Live While We're Young

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Charlotte peeled her eyes open and squinted at the brightness. She rolled over, assuming she was in her double bed, and landed on the floor on top of an empty carton of ice cream with a spoon in her hair. She growled and slowly got up off the floor.

A groan came from the opposite side of the room, where a drowsy Dahlia was just waking up.

“What time is it?” she yawned.

“Uh. 9:20. Nine...nine twenty. NINE TWENTY! My plane leaves in 50 minutes! SHIT!”

She grabbed her phone from the blankets and raced upstairs. She was heading for the shower, but after another glance at the ticking clock, she groaned and put extra deodorant on. She put sweats and a hoodie on, her hair in a high bun, for ultimate comfort at 32,000 feet. She grabbed her carry-on duffle and the two suitcases she was bringing.

“Wait! Where are you going?” Dahlia called after her as she bounded down the stairs.

“No time to explain! I’ll text you later!” she yelled as the door slammed behind her.

The taxi was waiting in front of the house, engine idling. “Sorry ‘bout the wait. I slept in a little late.” Her parents knew they would be at work when she needed to be at the airport, so they scheduled a taxi pickup.

“No biggie, lady. I’s can be at LaGuardia in 15, if I’s to hurry. Buckle up!”

With that, the driver peeled out of the cul-de-sac, and Charlotte took the opportunity to explain her sudden flight (no pun intended), to Dahlia. Before she knew it, she had arrived. She tipped the cab driver (quite generously, for his speed), who she learned was named Ernesto, and ran in her sneakers to gate 7.

“Great day for Converse,” she mumbled to herself. She checked in her luggage with almost 20 minutes to spare. She made her way to the gate, found a seat, and checked that she had her passport, ticket, and boarding pass for the hundredth time. When she was finally convinced that she hadn’t forgotten anything, she relaxed a little and took out her headphones.

She was bopping her head along to She Will Be Loved, by Maroon 5, with her eyes closed, when someone tapped her on the shoulder.

“‘Scuse me, miss,” a deep and oddly familiar British accent said.

“Whaddaya want?”

“Uhm, hi. Me and my friends were just wondering if you were planning on getting on this plane. You know, flight 894 to Barcelona?”

“How did you know that was my flight? And who are you?”

“Well, for one, you’re sitting at this gate. And your ticket is right there, which isn’t really safe,” he said in a warning tone, pointing at the seat next to her, where her ticket lay in danger of someone with sticky fingers.

“Are you my mother? No? Didn’t think so,” she spoke in a very bitchy voice, very unlike her, while reaching for her ticket. Then she realized how she sounded. “Oh, God, I’m really sorry. I’m not usually like this, it’s just...I’m flying out of the country alone, I’m stressed, I’m...telling a stranger all of my problems,” she realized as she glanced up.

“It’s all good,” he said with a smile. “Now c’mon. everyone else has already boarded the plane.” He reached out a hand and helped her up. They both went to the gate and showed their tickets and passes, and boarded the plane. “My friends are all sitting over there...what does your ticket say?”

“Uhm...row E, seat 6?”

“Hey! I’m in F, and a couple of my friends are in E!”

He grabbed her hand and dragged her to where his friends were. He took her duffle and shoved it in the bin overhead. “Hey guys, this is...oh, I didn’t get your name.”