-cup-sized water into my hand. I drank the entire thing in seconds.
“Would you like another cup?” she mumbled over the music.
“Please.”
“What is with you today?” Emmit whispered.
“I think it’s just the F-TOT. You know how much I hate flying like this,” I said.
The flight attendant came back moments later with my fruit cup of water. I drank it and leaned my head towards the window. The F-TOT shook with the wind every few minutes. An old man coughed behind me and complained about a child kicking his seat. I thought about winter break as I felt the slippery worms in the bag on my lap.
After an hour and a half, the F-TOT landed with a thud in Richmond. I couldn’t wait to just get home and sleep in my own bed instead of the rock-hard futon at my aunt’s house. I got off the plane, gripping Star’s harness as hard as I could. Richmond Airport was like a year-round haunted house to me. So big, so many people everywhere, so many ways to get hopelessly lost. I didn’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have Emmit with me. All I had to do was stay next to him. And, after going through the mess of people and the many stares that I couldn’t see, we made it out.
Emmit nudged me with his elbow. “Mom and Dad are over there.”
I held out my arm, waiting to be hugged. “Do we have to go to them, or are they coming to us?”
“They’re coming.”
“Hey, welcome back!” I felt Mom’s too-tight embrace. “How was the ride? Was it bumpy?”
I shook my head. “It was a plane.”
Dad grabbed me into a hug next. “Well, at least there shouldn’t be another flight until next Thanksgiving, right?”
We started to walk back to the entrance where we could get in the car. I took a few steps, then heard Mom shout, “Lia, this way!” She grabbed my arm, pulling me in the other direction. Apparently, I was headed straight for a down escalator. I didn’t know why Mom panicked so much. Star would’ve stopped me from falling down it. It was her job. A few minutes later, we piled into the car. That would be the same deal as on the plane. I was going to put on my headphones and finish the rest of my candy, since I still had two bags left.
“Lia,” Mom said.
“What?” I whined, annoyed that once again my music had to be paused.
“Remember that we get home, you need to get started on your homework.”
I leaned my head back and groaned. When we headed to the frozen tundra known as Upstate New York, I may or may not have “forgotten” my laptop so my turkey consumption wouldn’t be interrupted with worries about my history paper. Apparently, the “break” part of Thanksgiving Break never applied to any of my teachers.
“Fine, I’ll get to it when we get back.”
I un-paused the song and leaned my head up against the cool glass of the window as the rhythms danced around my eardrums. An hour ride still, all the way back to Williamsburg. I tried to focus in on the song, making a mental note of every drum beat I heard. There were two days left of break: one and a half to devote to drumming, and the last few hours of Sunday night for the paper.
My parents hated what I procrastinator I could be, but it was the school’s fault. If they didn’t give me homework, my parents wouldn’t need to worry about my procrastination—simple as that. As far as I was concerned, I was slowly working my way to stardom, even though I had yet to form a band. There was no concern for that, though. I was good at making things fall into place.